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messwriting · 3 years

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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(i'm gonna make you) feel it

a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨

Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg).

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the: 🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠

So, @dymphnasprose basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is! Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕

That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya who was kind enough to beta this too <3

Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it

You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN

Hanamaki is focused.

He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room.

Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.

Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.

And tonight he has already found the one.

You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really.

Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.

A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you.

Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled.

That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints.

You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.

And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later.

He’ll make sure of it.

The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance.

“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but.

“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”

“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action.

One dick for life. Ha.

“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself.

“And that’s a sexy little group.”

“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”

Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.

The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words.

The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.

The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass.

Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.

On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides.

But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.

Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.

Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.

Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body.

So fucking pure.

Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever.

Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?

When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.

Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch.

He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”

Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?

Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now.

"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."

He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride."

That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.

One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet.

Pliant.

And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type.

Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.

Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg.

When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage.

Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.

He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear.

Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace.

Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him.

Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.

Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.

Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.

He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.

His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.

Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.

Such a precious little thing indeed.

The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips.

And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.

Lovely.

Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later.

You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy.

You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.

And unfortunately that means time’s up.

Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go.

Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show.

“See you later, pretty one.”

Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.

Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name.

Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.

You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.

Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.

The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.

Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.

His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.

The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance?

The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick.

You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.

“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face.

“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac.

You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before.

If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage.

A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.

You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.

“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”

“Uhh, sir, I--”

“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.”

The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.

“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.

“Then you understand…”

“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”

Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary.

You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt.

“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.

“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”

Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.

“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone. “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”

“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.

Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.

His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell.

His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest.

You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.

He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.

Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.

Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation.

It’s really the best.

His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.

When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.

The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.

It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.

“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”

You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him.

“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”

He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.

He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.

“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.” His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this.

“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.

“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt.

“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs.

He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout.

“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.

Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too.

You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.

“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”

The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.

“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”

“I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”

“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.

You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.

If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around.

You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.

He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.

Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.

“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”

“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.

Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.

“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!”

“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.

“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”

“Fuck!”

“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”

“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”

“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.

“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in.

And he loves it.

He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him.

That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”

He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”

Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?

He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.

When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done.

Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.

Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls.

He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.

“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.

“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”

Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.

Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.

“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from.

“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.

“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”

#hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro smut #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab

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selinakidreams · 3 years

Note

Ship your moots!!!

👁y’all done it now, I was WAITING for this one OO I’m gonna spoil my moots SO bad ! I love you guys 👁

this is gonna be long I’m so sorry

@keishinslove - carter,,,, I love you and I love you w me mister keishin ukai- NOT just because that’s your ✨mans✨ but because I fuckin see it with my eyes. mister man is out here smoking a cig while he waits for you to get off of work. everyone is out here looking at him like “who dat b he’s sexy” and then you walk out and he drops the smoke on the floor, steps on it, and smiles as you make eye contact. You smile too, finally allowing exhaustion take over as you slump in the welcoming hug he pulls you into. He’s like, “I know baby, let’s go home and I can make us some ramen and tea.” The rest of the night is full of terribly sung songs, heavy MAKEOUT sessions (maybe more) and feathered touches along your skin. He’ll take good care of you (in every means) and that’s all I want for you <3

@alto-march-of-death al I ship you with tsukki- now let me tell you why. I see you with someone who’s very reserved with who they show their emotions to,, now because you deal with youngsters,,,,,,,,, that’s a lot of energy put towards you all at once. Tall blond dino dude will be there for you but in ways that make you feel special and the lack of energy he shows is almost calming to you. like like I just see on a day where zoom has been a bit too much and parents were DUMb- you slink over to your couch- after class is over- to find tsukki there, watching animal planet, and bam you plop down and curl up in his side- no words needed. His eyes don’t leave the screen but a long fingered hand lands on your thigh, his thumb doing that thing that makes butterflies flutter in your rib cage. It’s peaceful. Nice.

@kmorgzz ENERGY. POSITIVITY. COMPASSION. All things you and hinata share <3 OOOOOO KAR YOURE ALWAYS THE SWEETEST AND LET ME TELL YOU !!!! YOU DESERVE THAT SAME SWEETNESS. sorry I’m yelling but hear me out !!! You guys are always doing SOMETHING. he’s restless and you take on the energy he gives off. You guys tend to do stuff that you wanna do because whatever you want, he wants !! Normally, it’s outside (cause he’s the sun and he makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine !!) ; could be walks that lead into picnics or something super sweet!! Always wants to make sure you’re smiling !!!!!! ALWAYS. oh also he’s such a big himbo that he just—— yk what I’m gonna shut my trap just,, oh MAN he just loves you SO much and will never run out of ways to show you

@introloves Jax... FR fr I ship you and bokuto SO hard. like this man is and deserves sunshine— that is exactly what you are. TWO SUNSHINE BEINGS. I just SEE it. wholly. he’s just so open to everything and anything !!! Sometimes a bit.. daft... but you definitely talk him through things and he heavily appreciates that & everything you do for him. you know what,, y’all would soak in lavender baths together. Your back against his front, your eyes closed and body relaxed in the warm water; the sent of lavender following the steam that rises from the bath. He likes to play with your soft hair and whisper about how much he loves you and how you are one of the best people in his life. How did he ever get so lucky?

@novvabeam jackieeee,,, miss ma’am.. I ship you with daichi. lemme explain. This man is like a horse- not many can ride him but for those who do, it’s a lifelong partnership. Dude is so !! Into you it’s CRAZY. He is obsessed with how soft and kind you are one minute, and the next his head is spinning by how powerful and strong you can be. Mad respect™️. First date (idea suggested by you) was at this really cute local ice cream shop where you two bonded over how absolutely different your flavors were. I see it.

@pinkoushi ellen + Suga; clear as day. soft cuddles and every day fikas. very chaotic neutral energy but constant attention and praise is given. (Me trying not to make something based off my memories in Sweden but is gonna do it anyways) like I could see him being so excited to move to Sweden for the education system lowkey- but before he started the school year, you just wanted to take him around the country and visit all the “popular places” before settling down. Lots and lots of train rides. you would be sitting across from each other- you’re semi asleep, head pressed against the window and he’s just watching as the fleeting golden light hits you, making you all glowy. he feels so warm, so content.

@chaotickatts katts ;) I hear sakusa is calling your name. loud and clear. man puts up with NO bullshit and neither do you. Your communication skills are off the charts; calm cool, collected- that’s you two. But I also think that you add a lot more fun in his life- like he loves every second with you- he shows that he appreciates it in your guys’ shared love language, more often than not. And he adds this grounding element to your relationship that makes you feel capable of anything- and you make sure to tell him every day. I hc that people call you the parents of the group. Your guys’ bathroom is very clean, well organized, and used quite often. he loves seeing you in his jersey when you’re brushing your teeth, on your way to heading to bed, makes him feel all fuzzy,, a feeling that was quite foreign to him until you came along.

@spikesbimbo valentine... is that even a question- Aran. duh. Pretty lady, both of you are CRAZY for each other except he shows you in little ways (in public) that make your heart spin. You know those pictures of Vanessa hudgens and Austin butler?? the one where she’s twirling around and he’s just smiling? that’s the vibe I get in the relationship; you’re fun, loud, and outwardly fun while he’s just happy to be in your presence!! you make him laugh... a lot. It’s really refreshing to most of his friends. You and you’re cute goofy ass are just so important to him. I see it now- you guys are shopping at an outdoor mall, drinks in your hand and he’s carrying most of your guys’ purchases in one hand while the other is being swung by you. You’ve got big doe eyes as you look at every store, until you turn around, and flash him the biggest smile. “Want some? I’m almost out!” You’d say as you thrust him the drink. He’ll smile, a flash of pearly whites greeted you as he nodded and said a small “yeah,” before wrapping his lips around the straw.

@hajimeshon-ee menace, baby. it’s obviously gonna be iwa for you. big beefy to help you fight people who are being assholes. those same beefy arms that pull you in from behind- your back against his front. LOTS OF FUCKING FOREHEAD KISSES. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOURE POUTING TO HIM. sorry I don’t make the rules. He honestly thinks you’re the cutest thing, your fire matches his and sometimes actually stumps him to where he has no retorts. He likes to help you with your work sometimes, like when he sees it’s a bit too overwhelming for you, he’ll wordlessly sit down and take some of the papers that have been scattered across the table. Later you take the time to show him how grateful you are, wether it’s through a night where he gets to choose what both of you will watch or.. other things... he’ll appreciate every single second.

@kuroosusagichan meeeellll <3 business man kuroo is summoning you on his lap, he can’t focus unless you’re with him!! Oh GOD the dynamic Between you two makes me lightheaded!! Okay so idk is this is obvious but like dude has a size kink- not just sexually though. It’s like a cute AND sexy thing for him. Dude just loves how tiny and soft you are. But don’t get it twisted, he’s not completely fooled by your innocent act- you’re a clever little minx sometimes, but most of the time youre just the sweetest person. You’re like the angel that holds him back from being an asshole. He likes himself better when you’re around. Oh but he’ll also call you chibi-chan. Period. OH YEA! loves it when you show up to his place of work- no matter how swamped he is, he’ll always make time for his little sweetheart. You like to visit when you saw he was visibly stressed in the mornings, you bring him little things taht make him smile like his favorite iced tea or your a sweet lil cookie. He’ll make you stay with him for the rest of the day, doing your own separate things but also being in each other’s company relaxes the both of you.

@scorpiomoonslutt hey bitch, you needy lil whore <3 it’s gotta be Ushijima for me. Your size kink is just.................... thrown in his face and my god he’s living. You make him realize things he didn’t even think were possible- but anything is possible with you, apparently. The way his eyes go WIDE when he hears you SNAP at people. He had no idea that someone so small.. could shut someone up that fast... especially when it’s someone almost twice her size. He actually doesn’t even know how to react when the other person leaves, there’s wayyyy too many things going on in his head. He’s proud, impressed, turned on, curious, but most of all- speechless. He kinda... wants to see you do that again.

@dymphnasprose dymphna !! kyoutani!!! It just makes sense!! big angri boy needs parts on the head from a saint, such as yourself. He knows you’re not looking to fix him- which is why he allowed himself to open up to you. You love him just the way he is and it almost drove him a lil nuts. I could see the breaking point now- just before you two would get together. He would be yelling at you, screaming things like “how could you possibly like me ?” At first he wouldn’t let you get close to him but after several steps that never budged when he neared you, he gradually let you touch his heated skin. He was breathing heavy, trying to put together how someone so wonderful could be interested in someone who was so angry. I just feel that you would cup his face and whisper, “I like you because you’re you- it doesn’t matter who I am in comparison to you. I like you, taro.” There would be no need for gushy details, that alone opened a small part of his heart to love- throughout the years, the opening continued to grow and grow. He would be someone who just!! Loves you!!! And hates the rest of the world <3 idk I just love it jdbsjnd

#fawn talks <3 #moots: shipped !#fawn’s friend (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)#thank you anon♥︎

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fordarkisthesuede · 3 years

Text

The Tolls of Justice: the Tarot, Name Meanings, and More!

Gentlepeople…

BEHOLD!

All the tarot-aligned hints! All the future foretellings! All the silly references! :) Everything you might have overlooked is here for you easy-to-read pleasure!

Naturally, there be spoilers a-plenty ahead for Batman the TellTale Series: The Tolls of Justice, so if you haven't read it (or maybe you're thinking about reading it, or this is your first time hearing about it), I'd advise waiting until you're done with each chapter to read through the sections. You can either click the link and be redirected to Ao3, or look through my tumblr tag #ttoj!

*One forwarding note: the tarot references build slowly in this story, and I only use the traditional Major & Minor Arcana. You'll see a lot of jokes and name-type references before we get to the tarot. I also simplified the numerics, but they're often displayed as roman numerals on cards, hint hint.

Prologue

gang member "Four Ears" - a very very off-the-collar reference to the line "Listen up, four-ears!" from J-Men Forever; in context, it was an off-shoot of the insult "four-eyes" but for music taste, also implying the person's taste was "square".

gang member "Muddy Nye" - his name can be boiled down to "muddy river". It works as an allusion to the messy, unclear case ahead of Bruce and the Batfam, but also as a hint to Clayface, who acted as Muddy in his first sighting of the story.

"Sunset" - a reference to everyone's favorite vampire series to pick on, the Twilight series; back when it was at the height of it's popularity, some drug dealers sold heroin marketed towards the crowd based off it's terrible and unfortunately iconic(?) line from Edward Cullen, "You're my own personal brand of heroin"…hence why the drug of choice BM is shipping here is heroin. Essentially, this plot setup is one big joke.

"FIGS" - a reference to POP! vinyls, hence the capitalized name and spiky word balloon on the packages.

"Gray Ghost [memorabilia]" - one of my (and everyone else's) favorite BtAS episodes, which proves definitively that Bruce Wayne | Batman is not only a Huge Nerd™, but also a massive collector of normal fandom things. (Do you think he troughs through blogs and fanwikis…? What am I saying, of course he does. He edits them.)

gang members "Jack Whendleham and Kirby Noltz" - nod to Jack Kirby, comic artist extraordinaire!

Ch.1: A Different Ceiling

[chapter title] - John does not wake up in Arkham at the start of the story, hence waking up to a different ceiling. He also hits different limitations on what he can do, so it's also a different kind of "ceiling". (Like the term "the glass ceiling", the invisible barrier a demographic hits in a hierarchy.)

St. Dymphna New Life Home - named after Saint Dymphna, the patron saint of mental illness. There's no "'s" at the end because I saw other clinics named after Saints didn't use the possessive form when referencing them.

The Lucky Hotel - an oxymoron, really; the unluckiest place to get stuck at with it's seedy history, but also the place where John "gets lucky"…in a couple of different ways!

Stitched Up Alterations - a heavy nod to the wonderful batjokesy line from S2, "We're two threads in the same stitch". It's pretty deeply ingrained in fanon (and technically canon, if you go with The Dark Knight) that Joker makes his own clothes, hence Batman rarely finding him through his tailor. Since John's thrifty and clearly made his original Joker outfit(s), I piggybacked off it as a legit skill to give him. I mean, come on, the guy is always so stylish! And you're really going to look at me and say he didn't alter his thrifted shirts and vests to fit his sleek frame? Puh-leeease.

13th Street - 13 is a traditionally unlucky number in western culture; hence the "Lucky Hotel" there having a bloody history, along with a failed, closed casino nearby.

Corazón gang - okay, I admit…I'm still a weeb at heart. It's a One Piece reference. Corazon was one of the few post-timeskip new characters I really liked; his name is Spanish for "heart", and he sported a heart motif. Like the gang in this story, he also died before the start of the main storyline.

Ch. 2: Face Values

[chapter title] - A reference to the phrase "not taking things at face value", which is very evident in this story. Also doubles as a rather loose reference to the upcoming Tarot cards.

Sebastian Overfield - The name Sebastian means "from Sebaste", as is derived from the Greek word sebastos ("venerable", someone who has a lot of respect). Overfield of course is "over" and "field", implying the family is on a high hill overlooking/overseeing/maintaining a certain field. As Seb is a reverend, this name is well-fit for him.

orange rose [gift from John] - means "passion" in the language of flowers, and can allude to fascination; this can be taken platonically or romantically…but it's definitely romantic when it's coming from John.

blue iris [gift from John] - means "faith and hope" in the language of flowers, and sometimes are associated with royalty; an allusion to Batman/Bruce's overall symbolism in the eyes of Gotham…and John.

Chandis [ship, circa Prologue] - A reference to Chandi | Chandika, the Hindu deity; the short version of their story is that they are a demon slayer, known to be angry and passionate, wield multiple weapons, and ride a lion. And who was on the ship? Hmm…

Ch. 3: Ink Trails

[chapter title] - A reference to the Alterations' claim slip John finds, which ends up leading back to the Court of Owls. It doubles as a reference to the mask tattoo/clue on Ian 'Nito'.

Faith Ackart - "Ackart" is a variant of "ackhart", derived from "ekkehard", which we can say roughly means "brave/hardy". The name "faith" and "hardy" together is another very subtle clue for the audience towards the villains' motives. (Well, I say that, but it was really more of a joke-clue for me to giggle at. And it makes a good reporter name!)

Lou Monger - the guy's a fish monger…with the last name Monger. It's-a joke! ;D

Ian 'Nito' Coggs - first mentioned without his real last name, but "Ian Coggs, Nito", is a pun on the word "incognito"…which is what Clayface is here.

FriendBook/Chirp/bloggr/uBox - takes on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and YouTube respectively. (This started back in my 'Season 3' story, At the Brink of Midnight, though I've since learned that bloggr was a real thing. :T) The 'uBox' is meant to be a play on 'jumping box'/'the box' as other terms for TV, like 'the tube'.

"whole tomato of pins" - the supposed history of tomato-shaped pincushions is that tomatoes placed on mantels repelled evil spirits and guaranteed prosperity, but I really wanted to just allude to the common pin-cushion shape. (My mom once had a whole little basket of strawberry shaped pin-cushions. I remember "borrowing" them a lot as a kid to play with. And then "losing" them.)

"sock and buskin masks" - these are a reference to the "comedic sock" and "tragic buskin (i.e. boot)" of the Greek comedy-tragedy theatre masks. I figured something like them would be a good logo for the "false faces", as BM is obsessed with masks. It also doubles as a natural callback to the "your relationship with x has changed" feature of TT games.

Ch. 4: Suite of Cups

[chapter title] - the first chapter to be a reference to the Tarot, in specific the Minor Arcana of Cups; rather than specifying the card at play outright, this title is a pun on the aforementioned arcana "suite", as the main location of events this chapter are in a casino's hotel suite. One can interpret many Cups cards at play here, but...

○ Specifically, in the Casino's suite/crime scene, there are 8 visible seats, but 7 cups on the table. The 7 of Cups refers to choices, fantasy, and illusion, an indicates there are multiple opportunities or many paths you can take, but they should be chosen carefully; when reversed, it can mean confusion, diversion, and temptation, and indicate a lack of choice or failure to choose.

○ The upright version is definitely in play, with the overall root of TellTale games being choices, and some "the player" makes this chapter will move your relationships with Tiffany and John in different ways, which can strengthen your relationships with them. If "the player" has chosen to be a more violent Batman, the way the Talon - and later, the Court - treats Batman is different.

○ The Reversed reading can be interpreted for the Court's complete disregard for the mere notion of choice.

Bauta - a Venetian carnival mask, meant to represent 'anonymous decisions' via it's original design of protecting identities. It's quite common in carnivals.

Melpomene-Thalia - the Venetian masks for comedy and tragedy, a la 'sock and buskin', the masks used as a general symbol for theatre. You can practically taste the irony, given who's shown wearing it...

Volto - a Venetian mask, meant to represent 'anonymity, quiet exit' for it's blank face. It's also known as the "Citizen Mask" because of it's worn by the common folk (in comparison to the more elaborate masks).

The Lot [casino] - named for "drawing lots", like drawing straws or matches to pick a person to do a task (usually with the shortest straw having to do the task, but it varies). This is both a pun on the fact that it's a casino - where you try your luck at gambling - and corresponds with the theme of foretelling the future that's woven throughout much of the story.

The Wednesday Nighters gang - this doesn't mean anything in particular. I'm a big fan of Midsomer Murders, and there's an episode ("Death in a Chocolate Box") where it references a few dirty cops who frequently took the Friday night shift at a station for episode-plot-reasons, who called themselves The Friday Nighters. It's an off-shoot reference to it, hence the corrupt cops on the gang in this story. :)

[John's voicemail] - Another BtAS episode I love is "the terrible secret of Bruce Wayne". In particular, I loved Joker's voicemail when Dr. Strange calls in ("Boy, do YOU have the wrong number!") and I wanted to do something like that. But, y'know, way less murdery.

"F85H4ND" - l33t-written "Fate's Hand", for…well, the hand of fate, supposedly guiding you through life/events. Another correspondent to the foretelling the future theme.

Michael Hodgson - not all of the names I pick for characters mean anything. Sometimes their names are just loose references to things I like. This is a silly mish-mashup of the original hosts of Mystery Science Theater 3000, Michael [Nelson] and [Joel] Hodgeson. (Joel was the first host + show creator, and Mike was the second host who closed out the original series run.)

"40F5WRD5" [Batcomputer archive] - l33t for the 4 of Swords, a card in the Minor Arcana for rest and restoration; since the archives and file names are randomly generated when not prompted otherwise with manual input, an otherworldly force seems to be saying 'get some damn sleep Bruce'.

[John's ringtone] - I know, TT always has everyone's phone on silent. I don't care. Bruce's ringtone for John is "Mack the Knife", a song about a violent mobster, played on a carnival organ. Chosen because 1) John probably loves that song, 2) I thought it was funny that it has the line "the shark bites - with his teeth, dear - when he shows them pearly whites" and how well that goes with John's A+ dental care... 3) TeamFourStar made jokes in their BtTTS S2 playthrough about having "a special ringtone whenever John calls [them]"…why would I not carry that through? They did get me to where we are now, you know. ;)

Ryde - the in-game stand-in for Lyft, the not-a-taxi service.

Ch. 5: The Wheel Still Spins on the Upturned Chariot

[chapter title] - a reference to 2 tarot cards in the Major Arcana. 1) "The Wheel"/"The Wheel of Fortune", which is a sign for continuous cycles, inevitable fate, and usually indicates good fortune and pre-destiny when the card is presented upright. When reversed, it can signify bad luck and an unfavorable fate. 2) "The Chariot", symbolizing a path forward to success, confidence, and overcoming obstacles; when reversed, it's stands for recklessness and lack of direction/control. 3) As the Chariot is upside down, John's original plans have been upended and everything goes out of his control in a chaotic situation. He’s essentially "not at the driver’s seat" for a little while. "The player" decides which direction to take the wheel in - either letting him lash out violently and send him on more solitary and dangerous path, or satisfy his need for stability by embracing his new relationships. The Chariot is always upturned here, but whether the wheel spins forward or backward is up to "the player's" decisions.

511 N. Blade Street - this one's a bit messy. 511 = V I I, or VII in roman numerals, which =7. The tarot cards are traditionally numbered in roman numerals. North, for pointing upright, and "blade" is synonymous with "sword". So it’s the "7 of Swords", in the upright position – referring to deception and trickery, which is of course what's going on in regards to who Ian 'Nito' Coggs really is…

Apt 1005 - even muddier, but this is referring to the 10 of Swords, which is for betrayal and backstabbing, hinting at the true motives of "Ian" | Clayface. 10-0-5, so 10 and the l33t for "OS" = 10-o-S.

900 Wanda Way - Both a pun on the phrase “wander away” and the 9 of Wands in the Minor Arcana, which alludes to pushing forward to achieve victory. A good allusion for a clinic, me-thought.

400 Wanda Way - The 4 of Wands in the Minor Arcana stands for community, another good allusion for a clinic.

Karen McCarthy - named after the most stereotypically uptight narcissistic asshole the masses have agreed to call 'Karen', and both McCarthyism and another famous lady with the surname McCarthy. Because I wanted you to know the second you see her name that she is *horrible*. (Funny, though, there's 2 senators named McCarthy that are pieces of shit and one infamous quasi-celeb who's the face of the anti-vax scene. Is it just a cursed family name?)

Ch. 6: The Tips of Our Swords

[chapter title] - Refers to the 4 of Swords card in the Minor Arcana, as the "swords" are alluding to the four active members in the Batfam - Bruce, John, Tiffany, and Iman - who work together on the case[s]; you can infer this title to a presentation not unlike the Musketeers joining swords to affirm themselves as a team, as they all gather together. The reversed reading of the card is for restlessness/stress in Bruce's case, and the clear signal of the universe to tell him to relax, and the reading when presented right-side up is for the break it gives to "the player", with the homey atmosphere of the Batfam spending time together. Either reading is completely valid here.

○ BUT, as Alfred is a non-active member of the Batfam, we could also say that 5 of Swords is also at play, right-side-up for the fighting and resentment with Alfred, and John's hinted budding conflict with him; and 5 reversed for Bruce's attempts at making up with Tiffany. If one illustrated the gathering of our four heroes joining swords like the musketeers over a breakfast table, then Alfred would be sitting drinking tea, standing as a symbol of the Ace of Cups, signifying new emotions or stirrings of feelings.

○ If we stretch the metaphor eeeven further, the title can also be a loose reference to the Sword of Damocles; threats always hang above the heads of powerful people, and in this case the looming threat of Black Mask and the mysterious assassin, ever-present in Batman's world…

Dr. Brandi September - literally "Sword" and "Seventh Month", alluding to the 7 of Swords, hinting to deception and manipulation at play.

"I was tired of the soup du jour" - a shameless Devo reference; a tiring of the routine/everyday. "I'm tired of the soup du jour - I want to end this prophylactic tour - ain't nobody around me - understands my potato - I'm only a spud boy - lookin' for a real tomato" - DEVO, "Mr DNA/Smart Patrol".

Motel 11, Augury Road - "augury" is another word for crows; as a gathering of crows can be a method of fortune-telling, this a reference to a gathering of 11 crows, which when seen is supposed to be indicative of disguising or revealing secrets.

Ch. 7: Drawing the Strings

[chapter title] - meant to allude to John aligning the strings connecting the people and crimes together, like an old-fashioned way of mapping clues; can be interpreted as these crime-strings on the proverbial board being drawn closer together, marking the center of the "web" as the Court of Owls

Frieda Baast - Frieda, an allusion to the Norse goddess Freya, who rode on a chariot driven by cats, and Baast, the Egyptian goddess who had the form of a cat. It makes it really obvious who was staying at the Motel 11, huh?

room 14 [Selina Kyle's motel room] - a reference to the 14th tarot card, "Temperance", which when upright is meant for choosing the middle path between choices. This is meant to reference Selina herself, currently at a secret, personal crossroads and being in "the middle"; John can influence her hidden choice by either making her think about what her potential job's employers are really aligning themselves with, or taunting her into how she can't leave her old life behind. (Whether John is violent or not doesn't completely impact her choice, but it does impact how they interact later if Selina winds up in the hands of our villains.)

Oracle, Spoiler, Batgirl, Spectrum - Batman's had a lot of non-Robin sidekicks in comics, including Batgirl (originally Barbara Gordon), Oracle (Barbara Gordon, post-Batgirl-forced-retirement and computer hacker extraordinaire), and Spoiler (Stephanie Brown, who "spoiled" crimes). As a fan of Ao3/tumblr's @fractualized 's own Telltale Bat-verse fics (the "Release John Doe" series), I added in the reference to "Spectrum", which Tiffany became in lieu of "Robin". A wink from one fan-writer to another! ;)

"I'm steppin' out, my dear - to breathe an atmosphere […] - that simply reeks […] with class" - John's singing a classic Fred Astaire hit, "Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails".

Eric, Jerome, Jeremiah, Jack [John's "Normal name" ideas] - As this story allows "the player" to pick a name for John to use in place of his own, you can pick between some classic and modern references to Joker's alternate personas over the years. Eric White Border (edit: goddang it that's what i get for looking at White Knight while writing this up and never double-checking), Joker's regular persona in the New 52 Batman comic line; Jerome or Jeremiah of the Gotham TV series, both of which are different aspects of Joker's personality through media, with a more modern gritty version in Jerome (think Heath Ledger's Joker) and a more modern take on Joker's sociopathy in Jeremiah; and last but not least Jack Napier, the first official name of Joker circa Tim Burton's Batman (1989), and the one most popularly used (BtAS and other comics throughout the years since use this name). "The player"'s choice doesn't impact the story or the way John acts, but it does give a surprise feature later. ;)

Matt Chaney - Aka, "Clayface", Matt has both new and old elements in his name alone. Matt, for Matt Hagen, the most well-known/used of the Clayface personas, and Chaney, for classic film actor Lon Chaney, AKA the man of a thousand faces. This Clayface is an aspiring actor who is psychologically dependent on Moddy to keep him handsome after a terrible car accident left his face marred. He uses his excellent makeup skills and acting to infiltrate the False Face Society, and double-plays them and the Court of Owls.

Root / MuSec - stand-ins for Vine and TikTok, respectively. "MuSec" is both a play on the word "musac" (the word for 'elevator music' and generic produced music you hear in fake stores and the like) and the mish-mash of the words "music" and "second", referencing the short length of the videos. "Root" was used in a prior story (At the Brink of Midnight), and acts as another "natural network" type name akin to Vine; though I do recognize "Vine" might have come along as part of the phrase "I heard it through the grape-vine". I have a feeling some Aussie fans might find the fake-Vine name funny...or just awkward.

Ch. 8: It Had to Be You

[chapter title] - A reference to the classic crooner song, "It Had to Be You"; specifically, the one that flows through the first scene is a cover done by Frank Sinatra, meant to align with other Bat-media's use of Sinatra where Joker and Batman are concerned. The Arkham games got his famous "Under My Skin", and another crooner's "Only You". Batjokes fans/content creators have also used "Strangers in the Night" for their relationship. I wanted to present one that would feel at-home in the TellTale universe regardless of what route you end up with, and what's more perfect than a song about finally discovering the love of your life? The song fits them to a tee, in my humble opinion…

Estella Art Gallery - Selina's art gallery, mentioned previously to have been the site of a Talon attack. "Estella" translates to "star", for the tarot card "The Star". When presented upright, it means hope and rebirth; this card can be presented after a disaster, such as an event like "The Tower". Normally, it can be interpreted as a card to show a phase where you have trust and faith in yourself and the universe. Selina was turning over a new leaf and enjoying her new life until the Owls found out who she was.

Mrs. Bollard - "bald-headed person"…this poor woman got her wig snatched as John stole Bruce from her on the dance floor. xD

"I knew today's horoscope was bullshit" - a nod to earlier, where Roman mentioned his horoscope when visiting Bruce; "a friend will help you out of a tight bind." Not that it was mentioned like that... still! I wonder what today's was? "You will be fortunate in your business endeavors"? Ha ha ha! But really, the horoscope is another nod to the theme of foretelling the future, as it's a popular method to try and see how your day, month, season, or year will be. Not that I know what sign Roman is… *thinking face*

[Achievement Unlocked: Batman Who Laughs] - John showing up in the Batman cowl was not only funny, but a direct nod to the Batman Who Laughs. The TT games had Batman comic titles often used as Achievements, so I figured I'd put in some…

[Achievement Unlocked: Batwoman Rises] - Iman helping the team out in the spare Batman suit is naturally a nod to Batwoman, and something I wanted to do for a while. ;D

Brighella - a Venetian mask taken from a play now used to depict a cunning and mischievous servant. Originally the mask was used to depict a greedy villain character.

The Two Gilded Cups - A restaurant in-story that references "The Two of Cups" tarot card, a card representing unity, partnership, and two becoming one. When upright, it's a card that can reference lovers or a new relationship; when reversed, it can represent broken communication, imbalance, or tension. As such, the couple who were seen at the restaurant - Sonja Townsend and her husband - are established lovers who work together for the Court of Owls, but those who were really there are Jackie Lant and Matt Chaney, who are in an imbalanced relationship. "Gilded" implies that "The Cups" are covered unnecessarily with gold - this is both in reference to Jackie and Matt's disguise of the Townsends and the truth about their relationship. Matt's lies are covering for his narcissism and selfishness, and ultimately is the only thing holding him and Jackie's relationship together.

Moddy - A fictional body modification clay-mud-putty that's a product of Janus Industries, this makeup is the favorite of Matt Chaney and the reason we can call him "Clayface". Like the traditional Clayface, Matt is in dire need to have his fix of the makeup, despite what it does to him - as John notes, it leaves a weird burn-like sensation, and since Matt has deep scar tissue he covers every minute of every day, it's made the skin damage worse.

"You’re really committed to drowning in that river" - A riff on the old joke "denial ("de Nile") isn't just a river in Egypt".

"Your words are honey in my ears, but my brain always turns it into bitter wax" - In Futurama, Fry has a silly line of “Sweet words! Sweet words that turn into bitter wax in my ears!”. It always had the potential to be a great metaphor if the words were twisted around! :) Plus, I mean, come on, this is a totally On Brand™ thing for John to say!

Ch. 9: Strength in Numbers

[chapter title] - Referencing the Strength card, for bravery, compassion, and inner strength; the title also doubles as a play on “different kinds of strengths”. Strength is the will the expose your truths. Strength is finding compassion to help others. Strength is staying true to your convictions in the face of opposition. We see all different kinds of strength on display here.

○ It can also a reference to the different partnerships going on, with Jackie joining the team (unofficially), Bruce and Tiffany going off to tackle the other half of our case, and John and Iman’s team-up. :)

"[John] could barely hear it over the tinny electronic whistling tune emitting from his own phone, telling him the person on the other end was a mystery" - this is referencing an old tumblr joke! Yes, John has the “It is a mystery” tone on his phone for unknown calls…complete with the little (:o) ghost icon.

CUP5K1NG [license plate] - Referring to the King of Cups card, a card portraying emotional balance and compassion. As it's not written as "K1NGCUP5", it implies it's a reversed card, signifying there's manipulation and instability at work. Even though Matt doesn't own the car this license plate belongs to, it's definitely tied to him since it's his getaway ride, and thus hints at what's to be revealed in his and Jackie's hotel room.

Aylin Street - the name "Alyin" translates into “moon halo; one that belongs to the moon”, thereby being a reference to the Moon card, representing mysteries and illusions. An investigation is afoot!

“Looks like I’ve got the red light, kiddo.” - In stage acts, the red light is to indicate to the performer their time on stage is up. Generally, it’s reserved for comedians who either overrun their time or are losing the audience. John's joking that he's been given the red light to exit stage left (but not persued by bear).

"What’s the ‘G’ for?” - Iman's 'Gotham Construction' jumpsuit has a G different from John's - it's shaped more like a gear. This is another Mystery Science Theater reference, in particular the logo for Gizmonic Institute, the company/labs that "employed" original host Joel and the mad scientist Dr. Forrester (and his assistant, TV's Frank), who started the experiments of forcing a guy and his robot friends to watch reeeally bad movies. The result was 12 (soon to be 13!) seasons of some guys making hilarious and very memorable jokes at said bad movies' expense. Does this reference mean that Bruce is just as huge a dork as I am, or does it mean that MST3K is real in this universe?! You make the call! ;D

○ …if you read 'What's the 'G' for?' in Invader Zim's voice, that's also valid. Especially if you followed it with “I dON’t know!” in GIR's. (There is no cringing here! We openly embrace our childhood silliness!)

MasterOfClayFace / #IdW3arThat [Matt Chaney's social media login] - naturally Matt is so far up on his high horse that he considers himself a master of clay work…and of course his nickname is ClayFace! His password is a joke in and out of canon, being a riff on Lemon Demon song: “A mask of my own face – I’d wear that” ~ Lemon Demon, “Mask of My Own Face” [Nature Tapes].

3055 [Jackie Lant's InstaPic followers] - According to research, the average Instagram following is about 1000, so Jackie is above average popularity. Anything above 10k is usually(?) celeb status. The number 3055 is meant to be broken up and turned partially into l33t, to make 3-O-S-S, or 3 of Sword[s]. The 3 of Swords card in the tarot signifies heartbreak and grief, stemming from betrayal, loneliness, and rejection. Jackie experienced all three of these heart-piercing swords during her return to Gotham, with Matt basically forcing her into isolation, betraying her trust, and rejecting her input and values in favor of his own; but she didn't really know it until the truth was exposed.

8055 [Matt Chaney's InstaPic followers] - similarly, Matt's follower count is meant to be 8-O-S-S, or the 8 of Swords card. It signifies self-victimization and imprisonment. In particular, the card shows a person restrained and trapped, but their helplessness is a show…they could choose to get out, if they got over themselves. Matt is incredibly selfish, so it comes as no surprise that he will play the victim card.

#OnlyInGotham - Another tumblr reference! I love the @hashtagonlyingotham blog! ( ^3^)

The Herold Rite's Theatre - A play on the word "Hierophant": Herold, like “herald (ruler/champion)” and Rites, like “sacred rites”. In the tarot, the Hierophant card represents following tradition and values, which for the Owls is their very core. This is basically a big ol' hint that Iman and John are heading into Owl territory, but also foreshadows the religious undercut of The Court and Reverend Sebastian Overfield's role.

"a familiar red-pyramid-and-floating-eyeball" [graffiti] - A reference to my icon! ;D You think I can't self-promo?

trading cards [found in theatre storage] - In the Theatre, John finds "old promotional trading cards for an old sci-fi film with big-brained aliens". This is a shameless and loving reference to Tim Burton's 1996 film Mars Attacks!, of which my AO3/tumblr icon and username is lifted - the movie was based on a series of Topps trading cards from the 1960's, and had it's own set of cards with movie scenes and behind-the-scenes pictures (and summaries of events) printed for the movie! They also used them as promotional tools, and if you get very lucky purchasing a copy of the old single-issue comic books from the 1995 Mars Attacks run from Image Comics, you can get a promo card.

https://bit.gt.gd/S3272019F?=RO - Originally "gd" stood for a derivative of Google Drive, but I can’t look at it and not see “get good”. The "S3272019F?" is meant to stand for "Started: March 27, 2019 Finished: ?". I can't believe I started uploading the story in March of 2019! Man, 2020 really messed with my sense of time…

Ch. 10: Tantara Bounces Off of Moonlit Walls

[chapter title] - "Tantara" is defined as "the blare of a trumpet or horn", as seen in the Judgement card, which stands for self-reflection as well as reckoning, and can indicate rebirth. There's of course another reference to the Moon card, for intuitions and the unconscious being. Then what are the "[Moonlit] Walls"? Well, they're the part of the only Major Arcana tarot card to represent a building - they are the walls of the Tower, symbolizing destruction and disaster. When all the cards' meanings are put all together, this alludes to a time of discovery among absolute disaster.

○ Expanded, the whole title is a reference to both forms of Judgement occurring – self-reflection and change are happening with Bruce and John as their mysteries and anxieties are finally put to rest: John is undergoing his final "rebirth", seeing his reality clearly in Arkham’s padded cell; Bruce seems to finally come to terms with working with Tiffany, as his fear of not being able to protect her comes through with her showing she's able take care of herself and prove she's a true asset to the team; and the Court of Owls finally comes to light, with Matt Chaney, the Talon Adam, and the Talon Sonja Townsend finally showing their real motivations.

○ We can also interpret the title as a reckoning coming for the Owls, who have long been obscuring the truth of their deeds and whose true motives have been murky. They've built their own tower of disaster with bricks of delusion, and judgement's horn is blaring a warning through their hallways…

"X-Sharp Manufacturing" - a reference to the 10 of Swords (hence the "sharp"), the tarot card for betrayal, backstabbing, and defeat. For Bruce, there is disaster here beyond his control that ends in a [temporary] defeat. For Roman Sionis, owner of the small factory as part of Janus Inc., he's unwittingly walked into his own betrayal.

"Merlin's Flower Arrangements" - Merlin, a famous wizard, is a reference to The Magician card, who defines “as above, so below”… And as John is taken to a secondary location, so is Bruce. :)

"La Luna Painting" - La Luna, aka The Moon; remember, shadows can play tricks on your eye, so something’s afoot here… Aka "HEY GUYS THIS TOTALLY ISN’T SUSPICIOUS OR ANYTHING NO SIR"

Yelsnia Theater - Yelsnia is…actually a name. But searching for it shows my true hint, as it's "Ainsley" backwards. "Ainsley" derives from Scottish words meaning “alone, solitary” or “hermitage”. This is a reference to the Hermit card – in this case, it's blatantly upside down, referring to loneliness, isolation, and a general disconnection with mankind. AKA, the path Matt is on.

"the looming pillar tower" [Arkham] - A blatant representation of The Tower. It stands for impending disaster and "an upheaval of a foundation of reality". Of course, this can be taken in two ways. 1) That John has overcome/avoided the disaster of another mental breakdown. 2) That John’s foundation of his delusions - that he’ll wake up in or get sent back to Arkham for his sickness - was wrong in a realistic sense, as he’s made serious progress in managing his emotional issues, and right in an unrealistic one, where the only way he could be sent back was through an outside force, i.e. the Owls.

10210475 [inmate number] - When separated for the numeric cipher, we get 10-21-4-7-5, or J-U-D-G-E

13051420 [inmate number] - When separated for the numeric cipher, we get 13-5-14-20, or M-E-N-T

○ When put together, the inmate numbers read "Judgement", the tarot card is shown here for John's choices and character arc on display throughout this chapter. When the card is reversed, it implies a lack of self-awareness, which we can also attribute to "the player's" choices for John if they make Bad Decisions. If you simply take the word "judgement" at face-value (without involving the tarot) it also works wonderfully, applying to John's entire situation as being a trial/judgement set by a higher force.

"The prince returned to the tower" dialogue [the prophetic cell mate] - Whether the person speaking is physical or not, John notes he can hear the scratching of pencil on paper within the cell, implying a person is writing their words down like a story… “The prince,” (John Doe, alias Joker, traditionally the ‘Clown Prince’ of Gotham) “having returned to the tower” (Arkham Asylum, the foundations of John's issues) “to reclaim his crown,” (assurance in himself and his reality; the completion of John's "self" with his final choices and becoming Vigilante!Joker for good) “trails after the fiend” (confronts the Talon Adam, alias Owl-man) “who's flying on wings of retribution” (core beliefs, perceived sense of justice). “The fiend’s wings are big, but the bones are brittle” (the Owl-man is imposing and persistent, but his physical "wings" are his weakness).

○ If you couple the Court of Owl's belief that G*d has written down the destinies of everyone in the world [as they are each born] with the knowledge that someone was writing down a short version of John's events at Arkham…hmmm.....

Room 11 [Iman's cell room] - The 11th card in the Major Arcana is "Justice". This can reference either 1) The just-desserts coming for Talon Adam/"The Owlman", or 2) The outcome of the player’s choice to take Iman with them or not.

11 minutes + 16 seconds [remaining time on bomb timer] - 11:16. 11/16, aka my birthday! :) I only wish I had finished Chapter 10 in time for the chapter's publishing year (2020), lol~

"Our Faith brings Perseverance, and Our Perseverance guides Justice, for Mercy to God." - The Court of Owls' beliefs circle around 3 principles bringing people closer to G*d: Faith, Perseverance, and Justice. Their belief hardens their persistence in their actions (as they are written and not guided by "Evil"), and their goals are ultimately to deliver justice where the human system failed and "Evil" prevailed in "escaping", hence the guiding of one principle to another. "Mercy to God" is what is granted by righting the injustices of the world; as G*d wrote your future down exactly, Evil can corrupt it, and once corrupted this does G*d a harmful injustice. The Court considers themselves close to G*d by "mercifully" stopping further corruption via eliminating "Evil" in all it's worldly forms…

Speaking of the 3 principles, our main Owls are meant to be "embodiments" of these in the story.

○ Talon Sonja Townsend represents Faith, driving home her belief in G*d's absolute destiny. She is corrupted by her own selfish goal of eliminating her son-in-law, but is also so by-the-book she does not think to look at the obvious double-standards of the Court, and doesn't think her underlying actions are guided by "Evil".

○ Talon Adam represents Perseverance, having fought Joker to unconsciousness, and was willing to blow up Arkham with himself still inside just to eliminate it; he is the most brainwashed, but the least corrupt in motivations, only striving to get what he feels is "justice". On the flip side of Adam is Talon Evan, who despite serious injury still appeared in Court and jumped at the chance to kill Joker and Batman, despite the Court's general appreciation of Batman; he is corrupt in personal selfishness, as he possesses no "real" faith in the Court's belief system and doesn't like others getting credit by stealing his targets.

§ ...it's also worth mentioning that the names for Adam and Evan are meant to be derivative of "Adam and Eve". In this way, it can also be seen as a parallel to The Lovers card, which one can attribute to Bruce and John. While Bruce + John are oddly harmonious and undeniably have a strong bond regardless of story paths, Adam + Evan are discontent rivals, with Adam "stealing" Evan's target and good graces with the Court, and Evan very pointedly beating up and kidnapping Batman (who Adam admires) to set up Batman's eventual Judgement.

○ Reverend Sebastian Overfield is the main representation of Justice, though he embodies all 3 principles. The Court’s belief is that their pursuit of justice – stopping Evil/chaos via deaths of criminals – overrides their own traditional sins. Because they are being helpful to G*d, granting Them mercy by righting the injustices of Evil and putting G*d’s Word back on the right path, they are in G*d’s favor. Therefore, as the leader of the Court and the one who organized everything by handing down "God's word", he is the carrier of Justice; without him, the Court would be nowhere and G*d would be shedding more tears over their ruined work…at least, in his mind. Naturally, he is the exact opposite of what justice should be. He is biased and unwavering in strict faith, as much a carrier of chaos as he doesn't want to be…

○ Of course, this is all also up to interpretation. One can interpret Adam as "justice", Evan as "perseverance", and Sebastian as the stand-in for "God", as he is the Court's ruler and is the sole person to hand down "the word of God".

"[…]if two people you normally count on for one reason or another" - Alfred made a subtle dig at John being Bruce's boy-toy. Ouch, Al'…

"[…]given it's your pet project, and all" - Even though Selina is talking about Arkham, she's making a dig at former-Arkham-resident John being Bruce's "pet", who in her eyes was Bruce's main reason for getting Arkham revitalized. :\ Man, everybody's picking on their relationship…

petrichor - The smell proceeding rain. Because it's not a climactic fight scene in Gotham city without rain.

Ch. 11: The Tolls of Justice

[chapter title] - Naturally referring to the Justice card of the tarot, this title is the same as the story title. Funnily enough, this is the 11th chapter, and the 11th card in the tarot deck. (I guarantee you I did not plan this bit… Funny how these things play out, ain't it?) The Justice card naturally stands for cause and effect, clarity, or truth; ultimately, it's a representation of karmic retribution, and what the Owls are in dire need of facing. The title overall is referring to both the [para]phrase "do not ask for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee" (in the original context: a grievance over death for all out of love for community/mankind, not just one person) and the "toll" - as in cost or damage - of enacting justice. What Bruce has put himself through to become and keep being Batman, the enactor of vengeance for all those wronged in the city of Gotham, and what ultimately the Court of Owls has sacrificed - either wittingly or unwittingly - in the name of justice. It also extends to John, who for the sake of "justice" is routinely stuck in Arkham, in one way or another, and has never had a conceivably just or fair life at all - thus paying the unwilling toll opposing Bruce and the Owls. We can also extend it to Tiffany, who is making good on her work with Bruce to "pay her toll" for her own crime, with her toll being seen in a positive light as Robin, compared to what life sentence she might have been paying otherwise.

[the sword in the pulpit] - a symbolic reference to The Justice card, as the Justice card in the major arcana often depicts a sword, either alone or in someone's hand. This can also be interpreted as a reference to the Ace of Swords in the minor arcana, which is normally pointing upwards, referring to victory, truth, or ideas; when flipped, as it would be when looking at the initial depiction of the sword as a "cross", it stands for lies and confusion. The sword in the story itself is a symbol of justice, and uses snakes as the stand-in for the forces of Evil, which are destroyed by the owl making up the handle and supposedly wielding the blade.

"the skull peeking out of the knight’s helmet" [card in the box on Reverend's desk] - A very clear reference to the Death card, famous in the tarot deck. It signifies change, inevitable cycles, and new beginnings/directions. Depending on the reading, it can be interpreted as an actual death, but more often than not it’s merely showing of a life change. As this is the Reverend’s deck, it seems the last card he drew was Death… The viewer can interpret this as a reading from the Reverend into the Arkham plot, where Death is representing John’s own changes, the end of Talon Adam’s latest “cycle”, or the actual deaths that had occurred (no matter how many there are in the end). The viewer can also read this as the Reverend trying to find his own fate, the fate of Roman Sionis for his trial, or Batman’s fate. All of them are quite valid, but I feel the most accurate interpretation is that the Rev' was trying to read the future of the Court of Owls.

○ …as mentioned above, the Death card is the most overt reference to the Tarot. This way, if someone didn't piece together the weird chapter titles, the specified numbers and number-letter strings, and/or the odd names of people and places, they'd be able to double-back and see them as clues. They are put there purely as a storytelling clue for the audience. As you can tell, the tarot references increased with each chapter…almost like someone is trying to get your attention…

[the framed painting] - a reference to The High Priestess, aka card II of the tarot. This card is indicative of intuition and looking within, and can signal to mysteries at hand or a higher power at work. The pillars on the card are (hilariously enough) marked with a B and J, and are in black and white, respectively. They stand for Boaz (Strength) and Jachin (Establishment), and are meant to represent the duality of nature, good/evil, masculine/femine, etc. Naturally, both pillars are equal. In this depiction, it is both relating to “the player’s” own duality, with the ability to be flexible as Bruce and John and have both good and bad decisions play through the story, and as a strong hint to a higher power being present.

8-9-6-3 [candle puzzle] - It takes a bit to work out by sorting through the alphabetic values to each number, but it doesn’t make a complete word. On ye olde phone keypad, 1 is always null in value, so it’s always unlit in the candle sequence, and since there are 4 other numbers present we know it doesn’t count as part of the string. (If there were only 3, you could guess a year from your notes.) My idea for the “game” specs of this part would be that the key-code would be somewhat randomized, either using a specific year (if Tiffany and/or Iman are not present, this is *always* the case, as you have to utilize your background notes and the candles by yourself), a few translated letter combinations just for fun, or an occasional number-card type combo, as presented here. (In some lucky scenarios, “the player” doesn’t have to solve the candle puzzle, since Tiffany can figure out the year by herself and just call you over when she opens the door. You still have the option of looking around, though!) In this case, the values are another tarot-themed hint, using the card number first: 8-w-n-d, for the 8 of Wands, which alludes to quick actions. AKA “Get ready for quick-time events!!!”

"looking more like the king on the throne than a judge" - Meant to allude to The Emperor card, the ultimate royal symbol in the major arcana and always depicted with a king. Traditionally this symbolizes power, authority, control, etc., but when reversed it alludes to overbearingness, arrogance, and chaos. For the Owls, they would likely see themselves as the upright depictions, even when presented upside down before the person doing their reading… And here is no better example, with the Reverend Overfield taking place as the ultimate authority over the Court.

"like [Sonja] had a say in commanding the room" - Alluding to The Empress, in conjunction with Rev’s position, this card alludes to femininity, motherhood, nurturing, creativity, and/or abundance. When reversed, it stands for neglect, creative blocks, overbearing, and/or uncaring. Sonja is a good example of an overbearing mother, trying to make decisions for her child because she thinks she knows best - thus fits the reversed reading well.

[Courtroom layout] - How curious is it that I haven't referenced The Devil when we have so many opportunities? That's because I strove to show this card rather than reference it overtly. The Devil card depicts El Diablo in the upper middle, lording over the card, with two souls chained to him at the bottom. The classic depiction shows a female demon-like human on one side and a male demon-like human on the other. As such, Rev. Sebastian sits on the high bench as the judge, overlooking the courtroom, and Sonja and Evan sit beneath him, one embedded on each side of the lower bench, sitting before him rather than beside him. Naturally, The Devil card represents temptation, manipulation, and materialism (though not necessarily of physical things). There is nothing more suited to The Devil card than the Reverend Sebastian Overfield and the Talons.

Circe | Cindy Peterson - Circe was the original Black Mask's downfall, or at least serious decent into who would be Black Mask. In her origin, she was a model who seduced Roman and ended up being blamed for his poor business choices, as he completely revolved Janus Inc.'s new direction around her image, somewhat at her insistence. Roman seemed to love her, but grew vengeful when she dumped him. She was named Circe, after the witch who lured men to their doom. In this story, she plays a much less active role but ultimately still serves as Roman's downfall, though in a very different way. : she does seem to care about Roman, going so far as to hide him on her yacht, not rat him out for his overt gang activities, and even leave Gotham with him for good to run from Batman despite not being in a relationship with him for long. But Bruce is able to spin this to his advantage, openly lying that she was working for him undercover and twisting Roman's affection for her into paranoid doubt, which he eventually lashed out with and ended up being caught because of. Circe never got a ~proper~ name in the original canon, so I dubbed her Cindy. The name "Cindy" can be boiled down to “person from Kynthos” and since Circe is Greek… Well, it fits well enough!

"[…]waltzing into the danger-zone without his wingman" - It’s Top Gun's “You can be my wingman anytime”, but with ALL the homoerotic implications!

"the Degnah Club" - The Degnah Club can be inferred to be one of Roman Sionis’ clubs, or just one his False-Face Society visited on occasion, but the event that happened there is implied to have taken place before the start of the story. “Degnah” when written backwards is “hanged”, referencing the Hanged Man card. When upright, this card means sacrifice and selfless acts. When reversed, as very much implied here, it’s an unnecessary sacrifice. This is both a play on what Roman’s implying – which is likely a very violent event – being an “unnecessary sacrifice” as part of Matt Chaney’s greater scheme for the Court of Owls, and as an allusion to Matt’s fate, where his morals/good choices/old law-abiding life were thrown away for an inevitably failed pursuit.

"[Tiffany | Robin's] personal count of 13" - The 13th card in the tarot is Death, bringer of change and ender of cycles. It’s also a traditionally unlucky number. This number is the “body-count” of Tiffany’s run through the Court so far. Does it reference the end of the Court's latest cycle, or something else…?

Accompanying the Tarot, as mentioned earlier I also tied in other fortune-telling methods, with the counting of crows and reference to the zodiacal horoscope. I also threw in allusions to luck, with The Lucky Hotel and The Lot (in both name and the fact that it's a casino). This is all tied entirely around the concept of fate and being able to change it with the choices you have made or currently make as "the player". Luck itself has nothing to do with your choices and the fates you guide Bruce and John to, and it's not something "the player" can control - it's an illusion, with things seemingly lucky for our heroes having already been written in on purpose to lead to the next event. It's essentially a long, drawn-out joke.

Talons/Reverend's Owl Masks - I wanted the Talons to be set apart from the rest of the Court and have special owl faces. The Court's owl masks are as follows:

○ Talon Adam - Great Horned Owl; chosen for the owl's large size and hunting ability, as well as the protruding "horn" feathers mimicking Batman's cowl. This is the most common owl used in media. The "horns" are meant to clue the reader into the culprit early on. Adam's a Batman-fan, so he mimicked Bats' style.

○ Talon Sonja - Snowy Owl; chosen for the owl's fairly elegant feather pattern and Sonja's ~colder~ personality. Sonja had a masquerade one to show her "humane" side to prospective Owls, but always wears a full-faced mask for the rest of the Court.

○ Talon Evan - Barn Owl; chosen for it's ghost-like face and screeching call, and it's hunting skills. They sometimes are seen as bad omens. While Adam was a mysterious stalker, Evan is overtly dangerous upon appearance, in no due part to his temper.

○ Reverend Sebastian Overfield - Eastern Screech Owl; this owl is smaller than the other, but has similar "horn" feathers to the Great Horned, and a gray face. The "horns" are meant to be another a mirror to Batman, but can be considered another allusion to The Devil. It isn't the largest or flashiest owl of the bunch, but Sebastian has the most power of all the Court members.

[The "Justice" bell-toll] - traditionally, a church bell tolls to signify someone passing into death. In the Court/Church of Mercy's case, they use a bell rung at midnight to signify a complete "trial" and a carry-out of their own brand of "justice"…which also culminates in death. The "trial" shown in this chapter is a rarity, as the offenders are actually present to get a talking-to before their sentencing - generally, the Church will hold a mock-trial to decide the fates of the perpetrators…after some previous counseling with Talons and select older members. (Think of the Trial like a ceremonial conference for the majority of the time.)

Chapter 12: Ten Cheers to the World!

[title] - The act of cheering, aka toasting, is to raise a cup and drink towards someone or something in celebration or tribute. Here, it's referring to the tarot's Ten (X) of Cups, which is pretty much the best card you could pull in a reading - when upright, as it is here, it means celebration, fulfillment, and happiness! The World card is the final card in the Major Arcana, encapsulating completion, accomplishment, and harmony, all from inner and outer sources. It might seem redundant at first, but the Cups suite in the Minor Arcana is all in regards to emotions, relationships, and love; in comparison, the Major Arcana represents a journey from innocence and ignorance to wisdom and completion. So you have an emotional celebration with fulfilling relationships, and the story's path marked as complete in both a literal and figurative sense.

"An accident at Ace Chemicals" [Iman & John's convo] - Referencing the majority of Joker origins, wherein pre-Joker fell into the vat of chemicals at Ace Chemicals and survived, leading to a psychotic breakdown due to his changed appearance and/or the circumstances around to what led him to Ace Chemicals in the first place.

"the string of deaths in the Velestra mafia" [Iman & John's convo] - a ref to the former mafia/main antagonists in Batman: Mask of the Phantom that kept getting killed off one by one by the Phantom. Whether The Phantom exists in this world…we'll have to wait and see, I guess!

"an unrecoverable ‘data loss’ at the Agency" [Iman & John's convo] - not a reference to canon, but my own theory on a potential background for John being a former Agent…(see further below)

"Et tu, Peeps?" - a riff on "Et tu, Brute?", Julius Ceasar's last words as he was betrayed and stabbed to death.

"Maybe I was someone in the wrong place at the wrong time" / "someone at the right place at the wrong time" [John monologue] - Another reference to the most popular background choice, the Ace Chemical origin story, and it’s variations. Though probably lacking Batsy’s involvement, considering the timeframe…

"Maybe I was some experiment gone wrong" [John monologue] - A reference to a different author's Season 3 replacement fanfic, where John ended up being a genetically modified human/test tube baby. Unfortunately the work got deleted from Ao3??? And my bookmark is gone, so I can't name the fic… But I still remember you, Unknown Author!!! It was a fun story and I've never forgotten that twist!!!! \( >o< )/

"Maybe I was even an Agent, like you" [John monologue] - My own little theory as to why the Agency was so keen on getting him for the Suicide Squad – and why he was considered a dangerous part of the gang despite not doing too much of interest in Season 1 (even if you consider the theory that he was helping Lady Arkham get her chemicals/drugs) – was that he was part of the Agency somehow. Either an agent who screwed up on the job, a rogue agent that escaped death via Agency trap…or maybe a guy who knew too much! But it's a fun, fresh idea to bring to Joker's multi-choice past, right? (( ;w;)) <(please say yes)

hippocampus - The region(s) of the brain that primarily deals with memory.

[the photo] - I wanted to leave it up to the reader/"player" to decide what kind of pre-Arkham past the TellTale!Joker has… So whether you think the picture Iman has is a "real" photo of him or not is entirely up to you.

"[…]'you're the moon to my sun'" [John, 'paraphrasing' Bruce] - In Tarot terms, this is a reference to the Sun card, representing joy, success, and masculinity, as well as another reference to the Moon card. One can also interpret the Sun card as "success in overcoming your obstacles or fears". As the Moon card can represent inner fears and femininity, it's a fitting opposite for interpreting this romantic line. While Bruce doesn't exactly embody the "positivity" and "joy" that this card represents, he brings that feeling into John's life, and Bruce is more traditionally masculine in contrast to John. This is also an overt use of the phrase "[they're] the moon to their sun" - a romantic notion that one person, though the opposite to the other, is completely complementary, like a One True Love. TeamFourStar's playthrough of TellTale Batman: The Enemy Within had not one, but TWO mentions of the "moon to [their] sun" line, the second of which was referring to John and Bruce. This one's for you, fellas!!! ( ^3^)

○ Funnily enough, The Moon is a very broadly interpreted card. Sometimes it's not a good card to have because deception, manipulation, illusion, and mystery/confusion are all potentially at work in your life. Sometimes it's an excellent card, because it tells you examine your feelings to resolve a problem, or tells you that you aren't seeing the whole picture. The reversed of the card is often attributed to avoidance of one's problems and further confusion, but also clarity, truth, and the full view of what's going on. If John is the embodiment of The Moon in the upright position, then I say Bruce is that of the Reversed Moon…

"[…] two lovers against the world" - Another classic romantic phrase that can be turned into a Tarot reference. The original phrase is meaning two romantic partners are pitted against "the world"/external forces that threaten to tear them apart, but they are committed to each other regardless. You can't really pit cards against each other in a reading, but you can read Past-Present-Future. In which case, in story terms, The Fool is always the Past, The Lovers is the Present here, and The World is the Future. As mentioned earlier, The World represents harmony and completion - if reversed, it would mean incompletion and chaos. The Lovers card is representing a strong union being forged between two people, very often romantic in terms of the Tarot. The meaning is usually attributed to decisions in a relationship being made (whether to start a new one, or to deepen the one you have), but it can also represent people outright, as well as an indication that a new partnership/relationship is on the way. When reversed, Lovers represents disharmony, imbalance, or a loss of relationship. In our story, of course, our two lovers are representing the upright reading of the card in the Present, showing as a strong couple. As it's "against", it implies that The World is something that will be a challenge, so it's likely Reversed. Which is a pretty good representation of Gotham in general, isn't it? lol~

○ The Lovers can also be seen symbolically in chapters 8 and 9, when Bruce and John are laying opposite each other and linking pinkies/holding hands at the hotel. :)

○ John uses the romantic line regardless of whether he's a vigilante or not! If you didn't get the Best Ending, aka our Sleepover Ending, Bruce would wind up back in the parlor with John as usual, and once the rest of the fam are gone (if they were there at all), he uses it to describe themselves. In the villain route, Bruce and John converse in the Batmobile on the way back to Arkham, and John uses the line there, too. ;3c

○ Naturally, you don't really get this complete scene if "your" Bruce is with Selina in the vigilante route.

Ending Type - …it's not a tarot reference or anything specific. I just wanted to let you know that you can ONLY get the Sleepover Ending if you have Tiffany and John in Bruce's party on good terms with each other AND with Bruce.

○ You can drive Tiffy away from Bruce by saying she shouldn't be with them at the Court Battle, but also by generally not believing in her/being mean and giving a neutral reaction to her staying during Battle; she won't go back to the cave with Bruce, so you don't get a chance to speak to her directly afterwards as either character. (John can still have his conversation with her via text, and they can still end on the same terms.)

○ If you don't have vigilante!John, there's no one else to help lift the things, so Tiffy's idea is never brought up.

○ John is always simping desperate for Bruce's attention, so even if you don't treat him as well in a platonic relationship, he'll still be there for this Ending type. ;_;

○ If you have a Romanced!Selina in your party, Selina will join you in both Court Battle and the Ending as seen in this story. It'll either cause her to take Iman's place (if she is not present) or to have extra spot suddenly appear above the rest of the group. Like Tiffy, she overheats and needs more space too cool off.

§ You can also talk to her as John, and sort of makeup/say your part of the team now. (But John will still be somewhat jealous of the attention she gets.)

§ John doesn't get the emotional hug with Bruce if Selina is around - especially since she doesn't temporarily leave with Tiffany and Iman - but the conversation is almost the same.

§ Naturally you can talk to her as Bruce, too. I don't think on her options too much, but they'll likely talk about change and what it means to have this "job" and internalizing too much of their emotions/themselves.

§ If you and Selina are only friends, Selina can join you in the Court Battle, but will text you instead of sticking around.

1:06 A.M & [Clock time on Belltower in Chapter 11] - Bruce's sense of time is off, which is why he's surprised it's after 1AM and not closer to 2AM. (Can't blame him, he was unconscious for a while and a whole bunch of stuff happened.) I figured if Bruce broke out of his kidnapping ropes at 10PM sharp, and drove all the way to the GCPD, that's about 20-30 minutes in his supercharged car, if not a little less, plus with 5 minutes to escape proper. If we think GCPD is sort of a halfway point to Old Gotham/The Coventry district, it's another 15 minutes to there. So he'd arrive at the Church of Mercy before 11PM, and wait John for around another 10-15 minutes, including with all the investigating inside. The "trial" scene probably took another 10 minutes until Batman crashed it, and fight scenes seem long because of all the action going on, but by the time Bruce and co' leave, it's not 12AM yet. The bell-tower in the Church of Mercy is actually off by about 20 minutes… And what do you know, card XX (20) of the tarot's Major Arcana is Judgement, alluding to karma at work! It can also be attributed to a life change. ;D

"11:43:20PM" - this wasn't deliberately meant to allude to anything. It took the batfam about 2 minutes from the last toll to leave the church. Bells' tolling speed is varying between clocks and towers, but you can estimate about 30-45 seconds for a full twelve. If it rang at 11:40 exactly, then…ugh, this is sounding like math homework.

Epilogue:

[Still a WIP, so will be updated after it's uploaded! Shouldn't have much, though! Saay, isn't there a Major Arcana card missing? (9v9) I wonder what that iiiiis~]

So that was [just about] all of them! I had a lot of fun weaving them throughout the story this time, especially with the story's themes! AtBoM didn't have as nearly as many, so they weren't really worth mentioning before.

I hope this was helpful to those of you who were interested in diving beneath the surface of BtTTS: TToJ~!

#ttoj #ttoj reference guide #telltale batman #batman the telltale series #tarot cards #I made it a goal to use all the Major Arcana!#fortune-telling #it took me a month to compile this whole guide #I had notes scattered between my Word doc and google doc #hopefully this wasn't too hard to read #even if no one got any of these i'm satisfied!#they were really fun to write!!#edit: corrected Eric's last name (my bad)

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graveyarddirtseries · 3 years

Text

Graveyard Dirt & Salt

Chapter Nine

From out of the tall, un-managed grass of the laid waste cotton field they were riding in, a ghost, a sort of shadow rose up, then another and another. Three of them, blood on their faces from a fresh kill, eyes wide at the approach of another meal.

“You're gonna grow roots sitting there.”

For six days Annie had seated herself right in front of the wrought iron gate and stubbornly refused to move. For six days she screamed whenever someone would try to move her. Sure she came to eat when food was ready and certainly she made a trip to the hastily constructed privy when she had to and she slept in her bed, or rather laid there all night until her rage wore her out and she fell asleep.

But when she wasn't eating, shitting or sleeping, she was sitting in the same ass groove worn into the grass and sullenly staring out at the world beyond the gate.

Easing down beside her, the Lieutenant peered down the same worn cattle trail she was peering down and sighed.

“You know where Halloween pumpkins come from?” He asked the girl.

She seemed to ignore him.

“They used to be turnips, you know. Was a fellow named Stingy Jack, you know him?”

Again Annie seemed to ignore him.

“Well, anyways this man was a rotten sort, used to play all kinds of tricks and schemes, loved to drink. Anyways, one night Jack is at the bar, drinking and he runs out of money. Well, old Jack he wasn't ready to turn in, but at that moment the Devil comes by, checking up on the sinners at the bar and old Jack says to him 'I'd sell my soul for one last drink'.

The Devil thinks this is an easy one and turns himself into a sixpence – do you know what a sixpence is?”

Annie shrugged.

“It's like money from England...well, I think this story is Irish, but...do you know where Ireland is?”

Annie was still.

“Well, anyways, the Devil turns himself into a coin for Jack to buy his last drink with, but old Jack is a wily sort of old bugger, so he buys his drink and then steals back the Devil coin and shoves it into his wallet next to a silver cross he had been carrying, trapping the Devil in his wallet.

The Devil cried out 'let me out, let me out!' And Jack said he would if the Devil promised not to return to claim his soul for ten years.

Well, ten years pass and Jack is out walking on a dirt road one night and the Devil comes up to collect what's owed.

And old Jack says, 'I'll go, but first you have to get me an apple from that there tree'.

The Devil huffed and stomped his hoof, but figured it was easier that fighting old Jack, so he hops up into the tree to get Jack an apple.

As soon as the Devil is in that tree, Jack takes out his pocketknife and carves crosses all around the trunk of the tree, once more trapping the Devil.

'Let me down, let me down!' Shouts the Devil.

'I will, but you got to promise that you won't take my soul from me until I die of old age', says Jack.

The Devil, getting irritated at this point, huffs and agrees.

Well, some years later, old Stingy Jack dies and he gets to the gates of Heaven and Saint Peter says, 'no, can't come in, Jack. You were mean and drunk, and you cheated and you tricked people. You can't come in.'

So old Jack goes down to Hell to see if he can get in there. It's cold and lonely wandering the earth as a spirit and Hell is very warm.

Well, the Devil himself comes to the gates of Hell and he says 'no. I don't want you here, Jack. You're mean and spiteful and too tricky for even Hell.'

Old Stingy Jack considers this and finally asks the Devil, 'well, what do I do then?'

And the Devil says, 'you go back where you came from and you walk the earth'. And he throws an eternally burning ember from the fires of hell at Stingy Jack.

And old Jack he puts that ember in a hollowed out turnip he had in his pocket and he walked the earth. They say to this day old Jack is out there, tricky and sly, wandering the earth with his Jack O'Lantern.”

Annie sniffed to hide a small grin that was threatening to break on her face.

“Benny's like Jack,” she whispered.

“He sure is and he will always trick the Devil.”

Annie gazed back out at the cattle trail, her big, dark eyes taking in the world beyond the gate like a raven perched on the branch of a tree.

“When will this all be over?” She asked him.

The Lieutenant was startled. He thought maybe Annie knew that this was how things were now, but then again she was just a wee thing. Small and young.

“Oh, sweet pea, this is how things are now. There is no over.”

She was quiet, soaking in this information, before she said, “I just want to go home.”

“Where's home?” He asked.

Annie frowned, her face still.

Somewhere outside the wall a bobwhite warbled it's funny little shriek.

The child beside him stood up and took a small step towards the gate.

“I'd stay away from the gate, sweet pea,” the Lieutenant warned her, also getting to his feet.

Again the bobwhite shrieked and Annie hurried to the wrought iron, pressing herself against it to peer out. She tweeted back, a sweet little trill that the Lieutenant couldn't place.

From out of the bush lining the cattle trail, Benny emerged, still dressed in the cassock and grinning, hands up so Sister Dymphna on the wall wouldn't shoot him.

“Good morning,” he greeted casually.

“No shame in coming back defeated,” the Lieutenant teased cautiously, mildly panicked that the man had returned so quickly. Had he been forced to give up their position? Was he compromised?

“Hey, Cordelia,” Benny greeted the child at the gate, reaching through to tickle her cheek.

She pulled away quickly, angry at him for leaving her.

Catching Sister Dymphna who was descending from the wall to open the gate, the Lieutenant held her off from her task for a moment.

“Why are you back?” He asked the shorter man.

“Well, I scrubbed the mission, but...I brought gifts.” Benny explained.

“Guns?” The Lieutenant asked.

Benny grinned. “Sort of. Just...take it easy, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Okay, it's clear, come out!” Benny shouted over his shoulder.

The Lieutenant dropped his shoulder enough so he could slide his rifle off if he needed, as out of the woods came nine people, all of them with their hands up. He still instinctively dropped his shoulder further, preparing for trouble.

“Who are these people?” He hissed at Benny.

“They're friends.”

“You brought people back to the convent?!” The Lieutenant snarled. “You compro-”

“Calm down,” Benny said. “I wouldn't endanger Cordy. She's the only one I like. These people and us have one thing in common. We want this woman stealing group dead. Now let us in.”

The Lieutenant held Dymphna back again, putting her behind him, where Annie was being shoved too.

“I ran across them in the middle of gunning down a group of these men who were trying to steal a couple of their women,” Benny explained. “Let us in. Please? We need to talk.”

“They leave their weapons outside the gate.” The Lieutenant bartered.

“Sorry, but no.” One of them said. He had a voice like the thick black smoke of a forest fire, the kind with embers and a danger.

Studying his marine gear, the Lieutenant asked, “are you a fan or a real marine?”

“Corporal Angel Delgado, I was posted at HQ, I know of you, Lieutenant Vancoughnett.”

“Delgado?” The Lieutenant racked his brain, there were enough marines at HQ that he could only catch the taste at the tip of his tongue on who the man was.

“Hey, Cajun,” Benny said firmly. “Look at me.”

The Lieutenant looked over at the fancy man.

“Trust me, okay? You want these people inside.”

“It's not my convent,” he finally said.

“I'll get Mother Mena,” Dymphna offered, she tried to take Annie with her, but the girl collapsed on the ground in non-violent protest, becoming dead weight.

Benny chuckled. “I taught her that.”

The Lieutenant remained quiet, taking in everything he could of the group of people behind Benny. Delgado was a marine, so he assumed the woman to his right was as well. There three other women, four men. They didn't look very threatening, they looked tired and hungry and two of them had instruments strapped to their backs.

Mena sidled up beside him, as quiet as a kitty cat and eyed them for a moment, before saying, “welcome. You can come on in. But this is a place of peace, please be mindful of that. Dymphna, please get the gate.”

As the gate was opened, Benny strode inside, the others following him slowly. As they passed the Lieutenant, one of them, a young man with dark hair sort of puffed up his chest at him with a smug grin and kept walking. The two with the instruments brought up the rear, both of them tipping their hats to him politely.

The Lieutenant made sure the gate was locked and secured, and Dymphna was back on the wall, before he followed the group, heading for the church Annie sullenly walking beside him.

Inside the church, he took a seat in the back with Annie, feeling like it wasn't his rodeo anymore. The convent was Mena's, the group was Benny's, he was just muscle, he supposed.

Benny, ascending the pulpit, grinned down at the others. “Good morning,” he said like a priest preparing to begin his sermon, and as he was dressed, the Lieutenant almost could forget the purpose of them being there. “Alright, let's get into it. Abbess, I missed you. You look cute in that yellow blouse, did the Lieutenant find it for you?”

“The point, please, Mr. Malone?” She insisted.

“Long story short, these people are in need of shelter, a home. In return they've agreed to help us find these men who have been stealing women. And they've already given us a peace offering.”

“Which is?” The Lieutenant asked.

“We have a prisoner, tied up in an upstairs closet in the farmhouse nearby, he can give us what we need to get these men. The position of their camp.”

“Are you seriously having a fucking meeting without me?” Grayson burst into the church, along with several of the nuns.

“That was faster than I hoped,” Benny murmured. “Hey, Grayson, I see you're still alive.”

“Fuck you, Benny!” Grayson shouted, storming down the aisle.

As he passed by the young, dark haired man from the new group, the other young man reached out and grabbed Grayson by the back of his shirt, yanking him down hard and holding him there.

“Shut your face, you're in a church, dipshit,” the dark haired man ordered. “Go on, Father.”

Not quite liking this man pushing around Grayson, the Lieutenant stood up and moved to rescue the boy, taking him back to sit at his side.

“Go on, Benny,” he said.

“Well, that's pretty much it. We have a good chance to get back Haley, Laila, maybe any other woman who've been taken by these men and in exchange, the nuns get some company here at the convent. More guns, more people.”

“Less food,” Mena added calmly. When everyone turned to look at her, she stood up almost meekly and made her way to the pulpit, crossing herself quickly before Jesus, before moving to stand beside Benny. “Less space. I certainly hope your friends are willing to work.”

“We won't freeload,” Delgado assured her. “These walls look nice enough to keep us invested in the place.”

“I'm saying,” Mena continued, “we of course will provide shelter and aid, but if we want to winter in contentment, we'll need to bring back more food to supplement our garden and our coop.”

“If one of the new group can help me hunt,” the Lieutenant began, “we can dry some meat for the winter months.”

“Yo!” The dark haired young man said.

“You can't hunt, Kane!” The young man with the glasses who sat beside him said.

“Can you, Auggie? No? Then shut the fuck up.” Kane said.

“Greene and I can help hunt,” Delgado said.

“Well, protein is a good start, but we'll need vegetables, fruit. Our peach tree does what it can, but it won't see us all through the winter.”

“We can find farms that have trees and visit them come harvest time,” the Lieutenant offered. “And any canned food we come across will be brought back to the convent.”

“You sound like you're in, Cajun,” Benny said.

“I have to admit, I'm attracted to the idea of more capable guns around here, but...no offence, I know nothing of these new folk.”

“We know nothing of you either, Lieutenant,” Delgado said.

“Whatever happened to jarhead brotherhood?” Benny asked.

“Well,” Mena broke in. “If we can all manage to get along, then I have no problems with newcomers. But I have a few rules we need to keep to here. This is Holy Ground, my nuns won't be assaulted or have vulgar language or actions taken upon them. I won't expect you all to tend to mass, but you're welcome if you want. Please respect that this is a convent first and foremost.”

“Jesus,” one of the woman from the new group murmured.

“Guess that'll put a stop to your weekend catting, huh Saph?” Kane teased.

“Keep your head straight,” the woman named Saph warned him archly.

Mena waited for them to calm down, before saying, “well, if we can oblige each other's rules, then I don't see why we can't provide sanctuary. We'll celebrate our union tonight with a meet and greet of sorts.”

“A meet and greet?” Delgado asked, his tone was a little more accusatory. These new people were decidedly rougher around the edges than the Lieutenant and the nuns were, it was clear.

Mena sort of shifted nervously under his dark eyed gaze. “Uh...well, I don't...I'm not sure what to call it in the end of days. I'm sorry.”

“No, I – I wasn't being mocking, I'm sorry...we've been in a completely different land than you. It'll take a while to get civilized again.” Delgado said hurriedly, sounding almost embarrassed. “I think a small...thing might be good to mingle our group with yours. Get everyone accustomed to each other.”

Mena nodded. “Alright, then. Now, do any of you need medical treatment or...I see you're pregnant, darling. Do you need prenatal care?”

“I've got my vitamins,” the pregnant woman said. “Thank you.”

“Our people are in good shape, Medicine Man Jack keeps us running,” Delgado said. “We just need some sleep somewhere safe. And food would be wonderful. But don't think we're planning on just sitting around, we will work for that food. We'll chip in on chores.”

“You have a doctor among you?” Mena asked.

“Forensic Pathologist, actually, Jack was in the army as a surgeon too, so he's good at wear and tear fixes. Nothing major, so I hope no one needs brain surgery or open heart.”

“Maybe he wouldn't mind working with our Sisters Mary Monica and Mary Claire, they both have some nursing and hospice training, I'm sure they could benefit from more training.”

The man with the wide brimmed, black hat nodded his agreement. He wouldn't have been the one the Lieutenant would have guessed to be the doctor among the group. Especially with the banjo on his back and the almost Amish fashion he wore on his slender frame.

“Why don't you introduce yourselves, Corporal? So we know who we're bringing in to our flock?”

“Pfft,” Kane – the dark haired young man exhaled.

“We...uh...have pressing matters, another time maybe,” Benny interrupted, motioning to the Lieutenant to join them as he hopped down from the pulpit, heading for the door.

“I will not be blown off, Mr. Malone,” Mena argued, following him down the aisle, everyone, literally the entire two groups, following as well.

In the rush of the crowd, the Lieutenant scooped up Annie, who was still sulking, but allowed herself to be carried instead of getting crushed. He didn't like how fast it was all moving, not that he wasn't used to fast paced, only that he was still a little shaky on his trust with these new people.

Grabbing hold of Dymphna just outside, he eased Annie down and whispered, “keep your eye on these people while we're gone, yeah?”

She nodded.

“And tell the others to keep their weapons on them, they don't have to be menacing, just...cautious.”

Again she nodded. “Will we be okay?”

“I'm eighty percent.”

“Eighty percent yes or no?” She called after him as he hurried to catch up with Benny and Delgado at the gate.

He side eyed a few of Delgado's people, who were milling around awkwardly nearby, as he passed.

Mena joined them just as the Lieutenant did and the four of them stood for a moment at the gate.

“Where are you going?” Benny asked her.

“With you.”

“Not outside the walls, Sister.”

“It's Abbess, please? And I have just as much right to be in on all of this as you, since you decided to start playing fast and loose with our convent supplies. No offence,” she added to Delgado sweetly.

“A little taken, but I get the frustration.” He replied.

“No.” Benny insisted.

“I'm not even going to talk to you anymore,” Mena stated, frustrated.

“Get your weapon, yeah?” The Lieutenant told her. “We'll wait.”

Mena narrowed her eyes at him.

“I promise. We'll wait,” he assured her, grabbing Benny by the hem of his cassock.

As Mena scurried off, Benny yanked his cassock hem back and said, “she can't come. Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because I promised to let this asshole go if he told us everything, so we're going to just let him walk then shoot him dead.”

The Lieutenant glanced in Mena's direction. “Well, shit. We can't leave without her now, she'll kick us all out.”

“Why does she want to come anyways? Have you been letting these nuns loose?” Benny demanded.

“They're free to come and go as they like and...yeah a few of them have been coming with me on hunts and such, I thought it would be best to get them used to the outside world.” The Lieutenant said. “And what the fuck does it matter to you? They need to toughen up.”

Benny nodded angrily, agreeing with him, but clearly not liking it. “Fuck...shit. Yeah they do.”

“What do we do then?” Delgado asked.

The Lieutenant exhaled, he didn't know. This was Benny's fucking mess.

“Okay, we get the information from him, I walk off with him into the woods and strangle the fucker.” Benny said, removing his cassock, possibly to prevent anyone from catching him by the hem again.

“Or,” Delgado added calmly, “we just interrogate him in a room away from her. Shoot him and say he lunged us.”

“That's easier. That'll work.” Benny said, suddenly snapping at the Lieutenant. “Why are you looking at me with a face like a slapped ass?!”

“I'm not,” he argued lightly.

He was, but he wanted to argue a bit. It was an entirely different plan set in motion now. Not a bad plan, just an entirely different one. And, yeah, maybe he hated that it wasn't his plan. Maybe he was a little pissed that it was the fancy man who saved the day for once.

Instead, he turned to Delgado, who was gazing at him with calm, almost thoughtful brown eyes.

“Are your people gonna be okay here on their own?” He asked.

The Corporal nodded. “They're adults.”

“That pregnant one looks young,” the Lieutenant said.

“Hazel, yeah she's our youngest, sixteen. She's a good kid though, quiet and doesn't complain.”

“Who's the father?” The Lieutenant went on with his interrogation dressed up as concern.

Delgado eyed him calmly, before saying, “no one in our group, if that's what you're thinking.”

Mena returned, her giant kitchen knife in hand, empty rucksack on her back. “Ready,” she said.

“Stick close,” the Lieutenant said to her. “Remember what I told you.”

She nodded.

“It's kind of neat, we have three horses stashed in the barn to take back to the convent and everything,” Benny said as they entered a bedroom at the top of the stairs in the farmhouse.

“These men have hor-” The Lieutenant stopped short as a moan came from the closet.

All four of them stopped in their tracks and just stared at the white door.

The moan came again and it wasn't human. Still the four of them just sort of stared in disbelief at the door.

“Hey, dipshit!” Benny finally shouted at the door, kicking it lightly.

The door shuddered in response as the man on the other side threw himself at it, letting loose another familiar moan.

“Shit,” Benny swore, stepping back, circling in a quick pacing motion, before stopping.

Delgado placed his hand on his hip. “He's dead.”

“Fuck!” Benny swore louder.

The door rattled again.

“I knew we should have gotten the information out of him last night!” Benny yelled. “But you wanted to wait!” He pointed at Delgado. “Now that asshole is fucking undead from a stomach wound and we just lost our lead!”

The Corporal blinked at him. “You asked me to offer up my people to fight for you. I wasn't going to do so on blind faith. Sorry, Abbess,” he added kindly to Mena.

She reached out and touched his forearm warmly.

Kicking in the door, slamming it into the uggie on the other side, Benny leapt on top of it and beat it with his fist for a good long time, before pulling out his pistol and shooting him until the clip clicked empty.

Everyone was quiet, their ears ringing in the small room from the shots.

Mena, who had covered her ears at the sight of the gun, lower her hands and looked panicked at the Lieutenant.

“I'm sorry,” Benny apologized, standing up, much calmer than he had been, running a hand through his hair and putting the greasy strands back in place. “That was unfair of me to blame you, Corporal.”

“It's fine,” Delgado said. “But we'd better get moving, those shots will have gotten us some attention.”

“Let's the horses and get the fuck back,” Benny said softly, almost as though he were ashamed of himself or the situation.

The Lieutenant actually felt bad for the man. He was just after these men because they posed a threat to the survivors of the area, namely his nuns, but Benny had lost someone to them. Benny didn't seem the type to make honest-to-god connections with people, so it seemed like when he did, he was attached for life.

He clapped Benny on the back as they left the room, trying to comfort the poor man.

Benny was quiet, but didn't shove his comforting gesture away, just sort of slumped his way down the hall.

“Ever been on a horse, Abbess?” Delgado asked as they saddled the creatures as quickly as they could.

Mena shook her head. “No.”

“Me neither,” he said. “Guess we'll both learn something new today.”

“Cajun?” Benny asked. “You ride?”

“Never.”

“Fucking Cajuns,” Benny replied, swinging up onto his horse easily. “Just like riding a bike.”

“These bikes bite, don't they?” The Lieutenant asked, eyeing his horse warily.

Benny's horse whinnied and side stepped in agitation at the new, unfamiliar rider and Benny almost fell off.

Laughing, the Lieutenant attempted to copy Benny's movements up and into the saddle, adjusting himself down below to a comfortable position, before turning to offer a hand to Mena.

She was already being hefted onto Delgado's horse by the Corporal, sitting in front of him, holding the horn nervously. So he instead pulled Marie off his shoulder and holstered her into the fancy rifle holster attached to the saddlebag.

“Alright, little kick to get them going,” Benny instructed. “Pull this way to go this way, pull this way to go that way, pull both back to stop. If your horse gets spooked, it's probably because of a snake or the undead, hold on like hell and they'll get you away to safety, but they may buck and if that happens? Eight seconds.” He added with a grin at his own joke. “Yup!” He nudged his horse into a trot, out of the barn.

“Fucking Texian,” the Lieutenant cursed, nudging his own horse to follow.

“You know I used to be better at this,” Benny murmured as they rode, keeping to the woods, not deep enough to wear the horses out with rough terrain, but deep enough to avoid the living.

“Riding?” The Lieutenant asked.

“No, tactics. You retire from the army, you get fucking twenty pounds fatter, you sit at home, you watch daytime television, your mind rots and then this happens and you fucking fail at the only thing you were ever good at.”

“We all grow older, Mr. Malone,” Mena said softly. “You did what you could.”

Benny was sullen on his beautiful black and white paint.

“I don't know you well, Father,” Delgado said. “But...I wouldn't have done anything different from what you did.”

“Thanks strange marine,” Benny said almost sarcastically.

“Hey, Texian,” the Lieutenant offered, hoping to cheer up the poor little fancy man. “You got yourself a horse and...isn't that all a cowboy needs?”

“Fuck you, Cajun,” Benny murmured. It was without feeling and quite unlike him. “I'm out of bullets, I'm out of ideas. I don't know. Maybe it's time to die.”

It was a joke, but a dark one and no one else was laughing.

“How about one yeehaw while you're on that horse?” The Lieutenant kept pressing, knowing he was getting somewhere with the teasing.

Benny's eyes shone a little in amusement, though he still looked disappointed.

“Just a soft one? For me?” The Lieutenant went on.

“I'll give you a fucking yeehaw,” Benny grumbled. Turning to Mena, he said, “I have to admit, Abbess, I'm shocked at you. I thought you'd jump up my ass and stay there about that man back there.”

“About how you allowed him to die?” She inquired archly.

“So you are mad?” Benny asked with a small, almost proud smile.

“Mr. Malone,” she began in that way that the Lieutenant knew was her gearing up to scold. Both Benny and the Lieutenant also geared up, bracing for the blow, and even though he was new to their dynamic, even Delgado seemed to steel himself in preparation.

But she didn't follow it up with anything.

Abbess of the Veil of Tears of the Sacred Virgin Convent, Mother Mena, petite and polite, just sat on the horse in front of Delgado and gazed long and hard at the horizon before them.

The Lieutenant was peering at her from his own horse, and Benny dropped over his own saddle horn to peer past the Lieutenant to join in on the staring.

Both men exchanged a curious look at each other, before Benny prodded, “Abbess?”

“There's so much death and dying in this new land,” she began softly, all fire gone from her tone. “I can't bring myself to care much.”

There was a second, only a beat really, before Benny said, “well, now, that sounds like the tone of someone who's defeated!” His loud, overly friendly, almost mocking voice rang off of the surrounding hills and hit back at them hard. It was too plastic, too fake. Just like the Lieutenant, Benny didn't like to hear Mena sound so...apathetic and it must have chased his own defeated attitude off.

Yelling, scolding, even a sermon, was better than this apathy from Mena.

“Dead,” Delgado warned, just as his horse nickered uncomfortably, prancing closer to the Lieutenant's.

The smell was in the air, something rotten, something that wasn't just an old stump in the woods.

Slipping down from his horse, the Lieutenant tossed his reins at Benny and said, “get the others back to the convent. We need to protect the horses.”

Mena struggled against Delgado's arms, and hopped down too to join him.

He didn't have time to tell her to get back on the horse, just pulled her behind him.

She welded her knife though and while she obeyed his wordless order to get behind him, she peeked out from around him to keep an eye on the rapidly approaching dead.

Benny and Delgado were long gone and it was fine, the Lieutenant was used to this new land, but he didn't care for the fact that Mena had to hop down with him. She would be one distraction he didn't need.

But she was here and today seemed as good a day as any for her to learn the hard way about the dead.

Kicking the first one to reach them square in the chest, he sent it back into the others hard, the one at the back collapsing.

Among the snarls and almost hisses of the dead, he heard Mena gasp and chanced only a quick glance over his shoulder, to find the grass rustling to their right as well. More dead.

“Run,” he commanded her, killing one of the uggies that lunged at them with his own knife, before shoving her hard in the direction the grass wasn't rustling in.

She screamed as another of the dead came out of the grass, toppling her and sending them both into the grass to disappear.

With no option, as the uggies were at his heels, he swept into the area the two had tumbled and stomped hard on the uggie's head as it struggled to get to its feet beside Mena who was laying on the ground.

She leapt up and joined him in running towards the woods, but not before punching at one of the dead that had caught up with them. It sent it off course, but didn't topple it. They were so close to the trees, but he knew they wouldn't make it, the dead were already grasping at the backs of their shirts. Grabbing Mena by the upper arm hard, he shoved her ahead of him and stopped, allowing the five dead to topple him, letting his feast be the distraction she would need to escape.

He kicked and punched hard at the group, stuffing his marine issued boot into the mouth of one that was at his legs, preventing it from biting, trying to avoid being bitten by the others using his knife to block any mouth that was thrown at him. It was a battle he was losing fast, there were too many. One of the uggies dropped to the ground heavily beside him, then rapid gunfire and the rest were dropping fast. Scrambling back and away from the pile of dead, he looked himself over for a bite, the action happening too fast for him to notice anything.

Mena was at his side, helping him up, her knife black with the dead's blood.

“Come on,” she urged him, yanking him towards the woods.

Just inside the tree line Delgado had stationed himself up in a tree and was holding his hand down to them to help them up into the old oak. He was so fucking welcome into the group at that moment, hand held down to them, rifle in his other.

Mena first, the Lieutenant ensured that, pushing her up, before following.

“Did they get you?” Delgado asked.

Still looking over his arms, in the safety of the tree as more dead emerged from the grass to gather below, he shook his head. “I don't think so.” He checked and rechecked for a bite, hands shaking. It was close, too close. He had been so damned careful, but that was...it was too close.

“You're lucky you were heading for me,” Delgado murmured, between taking shots at the uggies. “You would have been dead.”

“Thanks,” the Lieutenant breathed. He assumed the man had jumped off his horse as well, sending Benny on to the convent. And he was fucking grateful for the other marine.

Sitting on a branch above them, Mena was quiet.

Reaching up, the Lieutenant tweaked at her booted foot, trying to put her at ease, comforting her the best he could.

“You okay?” He asked her between shots.

She nodded, wide eyes on the dead below them.

“It's okay,” he said. “There can't be that many, Delgado has the ammo to put them all down.” Unless there's more out there and they're all coming to the sound of the shots, he thought, but kept that to himself. It was only then that he realized he didn't have Marie on his back and remembered putting her on the fucking horse in the rifle holster.

Great place for her, you fucking couyon.

There was only five or so left, so he turned to Mena.

“Once these uggies are put down, we have to climb down and run like hell,” he ordered, feeling like the CO he was once more. “There could be more headed this way, we stay close together, we don't stop running until we hit the convent or some kind of shelter. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Yes?” He urged needing an auditory agreement that she understood his orders.

“Yes.”

Three more left and the Lieutenant tried hard to ignore the way his branch was cracking under his weight, only three more. It gave out at two left and despite him trying to grab another branch, he fell straight down with the branch, collapsing on one of the uggies below hard. So hard he heard the poor uggies ribs crunch. Delgado shot the last one as he stabbed the poor dead woman in the eye and put her out of her misery, before getting to his feet shakily. He was getting too old to fall out of fucking trees that was for damned sure, but he was grateful for the uggie that broke his fall.

Jumping down, Delgado gave them cover as the Lieutenant reached up and helped Mena down. Then the three of them ran as a unit, into the woods, away from the tree and the tall grass.

Keeping Mena in front of them always, the Lieutenant found Delgado keeping pace with her, hand holding her upper arm. The man had flawlessly moved into the proper position for protecting a civilian from gunfire and for a moment the Lieutenant was a marine again. It was nice to have that trained companion who knew how protocols worked.

They moved through the woods as fast and as carefully as they could, before they stumbled into the clearing where the lagoon for the convent was. They weren't far, but coming up the ass end.

At the sight of the wall, the Lieutenant actually exhaled the breath he had been holding and with Delgado's help, they boosted Mena up onto the wall first, before the Lieutenant stooped down for the other man.

Once all three were on the wall, they sat down and just took a moment.

He looked himself over once more, paranoid a little now that he had been bitten, but he saw nothing but scratches from the branches of the tree and a few dings from the fall. His ankle hurt a bit, but he would be back to one hundred percent in a few days.

“Any battle you can walk away from, huh?” He asked Delgado.

The other marine looked at him with his serious, dark eyes, before a small, almost bashful, dimpled smile spread over his face.

Giving one last, dramatic exhale, the Lieutenant hopped gingerly down from the wall and held his arms out for Mena, but again, Delgado had beaten him to her, easing her down, his hands holding hers, before he hopped down himself.

“You alright?” The Lieutenant asked Mena as they walked around the church.

She nodded, pale and drawn, but seemingly alright.

Grasping hold of his hand before they could emerge from the five foot space between the church and the east wall, she pulled him back into the shadows and peered up at him sombrely.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, brown eyes so wide and so sweet as they gazed up at him. They were so dark and eternal in the shadows of the church that he swore he could see stars sparkling in them. “I'll never forget how you were prepared to die for me.”

Delgado, sensing he wasn't supposed to be there, just sort of slunk off, leaving them alone.

The Lieutenant didn't know why she was thanking him. He never understood the gratitude. He was trained to save lives, to protect, it wasn't just killing and war, though those were the unsavoury aspects of it. He was a marine, he joined to save lives. His life didn't matter, he wasn't a family man, he didn't have any reason to be alive other than protecting this convent and its people.

Mena, he supposed, more than any other. She was more important around here than him. She had nuns that needed her leadership.

Not good with serious talk, with real emotions, he chucked her playfully on the chin and said, “you did good out there, kid.”

“Lieutenant,” she began, but he was already heading out from behind the church.

Benny came up to them, smiling at first, before calming himself and saying, “gotta play hero, huh? That's gonna get you killed someday.”

“It was almost this day,” Mena stated.

“How's my horse, fancy man?” The Lieutenant inquired with a grin.

As they rounded the church, standing in front, heading for the gate, the Lieutenant noticed Delgado standing with his people in a tight circle, the survivors from his group having hardly moved from where they had been left.

Making a straight line for the new group, the Lieutenant found some nuns also heading in that direction, knowing they would get filled in there.

“So are we being asked to leave then?” One of Delgado's people asked.

“No,” Mena answered for the marine. “We aren't making anyone go anywhere. We still have the agreement than you'd help us in dealing with these men and to be honest I would never turn away anyone who needed shelter and safety here. I just ask that you pitch in with chores. Have you been offered tea or water?” She asked.

They nodded.

“Have you been fed?”

They shook their heads.

Mena frowned, but only offered the nuns with them a small, withering glare, before saying, “well, then let's go inside the cloister and get you something to eat. We can have an early lunch.”

“I'll have to skip hunting today,” the Lieutenant said. “Until the area is calmed down, somewhat. All the shooting and commotion probably scared away the game anyways.”

“Good,” she said. “You can work on digging us another privy hole.”

“Latrine duty, huh?” He asked with a small grin. “For saving your life?”

“For being reckless,” she replied coolly.

He nodded, properly stripped down. “Alright.”

“I can help with that,” Delgado said. “Jack, Billy? Let's get you working with the nursing nuns.”

“That would be Sisters Mary Monica and Mary Claire, they're in that building over there. It's the infirmary, but first your people eat.”

As Mena led the new people away, the Lieutenant watched their retreating backs, the gears in his mind already turning.

“Why's she's pissed at you?” Benny asked, coming to stand with him.

“I don't know,” he lied.

“Well, enjoy the doghouse, dipshit,” the shorter man scoffed, heading after the others.

“Why are you mad now?” He called out after him.

Benny turned in his tracks, walking backwards. “Because you didn't need to jump down from your fucking horse. We could have outrun the dead. You have a hero complex or a death wish. And you need to fix your shit!”

“So what? You wanted us to run the horses here and lead the dead to our door? Was that your plan?”

Benny turned around and scowled darkly, folding his arms. “Is this about me bringing these people here?”

“Look,” the Lieutenant began diplomatically. “We both fucked up today. Let's call it a scratch match.”

“We need to get our shit together,” Benny agreed.

Exhaling a sigh, the Lieutenant knew Benny might be right.

#graveyard dirt & salt series #novel #sorry it took me so long to update #thought no one was reading this anymore #shout out to #gothamsgaygirlgang

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