lettervreter



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    Tim's parents faked their deaths and fled the country years ago, but neglected to take him with them. He spent some time on the streets, and now at 16, he makes a living as a fortune teller, stalking and hustling the shit out of Gotham's elite by telling them eerily accurate fortunes based on the information he gathers about them.
    His life is peculiar but he wouldn't change a thing. When he gets booked for the big Wayne Halloween party, however, he finds himself getting all tangled up with the Waynes, and the more fortunes he tells, the tighter the snare becomes.

    or: Tim just wanted to scam Gotham's elite, not end up on the Batfamily's watchlist. But it seems they just won't leave him alone..

     

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    21 Sep 2024

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    An encounter with an enchanted puzzle box locks up most of Charles’ memories and leaves him thinking he and Edwin are in love. With a recipe from Tragic Mick for a potion to counteract the spell and strict instructions to go along with Charles' delusions, all Edwin has to do is keep up the ruse for three days. He can make it three days. Right?

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    08 Sep 2024

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    Astarion has spent two hundred years waiting for a hero to come.

    It isn't the foolish sort of idle dreaming that one reads about in adventure tales, no – he doesn't moon about in picturesque arched windows, pressing his hand to his chest and sighing. But he does hope sometimes, furtive and distantly yearning, in the same way he still prays to gods who never listen, every now and again.

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    25 Aug 2024

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    “Fine,” she said. “Do you know the statistically most common way for the authorities to take out organized crime?”
    Well, if that was her idea of enticing conversation, it was no wonder she had all those evenings free to chase after scoundrels like him. Still, Astarion didn’t want to antagonize her further and ruin the game, so he pursed his lips and guessed, “A very large, well-placed cannon?”
    “Tax fraud.”
    She looked at him as if she expected some sort of reaction – maybe a dramatic gasp? A palm flung to his forehead in a theatrical rendition of How could I not think of this?
    Everything he could muster was a blink. “Tax … fraud.”
    She nodded, obviously excited about what Astarion was sure were two of the most boring words in the English language, combined.
    "That's how we'll take down Cazador."

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    23 Aug 2024

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    Yuuri wakes up in Victor’s room the night after the Sochi Grand Prix Final banquet. Did they sleep together? No. Instead, last night, Drunk Yuuri taunted Victor that he hadn’t earned the right to get in his pants…and spelled out exactly what Victor would have to do to get there.

    Now, Victor intends to do everything on that list…

    ~

    “The conversation,” Victor says, “went something like this. You said I wasn’t getting in your pants that easily.”

    Victor says this in a normal tone of voice. Anyone could hear him. Yuuri looks around, but if anyone is paying attention, they’re pretending not to.

    “Naturally, I asked what I would have to do to get in your pants.”

    “Ah.” Yuuri blushes. “How embarrassing. What do you mean, naturally? Why would you ask that?”

    Victor tilts his head. “Because I want to get in your pants. I thought that much was obvious by now.”

    ~

    Note: Yuuri is not in a great headspace post Sochi Grand Final, and this fic necesssarily touches on mental health issues so please check the tags.

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    11 Mar 2024