#Book a table Essex

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Tutoring and Tension

Dom! Leighton Murray x Alt fem! reader smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing for something non ST fandom in a while so please be patient with me!

CW: sex, smut, porn with plot?, Leighton x reader, fem! reader (v) desperate! reader, alt reader, piercings and tattoos mentioned, makeup mentioned, oral sex (v), overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, sub! reader, dom! Leighton, use of toys (vibrator), power play, aftercare, etc.

When you first moved to Vermont, you knew there would be people like Leighton Murray. Rich, spoiled, kind of mean. 

What you didn’t guess, however, was that they would maybe be gay. 

Which was a shock to you while studying at the library, muted whispers at the table across from you. 

“I know! I know! I was shocked too! But then she pulled me into her bed and…” 

Muted squeals came from the table behind you as you rolled your eyes. You came to Essex for the fact that you could be away from your small town judgment at a prestigious school, but were starting to regret every second of it. People weren’t receptive to you, and most of the students were rich assholes who would sooner tell you that your diy patch jacket was clearly ‘Not Saint Laurent’, and call you ‘cute’ when you mentioned thrifting. 

And it didn’t help that most of the student population was scared of your look. Tattoos, piercings, dark clothing, and platform shoes. Sometimes, even colorful hair. You were a walking social pariah. You knew it, but you didn’t care. You were here to make a name for yourself through extracurriculars and studies. To follow your dreams. 

If only math wasn’t kicking your ass. 

You could never focus. Sitting behind Leighton Murray meant you had to watch the back of her perfect blonde head and that you could smell her perfume (something classy and brand name, probably, all you knew is it made her smell like florals and vanilla). You kept getting C’s and D’s on papers and tests, too distracted by Leighton’s perfect handwriting. 

And it wasn’t until you got an F that you finally plucked up the nerve to talk to the professor, begging for help. And of course…they brought Leighton over. 

“Could you help Y/N with this class, please? They’re struggling a lot.” 

Leighton looked at you with a smile, but her eyes said she wanted to strangle you. 

“Sure, Prof. I’ll definitely tutor her.” 

The two of you were sitting in Leighton’s dorm, looking over the books, your heart racing. Sure, you wore dark makeup and clothes and people were scared of you…But Leighton was much scarier. She was pretty and smart and damn blunt. You had gone over some of the problems and were still feeling your brain turn to mush next to her. You were pretending to heavily inspect an equation when she suddenly turned to look at you. 

“A-Are you, like, a goth? Sorry, I just…I don't understand this whole…Hot Topic aesthetic…thing. No offense,” Leighton blurted out, her brows pinched together as she had an awkward smile on her face. 

You laughed a bit, smiling. Her confusion was funny, despite her harshness. “Goth is a music genre…but I do like it. So kinda? I just like dark clothes…They make me feel like me.” 

She nodded a bit before putting up her book, setting it aside as she scooted closer, eyeing you. 

“Don’t tattoos hurt? You have…a lot.” 

You nodded, feeling heat travel up into your cheeks, stomach fluttering. “They hurt a bit. But I like them. They make me feel kinda like an art gallery, ya know?”

You noted her eyes traveling over your collarbones and to your cleavage, before turning to your books again, cheeks slightly pink. 

“So anyways, do you get the gist?” 

You furrowed your brows, smiling awkwardly, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, math just isn’t my thing.” 

She rolled her eyes, expression snarky as she smirked. “Let me guess…your thing is arts or social sciences…maybe even English?” 

You held up your hands, a devilish grin on your face as you attempted to match her energy, your cheeks heating up. “Guilty.” 

She tutted, eyes rolling before looking down at the paper. “Well, we’ve got to figure out some way to incentivize your learning…” 

You stared, slack-jawed, as she crossed her legs in her mini skirt, perfect pink mouth chewing on the end of her pen. She seemed deep in thought. She was like Cher in Clueless, the perfect prim and well-bred American girl…and you had such a huge crush on Cher as a child. 

She seemed to look over at you before smiling a bit, clearly catching you staring at her and your ever-growing embarrassment. She tilted her head at you, a smug expression on her face. “Do you like treats?” 

Your face heated at her sudden attention as you furrowed your brow, laughing awkwardly. “W-what? Like candy?,” You asked, voice cracking because your mind was flooded with other…ideas.

Leighton smirked and fingered the metal loop on your choker with one perfect manicured hand. Her voice was low and sultry, her eyes mischievous. “Something like that.” 

She leaned forward a bit more, whispering in your ear. “I see the way you look at me in class. It’s a bit pathetic really,” She coos condescendingly, her voice sending chills up your arm. “Big scary girl like you…all whipped over a little spoiled rich girl? What would everyone at school say?” 

You squirmed in your chair, your thighs squeezing together to relieve the throbbing need beginning to grow. “I..I just, I don’t-” 

She cut you off by squeezing your face in her hand. You felt your desire grow, your heart racing. 

“Shut up.” 

She let go of your face, standing up and smiling, her expression dangerous and yet so enticing. She crossed her arms, looking down on you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to work on a problem. You get it right, you get a treat…get it wrong…and I’ll test your limits. Got it?,” she asked, voice radiating authority and lust. You nodded quickly in agreement, the heat in your cheeks growing and traveling to the tips of your ears. 

She grinned, pointing at a problem while still standing. “Get started, baby.” 

About an hour in and your mind had become a puddle. You were face down on Leighton’s bed, your head in her pillow, no doubt smudging eyeliner and mascara on her satin cases. She was standing near you, her wand pressed against your clit as you whined, your nails clawing at the bed. She whispered in your ear, voice low and dripping with lust. 

“Aww, is someone wanting to cum?” 

You whined, your clit throbbing at the constant attention and from the overstimulation of the last 3 orgasms she had given you. You couldn’t see her but knew her expression was probably that of an evil grin, her eyes glinting with pleasure at the mess you had become. 

“Please, please, please, please…I’ll fix the problem…please..,” You sobbed, fists clawing at the bed, earning yourself a spank on the ass, Leighton gripping your hair and pulling your head to look at you, your vision of her blurred through your tears. 

“Don’t fucking mess up my bed.” 

You nodded helplessly, thoughts only swimming with Leighton, Leighton, Leighton. She dropped your head before finally diving into your pussy, her tongue delving into your folds from behind as she ate your out, the vibrator against your clit still. You cried out,  your body about to snap, your thighs shaking and clit pulsing painfully. 

You could barely hear her over your moaning, but managed to hear the muffled ‘cum for me.’ 

So you finally snapped, body shaking as you felt waves of pleasure wash over you, your eyes rolling back and shut, your thighs shaking as you came, feeling Leighton moan against you and seeming to ride you through your high, your body worn out and practically collapsing at the end. 

You laid there for a minute, hearing some shuffling before you felt a warm wet cloth wiping you off, and Leighton’s soft manicured hand rubbing your back. 

“Hey,” She whispered softly, “Turn over.” 

So you did, brain still floating as Leighton softly wiped at your face with some cool makeup wipes, cooing softly in your ear. 

“You did wonderful, baby.” 

You felt her softly remove some of your jewelry and leftover clothing before dressing you in some comfy pajamas, silky soft like her own, before she kissed your forehead. You were slowly coming back to yourself as she snuggled up next to you, eyebrows raised as she looked down at you, smiling softly. 

“So.. I imagine you like my tutoring style?” 

You let out a giggle, feeling your cheeks heat as you sheepishly offered. “Is it that obvious?” 

She grinned flirtatiously at you, hands rubbing at your side as she whispered cheekily, “You’re gonna be acing this class in no time with my help.” 

You grinned. 

You couldn’t wait for more math.

[alotofpockets]

Not here | Leighton Murray

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Flores!Reader

Summary: What will happen when you overhear your girlfriend say a mean comment about the lower class, which includes you? [Full request]

Warnings: Slight angst, reader & Leighton are not out, and reader is Lila's cousin.

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.1K

On your way to the lunchroom you saw your girlfriend talking to a group of Kappa girls. Neither one of you were out of the closet, so you kept your relationship a secret, which is why you never sat together at lunch. You smiled to yourself when you saw her, you continued your way to the lunch room, Leighton’s group being along the way. When you got closer you overheard a part of their conversation, more specifically you heard Leighton say, “Yeah, I mean they can’t even afford to go here, so what are they doing here?” The comment shocked you, as you were here at Essex on a scholarship yourself. You turned around and walked in the opposite direction. 

With a somber look on your face you head into Sips instead, not realizing that your cousin would be behind the counter. “Hey Cuz, what’s wrong?” You curse yourself for not remembering Lila’s schedule. “Not really in the mood to talk about it, can I just get a sandwich?” Lila knew you were always very private with your emotions so she knew not to push for more. “Here, it’s on the house.” You take the sandwich and thank her. To keep your mind of what you just heard you decided to pour yourself into your homework. Lila silently dropped off a muffin and a drink on your table before cleaning the surrounding tables. 

The rest of the day you avoid Leighton and her texts. You had planned to hang out after both your classes ended but you were too hurt by her words to even send her a message to cancel, so your phone flooded with messages from Leighton, first she was asking where you were, then she started worrying about if you were okay but you turned off your phone so you didn’t see any of them. 

You hid at Sips again, head into your school books for distraction, once more. You could feel Lila’s presence and rolled your eyes. “Will you stop lingering if I tell you?” Lila was sat across from you in seconds. “Yes, I promise.” You put down your book and looked up at her. “So, you know how I’ve been seeing someone?” Lila’s eyes lit up, “Are you finally going to tell me more about them?” You knew this was coming. Lila was an observant person, so she realized you were seeing someone months ago, she did however not know you were into girls, so her search for who it was never made any progress. “No, I will not. Just they said something that really upset me. So, now I am kind of avoiding them.” 

Before Lila can answer, Leighton walks in. “There you are. You didn’t get my texts, so I thought something had happened.” She says as she walks up to your table. You see Lila’s eyes widen, she finally connected the dots on who your secret partner was. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later, y/n.” She said against every fiber in her body that was telling her to ask hundreds of questions, she knew you were upset with the person you were seeing, so she needed to give you space. 

“Something did happen.” You say as you start shoving your books into your bag. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about what happened?” Standing up from your chair, you swing your backpack over your shoulder, “Not here.” Is all you say and walk out of Sips, with Leighton right behind you. The girl had no clue what was going on, but by your body language, she knew something was wrong. You didn’t stop walking until you entered your bedroom, you placed your bag on the ground and closed the door behind Leighton. “What’s wrong, baby?” Leighton says moving closer to you to put her hand down on your shoulder. You shake her hand off and move to sit down on your bed. “Okay, let me rephrase that. What did I do wrong?”

“You think I shouldn’t be here?” Leighton frowns at your words, “I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m following.” You look up at your ceiling trying to hold in your tears, “I overheard your conversation at lunch, Leigh. Poor people don’t belong here, maybe you forgot that I fall under that category too, huh?” You start pacing the room out of frustration. Pushing your feelings down today wasn’t really helpful. “I am so sorry, y/n. That’s not what I believe at all.” - “Well you said it, why would you state that without meaning it?” Leighton sits down on the edge of your bed. “You’re right, I shouldn’t say things that I don’t actually believe or stand behind. I just blindly agreed with the Kappa girls in order to impress them and want me in Kappa next year. I know there is no excuse but I want to apologize again. I am sorry for saying that, I promise that I didn't mean it. I won’t ever say anything like it again. You belong here just as much as I do, if not more because you had to work your butt off to get a scholarship here.” The sincerity in her voice made you believe that she was telling the truth, so you sat down next to her on the bed. She gently takes your hands in her own. “I am really sorry, y/n. I think you are amazing, and money doesn’t matter.” 

“Why would you want to join a sorority where you have to put up a front to fit in?” You ask your girlfriend softly. “I don’t know. I’ve been struggling with that for a few weeks now. I guess I am trying so hard to fit in to make my mom proud, follow in her footsteps you know. She has always wanted me to join the house she joined, I just don’t want to let her down.” You give her hand a soft squeeze letting her know that you hear what she is saying. “But what do you want?” After a deep sigh Leighton answers. “I want to be me. I don’t want to hide behind a front. I want to be able to be unapologetically myself.” She sighs again, “I guess I should talk to my mom, huh?” You nod, “She loves you, Leigh. I know she will be proud of you no matter what.” 

Leighton turns to you and leans in for a hug. “Thank you. Are we okay?” While you wrap your arms around her you tell her, “We’re okay.” You hold each other for a long time, until your phone, which you turned back on on your way to your room, starts buzzing with incoming messages. You laugh, “I’m guessing that’s Lila. I think she kind of figured out that you are the person I am dating.” Leighton gives you a small smile, “First step to being unapologetically me is someone knowing about us, right?” You smile and peck her on the lips, “You’re right.” You check your messages to see if you’re right, the ten messages on your screen all coming from Lila confirmed your suspicions. You turn the sound of your phone off, leaving the messages unread to spend some more one on one time with Leighton. 

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[cazzyf1]

Meet Miss Earth - Alias Graham Hill, the Grand Prix race driver

The straits times, 4th December 1966

There was a roar of applause from the 400 guests at London's exclusive park lane hotel as the first contestants in the latest beauty contest - Miss Earth 1966 - entered the hallroom.

Swaying rhythmically to the background music, and dressed in a swim suit that left little to the imagination, the face of Grand Prix racing driver Peter Arundel went almost unrecognised under a mass of flowing hair.

It was all part of a fund-raising takeoff of the rash of beauty contests that have become so much a part of the London scene.

With all profits going to charity, contestants include ex-world champion Graham Hill, racing drivers Nick Brittan, Harry Stiller, Peter Gethin, ex-driver Les Leston and West Essex Car Club offical, John Trimble.

All were in fetching swimsuits and long wigs to carry the charade further, and the contestants started with them parading around the ballroom to jeers, cheers, shouts and hoots of the audience.

Next they paraded in line for the judges - rally driver Rosemary Smith, Nick Brittan's wife, Jenny, and West Essex Club Secretary's wife, Barbara Greenway.

The judge's work was made more difficult as the contestants began to douse one another with soda siphones. But eventually, Graham Hill was declared the winner and crowned Miss Earth by Rosemary Smith. He then posed triumphantly on the table booked for the honourable Gerald Lascelles, Royal racing fan.

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter 20 (Loki x fem! Reader Crossover Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: A sudden confrontation from the enemy...

Chapter Word Count: 4K

Series Masterlist

Warnings: A sex scene that isn't smut. It isn't too explicitly described and is not meant to be super titillating and is brief.

It just occurred to me that said scene, while not explicit, could have what is considered dubious consent. Even if it is in her imagination, even though Reader verbally says "yes" in the fantasy, it is bc she is doing her duty as a wife, I can see how this is considered dub-con and could make some people too uncomfortable to enjoy the chapter. So, for your safety- It scene starts at "Now, hurry and get it over with, Will," and ends at "Then, when he was done-"

Mentions of cheating (I portray the Will/Cora affair in The Essex Serpent unsympathetically so if you have an issue with that, you have been warned). Supporting Women's Wrongs. Violence and blood implied sexual harassment, and fear of sexual assault (but it DOESN'T go there), scary stuff and angsty stuff, but a happy ending. Grammar mistakes and lack of editing or extra super revision bc I just wanted to Get This Shit Done (tm).

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract@eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@fandxmslxt69@skittslackoffilter@mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

When you found the letters on your first wedding day, you had a life already set before you. A life that would take an obtuse turn. Where all would happen…but you would not be happy. You had often wondered if the marriage to the revered went through.

You imagined the scene. One image haunted your mind once you saw the inside of your fiancee's house. Of when he was no longer your fiancee, but swore an oath before his God to be your husband. It was after the ceremony, the celebration where you could only stare blankly at the table, barely eating. And he would hold your hand as the sky got dark and lead you to the white house, ducked his head under the doorframe to go upstairs and commence the wedding night.

You lying on that blue bed. You said “yes”, because you were a dutiful wife. A motionless doll for him to play with, for there was nothing inside you to fight now. Stiff as a board on the bed. You would lift the skirt of your shift on the blue bed. Legs open and eyes open, face away and placid, consenting because it was your duty as a wife now. That was what good women did. Now, hurry and get it over with, Will.

The Lusty Vicar…well, living up to his nickname above you to put it delicately. Hearing him grunt in your ear, and feeling him over you, inside you.

Knowing who he was thinking of. Knowing who he was imagining beneath him, in him. Knowing who it was who made him lose his bearing.

And it wasn’t you.

Your face was turned away despite the position of the act, your eyes not wanting to even look at him. Feeling his sweat and how his curls brushed against you. Hoping he wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t ask questions. Focusing yourself on the far left corner of the ceiling and not him or what he felt like. Creating a mental distance between the two of you in the ultimate act of physical closeness. You would not fool yourself and let yourself feel the pleasure of the marriage bed now that you knew the truth. You wouldn’t think of how much you wanted him, much less how much you loved him. Thinking of what you’d make for breakfast, what the next sermon should be on, or the dishes that needed to be washed tomorrow. Not on Will as he was on you, in you.

Then, when he was done- after he read his Bible on his lap, quietly reading aloud the verses, making a note to skip the fifth chapter of Matthew, verses twenty-seven through thirty.

You would make yourself small. In a feral position with the covers of the marital bed over you. You were a woman now in the town- wedded and bedded. But you wanted to be a child. You wanted to run back home to your father and mother in tears, knowing that a good cry and a little chocolate and tea would make everything better. But no. You weren’t a child anymore. You were a woman wedded and bedded. You were a wife. A priest's wife. A priest's unwanted wife.

You wouldn’t be able to quiet your mind to dream. It would be repeating that question, endlessly, on your lips, knowing it would ruin everything the minute you said it- “Why am I not good enough for you?”

But you wouldn’t speak. A wife never considers herself, she only considers what makes her husband happy. You’d stare at the wall. Waiting for him to fall asleep, tears quietly streaming down your face. You would have melted over the erotic sight of his strong upper body normally- but it wasn’t yours. He wasn’t for you. Not really.

Then, when you were certain he was asleep, you would quietly get up and leave the room.

You ended up wandering to his study. You turned on his lamp by the window. Perhaps you should try to read a dull, intellectual, dense book of his on theology to make you sleepy. But your eyes would only be drawn to the walls.

The green, elaborate wallpaper with vines, branches, and leaves, both golden and emerald. A few white flowers in bloom. You would walk to see more of it.

What struck you most was the image of a white bird with its wings stretched open. It flew over the leaves of various green and yellow branches. Among white and blue flowers in bloom- of a new, exciting life, of promise. And most of all, the animal stretching its ivory wings as if ruled over all. Like it could escape the paper easily, soar over your head, and out the window.

How you wished you could turn into that bird. So you could stretch your wings and fly far away from the town. From him. And leave it all behind for a new place, a new life.

But you couldn’t.

You would go downstairs, past the kitchen, to the main room. downstairs to curl up on the cushions before the window overlooking the wild marshland, the town. And let yourself sob.

Thank the norns Loki called in his deal when he did. You didn’t know what would happen. He’d call in the deal, but by then, it would be too late.

I’m not in that house, I’m in the woods, you reminded yourself.

Giving a deep breath through the woodsy, clean air, you made a mental note. You’d have to give your husband, the one that was your actual husband, who was not a godly husband but a plain old god husband- that long-awaited thank you. You didn’t think you could bear going through the marriage or have the scarlet letter for jilting him at the altar without an escape plan.

You thought you would just stay in Asgard. Take care of the cauldron and Grendel all neat in a little bow. Then things changed.

You would not be that passive, sobbing victim anymore.

You had fought. You managed to take your revenge, completely.

It wasn’t the right thing to do. It wasn’t healthy. But gods, was it freeing.

As you walked further into the woods. A small laugh of relief even chuckled through you. The release, the ridiculousness, and the awe that you had done it- destroyed Will’s ministry, and his reputation, and brought physical harm to both him and Cora all without getting caught.

But…did they survive? That was quite a flame on her. It would be the same for him.

Pausing, touching a tree, you had to think it through. Develop a plan.

If they lived and said something, then the better for you. That would confirm the rumors of the affair, damning both in society. No person would want to associate with Cora at least after that. The visiting council would strip Will of his position with the evidence before them. The superstitious town would be convinced that God had stricken them as punishment for hurting his little Blessed lady. For none knew of your gifts. And none would think you even capable of any act of harm from your reputation as the town’s angel. Besides, none of them knew of your powers. How could even Cora, in her scientific high and mighty mind come up with the solution of why her coat burst into flames when you were far away?

If they lived and said nothing, then at least Will would get in some hot water over what happened.

If they died, then they died. It was their deserving death.

You paused. No, how could you dismiss that? To think- you took two more lives. Not just some nameless bullies, but two people who you met, you knew their names, their histories, and one you loved and were about to marry…you were capable of that! You did something horrible! There was more blood on your hands!

You heard the sound of a branch being stepped on from the distance behind you.

What if Cora survived and ran right after you!? Likely she would. What would you do? With the fury still in your heart, perhaps take out more of her fire and toast her in a place without witnesses until her body dissolved to ash so there would be no evidence. But what if she caught you? You could see her face twisted in her ugly crying and feel her slapping and punching you.

Not that you would have to deal with her. You were headed off somewhere she could never reach. Not even by train.

Taking a deep breath, you let those thoughts of Will and Cora go away. You were done with Aldwinter forever now. Revenge had been taken and was successful. You wanted to see your friends, your in-laws, and your True Love again. You wanted your new home.

You paused in your steps. The trees growing so thick over your head it hid the sunlight and made the woods a little darker.

There was another crunch of feet on leaves. Someone was arriving. No more time for dallying.

You opened the shield. You sent the words clear in your mind.

“Loki…I’m ready to go home…Open the portal. I want to go back to Asgard now.”

You waited one minute. Then another.

But nothing happened. The birds were barely chirping and the air was cold. Shivering, you blinked as you tried not to panic.

“Loki, I am ready now. It’s done. Open the portal, take me back to Asgard.”

Nothing. You heard none of his witty replies or promises or cheekiness. And you saw no portals. Much less Loki. There was only the rustling of the trees.

Did…did he have his shield up? Why? Did something happen in Asgard? You should keep trying.

Then…you heard something- more footsteps.

It was more than one person.

But, you heard more than one footstep. Was it a party of men? In the evenings they would go to the marshes, hunting for serpents and trickster gods with torches, scanning the waters and fields. Some began setting up charms so that their daughters would be safe. Did they realize you were missing and send a search party…

You saw one man, then two, then four. No torches, they were smirking at you like wolves with a plump, injured lamb.

You felt your stomach drop. They were Gerndel’s army.

One stepped forward with short blonde hair and was overly muscular.

“Ah…looks like we’ve caught you. Right where we want to,” he said.

You felt their eyes on your nightgown. Peeking at how your body’s outline could be seen, your breasts hinted at, and feel the air of unwanted lust. And you were one woman surrounded by men.

Terrified, you held out a hand to release fire to them.

But no flames emerged from your hand.

Hurriedly, you tried again. But nothing. Your breaths came fast and shallow and you could feel yourself shaking. They snickered as they walked forward slowly. Knowing no matter what pace they set, they would win.

You retreated, realizing they were going to back you into a tree, as you tried to back into one, they would still keep a steady pace. There was nowhere to run or hide. Bile ran up in your throat. You fought back the urge to cry. You began to gasp for air, seeing their smiles, their eyes bright over you. One unsheathed his sword with a sliiiick, and the blade gleamed brightly in the dark woods. Silver and spotless and ready to be soaked with your blood.

You tried flicking a hand again, but there were no flames. You realized your senses were dulled- you couldn’t feel or hear any presence besides the four men before you and the dark, consuming woods.

“Ah, ah, ah! Someone took a little bit of our old friend’s apples.” The blonde one taunted.

“You’ve…you’ve poisoned me!?” you cried, your voice becoming shrill.

Another, a gentleman with dark brown hair, tall and lanky, shook his head with a half laugh.

“If you dropped dead right now…where would be the fun in that? Oh, not poison. Just a littke Kunigr potion. ”

You remembered the arrow that drained Loki of his magic in Jotunheim. Then you recalled the apple, the only thing you ate today. It struck you…your mother got those apples from a new grocer in town….

It all came into place. Panic made you shake, your throat and chest tight. The brown-haired man lifted his finger, beckoning you teasingly.

“Now…come with us…we can have some fun with you if you don’t struggle. You won’t get a scratch on you…for now. And won’t Grendel be thrilled when we hear who we caught?”

You steadied your breathing. You had to steady yourself- or enough that you could act, that you could fight. Hoping, praying to whatever god was out there, the Christian God, the trickster god, anyone, that your training was enough.

The brown-haired one approached you. Quick as lightning, you punched his jaw and then kicked his groin. As he backed down, his grip on his sword loosened as he groaned in pain. In one brief second, you kicked his hand. His hold loosened and the sword fell. Quickly, you grabbed the sword by the hilt and pointed forward. You were terrified, but you would not give up. Not yet.

“Ah, now, this kitty’s got claws!” the blonde one mocked mocked.

You steeled yourself, pointing the sword. Making your hold steady.

“What, haven’t you considered that you’re outnumbered?” said the third, another brunette with a scar across his face.

You stepped forward, speaking with the powerful venom you could muster.

“Do you expect me to surrender that easily? I will not. I am the Princess of Asgard, beloved wife of the God of Mischief, and third in line to the throne. I may have lost my magic, but I am not untrained in other methods of slaughtering all of you. I have killed, I just killed, and I will kill again. And I will not die here without a fight.”

They all got out their swords.

“That’s enough chatter,” replied the first blonde.

They charged. As did you.

Thrusting the sword forward, gritting your teeth, you stabbed through the gut of one. Blood erupted and he let out a cry. He wouldn’t last long, and you pulled out the sword to hasten his meeting with his maker. As the second tried to grab you, you merely dodged low, his sword through the air. His lower body was left open. You stabbed him through the groin- quickly in and out, blood bursting into gushes as he screamed in pain.

Blood dripped from your sword in its coppery scent. One attacked you and you blocked with your sword, the metal clinging as it stung the air. You swirled around. Stabbing and cutting. Dodging blows and putting up a fight. But they were advancing on you and you had to block two swords, it was harder to keep up.

There were shouts. You turned your head and saw a glimpse that almost loosened your bladder at the sight-

Five more men were coming. Five more of Grendel’s men. You heard the swords being unsheathed and saw them glimmer even in the woods.

They were now in sight and joined their two brethren.

They were right, you were outnumbered. Seven to one. And they were starting to circle you.

Though your muscles ached from the sword, and your nightgown was splattered in some blood-you couldn’t let them win easily. You fought the urge to tremble, to cry. And you held your ground, your sword pointed. You knew your death was arriving sooner with every second, every step of their feet. Your heart hammering despite your aching muscles. You had to keep going. Somehow. Someway. You gritted your teeth and held up your sword to fight until the end. That at least you would face your end with dignity.

They raised their sword to strike at you, and you raised yours, ready to fight this futile battle and-

There was a loud, metallic growl from the distance. A sound you never heard before. So loud, that it rattled the trees. Then another.

Grendel’s men stopped and turned their heads with wide eyes. You couldn’t help but pause in wonder.

It got louder and louder and louder, something was coming. The men looked among themselves. You took their distraction to start to flee, and you made it to a tree when something pierced your field of vision.

Turning back, you saw bright lights.

Their heads turned and they grew pale, holding out arms to block the lights.

One of them grabbed you, dragging you by the collar, almost hoisting you up as you faced him, his eyes glaring into you and his blade ready at you.

“I’ll-I’ll stab you twenty times through your cunt, you little bitch!” he growled.

The sword was knocked from his hand and he cried in surprise. His grip loosened.

You both looked.

There was the sound and two lights ran by with the whirring-it then revealed what it was-

It was the thing Loki told you about. A motorcycle- and a man on it with a helmet- one hand on the steering wheel and the other around a pistol pointed at him.

The man said no reply until a bullet hit him in the shoulder. He let go of you and cried in pain.

You gasped at your rescuer- adn then realized the source of the bright lights-the other thing Loki told you about.

Through the woods, bursting through like a chariot was a car. The men of Grendel all stood, staring agape. But the motorcyclist held up his gun, pointing.

Out from the car, emerged Robert.

“Y/N! Y/N! Hurry- come in!” he urged.

“Get in the car, now!” he cried.

You let out a gasp and could have cried. You hurried to them. The men gritted their teeth and raised swords-

The motorcyclist said nothing as he lifted his weapon and aimed, quickly but steadily. The gun was fired with a loud crack in the air.

One of the goons dropped dead.

Only one of your friends you knew was capable of that, and would come from an era where he knew how to do that-

“Jonathan!” you cried out.

His helmet was still focused his gun raised. His voice distorted, but you knew it was him. Not daring to take it off to give himself a target for them to hurt him.

“The Princess of Asgard with us- let her come with us. And no one gets hurt.”

“YN! Hurry!” Robert urged.

You would not look at the scene as Jonathan began to shoot more at those who attacked. You turned on your heels and ran into the car’s side door, slamming the door shut.

You followed and jumped in. A far cry from any run-of-the-mill carriage you had been! The velvet, soft seats, and big, wide windows and space. You saw the knobs and turns and levers from the front. You covered your ears as bullets rang out. When you peeked back, the men of Grendel were dead.

Jonathan turned to Robert, nodding his head.

Jonathan got out his watch and clicked it.

“Time to go to Heimdall, let’s hurry,” Robert urged.

A portal opened in the woods.

Robert stepped on a pedal, and moved the wheel- he drove through the portal. There was a flash of bright, rainbow light swirling about you.

You landed on the other side, in a golden room. With the night sky in a large window before all. Then Robert hit the brake and parked. Jonathan’s motorcycle followed after.

You noticed a man standing in the center of the room. He walked to you, and at first, you were intimidated. There was an incredibly tall, broad man with piercing yellow eyes matching the gold of his armor and his helmet.

He spoke in a deep powerful voice- he could have been the new king of Asgard and you would have accepted it.

“Well, you both made it.”

His head turned. His golden eyes easily spotted you, not squinting though you were far away. Despite his intimidating presence, his face softened. He gave you a small bow in respect.

“I am glad for our Princess’s safe return,” he said.

“We got her just in time. Can’t blame her for being shaken,” Robert confirmed.

“Yes, I saw it all. Now hurry, all of you. All of the castle is worried for her.”

Robert drove by pulling the wheel, and then the car went down the rainbow bridge. Jonathan’s motorcycle was right behind, whirring along. Looking out, you finally realized- you felt like that white bird in flight at last. Wings stretched out, the beautiful world before you. Not only safe, not only loved- but free.

The blue sky and sun shone. The gentlest summer day. The sea that formed around you in a crystal blue-green. And you almost tore at the outline of the glittering, golden city, Asgard as it got closer, until you were driving through its streets. Passing commoners with astonished faces.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to the doctor driving.

“Robert! Oh, Robert!” you cried. “You -came for me! You both did!”

Robert looked at you with a gentle smile, the speed of the car steady.

“You don’t have to be frightened, Y/N. You’re with us now- you’ll be fine,” he assured you.

You went over and kissed his cheek chastely. “Thank you!”

“Save some for Jonathan too!” he replied with a wink. He was still Robert. And Jonathan would still be Jonathan. Each of them- your friends, your friends! You were going to see them all again!

Excitement gurgled in you as Robert parked the car outside the palace. The guard's eyes flickered to the contraption, as well as the motorcycle. Jonathan parked it and then took off his helmet, his eyes serious, but his shoulder dipping in relaxation and a small smile on his face.

You ran over and gave him a big hug and he hugged you back.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

“I’m glad too,” you said.

“Now, I think it’s time you’ve reunited with your husband,” he announced.

They escorted you right into the palace through the hallways and into the throne room. You were astonished to see so many of them there, sitting and pacing about in worry. Thor and Hal were talking quietly. Thomas sitting on the steps next to Stella, doing embroidery anxiously. Queen Frigga remained as composed as she could as Sif paced around.

They all turned and there were smiles and gasps. They took in your nightgown and the blood and you- alive and breathing and seeming physically well.

At once they all gasped your name and charged into you, saying your name. Sif’s eyes flickered to Robert and then back to you.

“Did you give them hel?” she asked.

You nodded, showing her the bloodied sword still in your hand. “I gave it to all who wronged me back there, and didn’t spare Grendel’s men from it.”

She smirked. “That’s my girl.”

Stella ran forward and hugged you.

“YN! Oh, YN! You poorest thing! You gave us all a fright! I thought I would cry- I thought you would be gone forever! I missed you so much!”

You hugged her back.

“Don’t worry, I got scared-but I’ll be fine.”

Thor at once charged forward. He hugged you and lifted you so your feet didn’t touch the ground. He shook you around, hugging you like an overexcited toddler with their beloved toy.

“SISTER! My dear Sister! You are RETURNED! How victorious! My brother said he missed your signal and it FRIGHTENED him! Why, thank the NORNS!”

Hal patted at Thor and he let you down. You welcomed him with a hug.

“Well, I’m royalty as well, dear lady. You shall have no bows from me, yet the title suits you- to see you returned alive and triumphant!”

You hugged him back. “Hal, thank you!”

You then hugged Thomas as well.

“You gave Loki a scare- all of us.”

“My powers were taken away- they have to come back with time. But I’m fine- Jonathan and Robert saved me before I could get hurt,” you assured him.

Frigga even embraced you. She smiled.

“I hoped you and Loki would both realize how much you loved each other. And I thought I would never see you both happy together…I can’t even speak right now.”

She let go and cupped your face and then kissed your forehead.

“You are of Asgard now, and I welcome and bless your union and you with all of my heart,” she said.

You could have teared up.

“But, speaking of unions…where is he? Where is my husband?” you asked, looking around.

Thor folded his arms.

“He was getting the army of Asgard to go to the forest. He got scared that perhaps Jonathan and Robert wouldn’t be enough- they were preparing to search for you, but-”

You heard footsteps. And several voices.

But one stood out

Though it was a voice exactly like so many in your life, past and present, there was no denying whose name it belonged to. His voice.

“YN! YN!! All of you- stand and run firm! Destroy any who dare touch a hair on your princess’s head! Where is-”

Loki hurried forth, several guards and soldiers of Asgard behind him. His black and green robes with little gold embellishments. Typical of him, but with his black curls, ivory skin, and blue eyes, he never looked so beautiful to you before this moment. His eyes met yours and you paused. He froze, blinking. His boots almost skidded to a halt as you took each other in for a second.

Tears welling up some, you replied in a small voice. “I thought I’d never see you again, darling.”

Loki seemed to turn white, and you saw his hands shake at his sides. He frantically checked the others in the crowd. “Is this some illusion? Did mother-”

Robert clapped your back.

“We got her. This isn’t an illusion, Loki. She’s here,” he assured the god.

You cupped your mouth and he stood, breathing fast, crying tears coming out from you despite your smile. He walked again, faster, hurrying through, as if he would tear through each realm to touch you again.

You ran right into each other's arms. He picked you up and turned you again. You broke into crying again. You curled a hand behind his dark hair, kissing his lips and then his cheek and any part of him. A sound came out of you like laughter.

“Loki- Loki darling, I’m here! I’m right here!”

He broke the hug and then cupped your face.

“Are you hurt? What happened? I lost your signal! The one you promised me!”

Sniffling, you began to recount what happened.

“You were right to be worried, Loki. I was tricked into eating a Kunnigr apple. My magic was drained by the time Grendel’s men cornered me…I held them off for as long as I could. Then reinforcements came. Robert and Jonathan hurried in before I could be made prisoner or worse. They brought me here!”

There were big eyes as the others took in this information.

He hugged you again. You felt yourself shake some, crying, laughing, as if every emotion at once was washing inside you.

“How I missed you all, and…husband–my…my husband! My dear! I missed you most of all! I love you, darling! Loki- thank you! You saved me! You brought me back!”

“I would have torn Midgard to pieces to get you back- I love you, my wife,” he replied.

Your heart bursting at the fresh word, spoken from his mouth instead of in your mind, you kissed him on the lips again. Soft, but eager, demanding. Wanting to touch him, reacquaint with him. And never let go no matter what.

Hal was smiling wide and Stella was blushing pink. Jonathan looked down, trying not to laugh. Frigga merely then began to wave them off with her long sleeves. Turning away discreetly.

“Everyone…I think it’s best we let the couple have some privacy…” she suggested. Everyone gave a farewell smile, with a promise of a return.

Loki only held your hands and hurried you through the halls, the guards not behind you, right to where his chambers were.

“But…Grendel, the cauldron-what will we do?” you asked.

Loki caught you in his arms and you gasped. Carrying you, he led you to the threshold of his private room. He smiled mischievously.

“I think the Grendel matter could wait for a few minutes, don’t you agree?” your true love asked.

[swansongofalyre]

Where to Find Memento Mori (Updated 9/11/2024)

On August 13, two days before 광복절 (Korean National Liberation Day), my debut novel was released. The book is about Korean-American family, and also about Greek mythology, and I promise this combination makes sense in the end. (For those who are curious, I wrote an uncharacteristically personal guest post for Women's Writers, Women's Books on the topic of what inspired me to write a Eurydice and Orpheus retelling about my Korean grandmother.)

It was surreal to go to a store the other day and see it on a table next to Salman Rushdie and other acclaimed writers. After 13 years of this story existing in some form, I'm so excited that this book is finally out—both because it is a beautiful book that I am proud of and that I hope you enjoy, and also because I would love to stop being my own publicist (it is VERY awkward).

So here is an omnibus post of book-related info that I will keep updated and pinned going forward to finally give the memento mori tag a rest. Below the cut, you will find a running list of indie bookstores and public libraries that I know carry my book. (If you have a New York Public Library card and have 5 minutes, I will love you forever if you would email your local branch to ask them to carry my book, thus fulfilling my lifelong dream of living in the NYPL.)

Also below are a few upcoming events at which I have been invited to speak!

Bookstores by State (as of 9/11/2024)

Search for your local bookstore here!

Arizona

Changing Hands Bookstore (Phoenix and Tempe)

California

Gallery Bookshop (Mendocino)

Timbre Books (Ventura) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Indiana

The Press (Valparaiso)

Iowa

Prairie Lights Books (Iowa City)

Maine

Longfellow Books (Portland) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Massachusetts

Nantucket Book Partners (Nantucket) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Porter Square Books (Cambridge and Boston both back in stock!)

Missouri

Skylark Bookshop (Columbia)

Montana

Chapter One Book Store (Hamilton)

New Hampshire

Water Street Bookstore (Exeter)

New Jersey

Watchung Booksellers (Montclair)

New York

Astoria Bookshop (Queens, 1 signed copy left!)

Book Culture (Signed copies at the 112th St. and Broadway stores; also available at LIC and Pittsford Pittsford has sold out for now!)

Books are Magic (Brooklyn, at both Smith St. and Montague St.)

Market Block Books (Troy) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Greenlight Bookstore (Brooklyn) Back in stock!

Shakespeare & Co (Manhattan, Lincoln Center has signed copies; Lexington also as copies back in stock)

Yu and Me Books (Manhattan; comes with bonus goodies, see below!)

North Carolina

Quail Ridge Books (Raleigh)

Oregon

Powell's (Burnside, Cedar Hills, and Hawthorne locations)

Rhode Island

Heartleaf Books (Providence)

Vermont

Phoenix Books (Burlington and Essex)

Washington, D.C.

Politics and Prose (at both CT Ave NW and Union Market)

Washington State

Elliott Bay Book Company (Seattle)

Wisconsin

Woodland Pattern (Milwaukee)

Libraries (as of 09/10/2024)

Worldcat Listings (Probably the most comprehensive)

Libby (for e-books)

California

Berkeley Public Library

Illinois

Chicago Public Library

Kentucky

Lexington Public Library

Maine

Portland Public Library (On Order)

Michigan

Canton Public Library (On Order)

New York

Greenburgh Public Library (Available)

New York Public Library (Available)

Queens Public Library (Available)

Texas

Harris County Public Library (In Processing)

Virginia

Arlington Public Library (In Processing)

Wisconsin

Whitefish Bay Public Library

Washington State

Seattle Public Library

Online

Bookshop.org (US)

Bookshop.org (UK)

Massive Bookshop (all profits go to community bail funds)

Barnes & Noble

Target

KYOBO 교보문고 (Korea)

Upcoming Events

September 3: Astoria Bookshop in conversation with Maia Lee-Chin for the release of her incredible book Et Cetera

September 22: Narrative Bookshop (Somerville, MA) in conversation with Maia Lee-Chin

September 28: Brooklyn Book Festival for a debut authors panel moderated by THEE Edwidge Danticat

October 17: Fall for the Book Festival in Fairfax, VA for a panel on mythology with Rania Hanna, the amazing author of The Jinn Daughter

[cbk1000]

Anyway, here's a preview of the next chapter of Book of Merthur. It's full of *checks notes* gay fetishes like grief and lute playing and politics. It also has some very large spoilers for something that happened several chapters back, as well as something that happened in the previous chapter, so if you're not caught up and don't want to be spoiled, I would avoid this.

But at that moment they were not sitting up late in one another’s chambers where they did not have to be alone till bedtime. Arthur, in the company of his usual court, minus, of course, two particular men, had set out with that riotous medley of courtiers, squires, provisions, and furniture which for weeks makes a nuisance of itself for any good citizen simply trying to take his produce to market. Now they had to scramble out of the way for a bevy of chaps on ridiculous horses, which were up to their tits in good silver, and did not even look as if they would be of any use for cart hauling. The king, at least, was in fine trim, and seemed a lesser cunt than his father; but still there were hustling merchants who had to move aside to pay homage to him, and though he did not lop off anyone’s head for bowing without the scraping, his train was still a goddamned nuisance. He was taking it all round the kingdom to reiterate his standing in the eyes of his lords; and that was what he was doing now, in the home of Lord Robert of Essex, with his musicians piping in accompaniment to the chatter.

Nobody wanted to be caught with their pants down in their larder when it was time to impress the king, so all that tour Arthur had had thrust upon him dishes he would not even have eaten at home, so enthusiastically, with such hope for cook, who was quivering in the kitchen for news of whether they were to be villain or saint of the feast, that he felt obligated to eat even those terrible concoctions which raised in him a fear no man had ever inspired. Men can be very large, or cannibalistic, or sadists; but they cannot be minced swan’s entrails, boiled down to the texture of bootlaces, and drowned in ginger and vinegar. And you are never obligated to say to an extra-large cannibalistic sadist (though it can’t hurt to butter him up a bit) that he is simply exquisite, whilst you are taking him into your mouth (and probably this couldn’t hurt either) because to do anything else would be disastrous for his feelings. This was what Arthur was doing now, with the swan, after some overly-garlicked cat, whilst the jongleur primed his vocals. He did this in various fascinating ways, first by making a little ‘hmm Hmm HMm HMM’ to himself, and then by calling for some ale, and taking out a little gold tube from his rucksack, and placing it in the ale, and blowing bubbles in it. Then he did something with his lips which Merlin had done once to Arthur’s chest as a joke, though there had been no spit, but only the absurd buzzing noise through the mouth as it flapped about like a horse’s. 

And finally he took his place before the table with his lute, and began, in a lovely tenor, to ply his trade, freeing Arthur to put aside the swan, which he had to chew so violently he would have drowned out the singing. It was like putting down the cross at the end of the pilgrimage, or the sword at the end of the battle. He was left exhausted but alive by the ordeal, and now leaned back on the bench, with his arms crossed, and his weary soul ready to be cosseted by some little fluff about a knight and his steed.

It was some rot about a queen wasting away for her love, which he did not want to hear, because he was in the midst of his own romantical tragedy; and because he was the queen, though his own love, unlike the noble conqueror of the verse, was a rude, boorish, inimitable fucking twat, who ought long ago to have been confined for insanity.

Of course, Arthur was not really angry that Merlin had left him high and dry without so much as a letter on his fate; he was afraid. The name calling, the aspersions on his character (which really were not even aspersions, but merely observations) were because Lancelot had died. If you had asked him, he would have said Lancelot was mortal, and bound like the rest of them to return to whatever Maker he believed in; but actually really in the privacy of himself, he had not believed in it. Lancelot was one of those sorts who seemed to him too large to die; too representative of that fighting class of men who are always at risk of death but have chanced it again and again and always got up from the killing. It was like Morgana dying; it would have been like Gwaine dying. There are some people you do not believe can die: but of course they do, and then you have got to decide what is good and worth saving about a world that will take anything from you. So Lancelot had died, and he had never heard in all that time so much as a peep from Merlin, or France, who ought to have had something to say on the former. Gaius had written the professor on whom Merlin had been inflicted, and heard only that he was not so unfortunate in his affairs this time. Merlin was not at the university; or at least not under his despairing tutelage. And that meant to him that perhaps Merlin too might have been one of those impossible losses which he had suffered when Morgana went over the cliff to the sea, or Lancelot on the ship to France. He had wondered for nights upon nights whether he wouldn’t have known it; whether he wouldn’t have felt there was something different about the world, something less, something missing amongst the million fleeting souls which go into and out of the world like the meteors that are so cursory in the heavens. But he had not felt Lancelot till the messenger came with news of the ship; and he had held out all hope for Morgana till they found her body in the surf. 

And too there was the other death, not of the body but of those feelings which he felt were always in danger. Merlin could have simply not wanted to write. He had gone away, Arthur felt, in a welter of genuine feeling: but in the interim he might have realised he was upset over Arthur, which was silly; might have realised that Uther, though rather a cock, was right to have made him perform for the love; might have realised that outside of that constant of Arthur’s presence he felt himself a freer, better being. He might feel as if he had got rid of a millstone round his neck. Arthur had always been there, loving him with that tragical dog-like persistence, so that Merlin might have felt it was like kicking a loyal hound in the face, not to take pity on that hopeless creature. Now away from Arthur, he could have realised what he thought was reciprocal feeling was merely some empathy for a fool.

So because the jongleur was singing about the queen, he was thinking all these terrible things. Neither voice nor lute were phenomenally good; but even mediocre music sometimes speaks to something in us, to when we were fiddling round with primitive drums in stone huts. The feelings were already there: but the jongleur brought them up into his throat. He gave Arthur the queen, who was sympathetic, who was relatable, and so made him feel in the hall surrounded by his courtiers and supplicants that he would have to be brave again, because it is a sign of humanity to tear up at human tragedy; but not of a king who wants to garner respect in men who are waiting for weakness. Because he was still young, because some of his lords still favoured his father, because he had been left, mere days before his wedding, by a bride who preferred one of his knights, he had to sit upright on the bench with his arms crossed and his face as impervious as stone. He had to be fixed in his body that was screaming for love as if he had never been moved by or wanted for it. Merlin was far away and dead, or dead to him; and Morgana and Lancelot were some odds and ends for scavengers. And the music was blowing up all these things which were already huge in him till they were nearly uncontainable. Because some string made of catgut had vibrated at just the optimal frequency, he felt that it was nearly unbearable to be one of those poor feeling creatures who have to watch their species war, and love, and leave, when he could have been a fish.

So that was what he was doing when the dog began to fart.

[malkaleh]

If you’re still interested in prompts; jealous Henry and Anne as Cromwell laughs too much with More?

He’s going to kill him, friend or no. It’s not that Henry distrusts his husband nor that he begrudges him happiness but he admits to loathing the way that any other might impose upon him.

Anne has never hated it more than there is only one of her husbands she might touch, embrace and kiss in public - Henry can get away with touching their Thomas a little, even if it is only in the way of two friends but she, she cannot even with the Duke of Essex’s reputation for chastity and hers for proper queenly behaviour.

She wants to push him onto the table, ride him in front of everyone so the vultures will stop circling and prodding at him, as though they have any right to him.

Thomas is laughing, which is rare to see in public - his laugh is reserved for their family, a treasure for private moments when he might put the mask he wears aside. Henry does not begrudge his raven laughter or joy - he begrudges that Thomas More rests his hand so easily upon him when he and Anne cannot do the same with him, their own husband.

“…It is hard to credit I know, but yes, I was an artists model - being young and in need of funds in Florence, Master More means that it was well looked for funds”

“It is not hard to credit, my friend - you have the look of a subject of a painting - perhaps a shepherd or an ancient scholar in Alexandria intent on his books - or a Roman Senator of great virtue.”

For they are friends, these two Thomas’ - despite the religious differences between them there is a gentle respect, an understanding there and Henry, Henry does not resent it except that he could punch More for the way he is so easy with his raven in this moment.

Thomas laughs again then, saying somewhat about how flattered he feels for such comparisons and Henry, Henry looks at Anne and they can bear it no longer.

Anne doesn’t remember how they all managed to leave the gathering - the excuses they made fading into a haze of desire and want - because she wants. Right now. She pulls Thomas between her and Henry, impatiently pulling at clothes as they take turns kissing him.

One of Henrys hands is in Thomas’ curls, the other wrapped around his chest and oh, oh, he wants. Wants to mark him, to bite into his neck, to stamp that no one should touch this man, to imprint himself and Anne onto his skin - but he won’t. They won’t. Norwich has marked their love enough, has meant that kind of roughness can never be the love that it is between he and Anne. So instead, instead he gently kisses Thomas’ neck, tugs at the pendant that hangs there, whispers about how he wishes to give him more adornments, more garb.

Anne thinks there is little more beautiful than having one husband between her legs and the other beneath her upon the table, awaiting her commands. But there is something more - she has Thomas inside her and Henry inside Thomas - Thomas pressed between them, utterly without a mask and utterly theirs - he is saying something half in Italian, half in Greek and Henry is whispering praise in Latin.

“You are so beautiful love. So very beautiful - such a precious jewel, my raven, my husband. I would not have you harmed, I would not have you hurt.”

There is something about the way Henry tells Thomas such things that truly undoes him - Anne can see it and it undoes her too, to think of being able to care for their Thomas, to protect him and to know he is there only for them.

She thinks has never been so ready when she guides her secret husband cock inside her, never felt more complete than with Thomas between them, her hands in Henrys hair, a promise that here, here she commands a king. Here she whispers promises to Henry as he is inside their husband, tells him to control his release, to be quieter, to be allowed to touch her.

She looks at Henry afterwards and there is a silent vow between them that they will buy every painting their husband ever posed for.

[harveyhawkscripts]

[M4M] Brool the Library Gargoyle [Gargoyle Speaker] [Soft Fantasy] [Romance]

Categories: M4M, Gay, Fantasy, Romance, Storm Sounds

Synopsis: The listener has fallen asleep at the local library, causing them to be locked in for the night. One of the library's local gargoyles, Brool, finds them asleep at one of the tables and accidentally wakes them up.

About Brool: "Brool" means a low roar or deep murmur. If that does not match the speaker's voice, feel free to change his name. Brool is lonely, less athletic than his fellow gargoyles, and enjoys literature. He has a scholar's mind and romantic heart, but he can also be awkward, overly idealistic, and at times downright rude. Also, he is very gay.

Google Doc

Ellipses (...) are listener replies

[Footsteps]

BROOL

Hm. The librarian forgot to draw the curtains again. Well, what better night than that of a full moon. A few dark clouds, but how gently the light illuminates their silver outlines. It's a perfect night for -

[Shifting]

Huh?

(Whispering) He's asleep. But what is he still doing here? The staff should have locked up half an hour ago. Did no one do a final sweep before closing?

(Whispering) And he had to fall asleep right in front of the romance section. There go my plans for the night.

(Whispering) Well... At least he is a handsome stranger.

[Shifting]

(Whispering) I should go -

[Thunk]

Agh! Shit, my tail!

…

Oh. Um. H-hello. Lovely night, isn't it? Aside from the storm rolling in, of course –

…

Ah, no no no no! Calm down, please don't scream. Please? I promise, I won't harm you.

Truly, I won't! On my honor.

...

I am a gargoyle. Perhaps you've seen me before? Up on the corner ledge on the front of the building?

...

Yes, that would be me! We gargoyles sleep during the day. Or, rather, we go into a dormant, half-awake state.

...

Hahaha! No, my dear. It's not like that at all. We aren't -- we don't turn to stone, goodness! We can move around if we so choose, gargoyles are simply nocturnal.

...

It may look so, but it's actually thick keratin, much like alligator skin.

...

Pardon?! Y-you would like to -- to feel it?

Ahem. Ah, it's fine. You managed to catch me a bit off--guard is all. However,... I do believe curiosity should be rewarded. And while usually such a request would be entirely improper... you may touch my arm.

...

My... your hands are very soft.

(Whispering) His fingertips are like rose petals...

Hm? Ah, nothing!

...

The other gargoyles? Yes, they're awake. Though they prefer to keep to themselves. They often wander off at night, so we don't spend much time together. They prefer more athletic pursuits, but I... Well, truth be told I'm not the strongest flier. Oh, I fly down to the docks on occasion, but never farther. Though, what I lack in strength I make up for in knowledge! I have an entire library at my claw-tips, after all.

...

Not every book, no. While I have attempted all of them - save for the newest arrivals - there are some not even I can stomach. And I consider myself quite liberal in my standards. Even if I don't particularly enjoy a book, I can usually still appreciate it. Some, though...

...

My favorite? Poetry. The classics, mostly. Bashō, Hughes, Dickenson. But, particularly, um... Neruda, Hemphill, and Essex.

....

(Disappointed) You haven't? Well, no matter! There are plenty of anthologies you can borrow here. I was actually going to take a book down to the docks to read, but those storm clouds are moving in quick. Ah, well. We can stay in and I'll show you my trove of knowledge-- I have a personal collection of books not even the librarian has heard of! What do you usually read?

...

Oh? I haven't heard that title. Is it a novel or a collection of essays, or...

...

An online comic strip. I see.

...

Nothing! There's nothing wrong with that at all! Any art is worth making, I just... From all of those journals and books strewn about the table, I assumed you were a scholarly type and into, you know... more intellectually stimulating material.

[Journal opening, pages flipping]

What the - these are all doodles of little sheep on dates! But, but then what are all of these -- ah, these are all... romance novels.

...

Date ideas. For the sheep. Of course. So... You aren't a prodigious scholar burning the candle at both ends?

...

You're a cashier who does art commissions on the side?

...

Well -- I don't know! Wishful thinking, perhaps? So I have a thing for the academic types, so what? When your only company is fantasy romance protagonists, you tend to idealize a bit in your head.

...

That's -- that's not what I meant, I --

...

No, I...

(Sigh) You're right. You must just want to return home, but here I am making such judgements and being unnecessarily rude. I haven't even asked your name. My apologies, dear. This is my first conversation with a human, you see. Perhaps we could try again?

...

Thank you, dear. My name is Brool. It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, how did you manage to sleep all the way through closing?

...

Yes, well. Unfortunately, those sugar-loaded energy drinks only keep you wired for so long. I assume the crash put you right out. Hm... the bus station is not too far of a walk if you would like me to escort you.

...

You don't have fare money? And you're new in town so you don't have a pass... That makes things a bit harder. You've memorized your address, haven't you? If it's not too far, maybe I can fly you there before the storm rolls in.

...

You live near the docks. You are quite the unlucky human tonight, aren't you, dear?

...

Oh? And why not?

...

(Flustered) Well, I, uh -- that's -- um. Ahem. That's. Very kind of you to say. I find myself enjoying your company, as well.

Now, as for your situation. How about you stay here for the night? You would be heading right into the storm if you left, and the librarian has a sofa and some snacks in her office. You can sleep there.

...

Of course. The librarian always forgets to lock it. She's getting up there in age. It should be perfect.

...

Is that so? You certainly seemed tired when you were slumped over your notebooks.

...

Haha! I'm just teasing, dear. I understand it would be hard to sleep in these circumstances. Come along. The storm hasn't reached us yet. It may be a bit bluster, but we may have time for a stroll in the garden before the rain comes.

...

No need to worry. The library's security alarm will take but a moment to disable, then we can go through the employee door in the back.

[Sound of wind, rustling, maybe wind-chimes]

Why do you look so nervous? Is something wrong?

....

The storm... Frightens you? Oh, don't be silly, dear! Right now it's just wind and distant thunder. There's nothing to worry about. Besides, I'll be there to catch you if a gust of wind tries to sweep you away.

…

Ah, fresh air... mmh, feels good to finally stretch my wings... Ah, human? Why are you staring?

...

Beautiful...? Oh! It is beautiful, isn't it? The local schoolkids planted this garden. I often come out here to read Bashō . "The face of a flower/ is it feeling shy/ the hazy moonlight."

(Sigh) Ah, the haiku. Truly, one of the most evocative forms of poetry despite its brevity. I must admit, the ability to be concise is lost on many a poet, myself included –

…

Hm? Me?! No - well, yes, I did just say - but I'm hardly any good! Not by any professional standards. It's simply a hobby, really.

...

You would? Well... My poetry is rather special to me. It's very personal, you see, so I rather like to keep it private. We've only just met each other and –

[Thunder]

Goodness! Are you alright? I didn't know humans could jump so high.

...

Right, the storm. Would you like to go inside?

...

Are you sure?

...

Hold my hand? I... suppose that would be alright, if it would make you feel better... Oh, human. You're trembling. Here, let me shield you from the wind with my wing. There we are. How's that, dear?

...

Good.

...

Oh, it's not that. I just haven't shared my poetry with anyone before. As you can imagine, I've scarcely had the chance.

...

Certainly not! The others don't share my appreciation for the literary arts. I doubt they would take my work seriously.

That isn't to say I dislike them! They're good folk; we've protected the library together since it was built. We simply have nothing in common.

...

Gargoyles are creatures made of magic. Historically, humans aren't often fond of magic. And if they are, it's only for their own benefit.

...

Well, the library is my place. Every gargoyle has a place they protect. My family has lived in this town for generations, and the library is where I feel the most at home. I can't quite explain what it feels like, it's just an instinct.

 ...

This again? You really aren't going to let it go, are you?

...

Hm... I suppose a fresh pair of eyes would be helpful... How about this? We're still getting to know each other. Let's see where the night takes us, dear. We can talk, and when you're ready to sleep you can retire to the librarian's office. I'll write a poem especially for you while you rest, then once the storm passes I'll take you home.

...

Yes, then you can read my poem.

...

It's perfectly fair. You can tell me what you thought of it tomorrow night.

[Thunder, rain]

Damn it all, looks like the storm caught up to us.

...

Oh, don't fret! It's alright, dear. Come on, take my arm. Back inside we go.

...

Ahaha, don't worry about that, dear. The water will drain through the spout whether I'm there or not.

...

Of course it counts. Who here is the gargoyle?

…

The rain doesn't bother me in the slightest. It slides right off my skin. It can be a pain to fly in, but other than that I find it rather refreshing. Now, let's warm you up and get you something warm to eat.

[Time Skip]

There you are, my dear. It isn't much, but this portable heater should keep you warm through the night. Have you had enough to eat?

...

Good. As forgetful as the librarian is, she always keeps her snack drawer fully stocked. Now, try to get some rest. I'll wake you early to fly you home.

What's wrong? Are you still on edge?

...

A bit....Very well. I'll stay by your side until you fall asleep. Lie back and relax, my dear. When you wake the storm will have passed.

...

Yes, and I will have written your poem. If there's time before the library opens, I may even recite it to you.

...

Yes, really. Now goodnight, my dear.

[Pen/pencil on paper]

END

[aliceism]

closed starter: @ohsercndipity​ / josh when: early afternoon, a couple days after frat party (?) where: essex dining hall

“Hi, I’m sorry,” Alice started, her voice hesitantly friendly. She didn’t think walking up to someone out of the blue during the first week of college was totally unfounded but, still, she didn’t want want to catch anyone off guard or annoy them. So, soft approach. “I don’t want to bother you while you’re busy eating, but I think I left a textbook somewhere over here? I mean, here or — maybe the library. Or the student center.” She had been to both places at some point that morning, but she was still about eighty... or maybe seventy-percent sure she left the book behind at breakfast. “But, uh, I figured I’d check here first. I sat at this table.” She frowned, feeling a little anxious about misplacing it. It was very expensive, after all, and she had only had it for all of two days. “Have you seen it? It’d have my name, Alice Campbell, on the inside. I wrote it on a little label.” She breathed out a short, self-effacing laugh. “Oh — and ‘Intro to Calculus’ on the front cover. That’s probably the most important, identifiable-at-first-glance bit.”

[leatherjacketmixtapes]

My 2022 in Books

This year I read 78 books which is a step down from the last few years (all 100+) but I'm trying to read in a more purposeful, slow way, trying to savor and absorb what I read, which is definitely a challenge since I've always been a very speedy reader.

There's a complete list below the cut of all the books, but here were my absolute favorites of this year:

Six of Crows & Crooked Kingdom - Leigh Bardugo

The Miniaturist - Jessie Burton

Dracula - Bram Stoker (Dracula Daily was probably my favorite thing to ever happen on this beloved hellsite in the last 13 years)

The Storyteller - Dave Grohl (I'm not an audiobook person but it was such an experience listening to him read this)

Taste: My Life Through Food - Stanley Tucci

The Essex Serpent - Sarah Perry

Book of Night - Holly Black

The Key to Deceit - Ashley Weaver

Reading Lolita in Tehran - Azar Nafisi

The Bear and the Nightingale - Katherine Arden

The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafón

I loved so many of the others too, don't get me wrong, but those are the ones I know I'll be re-reading again before long (especially Six of Crows & Crooked Kingdom, which I wanted to start reading again the very minute I finished them).

Off to start my 2023 reads now!

A Spindle Splintered - Alix E. Harrow

Ruin and Rising - Leigh Bardugo

Ruin and Rising - Leigh Bardugo

The Tea Dragon Society - Kay O’Neill

The Tea Dragon Tapestry - Kay O’Neill

The Tea Dragon Festival - Kay O’Neill

Flight, Vol. 7 - ed. Kazu Kibuishi

Boxers - Gene Luen Yang

Saints - Gene Luen Yang

The Fire Never Goes Out: A Memoir in Pictures - N.D. Stevenson

Gunpowder: Alchemy, Bombards, and Pyrotechnics: The History of the Explosive that Changed the World - Jack Kelly

Cemetery Boys - Aidan Thomas

The Eye of the World - Robert Jordan

These Violent Delights - Chloe Gong

This Is How You Lose The Time War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Burning Down The Haus: Punk Rock, Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall - Tim Mohr

The Puzzle Women - Anna Ellory

An Age Of License: A Travelogue - Lucy Knisley

True Love Bites - Joy Demorra

The Bear and The Nightingale - Katherine Arden

Shadow of Night - Deborah Harkness

Under The Whispering Door - T.J. Klune

Rivers of London: Body Work - Ben Aaronovitch

Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo

The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World from the Periodic Table of the Elements - Sam Kean

Home and Exile - Chinua Achebe

Clanlands: Whisky, Warfare, and a Scottish Adventure Like No Other - Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish

Our Violent Ends - Chloe Gong

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - V.E. Schwab

The Paris Apartment - Lucy Foley

The Miniaturist - Jessie Burton

Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead - Bert V. Royal

Death in the Air: The True Story of a Serial Killer, the Great London Smog, and the Strangling of a City - Kate Winkler Dawson

The Devil and the Dark Water - Stuart Turton

Crooked Kingdom - Leigh Bardugo

Portrait of a Thief - Grace D. Li

The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music - Dave Grohl

The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway

The Key to Deceit - Ashley Weaver

The Essex Serpent - Sarah Perry

Book of Night - Holly Black

Cryptid Club - Sarah Andersen

Taste: My Life Through Food - Stanley Tucci

Booty: Girl Pirates on the High Seas - Sara Lorimer

The House in the Cerulean Sea - T.J. Klune

hir - Taylor Mac

All Boys Aren’t Blue - George M. Johnson

The Wedding Date - Jasmine Guillory

Are Prisons Obsolete? - Angela Y. Davis

Other Birds - Sarah Addison Allen

Dracula - Bram Stoker

Demon in the Wood - Leigh Bardugo

The 39 Steps - John Buchan

Wade in the Water: Poems - Tracy K. Smith

Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books - Azar Nafisi

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Five Orange Pips - Arthur Conan Doyle

She Who Became The Sun - Shelley Parker-Chan

While Justice Sleeps - Stacey Abrams

Cinnamon - Neil Gaiman

The Five: The Untold Lives of the Women Killed by Jack the Ripper - Hallie Rubenhold

Persuasion - Jane Austen

Illuminae - Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman

No Bones - Anna Burns

Mercury - Hope Larson

Iron Widow - Xiran Jay Zhao

Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens (re-read)

The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom - August Wilson

Year of the Reaper - Makiia Lucier

The Ten Thousand Doors of January - Alix E. Harrow

Paper Girls, Volumes 1-6 - Brian K. Vaughan

[glacierresort]

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A Dining Experience at Glacier Haven Café

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Essex, Montana is the perfect location for travelers looking to experience the natural wonders of the state. Situated between Glacier National Park and the Great Bear Wilderness, Essex offers endless opportunities for outdoor adventure, including hiking, wildlife viewing, and fishing.

Nearby Attractions:

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If you’re seeking a relaxing getaway that combines the beauty of nature with comfortable amenities, Glacier Haven Resort is the perfect choice. The Inn and Café in Essex, Montana offer not only a place to rest but also a true Montana experience. With friendly service, delicious food, and easy access to some of the state’s most stunning landscapes, you’ll leave feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

Plan Your Stay at Glacier Haven Resort Today

Whether you’re planning a weekend getaway or an extended vacation, Glacier Haven Resort’s Inn and Café in Essex, Montana provide everything you need for a memorable stay. From comfortable accommodations to mouth-watering meals, you’ll be treated to the best of Montana hospitality. Be sure to book your stay in advance to secure your spot at this hidden gem in Essex, Montana.

For more information on room rates, availability, and amenities, visit Glacier Haven Resort. Don’t miss the chance to explore the great outdoors and unwind at this tranquil retreat in Essex, Montana.

[renta-stay]

Discover the Comfort of Serviced Apartments in Essex with Renta Stay

Essex, known for its blend of vibrant cities and serene countryside, is a county that truly offers the best of both worlds. Whether you're visiting for work, a family vacation, or a weekend getaway, finding the right accommodation can make or break your stay. This is where serviced apartments in Essex come into play, offering you a home away from home that’s both luxurious and practical.

What Makes Serviced Apartments Special?

You know that feeling when you check into a hotel, and after a few days, you start missing the cozy comfort of your own space? Serviced apartments are designed to bridge that gap. Imagine coming home after a long day of meetings or sightseeing, kicking off your shoes, and sinking into the comfort of a stylishly furnished living room. That’s the experience Renta Stay brings to the table.

Whether you're staying in bustling towns like Chelmsford or Colchester or exploring the picturesque countryside, serviced apartments in Essex offer a more personal touch than traditional hotels. You get to enjoy the freedom of your own fully equipped kitchen, so you can whip up your favorite meal instead of relying on restaurant food all the time. Plus, there’s ample space—perfect if you’re traveling with family or need room to unwind after a busy day.

Convenience Without Compromise

Life moves fast, especially when you're traveling. But why should your accommodation feel rushed? Our serviced apartments are thoughtfully curated with modern amenities to ensure your stay is as seamless as possible. With high-speed Wi-Fi, a cozy bedroom, and laundry facilities, you can focus on your work or leisure without worrying about the little things.

Essex, with its rich history, charming towns, and easy access to London, attracts a diverse crowd. Whether you're a professional looking for short-term corporate housing or a family in need of a longer stay, serviced apartments provide the flexibility you need. You’re not bound by the rigid check-in or check-out times of a hotel, and you can settle in and live as comfortably as you would in your own home.

A Sense of Community

One of the hidden gems of staying in a serviced apartment is the sense of belonging it brings. Unlike staying in a transient hotel, serviced apartments allow you to become part of the neighborhood. Explore local shops, enjoy a quiet morning in a nearby café, or simply take a walk and feel like you're a resident, not just a visitor.

Why Choose Renta Stay?

At Renta Stay, we understand that your time in Essex is precious. That’s why we go the extra mile to ensure that your serviced apartment feels like an extension of your lifestyle, not just a place to sleep. With locations in key areas of Essex, our apartments cater to both business travelers and families, ensuring everyone gets a comfortable, personalized experience.

So, next time you're planning a stay in Essex, skip the typical hotel room and choose a serviced apartment with Renta Stay. After all, why settle for less when you can have all the comforts of home with the luxury of a hotel?

Book your serviced apartment today and experience Essex the way it’s meant to be—comfortable, convenient, and completely yours!

[demy85]

Chapter 3 - The exhilaration of coming out (and it’s downsides)

For this year's spring gala, which his parents had been hosting for at least a decade now, his mother had once again spared neither expense nor effort.

They had booked the entire downstairs function area of Essex House and Alec was left in awe when he first walked into the main hall.

He found himself in an opulent, classic ballroom with several pivotal elements and was at a loss as to where to look first. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center, casting a warm and luxurious light into the room. The long sides were lined with numerous high, arched windows and doors with a white decorative frame and golden accents, through which natural light fell into the room and the impression of space was reinforced.

There was still a lot of commotion. Tables were set up, flower arrangements were pushed back and forth until his mother nodded in satisfaction.

But Alec hummed as he was able to discern his mother's vision, the perfect picture of an elegant celebration. It was a breathtaking sight.

Alec glanced around and could see the fine details of the preparations. He saw the waiters polishing the last of the glasses and arranging the place cards. It was a scene of distinguished bustle and perfection that promised to make the evening ahead something special.

𒐣

Having given in to Izzy's pleas, he had gone on a shopping trip with her a few days earlier. It had been nerve-wracking and it had once again reminded him why he loathed this leisure activity. 

As he was sitting in his old childhood bedroom, in his parents' house, staring at the suit his sister had picked out for him during that shopping trip, he wished the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

If it were up to him, he'd still be in New Haven prepping for his classes instead of sitting in New York attending yet another of his parents' snobbish benefit galas.

The only bright spot was that Jem had assured him in advance that he would be attending, too.

Jem had been one of the few attorneys at his parents' law firm who had taken him under his wing while he had been doing minor work at the firm as a teenager. From that time on, Jem was like a mentor to him, someone he could look up to and easily talk to about whatever he wanted. He was also the only person who knew about Alec's sexuality.

Alec breathed in deeply once more as he checked his watch. It was high time he got ready. He didn't have much time left before the limousine arrived that would take his sister and him to the gala.

𒐣

Alec was already standing outside the door as the limousine made its way up the driveway leading towards the house. He was getting more impatient by the second and was about to go back through the door to call for his sister when she suddenly appeared in the doorway and his breath came short.

Until that moment, he hadn't seen the dress Izzy had chosen for the evening. It was stunning and he was sure that Izzy would attract a lot of attention. Probably much to the disapproval of their mother.

It was a fancy evening gown with a plunging sweetheart neckline and white floral embroidery all over the top and skirt of the dress, contrasting beautifully with the black fabric.

"You look gorgeous, Izzy," Alec said, holding out a hand to help her into the limo.

She laughed as she took his hand and replied, "You don't look so bad yourself, brother."

During the drive to Essex House, the two sat quietly side by side, both lost in thought and anxious to see what the evening would bring.

Both knew that Maryse would almost certainly give them disapproving looks, but to save face would say nothing about the outfits they had chosen for the occasion.

There was no way either of them could have had an inkling of the turn this evening would take.

𒐣

Alec had given up counting the number of hands he had already shaken.

These events always followed the same pattern and he was so tired of playing the poster child. However, he and Izzy had complied, as they had learned by now when it was time to bend to their mother's will rather than fight it.

And so, with smiles on their faces, they stood beside their parents at the entrance to the hall and greeted each new arrival.

Alec had just turned towards the musicians, who had taken their place at the right end of the hall and had already started playing the first notes, when he suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath from his mother.

It wasn't long after that he felt Izzy's hand clasp his in a bone-crushing grip. And then he heard her say, so quietly that only he could hear, "Our mother is going to go berserk. Look who Jem has brought as his companions."

Alec had never turned his head as quickly as he did at that moment.

It was then that he saw him. Jem had just come striding down the small corridor that led from the foyer to the hall, with a woman on his right and a man on his left. From the way they were walking, laughing and holding hands, you would have had to be blind not to notice that the three of them were connected by something more than friendship.

Finally, Jem stood in front of the Lightwoods and greeted Maryse and Robert before turning to Izzy and Alec. Afterwards, he let his gaze wander over his companions and back to the Lightwoods.

"May I introduce my wife Tessa and my husband Will," Jem said in a cheerful tone.

Alec had never seen his mother as pale as she was at that moment.

𒐣

Robert became immediately aware of the fact that his wife found it more than uncomfortable to be around these people. Even though Jem was one of the best attorneys in their firm, Robert had no doubt that Maryse would do anything in her power to get rid of him after that evening.

He reached for her hand and held it tightly, trying to tell her without words that she had better not be making a scene.

He paid absolutely no attention to Jem at all or even towards his children. His focus remained solely on Maryse. The two were engrossed in a conversation in which no one else could participate, for they did not speak with words, only with their expressions and gestures.

They were snapped out of their trance-like state when they heard Jem mutter something to their son. The two of them shot each other a shocked look and then turned their gaze to their son.

It wasn't as if Alec hadn't already been a disappointment after he and his sister had told them they weren't both going to law school.

But to see him now standing next to this abomination and interacting with him drove the anger and disappointment Maryse experienced towards her son to unknown heights.

When Alec noticed the look on his parents' faces that almost seemed to pierce through him, he knew it was now or never. Because he was tired of it, he was so tired of hiding who he was.

Jem remained at his side, holding his hand in a firm grip as he whispered to him again, "I'm here. I've got your back, no matter what. Don't let your fears intimidate you. They don't exist to make you feel insecure. Fears are there to let you know that there is something worth fighting for."

In a brittle, devestated voice, Alec whispered, "I'm gay." 

His parents stared at him in disbelief and Alec couldn't hold on any longer and shouted at the top of his lungs, emphasizing every single word, "I.AM.GAY!"

𒐣

After his outburst, he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. It felt liberating, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The fact that Izzy had been standing at his side the whole time and was looking at him, beaming with joy, helped him to stay calm. And then, suddenly, he found himself in the arms of his brother Jace, who held him in a bone-crushing embrace.

Jace held him so tightly in his arms that Alec almost lost his breath, but he didn't try to squirm out of the embrace. And then, when his brother whispered to him, "I'm so proud of you, Alec," it almost seemed like his heart would burst with happiness and he wrapped his arms around Jace and hugged him close.

"Thank you. Really, you don't know how much your encouragement means to me," he whispered gently, hoping that his voice didn't show that he was trying with all his might to suppress his tears.

But one thing he realized at that moment was that it didn't really matter whether his parents accepted him or not. As long as the people who were really important to him stood by him.  Because he knew that he had nothing to fear as long as he had them by his side.

It did his soul good to see that not only Jem stood behind him, but also his siblings.

𒐣

Maryse was absolutely furious.

She gave her son a tight look and said in a firm voice, "Life is not about what you want to do, it's about what must be done. Stop this drivel and act like a real Lightwood. I don't even recognize you anymore."

Jace was about to stride up in front of Alec, determined to protect his brother, but Alec gestured for him to stay put. Then he took a deep breath and met his mother's eyes, "I'm the same person I've always been. Now everything is just out in the open. There's no going back and either you accept me and I mean all of me or it's time for me to be leaving."

By now, the small group had attracted the attention of many of the other guests present and it was easy to sense Maryse's discomfort.

She let her eyes wander over her children once more and the small group standing behind them. 

She was disgusted, but she knew she couldn't start a fight. Not there. And so she decided to leave them and went into the ballroom without exchanging another word with any of them. 

Robert looked at his children with an indistinct expression. Then he shook his head gently and put a hand on Alec's shoulder as he turned to him and said, "Give her time, I'm sure she'll come around."

He smiled once more and then went after his wife.

𒐣

Jem gave Alec an encouraging pat on the back when he said, "Alec, I'm very, very proud of you. And you know, no matter what is going to happen, I'll always have my door open for you."

After that, he turned to Will and Tessa, took them both by the hand and left the hotel.

Alec was glad that his siblings didn't pester him with questions, that they didn't demand to be told as to why he had confided in Jem but not in them.

And then he noticed someone grabbing him and dragging him along with them. Izzy giggled as Jace stated, "This calls for a celebration. Let's get out of here and have some decent food and drink somewhere."

Alec thought to himself that the evening could only have gone better if his parents had accepted him as well. But he had come to the conclusion that his parents, especially his mother, would never accept that he was gay a long time ago.

And even if his father hadn't shown any reluctance towards him, Alec knew for a fact that he would never go against his wife.

He tried to banish all thoughts of his parents and their opinions from his mind and instead simply enjoy the rest of the evening with his siblings.

He finally started to feel free and it was an indescribably amazing experience.

𒐣

A short time later, the three of them found themselves in Hunter's Moon, completely overdressed for the small bar, but they couldn't possibly have cared less. 

When they had all lived in New York, they had often come here. They had played pool or darts until they were kicked out by the owner, as they were not yet of legal age at the time. Nevertheless, they kept coming back because they enjoyed the atmosphere and the food was good and cheap, at least by New York standards.

It had become their little safe haven when things got unbearable at home. Which was increasingly the case the older the siblings got. Their home had not been a loving one for a very long time. Robert and Maryse were usually absorbed in their work and when they did find the time to engage in activities with their children, it usually resulted in arguments between the two of them.

But Alec didn't want to think about why they had set out in search of a place where they could spend some time. Because, as Jace had said, the evening needed to be celebrated.

With Jem's help, he had finally mustered up the courage to come out to his family. And even if it had gone exactly as he had feared, he still had the support and love of his siblings.

So they had every reason to celebrate and that's exactly what they did.

𒐣

They had long since stopped counting the shots, but at least Alec and Izzy had been able to convince Jace that they should stick to one drink and not go mixing wildly.

Thus they had settled on Tequila Silver Shots, which were served with a slice of lime and coarse sea salt at Hunter's Moon. It was a marvelous flavor experience, first you licked the salt off your hand, then you drank the shot and afterwards you bit into the lime.

They all loved the taste and went on to order round after round.

Izzy giggled every time they licked the salt off their hands and Jace grimaced each time they bit into the lime. However, they didn't stop ordering shots.

The two of them were ecstatic and could still hardly believe that Alec had finally come out of the closet, that he had in fact been able to reveal his sexuality. They were so incredibly proud of him.

Which, of course, they made clear with every shot they brought to their lips.

You could hear them cheering, "Here's to Alec!" or "Alec's great" or "Well done, bro"

They drank until the bartender announced the last round and then they were kicked out of the bar.

Alec couldn't remember ever being this drunk and he was sure the other two were no better.

And yet somehow they managed to get home, but how exactly they did it, none of them were able to recall exactly by the next morning.

𒐣

Alec was sitting at the breakfast table with his siblings, each of them had a steaming cup of coffee in front of them as no one really had an appetite when suddenly the door burst open and an angry, fuming Maryse strode into the kitchen.

Paying no attention to Jace or Izzy, she purposefully advanced on Alec and then hissed, "What the hell were you thinking? Not bad enough that Carstairs made a scene, no, you thought this was the perfect time to humiliate your parents. I don't even recognize you anymore."

Alec's head was throbbing, not enough that he had the worst hangover ever, no, to make matters worse his raging mother was now standing in front of him accusing him of things that were absolutely baseless, at least in his opinion.

Why was his mother so narrow-minded?

And then, as if the situation wasn't already bad enough, he heard her say through her gritted teeth, "Pack your bags and go. Get out, I don't want to see you in this house ever again."

Alec was shocked and he saw his utter shock being mirrored in his siblings' eyes. He stood up, towering over his mother with his tall stature and then said, as calmly as he was capable, "I'm the same person I've always been. Now everything is just out in the open."

After that, he took a step to the side and left the three of them behind him, walking past his father, who had remained standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching in silence. Not a word passed his lips as Alec walked past him, neither had Alec expected his father to say anything about all this.

He had climbed the first few steps when he heard the loud voices of Izzy and Jace shouting in confusion and a warm feeling spread through his chest.

"How dare you, that's your son!"

"If Alec isn't welcome here, then I'm leaving too!"

"You're giving up your own flesh and blood because you care more about how you're perceived by others! Because you're narrow-minded and can't see that your point of view is wrong."

Alec didn't linger a moment longer on the stairs, instead running as fast as he could to his room and slamming the door behind him. He was overwhelmed that Izzy and Jace had his back, but his mother's outright disapproval made something inside him crack.

𒐣

Alec had grabbed a suitcase and packed the few things he had left in his childhood bedroom. Right as he was in the middle of cleaning out his closet, the door to his room was cracked open.

“I honestly can't believe that our mother is such a homophobe. To the point that she's not even able to accept her own son for who he is,” Jace could be heard whispering.

Izzy put her hand on Jace's shoulder and shook her head as she whispered to him, “ We need to be there for Alec now. Make sure he knows we will always have his back.”

Alec, who had heard the words his siblings had exchanged before they'd fully entered his room, made no move at all to face them. The pain caused by his parents' reaction was simply too immense. He couldn't even say which one caused him more pain. His mother's open hostility towards him or his father, who had simply been standing idly on the sidelines.

But then Alec found himself in a warm embrace, wrapped in the arms of his two siblings, who whispered quietly to him how proud they were of him and that they would always support and stand by him, no matter what their parents might say.

Tears trickled down Alec's cheeks without him really realizing it as he heard the loving words of his siblings and in that moment he knew that he had the love and support of the people who were truly important.

[influencermagazineuk]

Pontins Falls to Last Place in UK Holiday Park Rankings Once Again

The long-established Pontins has been rated the worst UK holiday park brand in a survey by the consumer organization Which?, with smaller and independent resorts taking the top honors. Potters Resorts, which has locations in the Essex countryside and on the Norfolk coast, topped the table. Which? surveyed over 1,700 people about their experiences at UK holiday parks in the past two years, asking them to rate their stays based on 11 criteria, including quality of accommodation, cleanliness, facilities and activities, and value for money. Founded by Fred Pontin in 1946, Pontins was taken over in 2011 by the Britannia Hotels chain. Recently, three sites—Camber Sands in East Sussex, Prestatyn in north Wales, and Southport—have suddenly closed, leaving only two currently open: Pakefield in Suffolk and Sand Bay in Somerset. Pontins received two-star ratings in categories such as customer service, quality of accommodation, cleanliness, quality of facilities and activities, food and drink, and value for money. Its highest scores of three stars were for communication and quality of entertainment. Despite scoring last with a customer score of 56%—the same position it held in 2022—it wasn't the only big name to fall short of expectations, said Which? Butlin’s, with resorts in Bognor Regis in West Sussex, Minehead in Somerset, and Skegness in Lincolnshire, ranked fifth from the bottom with a customer score of 67%. Guests were underwhelmed by the customer service and food and drink. However, the brand, known for its Redcoats, scored four stars for the quality of entertainment and the variety of children’s activities. Center Parcs and Haven, tied just above Butlin’s with a customer score of 69%. Center Parcs, the most-visited brand in the survey with five UK locations, received generally favorable reviews but failed to deliver on value for money, earning just two stars in this category, according to Which? Potters Resorts took the top spot with a customer score of 87%, followed by Which? “recommended provider” Forest Holidays, which scored 80%. Potters Resorts has locations near Colchester in Essex and Great Yarmouth. Naomi Leach, deputy editor of Which? Travel, said: “Our latest survey shows that it’s worth looking beyond the best-known names, with smaller and independent resorts offering excellent value for money, great customer service, and plenty of onsite entertainment.” Pontins has been approached for comment but did not respond to Which?'s requests for feedback. A Butlin’s spokesperson said the company had invested over £50 million across its three resorts and was pleased to see high scores for activities and entertainment. “It is disappointing to see that some scores are lower, but we would like to reassure guests that we’re investing in these areas to offer a better holiday experience.” A spokesperson for Center Parcs expressed pride in its “consistently high” guest satisfaction scores, noting that over 60% of guests make repeat bookings. They added, “Our guests demand a high-quality experience, and each year we invest tens of millions of pounds improving our villages.” Read the full article

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Two (Loki x fem! A Court of Thorns and Roses Hiddlesverse AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series is reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters. Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him. Opening you to a world of more magic and danger than you ever could imagine...

Chapter One

Chapter Summary: You recount the details of the deal only to the lack of belief from your loved ones. On your wedding day, you uncover a letter revealing a shocking and heartbreaking truth about William...

Chapter Warnings: Cheating-Not Loki, But discussing William's canonical actions in The Essex Serpent and portraying them as *checks notes* bad, so Will Ransome fans and Lusty Vicarettes- you have been warned. Reader having bad self-esteem. A bit of fluff but then a LOT of angst. Discussions of sex. We wait for Loki to appear. A cliffhanger.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85

It took much searching in the library and bookshelves of neighbors, but you found a book of Norse Mythology. Once you did, you asked to speak with Will and your parents alone one evening. You sat the book down on the table before them. You flipped the pages. You found the first page introducing Loki and then pointed to it. You then showed it to the three people at the table- your parents and fiancée.

“That was him! There!” you said.

Your mother put on spectacles to read further and then looked up at you, shaking her head.

“Really, Y/N. The Norse god Loki was who healed you?” she questioned.

“Yes. It was. I am not joking, mama- I am completely serious,” you said.

Your father perked up. When he flipped a page, there was an illustration of the dark-haired trickster god grinning as he petted a few cats.

“I’ve heard very often those dying of tuberculosis have hallucinations…” your father mused.

“I thought he was a vision too! But he-he was tall and lean and had dark hair! He was wearing black and green robes! And he-he looked a little like you, William!”

William looked down at the illustration, his eyes squinted, trying to find the resemblance. But there was a failure to see the resemblance between his curly reddish-blonde hair and Loki’s dark hair. Nothing with Loki’s gaudy grin and William’s serious frown.

“Did you visit her that day? Perhaps she saw you and hallucinated the wrong hair color!” your father asked.

William clenched his jaw.

“No, I did not. I had to take stock of my tithes from the people. Not until after dear Y/N’s miracle.”

You folded your hands on the table.

“If Loki was a vision- then how would that explain why I am already completely better? The doctor didn’t visit me at all that morning, and he gave me no treatments, no medicines! Even if he did-This was quick and sudden!” you cried.

“It’s a miracle from God-you are just misplacing where your faith is,” your mother said.

You then opened your hands to show it to them. A hand flew up to your mother’s mouth- the sight never failed to shock her. Though they had seen it.

“Then explain these!!! How did this happen?!” you argued, exasperated.

They examined it, all looking at the mark and touching it, pulling your hand to examine it carefully.

“Usually, a scar from something like an illness is red…these are jet black! They haven’t come off yet and I’ve washed them fifty times!” you continued.

Your mother sighed through her nose. They dropped your hand. Though Will peeked at the book again, putting a hand to his mouth as he flipped to look at the different pages.

“Y/N…we just find it hard to believe…” your mother said.

You looked at all three of them. You clenched your jaw and your hands rolled up to fists. Hardening your gaze, you spoke:

“I told all of you the truth. And if you believe me or not, that is up to you.”

Your mother reached over and took your hand.

“Sometimes…miracles do occur. And you don’t ask why or how they happened…you learn to accept it…”

Your father began to nod. Will perked up, his eyes glistening. He even smiled, perhaps noting to mention that in a future sermon.

That you could accept.

When you were alone with Will the next day, you both went on a stroll. The luxury of privacy was included with the engagement to marry. With the brown dog barking by your side, both of you walked out to the fields outside the town. It was the first thing you did after you were engaged, and you recalled smiling from the warmth of the coat he draped over your shoulders to guard you against the chill. Despite the grey clouds that day, you paused your steps and looked up at him, opening your hand to show the star mark.

“I must tell you- this is the price I paid. I must go to him. Even after we’re married- you won’t see me for a week every month,” you reported.

“This Norse god?” he asked.

You nodded. It didn’t matter whether or not he believed you. It didn’t matter if he would be forced to send you to a madhouse or keep you in an attic. He of all people had to know his wife wasn’t abandoning him.

“Yes! I will have to be there-one week of every month! Please- I know it’s against the Bible but-lie!” you begged.

“Lie?!”

“My own parents don’t believe me! Say I have a cold! Say I’m visiting your family in the next town! Say I’m out walking! Say I’m doing some ministry work for an orphanage or something! Anything!” you insisted.

He patted your arm, smoothing it to calm you down.

“Of course…of course…”

You wondered how much he believed you. Perhaps he only half believed you. But one detail you had to confide to him. One that would land you in genuine trouble if word got out.

“l I must tell you…he did flirt with me. But…I resisted him. And should he try anything when I’m with him…I’ll fight him off…because I…”

Your eyes blinked, but you broke into a smile. His shoulders lowered.

You then grabbed his hand.

“I love you, Will. I love you. I really do. I’ll do anything for you. And I did this- I did this for you. So, you wouldn’t be alone. So, we could be married! Because I love you and I want to be your wife! It was a sacrifice I made for you-and so I promise, when I’m there, I will ignore him. I will tell him I’m a married woman and shut the door in his face! I’ll box the smug grin off him, too!”

He laughed a little and you laughed despite yourself. Then you smiled up at him and gave him a hug. He smelled the grass. He put a hand on your back to rub it lightly. Then he released the hug, taking both of your hands. How large his hands were! How many of your fingers could make up his mere thumb! How comforting!

“I love you too, Y/N. I am only glad you are well and that we can be married.”

As you both walked off, you changed the topic.

 “How is the search for the Serpent?”

Bodies appeared in the grass. Some claimed a giant, magical snake was on the loose. Many said prayers and kept indoors at night. William told you he wanted to consecrate it. Mrs. Seaborne wanted scientific research. They teamed up to find the creature.

 But things were quiet. As if it never happened. Some seemed to whisper about it and then ignore it to go about their lives. But the looking continued.

“Oh, very well! Tracks were found!” he recalled.

“Oh, good! You and Mrs. Seaborne make quite a team! You will be careful, should you see something, William- please! I don’t want you hurt!”

“I always am careful, my dear…the tithing will be soon. The town will come to me to give me their yearly dues and I must count them next week. You shall be there, shall you?” he asked. His curls flew in the wind.

“Yes, I shall. I am ready for those duties already. I am ready to be your wife,” you smiled as you wrapped an arm around his.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Weeks went by. Now it wasn’t just the Serpent that seemed to be only a dream. It was Loki. Perhaps you did hallucinate him. Perhaps the sickness was only a bad dream.

But one thing was a reality-your wedding to William.

Before you knew it, the day of the wedding arrived. It was a bright spring day. The sun beat down. Flowers grew and bees hummed. It felt a little warm and you noticed some flowers beginning to wilt in the vase at home. You shrugged it off- there would be new flowers in your new home where he lived.

Everyone gathered at the church for preparations. Your bridesmaids fluttered around you like pastel bubbles in their dresses of various colors. They gathered around to help you adjust your wedding corset to how you liked and fixed your hair.

Stepping into your special dress- white lace with a bustle- everyone cooed and admired you. You always thought it was pretty. Decorative and special- as a wedding should be. It had a high color buttoned up with a cloth blossom and long sleeves down to your wrists. You put on lace gloves to hide the stars.

One bridesmaid handed you a bouquet.

“I added the blue violets- those are for faithfulness! Oh! And an orange blossom! That’s for you two to have many children!

All of you began to laugh a little bit. Then your mother and Williams’ own mother stepped in, admiring all of you. Though you stood out like a drop of snow. Your mother gasped and went to hug you.

“Oh, how beautiful you look!” your mother cooed.

“Yes- won’t he be beside himself!” cried Mrs. Ransome.

“And speaking of many children…Y/N…we’ve discussed this…some, but…I have to tell you.”

She looked at the bridesmaids too, perhaps thinking of this as an extended lecture. They kept their eyes forward, but their lips were sealed tight.

She held both of your hands.

“You know what…happens between a husband and wife, Y/N,” she began.

“Yes, I do. You told me…specifics…” you nodded.

“I must tell you…it is never pleasant for the woman. But you have a duty to fulfill to your husband. It hurts the first time, and it is awkward and uncomfortable every time after…but you shall do it. William expects you to do it.”

You noticed Stella’s eyes widen. She blinked and seemed to soften her posture amid all the discomfort of the bridesmaids. Warning them of when it would be their turn to perform their own duties to their husbands. But out of all of them…Stella did not seem afraid.

“No- my worst fear would be to let him down! I shall do it, mama, I promise!” you insisted.

“Very good.”

Your mother kissed the top of your head. Several bridesmaids shivered and then went out to distract themselves and see to their own preparations.  You swallowed hard in your own fear, looking down at the bouquet in your hands.

Stella ran to you, like a butterfly in her light blue bridesmaid dress. She touched your shoulder.

“Your wedding night shall all turn out well, Y/N! Don’t worry!” she consoled.

“You heard mama…it’s not going to be pleasant…” you mused.

Stella turned around to make sure no one overheard and then leaned back to you whispering.

“I heard from some of the Fishermen’s wives. I was talking to them by the ocean. And they said…they said…the act is actually nice!”

“What- nice? The marital act?!” you gasped.

Stella smiled a radiant smile that could have made a king beg for her.

“Yes- the marital act! I don’t know myself, but they said they loved doing it! That it was pleasant for them! That they wanted to do it with their husbands! And then listed all the men they wish they could do it too!”

She turned bright pink and leaned closer, softening her voice.

“And do you know who they put on their list?”

“Who? Wait…no! They didn’t say…” You began to stifle laughter.

“I’m not! They listed Will! I heard them! I kept blushing but I couldn’t help but listen! They talked about how every Sunday they wished they could sin with him!”

“Stella!”

“Their words! Not mine! See-you’re the luckiest, happiest woman in all England today! So don’t worry-it’s probably nicer than you think it is!” she continued.

“I’m still nervous thinking about it!” you confided.

“Think of it this way- you might be like those women and want it from him instead of him wanting it of you! I! So don’t worry so much! You shall be fine! You can tell me all about it later!”

She gave you a hug and you hugged back. How soft she felt-she always knew people so well that she could say the right things. Then her mother appeared at the door and asked for her. She gave you a grin and then walked away.

You were left alone. And there was time before the ceremony- your last minutes as a single woman.

 You walked out of the room. Down the hall. You overheard the church organ practicing the music. The wind rustled and the sun burst through little windows. You smelled musk and old wine down here.

Today, the door for William’s office was creaked open. Glad for a moment alone, you tiptoed in there with your skirt swishing behind you. That space you would have to become far more acquainted with later. You were rarely in there and only then you were accompanied. You had forgotten what it looked like.

It was a plain room. Not too decorative- only packed bookshelves and illustrations of Jesus on the wall.

But turning, you saw a letter on the desk. You walked closer to read it. Will’s handwriting- of course, you knew it. It was dated today! Curiosity and delight rippled in you from the opening line.

“To my most beloved woman…” it began.

Oh! A love letter? On your wedding day?! How romantic! You thought. You kept reading.

“I dream of you night and day. I think only how I wish to see you. I have so much I’ve written, yet I couldn’t get the words. How I wish you never catch me staring right at you as you go about. And how I ache and long for you…”

You began to giggle despite yourself. Oh- dearest man! He was always so calm around others! Now to see him this vulnerable and sentimental! You smiled brightly.

“You are truly not like other women!”

That was an odd compliment. You felt a lump in your throat. Sometimes men said things that, though well-intentioned, were not completely thought out. Was there something…wrong with the other women? You decided to ignore it and keep reading.

“You are the one thing I long for. And you haunt and torment me so much, darling…”

You placed the letter on your heart, giving it a kiss, then read on.

“And now, the day of my wedding to Miss Y/N approaches…The day I grow from fiancée to husband. Oh, to see her dying!”

You paused. You reread it.

Her. Not you. Her. Should it be “Oh, to see you dying?” He was educated in seminary but couldn’t get the tense of his letter, right? How did his professors grade him?! Why did he do that? Was he trying to be like an author with a novel?

“How tormented I am! But my heart will long for you since the day I kissed you and danced with you, but remember…I will never stop seeing you. And I shall always be there, my sweet Cora.”

Your smile dropped. Your heart picked up. You began to read it. Then re-read it. Then read it again to make sure you were not making it up. That you read what you read.

This is a love letter…to Cora Seaborne…but I…I am his fiancée…I’m about to be his wife…so that means…that means…

You tasted bile in your mouth. You felt yourself blink and the room became dizzy. Everything spun except for the letter. You caught yourself on the chair. The letter fell from your shaking hand and you picked it up. You re-read the date- today. This morning. He was going to send it to her this morning.

Then you noticed a box under his desk. It was left open. And there were papers- papers with writing. You grabbed it and found your worst fear was true. They were letters. Letters from Cora. Love letters from Cora. All dated very recently. Beginning from the time she arrived after your betrothal.

You caught onto the chair for support. You wanted to retch onto the carpet. You wanted to faint. You wanted…wanted to run. But you couldn’t take a step. You set down the letters, back in their places. Then you caught the chair, clinging to it.

No….no, I thought…I thought he…he said he loved me…he said he was mine…said he adored me…he said. He said…

There was a knock on the door that made you jump. You put the box down where you left it. In was Mrs. Ransome.

“Ah! Y/N! There you are! We were worried you might have run away!”

You felt your jaw clench and you looked at them, quietly. She dragged you away back to the rooms where they got dressed. Though now bridesmaids and every one of your mothers was filling it up. They all began talking.

“Here- let me give you some reminders! Of course, you understand what it means to be a vicar’s wife. The immense responsibility it carries. For now, the women shall all look to you as an example and it’s one you must set!” Your mother advised.

They began to touch up your veil and dress as they spoke to you. But you passively stood, letting them talk to you. Trying to hear the words. They did not make you feel any better with distraction.

“Make sure you always sit in the front row of church every Sunday. You must always watch your words and your behavior. We know you’re a good woman and suited to this- but you must be careful now! A wrong step or word and his image and ministry are in ruin!” Mrs. Ransome advised.

“Support him no matter what and support his ministry, Y/N. Support him in his emotions without complaint. Encourage his advancements as you keep the balance between his home and family. Keep the house peaceful. Do not do anything to upset him or disturb him or the town. Be humble, Y/N, appreciating everything and demanding very little…” your mother began to speak.

So much work. So much sacrifice. So much…for nothing.

“And should you have children- you will raise them perfectly. You will make sure they do nothing that shall turn anyone against him and his ministry,” another woman advised you.

Yes, children. To lay in his bed. To do the act. Your duty. Knowing the truth. Knowing who it was he would rather do it to. Coming to him with a heart filled with love and adoration…thrown to waste.

“And do not yourself give into sins of greed, bad temperament, or jealousy!”

Jealousy, jealousy. I am a good person. I am not jealous, I am not jealous, I am not jealous of her, I’m not. I’m not. I’m good, I swear, I’m good you thought. All lies. You knew.

“And you shall always pray for his strength to overcome temptation and for him to flourish, shall you, Y/N?”

Yes. You always shall. You always did pray. But the wrong prayers. You should have prayed for his avoidance of temptation. Of his adherence to all the Ten Commandments, like the Seventh one.

And here you were about to marry a man who could not follow his own instruction. He was praised for being open-minded. Now not even that sin bothered him anymore.

The Lusty Vicar indeed.

“Could I…could I speak to Will? Before the wedding? Please…” you babbled out. But you only had half your voice.

The women all shook their heads.

“No! It’s bad luck! And it’s about to begin very shortly!” your mother refused.

Is this who you were going to marry? Who was this man? Was he a madman? Was this Will? The Will you agreed to marry? The Will of your dreams who you looked so forward to? The handsome Will? The Will who gave you his coat? The Will who said he loved you? The Will you loved?

They dragged you up before the doors of the church. You began to nervously fidget with the bouquet. Everyone got into the line in their places to enter. You broke off and turned to Stella.

“I…I have to…have to talk to you…” you began.

“Oh no- what is it? Are you nervous? Every bride is!” she smiled.

You shook your head. You felt yourself shaking, wishing you didn’t have to believe the words struggling to come out.

“It’s not that…Stella…I…I f-f-found…I found, uh-I found-uhm…”

“What did you find?” she asked.

In answer, there was loud music at the beginning of the ceremony. Her mother pushed Stella to be in place by a groomsman.

The music- so loud it could have rattled your bones and made your ears bleed-began. Then off they went. You were pushed to stand by your father.

“Oh, what a lovely day! And you look beautiful as an angel, Y/N!” he assured you.

One by one they filed. Out they went. Then it was your turn.

The white walls, wooden beams, and humble wooden chandeliers once comforted you every Sunday. The candles from the ceiling hung over you like vultures. The two rectangular windows next to each other high above the wall behind the altar watched you like the eye of a god waiting for you as the sacrifice on the altar. No number of flowers could make up for it.

People stood up and smiled. You took a few steps forward.

You glanced back at the congregation.  People were smiling at you like you were something wanted and valued. Something to be treasured. When you were really a joke. A laughingstock. They were going to all laugh at you any second.

 You saw plenty of women in the crowd. Other women. Other women.

It was Cora who was the special one. And you who were the “other women.” The “less than” women. The “not good” women.

Your dress was hot. It felt heavy against your skin. It was itchy against you. What on earth were you thinking picking this dress?!  Once you adored and squealed and twirled it childishly in your house. Once you loved it. But now you hated it. Everything in how it felt against you like it was trapping to stifle you. The flowers In your bouquet trembled. You then saw none other than Cora herself there. her maid holding her three-year-old son. A son from her first marriage with her late husband. A marriage that was so horrible, that even after the man's death... that she robbed you of yours. It was like she opened the door for a burglar to sneak inside and shoot you. The third person in this marriage. The real beloved of Will all this time. She knew your existence and commitment and promises to William…and it didn’t stop her. She never stopped to think this would hurt you. Maybe she didn’t care. Though you were the one in white compared to her in her grey coat- she was the one crowned best of women from the one you loved most. The one you sacrificed so much for-would sacrifice so much for. You turned and saw him at the altar. Will. Resplendent in his tuxedo as always. The tuxedo you swooned over- once. His beard was trimmed for today. He was smiling. Like he was all yours.

But you knew the truth.

You found your steps slowing down so that your feet dragged against the church floors.

But then you felt every eye on you. Every eye and that included…you turned, glancing at her. Cora.

And you would never be good enough for him.

Your stomach heaved. You stared down at the floor.  You were going to become sick and vomit there in the church in front of everyone. Tears welled up and you felt them pouring out of you.

You stopped your steps.

Your father nudged you, urging you to go. You refused. He tried to pull you and you jerked away. Tearing yourself free from his arm. But you kept your eyes on the floor before you. You couldn’t take another step.

You were going to fall apart right there in front of everyone. They expected a smiling, beautiful bride flouncing her way up. But that was not the image you could give them. You did not feel beautiful. You felt disgusting and hideous. If you burst into tears right, there-they would know. They would know and they would all laugh at you.

You saw the sun in the high window above the altar start to fade. Though it became cooler you wondered which would get you first-being boiled alive in your wedding gown or becoming sick.

William took a step forward; he offered up his hand.

“Y/N…” he said.

He took another step forward and on instinct, you retreated. The congregation murmured. His blue eyes widened. If you ran out of the church right now, there would be scandal and ruin. If you walked up to the altar, you would spend the rest of your days living a lie.

Help me-someone please help me. I can’t go through with this. I cannot do this. Someone, please help me, get me out of here you begged silently.

There was a crash of thunder. Out of nowhere for a bright, sunny day. The church darkened as candles blew out. People screamed- you screamed from the scare. Then they went up again and there was a wind-flower petals and ribbons flew with it, a few falling apart. People began to panic a little in their seats. A couple cried “The Serpent!” and “God protect us!”

The door flung open. Only a few candles in the church relit themselves against the dark sky.

When you turned around to see, you stopped at the sight.

 Loki, smiling and adjusting a tuxedo with a frilly white blouse, was there at the doors.

“Hello, Y/N darling,” he purred.

[petervintonjr]

In just 24 hours I'll be nestled in amongst the glorious nerdery in Essex Junction, Vermont at the Vermont Sci-Fi & Fantasy Expo! So looking forward to seeing everyone and kicking off spring in my beloved birth state. Drop by my table and pore over prints, original art, and copies of The Monitor's Guild (Books I and II). Looking forward to hanging with you!

More info at: https://www.vtgatherings.com/vermont-sci-fi-fantasy-expo.html