#Death's Judge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deepperplexity · 5 months ago

Text

Prompt 4: Darkest Night [C1]

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

A/N: It's day four of Rickmas and IT'S TIME FOR TURPIN! 😍😍😍 Honestly, this year, every fic is taking a turn I wasn't really expecting - Turpin story isn't any different, I'm apparently changing things up a bit this year? 👀 Well, it's all the more fun when you don't really know what's going to happen, isn't it? 🤭🙈

It's currently 8am as I write this note, hubby is in another country and I'm sipping on my coffee while my daughter is gobbling up her breakfast like a champ - chatting about the Christmas calendar story we're reading (multitasking over here 😅) - and as soon as I've dropped her off at preschool I'll be posting and then digging into work. I hope you're having a great start to your day and that you're ready for some Judge-Love 👏❤

(Also, I am IN LOVE with this OC - she is a hoot to write, and I hope you'll adore her and the never-ending bad luck following her through life 😂👏)

Tags/TW’s: First Meeting, Instant Attraction, Black Cat Energy, Bad Luck Afflicted FMC, Minor Injuries, Lost In the Woods, He Saves Her, Toppled Carriage, Travelling/Looking For Marriage

Word Count: 1.8k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Darkest Night

“Well, this is rather unpleasant,” I murmured as the wind picked up speed and my cloak floated about my thick dress. “Why must things always go astray? Can I not, for once—” I glared at the cloud-covered sky above “—have some form of peace? Hmm? Is that too much to ask of this wretched world?” the wind howled at me and I huffed. Apparently…

The woods were dense around me, the narrow path covered in ice and snow hard to traverse as the minimal daylight of December faded. “No matter, no matter. I shall find my way, as I always do, one way or another. No more to it.” My words were perky but my insides had gone stiff with knotting nerves.

I was not one for foolish adventures, or unplanned strolls through dark woods drenched in snow — yet, as always, I found myself up against the faiths and had no choice in the matter. A common occurrence, truly. No matter the endeavour, no matter the situation, I always found myself in a worse state than intended. Bad luck, some would say. I was not much for such sentiments of the faiths favouring through the roll of a dice with only two faces — if I were, I would still say they were wrong. Bad luck would be an understatement regarding myself.

I trudged on, the darkness tightening, and I held out hope for the road leading me toward London not being too far. I needed to find help, not that there was any rush to it. My coachman lay dead in the snow, the horses had broken legs so I had shot them to spare them the misery of a slow death and what valuables I had with me in the cramped carriage were not of significant monetary value but a sentimental one.

“It is merely walking, no danger or true hardship to it,” I said to myself in an effort to calm the nerves knotting themselves ever tighter in the pit of my stomach. “I shall find help, and that is all there is to it. Nothing to fret about.” Yet my hands trembled as I gripped my coat and purse — that I would not leave behind, given the money father had sent me off with to keep myself fed and with a roof above my head for my little journey.

⁛•⁛

I was utterly lost. The dark of night coiled around me and no matter how hard I tried to see the road beneath my feet it was all darkness. My cheek ached from a branch that had snapped against my face, my feet from the never-ending trudging, and my very bones seemed chilled. I drew a deep breath and stopped. “Well, this is no good,” I huffed between shivering breaths. “I shall find myself more lost if I keep on.” What else I was supposed to do, I did not know. But running around in the woods in the pitch dark was not a good idea.

Something bubbled in me. Something horribly strong and in need of release, right this instance. I swallowed and drew a deep breath to stave it off. It would not yield to my wishes. A blood-curdling scream of anger rose from the depths of my soul and burst from my lips as all the so-called bad luck of my entire existence of twenty-six very long years on this wretched earth demanded to be let loose.

I screamed and huffed, stomped my foot and kicked the snow beneath as the rage I always managed to hide and fight decided enough was enough. I screamed again, my voice breaking into a quiet sob as the rage gave way to fear. I screamed once more with all the strength I had and all the pain of an ever-elongating list of things going wrong grew once more.

“If there is a god up there among the clouds and stars, you best believe I shall come up there and wring your eternal neck if you do not help me right this instance! I have suffered enough!” I snarled with my eyes fixed on the dense darkness above. It was, beyond a doubt, the darkest night of my life thus far and whatever powers were at play — or whatever unearthly powers played with my life — I was no longer in the mood. If I am to perish here, in the dark and cold, then you best believe I’m going to make sure you lot up there or down below get what you deser—

A glimmer flickered to life, far off in the dark. An orange, tiny light drew ever closer before it turned into two little lights. The smallest sound of bells reached me, carried by the wind and I stood transfixed as the lights grew brighter and bigger. What in the world?

The sound of hooves pounding snow and reins smacking came the moment the lights were bright enough to show the shape of two horses as they pulled a runner-adorned carriage through the snow. “Anyone there?!” called a man. “Hello?!” he called again. “Here! Sir! Here!” I called out, waving my arm as the carriage drew close enough for me to see the coach.

The man said something I could not hear, his head turned as if he spoke to whoever was inside the grand carriage painted black with golden details. The black, giant horses trotted toward me and I felt such relief I wished to cry. Finally, thank you!

The carriage stopped and the coachman climbed down from his seat, I moved closer to meet the man. “My lady, are you well? We heard screams,” the man said. “I have been wandering these woods for hours after my carriage toppled. I am so thankful to see someone come,” I said, my voice brighter than it ought to have been but that was my way. “Your carriage toppled, my lady?” “Yes, quite a ways away I believe.” “Were is your coach?” the man asked, his eyes wide as he took in my most likely dishevelled appearance. “You are bleeding, my lady.” I blinked at the man, a bit confused. “I am?” “Your head— My lord! The lady is injured!” the man called back toward the carriage as I reached to touch my head.

I felt no wetness, just a crusty sensation atop my skin and a jagged gash in my scalp told me all I needed to know. Why, of course, I am injured, why ever not add that to the list of things gone wrong? I sighed and felt the biting wind nip at my cheeks as the man steadied me by grabbing my elbow gently. “My lady, we shall—”

The door to the carriage opened with a bang, pushed from the inside. I jolted at the sudden noise, the coachman releasing me instantly while straightening as a large man with broad shoulders and elegant movements stepped out. The snow crunched under his boot-clad feet and a breath lodged itself in my throat. He was older, but by the heavens, he was handsome in a striking — imposing — manner.

The regal nose, the grey locks peeking out from his top hat and the beautiful attire he wore with golden detailing highlighted by the black fabric it was stitched into formed a striking image with the flicking lantern flames granting a golden hue to everything it touched.

He strode up in three quick strides. I could not find my words or manners for a moment as he gazed down upon me with steely eyes and his lips set in a thin line. “My lord,” I finally said, curtsying deeply before straightening. “Injured indeed,” he said and I could have sworn mother nature took a great part in his voice — as if she lent a bit of her thunder to the man. “Come, we shall not have you out in the cold in such a state,” he said harshly, in a commanding manner I had never heard the likes of before. “Thank you, sir,” I said in pure reflex, ingrained as it was in me, while my mind lingered on the question of who this incredible man was I found myself being saved by in the dead of night in the woods.

“My lady,” he said and looked down upon me with those harsh eyes I found myself wanting to bow beneath — he was simply too imposing. “What may I call such a lovely creature?” he continued and I blinked, suddenly struggling to find my words even though that had never been an issue before. “Julianne Brimmer, my Lord.” It felt strange to not have my usual bright voice yet in his presence a need for a more subdued manner seemed to overtake me. “Mrs Brimmer—” “Oh, no, sir. Miss, Miss Brimmer.” He arched a brow as I spoke hastily to correct the man of his assumption regarding my marital state. I understood, given my age I ought to have been married to a gentleman by now — that was, after all, why I was headed to London. Finding a gentleman at the Christmas Ball or New Year Festival was my last hope before yet another year would be added to my life and even fewer prospects would appear.

The stoic man with a rigid posture fit for a grand man arched a brow at me. “Miss?” I nodded. “Indeed, my lord.” “Well, Miss Brimmer, in the carriage, if you would. The night is dark and one never knows what horrors hide in it. The world is a dangerous place, miss.” I gulped. He spoke so harshly yet there was something utterly alluring that I ought not to have been feeling drawn toward at all. “Yes, my lord. Thank you, sir,” I said quietly as his glare was harsh and his aura far too intimidating.

Yet, despite it all, I found myself climbing into the man��s carriage with the help of the coachman. The Lord himself came in after and the door was shut, stealing most of the light from the out lanterns and giving my heart a spike in its thumping.

I sat as straight as I possibly could and my eyes found his already gazing upon me, unreadable in their harshness yet utterly captivating with their secrets hidden so well. “Sir,” I began quietly. “May I ask who it is that is saving me on this darkest of nights?” He arched a brow at me. “You are unaware? Not from the area, either, perhaps?” “No, sir. I have travelled for three days by carriage to attend the Christmas Ball and New Year Festival, I am afraid I am not familiar with the London area in the slightest.” His lips quirked in a slight smirk. “I, Miss Brimmer, am Judge Turpin. High Judge of London.” “A judge?” I asked, feeling relief flood my blood with warmth. “What a relief to be saved by such an upstanding citizen as you, Judge Turpin.” And such a handsome one at that, too. Perhaps the winds are changing and the bad luck others blame me for being afflicted with is turning?

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

NEXT PART » Prompt 8: Never-ending Consequences [C2]

A/N: She really has no idea, huh? 👀 Let's see what happens next time around, if the bad luck is really turning or if our dear Miss Julianne Brimmer is in way over her head and utterly unaware of it...

Either way, I love her and I'm itching to keep writing this story 😍👏 What do you think? Is her luck turning, or no?

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus @reinekefoxart @lght-n-drk @cathym1102 @ankhmutes @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @thatlittlefangirl @sanji-simp @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

#rickmas2024 #rickmas #alan rickman #rickmaniac #christmas fic #Judge Turpin #turpin fic #Death's Judge #sweeney todd #Turpin x Female OC #Judge Turpin fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

sukibenders · 1 month ago

Text

When other Yellowjackets fans, majority who are poc themselves, talk about how weird and frustrating it is that the writers introduced a random yte character and gave them a storyline when there were two (technically three but they killed off Lottie even when there was an opportunity for more) woc, who have been around since s1, that could've fit the mold instead (like Mari) and have actual personalities outside of building up/being the lapdog for another character. Or how often times many of the, limited, poc characters are often either treated poorly and killed off, or pushed to the side (Simone, reduced to the disposable black girlfriend trope and is nearly killed by her partner because she's in the way of a ship; Travis, since s1, had his trauma dismissed or ignored and was overly hated but no one talks about how he was SA'd by the girls he's now stuck with on top of having to eat his brother and not be able to grieve over it). How Taissa's whole storyline is just revolving around Van even with all the potential, especially given she's fighting to be free from her own mind, how Lottie's mental illness is treated so poorly as if it's not the butt of a joke then it's met with heavy criticism (and the only time she is met with sympathy for it, it's through the lens of a yte character embodying her and having an emotional conversation with her father). How you can have all of these reasons (and more) for being annoyed by Melissa's character or the direction of the show, and be met with #those fans downplaying these concerns, or just being overly antagonistic just because they find yte character #243 entertaining so obviously these conversations don't have merit. But this fandom has always had an...."interesting" way in which it discussed the poc characters on the show, so I'm not surprised.