#been listening to from the gallows on repeat-

[atlaskatyellow]

Matching radiostatic stickers :D

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Fourteen

Fool's Fare: Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Secrets revealed, Cursing, Despair, Trickery, Magic, Loss, Schrodinger's major character death (Are they dead though? It's open ended.), Bittersweet endings. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: ~4.1k

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The glowing embers of Tom’s pipe cast sharp shadows that made his already stern looking face harder. Your breath caught in your throat as shock clutched at your ribs, a pressure building in your chest.

“Tom?” You repeated, taking a hesitant step forward. “What are you doing here?”

The old man gave you a wry smile, lowering the pipe from his lips as he blew out a long puff of smoke. The tendrils curled around one another, racing towards the sky in a dance that gave you pause. How often had you watched this same man growing up? This man before you who had been like a second father, bringing you gifts from his travels and setting you on his knee as he and your father discussed things you could hardly grasp. This man who had taken care of you and Bradley when your father had died at sea, making sure the two of you never went without even when the both of you had found work to support yourselves.

“Guppy,” he murmured, blue eyes filled with sorrow. “You’re looking well.”

“Cut the shit, Tom,” snapped Bradley. You turned to look at him, reeling back from the fury in your older brother’s eyes. His jaw clenched tight as his nostrils flared, hands curled into fists as his face flushed with anger.

“Bradley,” Tom sighed, inhaling more of the tobacco.

“I don’t get it.”

You turned to look at Jake, the blond man standing there with his brow knit and eyes darting around looking for answers.

“The old man from the tavern?” He asked, looking at you for confirmation, green eyes lost as he tried to process what was happening. “I don’t understand. Where’s Davy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Growled Bradley, sneering at the older man. “Tom is Davy. He’s been Davy Jones this entire time, and he’s never said a damn thing.”

“Would you have believed me if I had?” Tom challenged, no real heat to his tone as he stared down the younger man.

“I might have,” Bradley shot back, venom dripping from his tone. “If you had tried to warn me from signing up for this crew, I might have listened.”

“You’re a bad liar, Bradley,” Tom snorted. “Always have been. You’d have called me an old fool had I told you who I really was without proof.”

“Then why didn’t you prove it? Why did you just let me sign up? None of this had to happen!” Screamed Bradley, voice echoing off the rocky walls of the cliffs, making you flinch.

“I couldn’t very well reveal myself in front of a room full of people, boy,” Tom glared, jaw ticking as he fought to keep his temper at bay. “Not when it wouldn’t have made a difference. You had already made your decision.”

Bradley didn’t say anything, lips pressed tightly together as he continued to glare at the older man.

“Am I wrong?” Tom prodded, staring the other down. A moment of silence passed between them before Bradley hung his head.

“No,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes and fists closed. “You’re not.”

Another beat of silence passed. The waves crashed against the shoreline as gulls cried out overhead.

“You’re too much like Pete in that sense, I s’pose,” Tom grumbled with a shake of his head. Your heart clenched at the sound of your father’s name. It was true, Bradley was much like your father. So much so that sometimes you forgot the two of you weren’t related by blood.

“That stubbornness is what got him killed in the end,” he continued, turning towards the waves with a grimace.

“You don’t look like the Davy Jones I know,” Jake challenged, a hardness to his stare that equaled the disdain found in Tom’s.

“Not often someone sees what I really look like these days,” Tom sniffed, spitting out onto the sand. “Takes practiced magic to keep up appearances, and I can’t exactly go around scarin’ folks left and right when I’m on land.”

“Magic? What do you know about that?” You asked, taking a step forward. You needed to know why the magic you had encountered on your travels affected you differently from the others.

Tom turned back to look at you. “I know more than you think.”

“My whole life,” you started, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, “I’ve known that I was different. I knew things that others shouldn’t. I knew when Papa-”

You stopped, exhaling shakily as you remembered the day you clung to your father, begging him to stay on shore. You remembered the day his heart stopped beating.

“When we encountered Thetis,” you continued after a moment, and Tom stiffened at the name. “I knew something was wrong about that isle before anything had ever happened. She sensed something different about me too. The sea serpent stopped its attack when it saw me. Like it knew that we were one in the same.”

You took another step forward, eyes pleading with the man before you.

“So help me to understand, Tom,” you begged. “What am I?”

Silence stretched out along the beach as Tom studied you.

“You’re a promise,” he answered with a heavy sigh. “Long ago, when your mother and father were young and fool’s in love, they wanted a baby. But, your mother struggled to conceive. Your father called out to me to make a deal. We had been friends for a while by that point, so he knew the price he was paying. He asked for a child for his wife and a son for himself. In exchange, he offered up himself. A soul for a soul. I managed to warp the magic so that they got you, Guppy. A daughter instead of a son. That way he could live out his days with the family he wanted, and no price would need to be payed because the deal hadn’t been fulfilled.”

He closed his eyes with a shake of his head.

“Magic is a tricky thing, though,” he continued, eyes flickering towards where Bradley stood. “It will always find a way to get what its owed.”

“What does that mean?” You prodded.

Tom sucked on his teeth, measuring his words. “Means that Pete was given the son he was promised, and the magic was free to take the soul it was promised.”

You turned back to look at Bradley, sucking in a sharp breath at the look on your brother’s face. Brown eyes stared at the old man, tears streaming down his face as his jaw went slack in disbelief.

“It’s my fault?” He asked, voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him above the waves. Tom shook his head vehemently.

“No,” he growled, a hard look in his eyes. “It’s not. Pete took you in of his own free will. Declared you his son knowing damn well what that meant for him.”

Bradley pressed his lips firmly together, eyes darting towards the ground as he hung his head. Your heart broke at the sight. Your father loved Bradley, you knew that, and you knew that somewhere inside, Bradley knew that too. You took a step back towards him, hand extended to reach for him, but something inside you told you to stop. Your hand fell back to your side, uncertainty coursing through your veins as you tried to figure out what to do. What could you do?

“Are we going to stand around here all day,” groused Tom, eyes flickering between your trio, “or do you have my payment?”

You shot a glare at Tom as Jake sucked in a breath, body growing rigid before his hands reached into his coat, digging around for the necklace. The sight of it still took your breath away, the clear crystal that seemed to shine with its own light on the darkening shore. You were so mesmerized that you almost didn’t catch Jake’s eyes flicker to you, a press of his lips as he seemed to consider something.

Your own brow furrowed. What was he waiting for? Your eyes glanced towards where the sun was rapidly descending below the horizon, and you looked back at him.

“Jake?” You whispered, snapping him from his daze. He shook his head before crossing the divide towards Tom. He stared the older man down, shoulders squared as silent communication passed between the two. You shifted on your feet uneasily, eyes flickering towards Bradley. His face was unreadable as he watched the other two men, seemingly resigned to whatever was about to happen.

Jake’s shoulders rose and fell as he let out one last breath, holding his hand out towards Tom. The chain swayed in the evening breeze, the gem shining brighter than ever now that it was so close to its original master. Tom arched a brow as he studied it, his hand slowly rising to take it from Jake. Jake let his arm fall back to his side, taking a half a step back.

“There it is,” he nodded, gesturing towards the gem that now sat in the palm of Tom’s hand. “The greatest treasure in the world.”

Tom’s eyes flickered up to consider the man before him, lips pressed firmly together as he seemed to chew over his thoughts. He raised the gem up to eye level, head tilted slightly as his gaze shifted back out towards the sea. He grunted, tossing the gem up before catching it in his hand.

“Thanks,” he sniffed, raising the gem towards Jake before pocketing it in his coat. “Been looking for this beauty for a while. Thought Thetis had gotten her mitts on it, and I can’t have that. Need it for something before I even entertain the idea of giving it back.”

“Is it over?” Jake asked, eyes shining with hope. “Is the curse broken?”

Tom’s attention turned once more to the horizon, and you followed his gaze to watch the last bit of the sun disappear below the horizon.

“No.”

Your heart stopped. You whirled around to face Tom, eyes round with horror as the older man met Jake’s eyes. Jake looked about as shocked as you felt, and you watched as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, searching for the words that wouldn’t come to him.

“No?” He finally managed, his voice sounding so foreign and far away. He blinked at the old captain before rage twisted his features into something almost animalistic.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He shouted, a vein in his neck bulging as he clenched his fists. “I brought you the greatest treasure! Handed it over to you without so much as a fight! Break the damn curse, old man!”

Tom stared at him, unmoved by his outburst. He shook his head.

“After all this time, you still haven’t figured it out,” he muttered. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

Jake lurched back as if he had been physically struck, eyes wide before anger seeped back in and he let out a scream that chilled you to the bone. You had never heard someone sound so broken before. His hands clutched at his hair as he hunched over, breaths coming out in shallow gasps as his eyes searched frantically for answers. His head shot up, hands shooting out to grip at Tom’s coat, shaking him.

“Undo it, you bastard,” he growled, spittle flying from his mouth as he stared menacingly into the eyes of Davy Jones himself. “Undo it!”

“Jake,” you called out, and his head whipped around to face you. For a moment, you were almost frightened of him, but then you saw the face of the young boy who seven years prior had been punished for something that wasn’t even his fault. Tears streaming down his face, his anger crumpled around him, his hands releasing Tom as a sob ripped through him. He stumbled towards you, tripping over himself to land in the sand. You moved forward at the same time, meeting him halfway to catch him and lower him gently. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, cradling him as he clung to you. The tips of your fingers ran through his hair as you tried to soothe him, your own tears an afterthought.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, pressing himself closer to you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you told him, shaking your head. “You did everything you could, Jake, and I love you for it.”

He looked up at you, green eyes shining as you brushed the hair out of his face.

“You love me?” He asked. You realized then what you had said, and you smiled.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I do. With all my heart.”

A ghost of a smile curled on his lips as he leaned his forehead against yours. It didn’t last long before his face crumpled once more.

“I’m such an idiot,” he growled, shaking his head. “Never told the girl that I loved her, and she beat me to it. Now…”

He trailed off, but the words were plain as day. Now the two of you would be separated, torn apart and unable to find happiness with each other.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

The two of you looked up to see Tom still watching, a grimace sat firmly on his face.

“Looks like you did find the greatest treasure after all,” he grumbled. Your eyes met Jake’s, and the two of you scrambled to your feet as Jake’s face glimmered with hope.

“I found it?” He asked, another smile curling at his lips. “Does this mean the curse is lifted?”

Tom shook his head. “No.”

You looked up at him, catching the brief flicker of regret in his eyes before they hardened once more.

“What do you mean?” Jake demanded, keeping a hand on you as he stepped forward. “You just said I found it!”

“You didn’t present it to me before the deadline,” Tom shot back, gesturing towards where the sun had disappeared only minutes before. “You were too late.”

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Something shone in his eyes, but it was snuffed out just as quickly as it had appeared.

“You weren’t supposed to get wrapped up in all this,” Tom told you. Rage raced through your veins as you bared your teeth at him.

“But I did!” You shouted at him. “And now I’m losing everything because you won’t change the magic!”

“I can’t,” he snapped back.

You scoffed. “Bullshit! You’ve done it once before!”

“And look at what’s happened because of it!” He spat. “The magic didn’t just take your father, Guppy! It gave two souls, and two souls it collected in return.”

You balked. He couldn’t mean…?

“Your mother,” he nodded. “Your mother’s life was forfeit to the magic all because I thought I could bend it to my will. It’s my fault they’re both gone.”

You swallowed, processing his words. The magic took what it was owed.

“What’s the magic owed this time?” You asked, eye gazing up at the old captain. “Another soul?”

Tom paused, narrowing his eyes down at you. “It’ll take magic to nullify the curse. Magic negates magic.”

“Then take me,” you told him. All eyes snapped to where you stood.

“What?” Tom grunted.

“Take me,” you repeated. “I’m a product of the magic, right? If you take me, will the curse be lifted?”

“Guppy, no,” Jake started, but you shook your head.

“If it means that you and the others will get to live a life free from suffering,” you began, sighing as you let the decision settle in your mind, “then it’s a price I will happily pay.”

“But I won’t,” he argued, grasping your arms in his hands. “I won’t let you do this.”

“It’s not a decision you get to make this time,” you told him, eyes pleading with him.

“You don’t get to make it either.”

You both turned to look at Bradley, a determined look on his face as he crossed the distance to stand in front of Tom.

“I’m a product of the magic too, right?” He asked. “Maverick only found me because he was owed a son.”

“Bradley, no,” you started, but he held a hand up to stop you.

“He took me in and cared for me like his own flesh and blood child when he didn’t have to,” he continued, offering you a gentle smile. “This is the best way I can think of to repay him.”

“Bradley,” you pleaded, “don’t do this.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment the two of you were standing in the village again, your tiny fists balled up as you glared at the other children from the village. A group of teenage boys snickered at Bradley, taunting him with jeers and quips about his background.

“Nobody wants you, you know,” one of them sneered, a cruel smile on his lips. “You’re only around for the free labor.”

Bradley didn’t say a word, continuing to load the cart with the supplies the two of you had just purchased. You waited for him to say something, anything. He’s so quick to jab back when it’s the two of you at home, after all.

“Come on, orphan boy,” the same boy taunts, kicking at one of the small, wooden crates by Bradley’s feet, causing it to tip over. “You and I both know you’re not worth the food they waste on you.”

You saw Bradley’s jaw tick, but he continues with his task, not even looking in their direction. The boy growled in frustration, marching forward to grab Bradley by his collar, forcing him up and back against the wall. Bradley let out a grunt as his back met the wall staring the other boy down, daring him with eyes alone to make a move.

“I’m talking to you, rat,” the boy spat, eyes blazing. “Or maybe you’re too stupid to realize that. Is that it? Poor, orphan boy. You’ve not got a family to cling to, no one to protect you. You’re all alone in this world, and you always will be.”

“Stop it!” You cried, shoving at the boy, startling him enough for him to let Bradley go.

“Why should I?” He sneered down at you. “We all know it’s true.”

“It’s not true!” You hollered. “He’s got a family. He’s got me, and my mama, and my papa. He’s my brother, and we’re family!”

The boy stared down at you as you met his gaze with your fiery own. He snorted, turning to walk back towards his friends.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Once an orphan, always an orphan.”

You glared after them, waiting until they were a ways down the street before turning your attention back to Bradley. You looked him over, checking for any bumps or scrapes, only stopping when Bradley waved you off.

“Enough,” he snapped. “Quit it.”

“Let me do this for you, Bradley,” you murmured, tears stinging your eyes as you looked at him. “Let me be your sister.”

He stared at you for a moment, the hardness in his gaze melting away as he sighed.

“Come on, Guppy,” he hummed, eyes earnest as they met yours. “Let’s get home.”

You stared at him now, the same earnest look in his eyes as he offered to take your place.

“Let me do this for you, Guppy,” he murmured, echoing your words from so long ago. “Let me be your brother one last time.”

You lurched forward, throwing yourself into his arms as you hugged him tight.

“You idiot,” you whispered, eyes squeezed tight. “You’ll always be my brother.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you tightly, as if he were afraid to let go. After a moment, Tom stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Bradley���s shoulder and clearing his throat.

“It’s time,” he said. Bradley released you reluctantly, taking a step back as he looked at Tom. A moment of silent communication passed between the two of them before Bradley nodded. The two men moved to walk away, but you grabbed Tom’s hand, stopping them once more.

“Will I see him again?” You asked, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Or is this it?”

Tom studied you for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You felt Jake come up behind you, sliding his hand into yours with a gentle squeeze, but your eyes remained fixed on Tom’s.

“Maybe one day,” the old man nodded, sniffing. “You’ll see him again.”

A zip ran up your spine, and your eyes widened as something softened in Tom’s. A hint of a smile curved on your lips as you nodded, letting him go. Tom turned back to Bradley, slapping his hand on his shoulder as he guided him down the beach.

You watched in silence until the two men disappeared into the night, and even then you waited a moment longer. You didn’t know what lay ahead of you, but you knew you wouldn’t be alone. You had a family still waiting for you back aboard the ship, and they would be anxious to hear the good and sad news.

“Guppy?” Jake prodded, uncertainty in his tone as his arm came around to hold you close. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief moment before turning to look at him, the smile carving its way back onto your face.

“Come on,” you said, tugging his hand forward. “Let’s go home.”

The waves lapped against the hull of the Hangman, the sky above shining with the light from the stars that hung above. For the first time in almost a year, the air around you was still, no sense of doom looming over your head. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty, sea air fill your lungs as you closed your eyes and basked in what had transpired in the weeks since the confrontation with Tom on the beach.

You and Jake had arrived back aboard the Hangman, cheers and revelry already sounding as the crew slowly realized that their curse had been lifted. Bob had helped you aboard, Jake’s hands on your waist to steady you as you crossed over from the lifeboat.

“What happened?” The bespectacled man asked, a smile on his face as he greeted you. “You were gone for so long!”

You did your best to match his smile, but even you knew it looked more like a grimace. Bob’s face fell as he watched Jake cross over to the deck, eyes searching for the third member of your party.

“Where’s Bradley?”

Your heart clenched at the sound of his name, and you hung your head. Tears stung the back of your eyes, and you shook your head.

“I think it’s best we head inside,” Nat murmured, resting a hand on your shoulder as she guided you back towards the cabins, the others close behind. Both Jake and you did your best to recount what had happened on the beach, and a drink was poured for Bradley and his sacrifice.

Most of the crew left the employment of the Hangman soon after, and the ship operated with a skeleton crew until new crew members were found. Javy and Nat chose to stay behind in Port Royal, Javy eager to set up a trading company of his own, and Nat eager to stay with him. You bid your friends farewell, promising to visit often before the rest of your crew departed.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped, turning to see Jake making his way towards where you sat at the bow of the ship. You scowled at him, earning a chuckle. You watched as he climbed up, sitting down next to you with a grunt.

“I suppose I couldn’t,” you replied to him finally, looking back up at the stars.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he conceded, “I’d be surprised if you could sleep after everything.”

“I’m not scared or anything,” you told him. “No nightmares. I’m just…wondering what comes next.”

“Another adventure already?” He teased. “I figured you’d have had your fill by now.”

You hummed, but didn’t reply. Instead, you shifted closer, pressing your thigh against his while resting your head on his shoulder. Jake let out a contented hum of his own as he wrapped his arm around you.

You had had your peek at the mysteries and pasts that lay beneath the surface of the ocean below, and they had terrified you. You had weathered every storm your travels had put in your way, and you had come out the better for it.

You’d be a fool to think otherwise.

A/N: And that's it. That's the end. Wow, what a ride, huh? An end of an era. I'm certainly not emotional about this at all. Nope.

Let me know if you guys want to do something to celebrate!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[smilingformoney]

Die With a Smile

Chapter IV. Turpin Victorious

Summary: Judge Turpin has a very, very good day - and Elliott's going to have to act fast if he wants to keep Mary around.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

As eager as Mary was to tell Lord Turpin what she’d found, she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her drenching his carpets with sewer water, so she went with Tommy into the staff entrance of the house, and stripped bare to use the wash basin there to clean herself up while the maid fetched her some clean clothes from Johanna’s room.

When the door to the staff washroom opened behind her, Mary thought it was the maid returning with her clothes, so she was surprised when she heard Elliott’s voice.

“Thank God you’re both alright. We’ve been worried sick.”

“Elliott!” Mary cried. She dropped the sponge in her hand, and promptly fell into his arms. “Oh, Elliott, I’m so glad you’re here. It was so frightening.”

Elliott held her in his arms, apparently unfazed by the fact that she was soaking wet. When she stepped back, she noticed first that she’d left a large wet patch on his shirt, and second that she was still stark naked.

“Oh!” she cried, her hands flying to cover her intimate parts, as if Elliott hadn’t already seen them up close. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” Elliott smirked in a low voice. “But now’s not the time for that. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Get yourself dry and dressed, then come and meet us in the parlour room, okay? His Lordship’s eager to know if you learned anything.”

Mary’s stomach twisted slightly as she remembered what she’d learned.

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Elliott.”

A few minutes later, Tommy showed Mary the passage that led from the staff rooms up into the house, emerging in the hallway. She knocked on the door to the parlour room and led Tommy inside when she heard Turpin’s voice call them in.

“Miss Taylor, at last,” Turpin said with relief. He’d been standing by the fire, but crossed the room now with a purposeful stride to approach her. He took her chin in his hand and raised her head to examine her, as if checking for any damage. “When Todd and Lovett left early, I feared they’d find you mid-search. Did you manage to evade them?”

“Yes, my Lord, we were in the cellar when they returned. We managed to escape through the sewer. I don’t think they saw or followed us.”

“Through the sewer?” Turpin repeated, wrinkling his nose with disgust at the thought. “Elliott told me you’d washed before coming to me. No wonder. Come, sit, tell me everything you learned.”

Mary let him lead her to the fireside and sat in one of the armchairs. Tommy stood at her side, ready to speak only when spoken to, and Turpin sat in the other chair. Elliott, who’d been watching out the window when Mary arrived, moved over to stand by the mantle.

Both men listened carefully as Mary explained what she’d discovered, and both men baulked visibly when she described her discovery in the meat bin.

“Did you see this too, boy?” Turpin asked Tommy.

“Yes, sir. They was definitely human bodies, sir.”

“As foul as such a thing is, the good news is we have plenty to arrest Todd on,” Turpin said with certainty. “Lovett too. Possibly the boy as well.”

“But, sir, won’t they hide the evidence now if they think someone’s been snooping around? We left the door to the cellar open, and the trap door in the barber shop.”

“They can dispose of the bodies and the clothing, yes. Cleaning up the blood stains you mentioned might be more difficult. But they can’t dispose of the most key evidence, Miss Taylor - your witness testimony. You will speak in court if necessary, yes?”

“You can’t ask that of her!” Elliott interjected. “To put herself at risk of Barker’s vengeance —”

Turpin waved a hand dismissively. “He won’t be able to exact much vengeance when he’s dead. And I intend on sending him to the gallows immediately. I’ll send the Beadle to arrest him now, in fact; then he’ll be safely behind bars.”

Turpin stood, took a step in the direction of the door, then paused. He put a hand on Mary’s shoulder, then said, “You’ve done very well tonight, Miss Taylor. Very well indeed.”

He granted her a small smile, then strode out of the room. Elliott stared after him with narrowed eyes; when he saw Mary looking up at him, his expression softened and he took the now-empty armchair.

“You’re sure you’re alright, Mary?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Shaken up, but… I’m okay, really. I’m more worried about Tommy.”

She turned to her brother and took his hand, but he just shrugged and smiled.

“I’m okay too. Just glad you’re safe.”

“Well, we’re all okay, and we’re all glad for it,” Elliott said with a nod. “Now, there’s food leftover from dinner and quite a bit of it, so let’s get you both into the dining room, you must be starving. You’ll eat at the table tonight, Tommy, and I’ll hear nothing less of it. If Lord Turpin disagrees, I’ll remind him that it was both of you that brought him the information he needed. The least he can do is afford to feed Tommy some leftovers.”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Tommy said with wide eyes. “That’s most kind!”

If Turpin did have any issue with Tommy eating at the table, he didn’t voice them when he joined them sitting at the table as Mary and Tommy finished off some of the leftovers.

“You’ll be glad to know Barker has just been arrested,” Turpin said smugly. “As have Lovett and the boy. I watched from across the street as the Beadle arrested them, it was too sweet not to witness it myself. He’ll be brought before me first thing on Monday, and he’ll hang shortly after.”

“Happy news indeed,” Elliott said. He took a sip from the glass of whisky he’d been nursing while Mary and Tommy ate. “Looks like we’ll all be sleeping soundly come Monday night.”

Thinking of his plan to wed Mary, Turpin smiled as he looked at her. Yes, he’d be sleeping very soundly on Monday night. He’d sentence and hang Barker, then propose to Mary, all in the space of a day. Monday was shaping up to be a very fine day indeed - but first, tomorrow was Sunday, and he had church to attend.

- - -

Mary woke up on Monday in Elliott’s arms. It was fast becoming her favourite part of the day. As much as she enjoyed the ways they’d kiss and explore each other’s bodies at night, her favourite moment was still when she’d wake up in the morning, soft and comfortable in the bed with Elliott’s arms around her protectively. When he woke, he would kiss her sleepily, and the way he smiled when he’d see her in his arms was enough to make her heart burst.

“I love waking up like this,” Mary said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Elliott hummed in agreement. “Yes… it makes me never want to leave.”

Mary’s heart dropped at the word leave. She’d forgotten Elliott was only visiting London.

“Are… are you leaving very soon?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Wednesday.”

“Oh, that is very soon!” Mary sighed and held him a little tighter. “I hoped you’d stay longer. I don’t want this to end.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t have to… you could come with me.”

Mary gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean. Come to Sussex with me, Mary. My uncle’ll be glad to have you, I’m sure. He has daughters and granddaughters you can make friends with. And his manor is out in the countryside — you can finally see the world outside of London.”

“The countryside! Oh, I’d love that! Will there be animals, do you think? I’d so love to see some animals.”

Elliott smiled at her endearing enthusiasm. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be able to see some animals. They’ll have horses, for certain. I could teach you to ride, if you like. Is that a yes?”

“Oh, yes, Elliott, please!” Mary squealed, peppering his face with grateful kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Elliott chuckled and countered her kisses with kisses of his own. They ended up in fits of giggles, trying to shush each other lest their laughter carry down the hallway.

They managed to make themselves presentable just in time for breakfast, which was a more jovial affair than usual. Mary was happy because she was going on an exciting trip with Elliott, who was happy in turn because he was going to get out of London and bring Mary with him. Turpin, meanwhile, was in a good mood because that morning he’d be sentencing Sweeney Todd, who’d been in gaol since Saturday.

The sentencing itself went smoothly. Mary and Elliott sat in the gallery, Mary ready to speak and give evidence if necessary, and Elliott ready to support her. The news of the accusations against Todd and Lovett had spread quickly, so the gallery was packed full of Londoners hoping to see justice done against the man who’d murdered so many of their own and the woman who’d fed them back to them through the pie shop. The busy gallery meant that Mary and Elliott could sit close without raising any eyebrows, though just to be safe she placed her shawl between them to hide the fact they were holding hands.

When both Todd and Lovett pled not guilty, an angry roar came up from the gallery, and Turpin had to call for order. Elliott squeezed Mary’s hand comfortingly, and when she was called up to give evidence, he wished her good luck as she stood and an usher led her to the witness box.

She swore her oath on the Bible, then turned her attention to Turpin, who looked at her with the stern expression he’d been wearing all morning, giving no indication that they were familiar.

“State your name for the court, please.”

“Mary Taylor.”

“Miss Taylor, please describe the events that took place at number 62, Fleet Street on Saturday last, and spare no detail.”

The entire court sat in rapt attention as Mary described what had happened, and when she came to describe the human body parts she’d found in the bin of the meat grinder, audible gasps came from the gallery.

“…and so we escaped through the sewer, my Lord.”

Turpin nodded and made a note. “Thank you, Miss Taylor, that will be all. You may withdraw.”

Mary went back to the gallery, trying to avoid Todd’s glare as she passed, and was grateful to be by Elliott’s side again as she sat down.

“Well done, Mary,” Elliott whispered. He placed the shawl over their laps again and took her hand. “You were marvellous. Very brave.”

Mary smiled shyly, and she squeezed his hand in thanks.

“Benjamin Barker, Nellie Lovett, please stand up,” Turpin’s authoritative voice boomed across the courtroom. “You have both pled not guilty to the crimes accused, however, on the overwhelming evidence and the persuasive witness testimony, I am bound to find you both guilty. Due to the egregious nature of your crimes, I sentence you both to hang by the neck until you are dead. You may go down.”

The public in the gallery cheered, but Mary just felt relieved. Soon, Todd would be executed and she’d no longer be in any danger from him.

Todd and Lovett were escorted away, and Turpin called for the luncheon adjournment. The public began to file out of the courtroom, and Mary prepared to follow once their row emptied, but instead she was approached by the Beadle, who informed her Judge Turpin wanted to see her.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Elliott said, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go and handing her back her shawl.

Mary followed the Beadle to Turpin’s chambers at the back of the court, wondering what he could want from her at a time such as this.

The Beadle closed the door behind her when she entered the room, leaving Mary alone with Turpin, who had taken off his wig and was now taking off his robe.

“Ah, Miss Taylor,” he smiled. “Just the lady I wanted to see. Come here.”

He beckoned her over as he sat at his desk, his chair pushed out slightly so he could face her as she obeyed his order and stood before him.

“You did marvellous today, dear,” Turpin said, his eyes raking her up and down as he spoke. “Just as you did on Saturday. Without you, Todd would still be out there, murdering people and poisoning others. You should be very proud.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m glad to have made a difference to London, sir. And… and I’m glad to have been of assistance to you. I understand you and Todd had a history.”

“History is one way of putting it,” Turpin snorted. “He was Johanna’s father. It was because of his crimes fifteen years ago that she ended up alone. Fortunately I had the fortitude to take her in. Committing any sort of crime is one thing, but what sort of man commits a crime knowing when he’s sentenced he’ll be leaving his child without her father?” He shook his head sadly.

“My Lord, might - might I ask a question?”

Turpin reached out to take her hand in his and smiled. “You may ask me anything, my dear.”

“What happened to Johanna?”

Turpin sighed. “It’s a very sad story, Miss Taylor. She betrayed my trust by trying to leave without my consent. I had no choice but to send her away to… think on her sins.”

Mary frowned, confused. “She tried to leave? Why would she do that, sir?”

Turpin looked at her curiously, as if her response had been entirely unexpected.

“She was led astray by a rogue sailor. I tried to protect her, but…” He sighed. “Some people, it seems, don’t appreciate the kindness they’re shown.”

“Well, I hope you know how grateful I am for your kindness, sir,” Mary said earnestly, taking a step towards him. “I may have spent the last few days in hiding from a madman, but I never once felt unsafe so long as I was under your roof.”

Turpin smiled and sat up slightly, leaning towards her in his seat. “Yes, I’m sure you’re very grateful, Miss Taylor. You appreciate what I do for you, don’t you? We’ll have to think of a way you can show your gratitude… Tell me, have you ever kissed a man?”

Mary’s cheeks blushed. “Y - yes…” she said trepidatiously, worried Turpin knew about her nights with Elliott.

“How many?”

“Just - just one, sir…”

“Just one. Hmm.” His eyes flashed dangerously, and he pulled her closer with hunger in his eyes, until she was standing between his thighs. “Why don’t you show me what he taught you?”

“…Sir?”

Turpin let go of her hand and cupped her cheeks with both hands, holding her face firmly in place.

“Kiss me, Miss Taylor. Show me your gratitude and kiss me.”

Tentatively, Mary leant forward to give him a peck on the lips - and he tightened his hold on her, keeping her from moving her lips away from his.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue demanding entrance at her lips, and she had no choice but to acquiesce. His tongue explored her mouth as if he simply had to cover every inch of her mouth with his spit.

Mary had no idea what to do with her hands, so she placed them on his shoulders. Turpin grabbed her right hand and brought it down between his legs, forcing her palm to sit over the very hard bulge that was threatening to escape from his trousers.

He unstuck his face from hers to say, “You know what this is?”

Mary nodded.

“Feel how hard it is? That’s all your doing. Ever since my cousin brought you to me last week, I’ve been plagued by this. Now, what do you propose we do about it, hm?”

He didn’t need to elaborate; Mary knew exactly what he meant.

She obeyed automatically, sinking to her knees between his legs to begin unbuckling his belt. Turpin groaned as the tension eased, and when she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his cock out, her eyes widened instinctively. Elliott’s was large enough, but Turpin’s cock was definitely bigger.

Turpin chuckled when he saw her reaction.

“Don’t worry, darling. I know it might seem too big, but — ohhh.”

He cut himself off with a groan when Mary licked a line from the base of his shaft, then wrapped her lips around the tip. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly, trying to resist grabbing her head and guiding her. She seemed to be a natural born cocksucker, and he wanted to see just how skilled she was.

“Oh, yes… yes, that’s it, Miss Taylor… you’re a fucking natural.”

She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, holding it at a comfortable angle as she slipped a little further down, her tongue lapping at his tip to taste the liquid that was beginning to drip from it. She began to panic about breathing, then remembered Elliott’s tip about breathing through her nose, and carefully took steady breaths through her nostrils as she eased Turpin’s cock further into her mouth.

When she’d taken him as far as she could go, she was hardly even halfway down his shaft. She’d have to use her hand for the rest of it.

“Oh, good girl,” Turpin growled when Mary’s hand began stroking his shaft. She kept moving her hand steadily while her breathing evened out and her jaw adjusted to his size. When she felt comfortable with her breathing, she began slowly bobbing her head, running her tongue up and down his shaft as her lips tugged on the skin of his cock.

“Fuck, Miss Taylor… who taught you to do this, hm? Or are you just a natural? I bet you are. Just made to suck cock. Mmm, that’s it, suck harder - faster —”

He couldn’t resist any longer. Turpin grabbed Mary’s head by the hair, holding her in place as he thrust his hips upwards, fucking up into her mouth. His tip teased at the entrance to her throat, and Mary began to panic. Elliott had promised to teach her slowly how to open her mouth, and she was nowhere near ready yet. So with Turpin’s cock getting dangerously close to her throat, Mary began to choke, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe through her nose.

“That’s it, Miss Taylor, good girl… yes, take your Lord’s cock… take my cum too, take all of it… ugh… fu-uck!”

Turpin cried out incoherently as he came, his warm seed filling Mary’s mouth, and she had no choice but to swallow around his cock; she didn’t think he would appreciate it if she let it leak back onto him.

He stayed still for a few moments as he came down from his high, his hands still holding Mary’s head in place as his cock softened in her mouth, and she realised he was savouring the feeling of her swallowing the last of his seed.

Finally, he tugged on her hair and pulled her head back, letting his softened cock fall limp as Mary gasped for air. Turpin wiped her chin with his thumb to clean up his cum, then slipped his thumb between her lips to have her lick it clean.

“Fucking incredible,” he groaned with satisfaction. He closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Unfortunately I can’t keep you here all day. I must get back to work. Get yourself home, darling. We’ll discuss your future tonight.”

“Y - yes, sir,” Mary mumbled, standing obediently. She wiped her lips, then smoothed down her hair, hoping she didn’t look a mess.

Turpin gestured for her to leave, but when she was halfway to the door, Turpin said, “Are you a virgin, Miss Taylor?”

Mary froze, but she turned back to Turpin to look at him with a blush. He was standing now, pulling his judge’s robe back over his shoulders.

“Yes, my Lord. You know I’ve never been married, sir.”

Turpin hummed with amusement. “Yes, of course I do. Saving yourself for marriage, yes? Well, I dare say you’ll make an excellent wife.”

“Th - thank you, sir,” Mary said shyly. She gave him a small curtsey, then left the room, her mind reeling at what had just happened, confused and bewildered at the feelings that were running amok inside her.

Turpin, however, had no such uncertainty. He knew how he felt, he knew what he wanted, and he knew what he was going to do to get it.

He knew what he was going to do to get her.

- - -

Judge Turpin was, for the first time, distracted in court. He was usually so focused, listening carefully to counsel in order to make the right decision. Yet, today, his mind was elsewhere.

How, though, could he be expected to concentrate on such dull matters as the afternoon presented, when he had more important things in mind?

More important things such as the image now seared into his mind of Mary with her lips around his cock, yet still she blushed afterwards when he asked about her innocence. What a natural she was. And what a natural she would be.

The afternoon stretched out for what felt like an eternity, but finally 4 o’clock came around, and he was able to adjourn court for the day.

He hummed to himself as he made his way down the steps of the Old Bailey, his purposeful strides telling any passing lawyer that might have had a question for him that he had business to attend to, and they’d be smart to stay out of his way.

The only person who dared to speak to him was Beadle Bamford, but as they could walk and talk, Turpin allowed his old friend to converse with him.

“You’re in a merry mood today, my Lord,” said the Beadle. “I suppose you’re glad to be rid of Todd, sir?”

“Yes, very much so. Make sure his execution is prompt, will you? Not least because the public will be eager to see my justice be done.”

“Very good, sir. If I might inquire, sir - what business did you have with the girl at lunch?”

Turpin smirked. “Gorgeous little thing, isn’t she? And so eager to please. I’ll be proposing to her tonight.”

“Ah, sir! Happy news indeed. I’m sure she’ll be more loyal than Johanna ever was, sir. Might I suggest —”

“No, you might not. Last time I asked your advice on proposing, you sent me to a barber who was hellbent on murdering me. Mary will give me her hand, of course. She made it quite clear to me today that she would be a willing wife. And why not? She’s nobody. She knows that only by marrying me does she have a chance of becoming somebody.”

The house was quiet when Turpin arrived; while taking his coat, the butler informed him that Elliott was at the Post Office, and Mary was in the parlour room.

Turpin had no reason to wait. He headed straight for the parlour room and entered to find Mary sitting by the fire, a cross-stitch in her hands. She looked the very image of perfection, like a dutiful wife waiting for her husband to come home.

“Oh, Lord Turpin! I hadn’t heard you return.” Mary put the cross-stitch aside and stood to greet him. “I found a half-finished cross-stitch of Johanna’s, I hope it’s okay I was working on it. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Why, yes, there is, Miss Taylor,” Turpin said as he stepped into the room, his hands behind his back as joined her at the fireside. “Did you enjoy our walk last Saturday?”

“Oh, yes, I did, sir. It was ever so lovely.”

Turpin smiled. “Good, good. I enjoyed your company greatly.”

“Why, thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you to say. I also found your company enriching. If I may say, sir, I find you ever so interesting to talk to. You always have a fascinating tale to tell.”

Turpin took a step closer to her and brushed her cheek with his knuckles, stroking her face gently. “I also enjoyed our little visit today.”

Mary blushed, her face immediately flushing red.

“I, erm… I also enjoyed it, sir,” she said quietly, glancing away.

“I’m sure you did. You’ll recall what I said to you on Saturday, that I might allow you to stay with me?”

“Yes, sir…”

“Well… it seems you’ve definitely proven you can give me something in return for my generosity.”

“Sir…”

Turpin’s gentle touch on her cheek turned suddenly fierce as he pulled her close to him and took her head in his hands. He leaned down, his lips close to hers, almost touching. Mary found herself wishing he’d close the gap, but she daren’t do it herself…

“Marry me.”

“…Sir?”

“You heard me. Marry me, Miss Taylor. What better show of gratitude than your very self, hm? Your heart, your soul… and in time, children. I’d certainly be agreeable to the four you desire.”

Mary stammered, flabbergasted. She hadn’t expected this at all. Lord Turpin, proposing to her? But why? She was nobody, she could offer him nothing that another woman couldn’t.

And - it was crazy, she knew, but part of her had harboured hope that Elliott might propose in time. She liked Lord Turpin well enough, although she was terrified of him, and she had to admit she found him attractive. But she had something with Elliott she had never had with anyone else.

Then again… Elliott would be leaving. He had a home and a business in Australia. Whatever they had between them would be nothing more than a passing fancy.

“Sir, what - what about my brother?” Mary managed to stammer once the shock had worn off, although the way Turpin was now kissing her neck suggested he’d already taken her stunned silence as a yes.

“Your brother is not your father. He has no say in these matters,” Turpin said between kisses.

“No, but I’m his only carer. What would happen to him if we marry?”

“I suppose his care falls to me. I’ll send him off to school.”

“Really?” Mary gasped. “Sir, do you mean it?”

“Yes, yes, why not? Don’t make me wait any longer, I implore you. Give me your answer.”

“Yes,” Mary breathed. “Yes, my Lord, I’ll marry you.”

Turpin grinned, then grabbed her by the waist and spun her in the air. She squealed in surprise, never having expected the stoic Lord Turpin to make such an expression of joy.

“Oh, darling, you’ve made me so happy. Now, you know by now I’m not a patient man. Arrangements have been made already; we’ll be wed next Monday at St Dunstan’s.”

“Next Monday!” Mary repeated in surprise. “But that’s so soon!”

“Yes, but I don’t wish to wait any longer. Now, there’s a wedding dress in the wardrobe you might have seen - it was meant for Johanna, but I wish for you to have it. You can take it in to fit you, yes?”

“Oh, um - yes, I think so.”

“Excellent,” Turpin grinned. “Oh, my darling, you’ll make such a wonderful wife…”

He kissed her, his lips consuming hers possessively, and though Mary was taken aback, she quickly melted into his touch, allowing his strong arms to wrap around her waist and hold her tightly against himself.

Mary wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging onto him desperately, and from the desperation and passion of the kiss, she wondered if he’d have the patience to wait for the wedding night to have her.

“Interrupting, am I?”

Mary gasped for breath as Turpin’s lips suddenly detached from hers. He put a little distance between them, but still kept one arm firmly around her waist as he turned to greet his cousin.

“Not at all, cousin. You’ll be the first to hear the happy news: Mary has agreed to be my wife. We’ll be wed next Monday.”

“Really?”

Mary could hear the annoyance in Elliott’s voice. She looked over at him, but had to look away quickly when she saw the way he was seething at the sight he’d walked into.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is congratulations,” Turpin said firmly, drawing Mary closer to him.

Elliott gave his cousin a smile that didn’t quite seem genuine. “Of course. Congratulations to you both. Monday, you say? Well, a shame I’ll miss it. I’m leaving for Sussex on Wednesday; I’ve just now written to my uncle telling him to expect me. I suppose you won’t want to come along now, Mary?”

“Oh, um… I would still like to come for a few days, if that’s alright.”

Turpin looked at her sternly. “Leaving me so soon, my darling?”

“Well, if it’s alright with you, sir… Elliott did invite me to visit Sussex with him, and I would so love to see the countryside.”

Turpin pondered for a moment. As much as he wanted her close by… perhaps spending the week apart would do them good. It would give him cause to resist taking her before their wedding day, at least.

“Very well, you may go.”

“Oh, thank you, sir! You’re most kind.”

“Yes, yes, I know I am. I want you back no later than Saturday evening, you understand me? I’ll be expected to bring you to church on Sunday morning.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Good. Now, if you’re to be away most of the week, you should get a start on your dress now, shouldn’t you? Go on, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mary gave him a small curtsey, then left the room, but not without passing Elliott first - who refused to look at her as she went.

She worked all evening on the dress, pausing only when dinner was called, and once she’d eaten she begged Turpin’s leave to return to working on the dress. Glad to see her eager to perfect the dress she’d marry him in, Turpin allowed it, and Mary spent the rest of her evening concentrating on taking the dress in, though her thoughts kept wandering back to the whirlwind of a day. Not only had Lord Turpin proposed to marry her, but he seemed positively enthused about it, eager even. What qualities could she possibly possess that would make him so giddy to marry her?

Whatever it was, Mary had only one priority in mind, the same she’d had since she was very small: Tommy. And if Lord Turpin would put Tommy into school, then her hand in marriage was the least Mary could offer him in return.

- - -

She was so tired by the time she finished the dress, she was acting on instinct more than anything when she got ready for bed and crossed the hallway to sleep in Elliott’s bed. It was only when she was woken by his opening the door that it crossed her mind that perhaps he wouldn’t want her there now she was engaged to his cousin.

“Now, this is bold of you,” Elliott murmured as he climbed into the bed beside her. He wrapped an arm around her torso and pulled her close against him. “Do you expect to marry my cousin and have me on the side?”

“I’m sorry, I - I didn’t even think,” Mary confessed. She tried to turn over to look at him, but he was holding her too tightly for her to move. “I’m so used to coming to this bed… I’ll leave if you want…”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Elliott growled against her ear. “If I only have five more nights with you, Mary, I’m going to make them count.”

He hitched her nightgown up around her waist, and she felt his erection pressing up against her thighs. It was then that she realised she couldn’t feel a nightshirt against her back - only his bare flesh. His arms were bare too.

“Elliott, are you… naked?”

He chuckled. “Oh, yes. Not much point putting any sleeping clothes on since I do very little sleeping when you’re in this bed.”

Mary could feel the tip of his cock prodding between her thighs. Elliott rocked his hips against her, and she felt it slip between the flesh of her thighs.

“Elliott —”

“Shh, don’t worry. I’m not going to put it in. I’m just going to show you a clever little trick… hold still for me, Mary.”

He pushed against her again, and she felt his cock slide past her thighs… she looked down and, sure enough, it was poking out the other side, his tip pressed against her sweet spot.

“Mhm… this won’t take long, sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about doing this all day.”

He began thrusting his hips against her, as if he were taking her from behind… but his cock simply slid over her entrance, close enough to pick up the slickness she made so easily for him, but instead of slipping inside, his tip rubbed up against her clit, causing her to let out a small moan.

“Shh, now… we don’t want your dear fiance hearing us, do we? God forbid he think - ugh - you’re not the sweet little virgin he’s been lusting after. Don’t want him calling it off, now, do we?”

“He - he wouldn’t call it off for that —”

“Oh, come now, sweetheart. Why do you think he proposed? He wants this. He wants you to give him your virginity, and he knows you won’t give it freely unless you’re married. Ohh, this feels so good, and I’m not even inside you…”

He began moving his hips faster, apparently unperturbed by the sounds of their flesh connecting. He was too lost in the feeling of Mary’s warmth pressed against him, the sound of the moans she muffled into the pillow. He squeezed her nipple, causing her to squeak, and it only spurred him on.

He found he suddenly didn’t care if Turpin heard them, or even caught them. Let him find them - let him see that Mary belonged in Elliott’s arms, that she was already so easily wet for him… maybe he should take her virginity anyway, claim her for his own as she should be. Turpin would never want her then, and she’d be Elliott’s for the taking… his to fuck, his to marry, his to love…

“You’re mine, Mary,” Elliott growled into her ear as he felt his cock ready to burst at any second. “He may marry you, but you’ll - always - be - mine.”

He bit down on her shoulder as he came, his seed spilling onto her stomach and onto the sheets, and if he hadn’t muffled himself against her skin he might have cried out her name loud enough that their host most certainly would have heard him.

Elliott relaxed as he came down from his high, and he withdrew his cock from between her legs, leaving a trail of sticky cum across her thighs as he did so. He sighed with relief, glad the tension had left his body, and was just about ready to fall asleep right there, Mary in his arms and his seed left across her skin.

He could feel her fidgeting in his arms though, and Elliott opened his eyes to see that she was squeezing her thighs together, her arse inadvertently rubbing back against him.

“Oh, darling, did I leave you wanting?” he cooed.

Mary whined, and Elliott knew exactly what she needed.

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to look after yourself soon enough. Lord knows my cousin won’t give you any relief. I doubt he even knows where the clitoris is.”

“Elliott, please…”

“No, no. You know where it is now. Use your fingers. Make yourself cum. I want to see you pleasure yourself.”

“I - I don’t —”

“Here.” Elliott took her hand in his and guided it between her legs. He took her index finger and placed the tip against her little nub, not so little now as it was swollen with arousal. “Go on.”

He pulled his hand away and watched as Mary tentatively ran her finger in a small circle. It was a glorious sight, watching her explore herself and learn how she liked to be touched… Elliott had to resist touching her, letting her figure it out for herself, and he grinned when of her own accord she fondled her breast with her spare hand.

“Yes, that’s it… good girl… you’ll think of me whenever you do this. Even with another man in your bed, you’ll think of me every time you touch yourself… think of the ways I gave you pleasure that he never could…”

“Elliott…”

He could feel his cock twitching back to life, but who could blame it when she was making such sweet sounds? Moaning his name quietly, because she didn’t want her fiance to know she was touching herself to another man. It would take all of Elliott’s strength not to just take her.

“Elliott, would - would you kiss me?”

As if she needed to ask. Elliott leaned down and kissed her just as she requested, and when she muffled a moan against his lips, Elliott knew his cock was ready to go again. He took it in his hand and tugged on it, inelegantly jerking off to the way her body began to tremble as she brought herself to her peak.

She muffled her orgasm by grabbing the back of Elliott’s neck and holding his face firmly against hers, trapping her moans in her throat; that was the final straw for Elliott, and he came a second time, his seed spilling into his hand as he kissed Mary through both their muffled orgasms.

Her lips were red and swollen when finally they parted from his, both of them hot and sticky with hands covered in themselves, and it was only when they’d each cleaned up and she’d climbed back into bed with him that either of them spoke.

“Elliott?”

“Hm?”

“I… I just want you to know… I’d have preferred you.”

He frowned. “What?”

“If - if I had a choice - I’d have preferred to marry you. I know you probably wouldn’t ask, but —”

“Mary. Are you daft?”

She looked up at him with confused eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you saying you only said yes to my cousin because you thought I wasn’t going to ask?”

“Well… he promised to put Tommy in school. I couldn’t risk it… if I said no, I couldn’t change my mind. And, well, what are the chances you’d both ask?”

Elliott shook his head incredulously. “You silly girl, Mary. Of course I wanted to ask.”

“You… you did?”

“Yes! Why do you think I took you out to dinner? Why do you think I invited you to Sussex? I wanted you to get to know me, to show you I could be a good husband…”

“Oh, Elliott!” Mary sobbed, tucking her head against his shoulder to hide her face. “I didn’t think you’d want to marry someone like me… I thought I was just a passing fancy, that once you left you’d forget all about me…”

“Who could forget about you, Mary? I want you to come with me… I hoped to propose in Sussex and you’d move to Australia with me as my wife.”

“But don’t you see, I can’t!” Mary cried. She looked up at him, her big doe eyes wet with tears. “Tommy’s here, I can’t just leave him!”

“Well, obviously he’d come with us.”

“R - really?”

“Of course. Oh, Mary, you daft thing. Do you think I just wanted to stick my cock down your throat a few times and leave? I want you, in every way, and I’m not such a fool to think that doesn’t include Tommy. Hey - hey, come now, none of that.”

She was crying now, sobbing against his shoulder, and Elliott carefully wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s alright. Shh.”

“I thought - I thought it was my only chance - he promised —”

“Shh, shh, I know. I know. He’ll say anything to get what he wants. Maybe he’d follow through on it, I don’t know… but I assure you I would give you and Tommy the best life I can. And I will, if you’ll let me.”

Mary sniffed and looked up at him. “You mean…?”

“Well, I’d hoped to ask you in a more romantic way, but yes. I want to marry you, Mary. If you want me… I’m yours.”

“Oh, Elliott, I do want you! But - but I already said yes to Lord Turpin. I can’t rescind that!”

“Why not? You’ve not married him yet.”

“No, but… he’d be so angry, and he’s so powerful. Who knows what he would do?”

“Then we don’t tell him. We marry in Sussex before the week is out. I’ll write back to him, tell him he’s too late, I’ve already claimed you as my own. He won’t be interested once you’re no longer a virgin, that’s all he wants you for.”

“No, that’s - that’s not true… he likes me, he told me so himself…”

“I’m sure he does, you’re very likeable. But he’s not interested in liking you, he just wants to fuck you.”

Mary opened her mouth to deny it, but she remembered the conversation she’d had with Turpin on Saturday. Insufferable, that’s what he’d called women. The thought of having to care for a wife didn’t appeal to him at all… not until today, apparently. Not until she’d sucked his cock and inadvertently shown him what he’d get out of her as a wife.

Elliott grunted with surprise when Mary suddenly climbed on top of him, her lips on his. He didn’t protest, happily kissing her back, anything to show her that she ought to be with him. Her nightgown was still hitched up around her waist, so he could feel her heat pressing against his cock, which was having the time of its life as it began to get hard again as she rubbed herself up against him, seemingly trying to wake it back up again.

“Mary, what are you doing?”

“Making my choice,” she whispered.

She reached between them and took his cock in her hand, trying to guide it to the right spot, and Elliott grabbed her shoulders to still her when he realised what she was trying to do.

“Mary, stop.”

“You said he won’t want me if I’m not a virgin,” she explained. “So take it. Take my virginity, Elliott, please. I want to give it to you.”

Elliott groaned in frustration. If there was a God, He was seriously testing his patience.

“Not like this, Mary. I don’t want it as some sort of… strategy.”

“But you want it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want it. You don’t know how much I want it, Mary… but we’ll wait until we’re married. Alright? It’ll be just a few days. Please, Mary, I need you to get off me, I’m not sure my actions can match my words right now…”

Mary nodded, and she climbed off him, rolling back onto the bed.

“And I… I think you should sleep in your bed tonight. The temptation’s too strong for both of us.”

“…Alright,” Mary agreed reluctantly. She climbed out of the bed and pulled her nightdress back down past her knees. “Good night, Elliott.”

“Good night, Mary. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Quietly, Mary snuck out of Elliott’s room and crossed back to hers. She’d barely closed the door when, unbeknownst to her, Turpin’s bedroom door opened and he stepped out. By the time he’d taken down the painting and put his eye up against the hole in the wall, Mary was back in the bed.

When she pulled her nightdress up to reach between her legs again, Mary had no idea she was being watched. And as he saw her begin to pleasure herself, Turpin had no reason to believe she was thinking of anyone other than him. Elliott didn’t hear the sound of the other man rubbing his cock in the hallway; even if he had, he might have confused it for the sound of his own cock in his hand.

Mary had to muffle herself when she came, with no idea Elliott and Turpin were both touching themselves to her, Elliott to the fresh memory of her rubbing herself against him and Turpin to the sight of her touching herself, thinking she must have been having thoughts of him.

Turpin came into his hand as he watched Mary’s body trembling in her bed, and he was gone by the time Elliott came shortly after, spilling his seed for the third time that night, and all three of them went to sleep separate but satisfied, none of them any the wiser to the other’s actions.

[naboman]

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

Chapter Two: The Murphy Law's. Description: Kawaguchi [Name] ended up causing trouble for the entire journalism club by refusing to lend support to Takashi's project, and when she employs her brazen antics to rectify her mistakes, they only worsen. Notes: the chapter is write in first person, just for yo understand the persona and carater at main character. She is not a good person in her actions, but there is a reason for her to behave this way.

[Previous] [Next]

"What have you done?!" the guy sitting in front of me exclaimed, his face drained of color from shock. I narrowly avoided messing up the lettering.

His almond-shaped eyes widened like saucers in horror, almost popping out of their sockets. He was so astounded that he seemed on the verge of tearing out his hair. I wonder why all this drama. It's not like a little mistake like this could lead to a catastrophe that would condemn us to the gallows.

Or could it?

"As I said, Mizushima..." I said calmly, going over the homework without caring about his condemning gaze burning just inches away, "I repeated several times that it was a terrible idea and a waste of time, and since he kept insisting, I ended up... getting a bit angry. Blame Yuuma; he's the real instigator of all this discord."

I repeated loudly, clearly, and without any guilt or remorse. Like a saint.

"You... You idiot! The president is going to kill us!"

"Relax... He won't."

"Yes, he will!"

I huffed in inflexible response to the other's mindset. I rolled my eyes around the room - empty, it's worth noting - trying not to meet the condemning gaze from across the table. That was one of the disadvantages of being part of the student council; members are constantly reminded and encouraged to always arrive early. It's a major pain.

Returning, my eyes fell on the horrified silhouette whose hands were trembling slightly, cold sweat forming, already considering the worst. Even though restraining himself, the noticeable quiver of his hands on the table persisted.

"Scared?" I asked, watching his almond-shaped eyes hover over me in surprise. "Don't be shy, damsel. Your knight in shining armor will take on this responsibility."

I said in a dramatically ironic tone, raising an arm in the air as if wielding a blade. Adding,

" Do you Like? I took theater classes when I was a kid."

My lighthearted comment made him furrow his brows in disapproval.

"Of course, I'm scared, and how can you make jokes at a time like this?" he asked, agitated by my nonchalance, as his astonishment gave way to an angry expression. "We'll be warned again, all because of you!"

"My fault?!" I exclaimed, offended by the accusation. "I did my duty, as requested. If you wanted things your way, you should have taken responsibility."

"You can't just do things however you please; this isn't about abusing power. Holding a high position doesn't give you the right to act like a dictator! That's ridiculous and immature!"

"You can't do this, you can't do that either," I mimicked in a shrill voice, seeing that I succeeded in irritating him. "When are you all going to stop complaining? I always do what you ask. When will I get a day off?" he asked in ecstasy, resorting to a topic that had long been neglected. "Besides, I didn't even ask for this secretary position!"

In the heat of the moment, I stood up and slammed both hands on each side of the table - the materials trembled with the action. It didn't take long for the vice-secretary to follow my movement, wearing a displeased expression.

It seems we're back to square one.

"Listen here, it might mean absolutely nothing to you, but see, I care!" he said in a threatening tone, making my blood boil with disgust. Even though I knew that I didn't like it at all, he continued. In fact, I believe it urged him to drive the knife even deeper. "I take great pride in having a guaranteed spot in the student council, but people like you don't care about others' efforts, do you? You only care about yourself and your comfort! I'm sure you don't even know the struggle during elections since you were invited!"

I laughed scornfully, trying to disguise the knot forming in my stomach, a lump in my throat that seemed to constrict my vocal cords, preventing me from retorting. Have some patience...!

"Are you jealous of not being invited? Should I feel sorry for your suffering?" I retorted. I wanted to hesitate but kept pushing forward. "You're trying to belittle me for not competing, but that just shows how many levels above you I am! Don't try to convince me with this talk of 'effort and hard work'! It's pathetic!"

He clicked his tongue.

"Arrogant as always. If you're so superior, why don't you try facing the president? He'll be happy to help you remember who you really are."

"You don't know anything," I practically spat the words.

"Wrong, you're the one who doesn't know anything. It's not about hard work, but the moment you stop even trying, your presence becomes entirely replaceable," he replied, locking eyes with me. "The student council isn't just about high grades and academic coordination. It's about representing and assisting others. Keep that in mind."

"Congratulations. Now tell me, what's it like stating the obvious?" I didn't break eye contact for a second. This is a battle, and I can't afford to lose. "So, what's the moral of the story?"

For the first time that day, I saw a smug smile pull his lips upward, catching me off guard.

"The moral of the story is that petty people like you don't belong in the student council. You only act for your own benefit. How does it feel to be so selfish, honorable secretary?"

I geared up to respond, but he continued,

"Deep down, you're worse than those delinquents."

The words are harsh, meant to cut deep. They left me speechless; I couldn't recall any argument I had prepared at that moment. It rendered me momentarily blind, as if I had gone and come back from the deepest pit of hell. Bitterness quickly made itself present in the back of my throat.

"How... How dare you compare me to those infamous people?!" I stammered with disgust. "Those... Degenerates. Don't you ever say that again!"

"I'm serious, dead serious," he emphasized, paying no mind to what I said. I was sure the expression on his youthful face now was one of pure disgust. "If you want to get us out of this hole you've put us in, you better talk to that guy before he goes to the president himself."

"And if, hypothetically speaking, I don't do that?" I raised an eyebrow, challenging him. What could he threaten now?

"Then say goodbye to the newspaper, chief editor. I'm sure the sports club would love a new room to store their materials," he declared, and my confidence unraveled in the blink of an eye, leading me into an existential shock. He couldn't be serious. "I'll be more than happy to talk to the president myself if necessary."

"Mizushima, you wouldn't..."

I provoked him, narrowing my eyes.

"Wouldn't I?"

This time, he broke eye contact, gathering the scattered documents on the table, miraculously undamaged. He quickly stored them in his folder and headed for the door of the room. I hurriedly checked the time on the wall clock. It was 7:56 in the morning, almost time for us to gather for a meeting in the Student Council room.

Damn!

"Good luck, [Name], you're going to need it," he dragged me out of my reverie. However, I didn't have time to retort because when I turned to face the brunet, the door was already closing. And I was alone.

I slump into the chair as if I don't care, rubbing the space between my eyes. Now, in addition to the newspaper, I also need to get in touch with the president.

I need to grab a coffee at lunchtime, or I'll end up sleeping on this desk, and let's be honest, it's kind of humiliating to be in such a deplorable state of exhaustion.

I made a mental note to remember these things by the end of the day.

Summoning the strength I no longer had in my body, I hurried to leave the room, my backpack hanging on my right arm.

Ship's log, entry one: The year is 2005, and I am humiliating myself. Is there still a chance to go back on my word? Spoiler: No, there isn't.

The closing time for classes was uneventful, without any disagreements or unforeseen events. With my hands in the jacket pockets, I walked briskly to the Student Council room, even though my inclination was to turn the corner and head back the way I came. He always stayed an extra half-hour waiting in there; it was impossible for him not to be there now.

"President... President Yamazaki, are you there? I need to talk about something important," I called with two soft knocks on the door, easily producing a loud sound in the deserted corridor.

When I heard a muffled "come in" behind the door, I turned the handles of the double doors and entered the room. I came face to face with the guy sitting in the chair, putting a book in his backpack and now looking at me with one of his more pleasant and inviting smiles.

Yes, that's right; he has this "aura" that makes everyone want to be around him. He's welcoming and comfortable, although I have a different interpretation. The energy he exudes can be suffocating on certain occasions.

"[Name]? What brings you here?" he asked, giving me a subtle smile.

'I work here, idiot'. I cleared my throat. He seems to be in a good mood; this is the perfect chance to pitch my idea.

"President," I maintained my rigid posture; it's now or never. "Not long ago, I sent you a report about the... Incident with the Home Economics Club. Do you recall?"

"Perfectly. You slandered the club representative in your letter. If I wasn't aware of your capabilities, I could easily say that was a hate speech. But I know how sharp you can be when you want to be."

He continued to smile, even after insulting me. I clenched my fists beneath the jacket sleeves.

"It must be your impression, President. Words may sound brutal coming from anyone who reads them. I polished my report very well before sending it. I believe the issue isn't with the text."

I should have stitched my tongue before coming. He's not an idiot; he must have understood that I called him ignorant. Fuck!

I was about to offer an apology when a laugh escaped from the other's lips.

"Always with the best responses. It's so good talking to you, [Name]-san, I always have fun," he remarked, waving his hand for me to come closer, and I did, proceeding cautiously with each step. "So, where are you going with this?"

"I want to reconsider my actions. I made some hasty decisions and prioritized my will over others. Could you... think about it?"

I swallowed hard.

I chose my words carefully. If I wanted to achieve something with this, I needed to persuade him to agree with me, and for that, there's nothing better than submitting to his abnormal sense of optimism and willpower.

He's considering it, that's progress.

"No," he said in response, catching me off guard. Where the hell did I go wrong? Just a few minutes ago, I was almost checkmating the president. What kind of bipolarity is this? Needless to say, I needed a full minute to recover from this major slap in the face.

I felt the urge to curse him, but - fortunately for me - my body didn't move a muscle to fulfill that desire.

That's when he added to his speech,

"Choices have consequences."

"Ah... I see," I muttered, my throat choked with all the insults I know.

"However, we can make a small agreement," he held the pen deftly, twirling it between his fingers and positioning it as if he were about to jot something down, which, indeed, he was.

"What's it about?" I asked curiously.

"Well, [Name]-san, I think it's evident to all of us that the school newspaper, undoubtedly, has been losing its quality as the days go by," he made a cutting remark. It hit a nerve because I was fully aware it was true, but whenever someone insisted on making the same observation, the urge that arose was to look at the person and say, "You should do better, then." But even I know how inconvenient and immature that can be.

So, I contented myself with nodding and agreeing with a small satisfied smile.

"Thank you for the feedback, I'll keep that in mind."

"Yes. I'm well aware of that."

I reluctantly agreed.

"So, if you want to recycle the idea of the yearbook, I suggest you take responsibility and write something decent," as faint as his tone might have been, his words contradicted it entirely. I could sense the dissatisfaction and disdain permeating his words from afar. "You know; You scratch my back, I scratch yours."

Having said that, he stared back at me deep in the eyes, with his smile - anything but - pleasant. If I were some extremist lyricist, I would say this guy has the devil in his eyes.

To my dismay, his silence didn't last long.

"You know you don't get something for nothing. Besides, we're talking about a school project!" he said as if it were the most surreal thing in the world; like seeing a flying saucer. "Let's make it very clear: no, reconsidering is not an option. But we can always negotiate, Kawaguchi-san."

He stared at me expectantly. I hate that look. Having people stare at me like that is profoundly exhausting. It lodges in my head, demanding my time and commitment. It gives me the creeps.

"Alright, President," I accepted without giving in.

"I knew you'd understand!" he said finally, pleased. "I believe in you, I know you can do it."

As soon as Yamazaki handed me the paper with the notes, I left the room as quickly as I could with a nod. I walked down the hallway, bubbling with anger.

At this rate, I'll be gray-haired in my '20s.

The next day, during the journalism club activities, I slipped into my matching pairs of shoes and walked in all my glory to the club room.

A breathless sigh escaped me. I took a moment to catch my breath before continuing the audible reading, massaging my temples and relaxing in the chair. The room might be small, but at least it's comfortable - there were some cabinets with documents and others with snacks hidden in the back.

The window at the center of the room was open, and the curtains swayed back and forth simultaneously.

"If you keep sighing like that, your soul might end up leaving your body," the boy in glasses and a gray cardigan said, not taking his eyes off the computer.

"Tsubasa, where can I find 'true stories'?" I asked, ignoring his comment.

"I don't know, on... The internet?" His response sounded more like a question than an assertion.

"Was that a question or an answer?" I raised an eyebrow in doubt, and he just shrugged as if to say "I don't know, you tell me." "And we need to gather the information ourselves, it's written here too."

I shook the paper in my right hand.

"Well... What a complicated life," I said.

"We should be thankful; we haven't had a good article since last month, and he never complained," he pointed out, indifferently. "I think he held onto it so much that when he had the chance, he let it all out at once. Like a sniper."

"Yeah, and apparently the shot came right to my forehead," I added ironically.

I heard the other emit a weak laugh in response.

"Relax, it's not the end of the world," he gave me a glance over the table, looking at my feet crossed over it. Yuuma has no idea that I can put my feet on my own table whenever I want; he would go crazy if he knew that. "Aside from this detail, the rest is a piece of cake. We just need to gather the team and scour every corner of Tokyo. There's always something to talk about."

"It's going to be a bit tough, considering my right-hand man is still sulking with me," I argued, shrugging.

"There are other people to write; our team isn't that small," he countered.

"You talk as if we're a secret society."

"But of course, we're practically the Men in Black. Or almost, since we don't investigate UFOs."

I cleared my throat, thinking about how to respond.

"Well, it depends," I commented, crossing my arms behind my neck. "Does the President count as an Alien?"

The other laughed at the remark.

"Do you think he's an alien?" he asked sarcastically.

"I'm 95% sure he's a disguised reptilian," I responded with disdain, standing up from the chair and leaving him to ponder. To my surprise, Tsubasa seemed genuinely engaged in thought.

"And the other 5?"

"For the other five, I think you should stop talking and get back to work," I lightly tapped his forehead with the notebook.

"Nice try, but I'm already done," he boasted.

"Great," I said simply. "I've been thinking about writing about a specific topic and continuing with the same one every two months. That way, we gain some spare time for research."

"Are you crazy? Unless you have a radar to attract good stories, we won't be able to keep that up for even half a month, let alone two."

"Ever heard that haste makes waste?" I asked.

"Only laid-back people say that kind of thing."

"Maybe so, but I want to give it a try," I shot him a mischievous smile.

The boy just sighed, conceding defeat.

"It's up to you."

"Don't worry, I'll come up with something by Monday," I reassured him. "We have a meeting on Monday."

"You better put your brain to work."

"These shoulders carry a good head, don't doubt it for a single second."

He didn't respond, so I took the opportunity to ask:

"Speaking of the meeting... Have you seen Suzume?"

"The vice president?" He thought for a few seconds, and I crossed my arms, waiting patiently. "I heard her saying she needed to take care of something in the computer club today, but I'm not sure. Why do you ask?"

"She disappeared with my things."

"I see... Well, she probably hasn't left yet; try finding her around."

"Well, I'm off then."

I waved and gathered my belongings, leaving the room in a hurry, but not before giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, resulting in a surprised look directed at me. I was a bit intrigued – do people think I can't be nice when I want to?

When I closed the door behind me, I took a moment to compose myself. I've never been one to lose my cool easily; however, last days events are making me rethink that statement.

"Damn..." I clenched my fist, cursing under my breath.

A few steps ahead, I knocked on the door of the computer room without much patience, and a short girl with colorful streaks greeted me. Her expression was serene.

"Hmm? What's up?" she grumbled, leaning against the door with her arms crossed.

"I want to talk to the vice president; she took my camera," I informed, seeing her raise an eyebrow. I felt the corner of my left eye twitch "now."

Then, a light bulb went off in the girl's mind.

"Oh, you're [Name]?! Come on in!" She opened the door wide, allowing me to enter.

It wasn't very surprising to walk in and come face to face with the club in silence, except for the sound of fingers tapping on keyboards. No one noticed my presence as I passed through the door, which was a relief – my social self is crying tears of joy on the inside.

I approached a table where the vice president was, and when I touched her shoulder, she turned her head to face the wave I was giving to her.

She made sure to hand me the camera before anything else. I felt a wave of relief to see that it was still intact – and clean, it's worth noting.

"Thank you, [Name]! You saved our skin!" she said with a charming smile.

"Can I consider this my good deed of the year?" I asked, a smug smile directed at her. Her cheeks turned rosy due to her melodic laughter. I cleared my throat and looked away. "Anyway, I'll be going; I still have my part-time job today."

"We'll meet at the entrance before the meeting," Suzume decided on her own. "See you on Monday!"

I waved from behind as I passed through the door again.

As I changed shoes, I stretched my arms and elongated my body in a futile attempt to send fatigue away. At least now that I'm free from the school's corporate activities, I can think properly about the things I'm going to do.

A yawn escaped my lips as a few tears formed in my eyes involuntarily. Working at the cash register is worse than scrubbing the floor because, in a way, there's no lie that justifies my fatigue.

"Sleeping, [Name]?" he asked, almost accusingly.

I was aware it was a rhetorical question, but still, I felt tempted to answer.

"Your impression, manager," I said, flashing a sly smile. "By the way, here come some customers."

I pointed to the door through which four teenagers entered, how can I say... battered. With bruises on their faces and arms, clothes stained with dirt, and faint traces of blood. Shouldn't these crazies go to a hospital or something? Instead, they came to eat, laughing and chatting casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Go figure.

"I'm going to take out the trash, good luck, maybe they'll ask for band-aids instead of soda," I commented mockingly.

I got up from the counter and went to the back door, where the fresh night wind welcomed me, making me shiver from the cold to the bones. I must have left my coat inside. The lighting was stable, looking on the bright side.

This yellow apron is the most ridiculously attention-grabbing thing I could find for today. But as long as it kept me clean, it was fine by me.

Finally, after throwing the garbage into the dumpster, I took a good look at the sky, with no sign of stars, only the moon decorating the night density like a white button on a large layer of velvet.

I got distracted for a second, and when I came back inside the store, I saw something I wouldn't have wanted to see – and no, it wasn't the boys from earlier, as they had already left. On impulse, I threw myself behind the counter as if there were no tomorrow.

"That guy..." I murmured, scolding myself.

The guy from the Home Economics club was at the gas station, filling up a motorcycle. If he weren't dressed like an angry punk, I would swear he had landed a job as a gas station attendant. Trying to be altruistic, I tried to think positively. It could be a much worse situation; he could be inside the store and then have the audacity to ruin the rest of my day.

"I wonder if he saw me?"

"Who saw you?"

I jumped in surprise when I saw the manager standing behind me with raised eyebrows, tapping his foot lightly on the floor.

"Um... No one. And stop appearing out of nowhere; it's creepy!"

"Are you owing money for someone? Those who owe nothing have nothing to fear."

Well, I do. And many people at the same time! I'd make a joke about it if it weren't so tragic and disappointing.

"Don't tell me... You're getting involved with loan sharks!" He deduced, eyes squinted to draw that conclusion.

"I don't owe any loan sharks!" I scoffed.

"Then, if you're in such perfect condition, get up and attend to the guy coming in there," he ordered, impatient. "It's your turn to serve customers now."

The universe is hilarious. Simply because it helps me and then crushes me with double the force.

Reluctantly, I returned to my initial position, leaning my elbows on the counter and opening a newspaper.

"Do you have..."

"It's a convenience store, we have everything here " I retort with a cynical smile, resting my chin on my elbow with the most innocent expression I could muster, tossing the newspaper somewhere.

"Since when do you work here?" he asked, shocked, blinking repeatedly to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"Since forever," I replied.

He was visibly uncomfortable. Not surprising, I must have left a memorable impression on his mind - whether it's good or bad.

"You didn't finish the sentence. What were you looking for again?" I asked, breaking the silence that lingered between us. On the other hand, Takashi still looked at me as if he were seeing a ghost.

"No problem, I'm heading somewhere else," he said, moving away to leave.

There was my chance to return to tranquility, my easy life, and my status slipping through my fingers like running water. No, no, no, you can't just be taking the pony out to pasture and leave me here! Before he took another step to distance himself, I threw myself over the counter, grabbing him by the shoulder.

I was already humiliating myself anyway, so all that was left was to continue.

"What the hell..." he turned to look at me with bewilderment.

"Wait! We need to talk!" Once again, I cut him off mid-sentence that day. "It's very important, I won't take much of your time. I promise."

It sounded a bit desperate, which wasn't exactly the intention. After a few seconds of contemplation, he relaxed his posture.

"All right, but... Can you let go of my arm?" he asked.

"Oh, sure. My bad."

"So? What did you want to tell me?"

We were both outside the convenience store, standing side by side with serious looks. I swallowed hard. I remained silent for about five minutes, and he respected that time. Which was strange. Delinquents aren't like that, right?

"Do you know about the yearbook?" I started, swallowing hard, as he made no noise to respond. I spoke because he didn't say anything. "I'm going to fix that for you."

He turned his face to look at me, probably trying to identify any hint of a lie in my expression.

"Are you serious?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "I talked to the president; he demanded a few things from me but allowed me to restore it. Now it's up to you to decide whether you want to proceed or give up on the project."

He looked at me suspiciously.

"And what made you change your mind?" he asked, leaving me speechless. "I thought you didn't care."

"And indeed, as you said, I don't care," I confirmed, turning to look at him directly. "In fact, I couldn't care less about what you do inside or outside of school. I just want to get the president and that backstabbing suck-up off my back."

"Backstabber?"

"Long story."

Technically, it's not a lie, but it's also not the whole truth. If I told him that the newspaper is at risk of being dissolved, he would deduce that I only approached him out of self-interest – which is not entirely untrue – and my plans would go down the drain. Again.

"That sounds like a cock-and-bull story," he said, still not satisfied.

"Think whatever you want," I replied with disdain, "but if you want to put it into action, you'll have to come talk to me."

"What do you mean?"

"You need authorization," I explained, "in this case, my authorization. And if you want my help, come here tomorrow, at the same time."

"Are you always like this?"

"Maybe, ..."

"Forgot my name?"

"Absolutely not, Takashi."

"For someone who hates me, you sure know how to remember names, secretary."

"Don't jump to conclusions; I never said I hate you."

Surprise once again took over his usually impassive face, even if he tried not to show it.

"I hate all delinquents equally. So, it's not just limited to you."

Then his expression returned to its stoic state.

"Anyway, see you later. I still have work to do," I said, turning my back and walking away briskly.

Soon, I heard the roar of the motorcycle starting.

"Did you fight with your boyfriend?" The menager asked when i returning.

"Depending on what I say, will it positively affect the amount you pay me?"

"Not at all."

"Then it's none of your interest," I replied finally. "And he's not my boyfriend. Are you crazy?! I would never date a guy like him!"

[volkoss]

Music Shuffle Tag Game

Rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first 10 songs, then tag 10 friends to do the same. Tagged by @hazelestelle, thank you! In return, I am no-obligation tagging: @broodwolf @choccy-zefirka @druckkugelschreiber @gallows-into-oblivion @inkedinfantasy @jainydoe @nerdanel01 @say-lene @serbarris @thepalehorsevictoria ...And sorry, Estelle, for I am once again moving a meme to the sideblog. This time it's because nearly* every song on my Spotify on repeat is from my Volkoss playlist(s) 🫣. (I am unwell about them.) While this list didn't result in as many fun music videos as it usually does when I do this game, I would recommend checking out 'LEMONS with Cavetown' which basically encapsulates the vibe I'm going for in the 'Johanna's expulsion from the Mourn Watch' fic, as well as 'NOCTURNAL' and 'ur a zombie' for some entertaining set/costume design and just... general chaotic vibes which are very Johanna to me. Putting the actual list under a cut because I am unable to do this game without waxing lyrical abut songs, I fear. Please feel free to do this meme just by listing songs like a normal person, friends xoxo *One of them is from my Meredith playlists

1. NOTCURNAL - MOTHICA

Tried self-destruction 'til I couldn't function I hurt myself, hated myself, it didn't help me Tried self-control, tried letting go To heal myself, I went to Hell, I hope you know

This is one of the songs on my 'failed lichdom' playlist, placed shortly after the lichdom attempt! If you've read The Necessity Hypothesis, you can probably see some obvious inspo just from this snippet here. The music video for this song is also very cool in ways I can't describe. But just. The costumes!!

2. MONSTERS IN MY MIND - margø

The girl that I see She's staring at me With hollow eyes I tear her apart I take it too far But she won't die

This is two tracks down from NOCTURNAL on my failed lichdom playlist, lol. No symbolism here, I think at this point it's just narration.

3. Rainbow Rocket Ride - Sofia Isella

Wrapped in gold with a cut in my soul I didn’t know better I put it together I found my joy with a runaway boy And the cosmos is so big it won’t notice we went missing

AGAIN, readers of The Necessity Hypothesis can probably tell where this song influenced some vital lorebuilding. It's like I've been listening to the same playlist on repeat for a fortnight.

4. I Looked the Future in the Eyes, It's Mine - Sofia Isella

They ask us, "How's it feel to be God's favorite?" I say, "We don't know, we've never known different" I'm seeing red, I'm seeing blood, I'm seeing visions I'm seeing something not too far off in the distance

I'm just repeating myself at this point. But also would recommend not watching this video if you're ommetaphobic.

5. Explode! - Mother Mother

Goddamn, I run too fast towards the things that I adore Everything I'm running for starts running from me (like I'm a zombie) I gotta lay back, gotta get static, after Xanax I'm still wired And my friends will ask when I feel relaxed and I say When I die (when I die)

HEY, a song that's not on the failed lichdom playlist. It's not even on a Volkoss playlist at all! It is, however, quite possibly one of my favourite songs of all time, only to be equalled by Macklemore's 'Glorious', which I think should really tell people anything they need to know about me as a person.

This song got me through a lot of shit last year. I got to see Mother Mother live this past November and when they played this song I felt like I ascended to another plane of existence. I still listen to it on loop a lot when I am feeling a certain type of way*. I listened to it while napping on my lunch break today. It's also a vital song on my Meredith playlist. *If you ever start feeling this way about your job, you should probably just quit. Don't be me. Don't wait until things reach Johanna Hezenkoss levels of career imploding hilarity. (There's a reason she's a blorbo. I'm sorry.)

6. It Took Me By Surprise - Marie Mena

I've pushed this man as far as he could go But he lacked the words to let me know He acted out, now I can see it is my fault

This song is actually on both my Volkoss playlists and my Meresino playlist, but at very different points in their narrative arcs. It's on the 'Morality Test' playlist for Volkoss, which is the working title for the fic where Johanna gets expelled from the Mourn Watch. It's pretty much the inciting incident where Johanna gets a brief flash of clarity that she actually did push Emmrich too far this one time. In my main Meresino 'verse, Meredith unfortunately does not have this insight until Orsino is actively turning into an abomination before her eyes and she's just like "the choices I made were calculated but Maker am I bad at math". So, uh, thumbs up to Emmrich for helping Johanna be more self-aware than Meredith Stannard, I guess. The bar is buried in a chasm in the Deep Roads, but still.

7. ur a zombie - Jessie Paege

Had to cut off a limb Learn to walk again Now I'm faster than I've ever been You'll find Mrs Right Another parsite I'll be gone tonight

Another really fun music video. I just LOVE how much energy Jessie throws herself around with while the dude is just. There. In the background.

8. Lady Jesus - UPSAHL

Welcome to my funeral Please take a seat Right here lies the body of the bitch I used to be She was crying every night, I sacrificed her in her sleep If she didn't get to Heaven then I hope she rests in peace (yeah)

Another song from the failed lichdom playlist. What can I say, the whole experience really gave Johanna a new lease on unlife.

9. LEMONS with Cavetown - Brye

You may be the bigger person but I'm louder I'll do everything to hurt you in my power Just because you're confident I think you're shallow Here's a slice of humble pie for you to swallow

GOD THIS DUO IS JUST. SUBLIME VOLKOSS VIBES. THE TALKING OVER EACH OTHER. THE DOUBLE MEANINGS. NEITHER WANTING TO ADMIT FAULT. TOXIC RELATIONSHIP CORE! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

10. Choke - Royal & The Serpent

You've been putting me through hell I should really run for help I'd leave you for someone else Too bad you can't leave yourself

This is also from the Morality Test playlist, but earlier than It Took Me By Surprise. Basically vibes on how Johanna feels stifled by what she presumes is her friendship with goody-two-shoes Emmrich Volkarin but with that lingering undercurrent of whatever is wrong with her (derogatory, affectionate) runs deeper than that.

[toribookworm22]

Listen. I've had The Tortured Poets Department on loop since it came out. I really really love it and only love it more with each repeat.

So. Here's my First Listen Notes:

Fortnight

What a way to start an album: I was supposed to be sent away. But they forgot to come and get me.

Love the synth rise and the beat drop

Post Malone's voice sounds SO good!

The Tortured Poets Department

Like who uses typewriters anyway 😆

Who else decodes you

No-fucking-body

Oooh the drop... it's so sad and quiet 🥺

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Oooh fun beat

I'm queen of sandcastles he destroys 😲

He saw forever so he smashed it up 😶

Daaaaaamn

Down Bad

Digging this soft music, okay

The chimes!!

THE CHORUS

So fuck you if I can't have us

The bridge instrumentation

OOOOH IT GOES OUT OF TUNE

So Long, London

The choral sound!!!

The ramp up!!!

How much sad did you think I had in me

Oh this is gutwrenching

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

But Daddy I Love Him

No I'm not but you should see your faces 😄

An adult Love Story

It's my own disgrace

I love this

Fresh Out The Slammer

Ooh twangy first beat

Tone shift hello

I did my time 🥺

FLORIDA!!!

THE DRUMS

Ooooh Florence's voice

Somehow it sounds like both of their songs????

Guilty as Sin?

How can I be guilty as sin?

What if the way you hold me actually was holy

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Villain Song! Villain Song!

You don't get to tell me about sad

Sounds old country

If you wanted me dead you should've just said

So I leap from the gallows

WHOS AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME (you should be)

What the hell?!?!

Was it a wonder I broke

I was tame I was gentle

Well you should be

The lowering beats!!!

Then I'm fearsome and I'm wretched

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Love the old country open

Almost ghostly

Your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger

I can handle me a dangerous man (no really I can)

Woah maybe I cant!!!

loml

Aww it's just piano

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway 🥺

I felt a glow like this never before and never since

Still alive and killing time at the cemetery

Holy ghost you told me I'm the love of your life 😭

She's so sad...

What we thought was for all time was momentary

Mr. Steal your girl then make her cry

Talking rings and talking cradles

Something counterfeit's dead

Oh my good god I want to analyze this my goodness

You're the loss of my life 😭 Taylor no!!

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

It sounds like pool in the background

Very 80s arcade glitch pop

I'm a real tough kid I can handle my shit

He said. He'd love. Me all. His life.

I'm so depressed I act like it's my birthday 🤣

No, not depression pop!

I can hold my breath; I've been doing it since he left

Taylor I've never understood you more 🤦‍♀️

You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

You know you're good! I'm good

Cause I'm miserable

And nobody even knows!

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The exhale no!

Who the fuck was that guy

They just ghosted you now you know what that's like 😲

I don't even want you back I just want to know

🫢

This is the most sadly disappointed jab of a song I've ever heard

WERE YOU SENT BY SOMEONE

IN 50 YEARS WILL THIS ALL BE DECLASSIFIED

AND ILL SAY GOOD RIDDANCE

I WOULDVE DIED FOR YOUR SINS

YOULL SLIDE INTO INBOXES AND BETWEEN BARS

You kicked out the stage lights but you're still performing

And I'll forget you but I'll never forgive

Hot damn.

Claiming this as mine yes please

The Alchemy

But I'm coming back so strong

Honestly who are we to fight the alchemy

But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an e

Where's the trophy he just comes running to me

Clara Bow

Ooh windup

Yes guitar!!! Love this intro!!

This sounds so indie and small I love it

Soft and comforting

Take the glory give everything

The crown is stained but you're the real thing

Oooh some small town lore

Hello something reminiscent of The Lucky One

Character Song Acquired

It's. Hell. On. Earth. To. Be. Heavenly.

You've got edge she never did

What a way to end that song damn

The Black Dog

Sad piano no

You forgot to turn it off

Her voice sounds so fragile

Until it doesn't!

Old habits die SCREAMING!!!

YESSSSSSSS

okay miss back to soft but slowly growing

Her voice is so earnest

Yes the beats are so good!

Six weeks of breathing clean air

Beat change!!!!!!

Screeeeeeeeeaaaaaammmmiiiiing

And I hope you heeeeeeeeeeaaaaaar it

And I hope it's shitty in The Black Dog

Keep the beat going!!! Yes!!!

I adore this so so much

The last screaming is WHISPERED!!!???! what!??!

Top songs. I'm calling it.

imgonnagetyouback

I hear you 1989 energy

And I'll tell you one thing honey delivery stunning

Ooh okay!

Sparkly alright okay!

Instrumentation is so fun

I'm loving the ultimatums 😆

Even if it's handcuffed I'm LEAVING HERE WITH YOU

pick your poison babe I'm poison either way

Cut the music alright!

The Albatross

Ooooh this is so pretty already!

I love the softness contrasted with the short lines

She's the albatross she is here to destroy you

One less temptress one less dagger to sharpen

And they tried to warn you about me

And I tried to warn you about them!

I'm the life you chose and all these terrible dangers

So cross your thoughtless heart

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Simple instrumentation

Oh but I love the title drop

If you wanna break my cold cold heart just say I loved you the way that you were

If you wanna tear my world apart just say you've always wondered

I changed into goddesses villains and fools

Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon

Cause I wonder

Will I always wonder

How Did It End?

Oooh no I'm scared

The piano is scaring me already

No not oh-oh's

We hereby conduct this post-mordem

We must know... how did it end?

Oh-oh oh-ohhhhhhhh

Her backing vocals are so gorgeous

Lot the game of chance what are the chances

Walking in circles like she was lost

Didn't you hear they called it all off

One gasp then how did it end?

Ooh key change oh no

My beloved ghost and me sitting in a tree d-y-i-n-g

But I still don't know how did it end?

I didnt understand until I did hot damn

So High School

Ooooh the instrumentation sounds so 2000s!!!!

That just soft pop rock energy

Bittersweet 16 suddenly

I love the contrast between her soft airy vocals and her gritty lows

Are you gonna marry kiss or kill me

You know how to bottle I know Aristotle

I feel... like laughing

And in the blink of a crinkling eye

Such a sweet grinning song

Sounds like she's really recapturing something teenage

I Hate It Here

Quick quick (lyrics before music what??)

Tell me something awful like you are a poet

When I was a precocious child

Small town fears

Cause I hate it here

Everyone would look down cause it wasn't fun now seems like it was never even fun back then

Only the gentle survived

I'm made most of the year

This is really really pretty

A fun I was a quietly angry child song

This place made me feel worthless

She sounds timeless

This could actually be a kids movie song with this lullaby like instrumentation

thanK you aIMee

(Her first play on capitalization?)

And I forget the way you made me feel

Screaming fuck you Aimee

Ooh I like the build

Nice build!!! Oooh so fun!

But she used to say she wished you were dead 🫢

I built a legacy that you can't undo

That there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you

Miss Taylor did you write a whole new bully song for me??? A la Mean???

I don't think you've changed much do I changed your name

Only us two are gonna know is about you

Soft and powerful

Like every kid who came out of bullying with a kinder heart

I Look In People's Windows

Ooh fun instru- wait wait what? That glitch of a noise? Hello?

I'm afflicted by the not knowing

Backing vocals! Fun noise!

The music is sounding a little more strangled okay!

I'm addicted to the if only

Music leaves her isolated when she calls herself weird hmmm subtext there

The Prophecy

Country sings again with the indie guitar

I got cursed like eve got bitten

A lesser of a woman would've lost hope a greater woman would've begged

Ooh the begging is so pretty

Sounds a prayer for real

Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen

Gathered with a coven round

But even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Spending my last coins so someone will tell me it'll be okay

And said *please*

Cassandra

Oooh follow piano notes

Build some strings okay

When it's burn the bitch they're shrieking

When the truth comes out it's quiet

So they killed Cassandra first

So they killed my cell with snakes I regret to say do you believe me now

What happens if it becomes who you are

So they set my life in flames I'm scared to say do you believe me now

Bloods thick but nothing like a payroll

It's so sad but still powerful like Greek mythology I guess

Ooh but the gravel on "heard"

I think I hear static like fire in the background at the end

Peter

Oooh okay some powerful piano notes alright

Love this instrumentation

Is it something I did

I thought it was just goodbye for now

Said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me

Such a simple melody I love it

We said it was just goodbye for now

And I won't confess that I waited

Cause loves never lost when perspective is earned

Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life

But the woman who waits by the window has turned out the light

The Bolter

Oooooh

Okay I'm here for this alright

Storytelling like folklore!!!

Behind her back her best friends laughed

It's cheery but so devastating my goodness

All her fucking lives passed before her eyes

Oooh ramp up a little with some subtle beats

She's been many places

Yes ramp up

Chariots are waiting

There's a scape in escaping

But she's got the best story

Robin

(In here for all the names okay)

No sad piano!!!

Long note no!!!

You are bloodthirsty (ethereal version)

This is so pretty

The softest battle cry

It's nostalgic power?

We all vowed to keep it from you in sweetness

Is this like you did a good job being sweet now be angry?

You have no room in your dreams for regret

You'll learn to bounce back like you trampoline

This is such a be whatever kind of kid you wanna be

The Manuscript

One note and I'm crying

Love the isolated notes Oh my gosh

Love this end already

Now and then she rereads the manuscript

In the age of him she wished she was 30

Afterwards she only ate kids cereal

She wasn't sure

Okay some growing notes yes! Grow power

The professor said to write what you know

Looking backwards may be the only way to move forward

And at last she knew what the agony had been for

The only that's left is the manuscript

But the story isn't mine anymore

That is a... okay, wait... that's a really really good way to end this album... I need time to digest that actually... hold on...

[battylite]

hi batty, i've been binge-reading "franz kafka, frank zappa" this summer and first off, its phenomenal, seriously -- and secondly, i was wondering if you listened to a particular group of albums or artists when writing it? i'm...so obsessed with the vibes of that particular fic. (im assuming nf!r was in the rotation? :))

hi, thanks so much and I'm so glad you've enjoyed it!! There should a playlist that's linked at the end of the fic (probably end of the last chapter?) but that was more of an exercise in storytelling than what I was actually listening to then. There's a few that will probably be repeats to what I'll put below.

First off, yeah, Norman fucking Rockwell. I don't think I can say anything about this album that hasn't been said elsewhere, but in brief: LDR has always been really good at writing cohesive albums and being purposeful in how she arranges her songs, but this album really elevated her as a storyteller. She's been an interesting artist to follow because her albums have always seemed to be a reflection of her personally, and in NFR! she takes her character seriously, like, as an adult, in a way that isn't true for any of her previous albums. As far as story goes, I still appreciate that whether she's still involved with the person she's writing about in the first half of the album by the end is ambiguous. You could argue either way or that it doesn't matter.

Honorable mention to the first half of Father John Misty's I Love You, Honeybear (title track through Nothing Good Ever Happens; I emphasize the title track and hesitate to include Strange Encounter, which says something). FJM is such a clever writer; this album is so nihilist and gross at times and then romantic at others, and the fact that he's both so good at juggling them and will also give you whiplash is so impressive. I think I could take pieces of my NFR! and rename them ILYH. A couple of other relevant FJM songs: Buddy's Rendezvous, Nancy From Now On, Hangout at the Gallows (the Gallows also used to be a bar in Boston, not that I think that has any relevance to FJM)

Second honorable mention to Glass Animal's Dreamland; the whole album is a really good piece of storytelling, but I would say only the first and final songs are relevant here. Mostly because the title track (Dreamland) was definitely an inspiration, and because (spoiler but not really) the final track (Helium) is connected so masterfully to the first. Both great good examples of tone and atmosphere done really well.

I might add more thoughts/explanation to this later, but those are my quick thoughts, and a few one-off songs:

Mine to Miss -- American Football

Georgia -- Vance Joy

Mariette -- Mark Kozelek

One More Second -- Matt Berninger

Doubt (demo version) -- Hippocampus

Sweetheart and The Last -- Long Beard

Demi Moore -- Phoebe Bridgers

Calgary Girls -- The Smith Street Band

I don't know if this is what you were looking for or the vibe you thought you would get but this was an interesting thing to think about for me so thanks again!

[direwombat]

⛑️

⛑ - Some tender first-aid + some sybjoey! thank you so much for sending this in!

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself, Syb,” Joey says, pulling a curved needle through Sybille’s skin to stitch up a bullet wound in her shoulder.

Sybille is sitting on one of the many mattresses in Jerome’s church while Joey kneels in front of her. A first aid kit rests beside them. She’d been rushed back to Falls End from the fertilizer plant after getting shot and promptly losing consciousness. She’d awoken on the way, bleeding in the back of Grace’s Jeep with her mouth fuzzy from trace amounts of Bliss. And while she had insisted she was fine, neither Grace nor Jess were eager to take their chances. 

“To be fair, this particular bullet wound is Peggie handiwork,” Sybille responds. “Besides, it looks worse than it actually is.”

Joey looks unconvinced. “Y’know, one of these days you’re gonna get shot and that won’t be the case.”

“Well, when that happens, I guess I won’t really have anything left to worry about,” she shrugs. It comes out breezy. Flippant. Her humor stands soundly on the gallows, fully aware of the noose around her neck. 

But Joey isn’t laughing. 

She pauses her sewing to give Sybille a concerned look. A frown tugs at her mouth and her brows knit together, wearing in worry lines she didn’t have the night of the arrest. “Syb…” she says with just the barest hints of exasperation. 

Guilt pangs in Sybille’s gut. Right. They’ve talked about this. The fatalistic jokes they used to indulge in hit a little too close to home now — especially considering just how many times she nearly died and Joey hadn’t been able to do anything to help. 

Sometimes she forgets that although Joey was a soldier, much like her, they aren’t quite fighting the same fight. She’s out in the field, leading the troops and taking fire while Joey is stuck in the med-tent after spending time as a POW. 

Their experiences in this war are very different. 

“Right,” she says. “Sorry.”

Joey shakes her head and resumes stitching her up. “It’s not your fault,” she says, but her mouth twists in a way that suggests she’s holding something back. 

“But?” Sybille prods.

“But nothing, it’s just —” Joey sighs. She looks up at her with massive, shimmering dark brown eyes. “You know I care about you, right? I worry about you. Every time you leave Falls End I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see you again and —”

Sybille lifts a hand to cradle Joey’s cheek. “Hey,” she says gently. “I will always come back for you, okay?”

“You don’t—”

“Joey, listen to me,” she continues. “I have been tortured, shot, and blown up all before this shit started. There ain’t nothin' the cult can throw at me that I ain’t already lived through. We’ll get through this. John’s dead and I promise you, I will send every last one of that damn family to Hell.” She strokes her thumb over Joey’s cheek. “We’ll be okay,” she says softly. 

Joey’s eyes fall shut, her fingers wrapping around Sybille’s wrist. She nuzzles into her palm and nods. “We’ll be okay,” she repeats. “We’ll be okay.”

If they say it often enough, maybe someday they’ll start to believe it. But for now, they lie, if only because it’s sweeter and more palatable than the bitter truth they’re both agonizingly aware of.

[inquisimer]

HAP FRI BELOVED for Hawke x Loghain: ❛ you know, they’re going to use the things you love against you. ❜

hap fri to YOU beloved💜💜 ty for indulging my niche brainrot I adore you to pieces uwu

wc: 1085

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

The viscount’s office looked different from the other side of the desk. Familiar, but odd, like seeing a sketch of her face instead of a reflection.

Bran had sealed the door after Dumar’s death and no one had been allowed inside since, not even staff to clean. A thick layer of dust coated every surface; it had puffed around Siobhan’s boots when she finally fit the ancient, ornate key into the lock and entered the office.

Her office.

It was everything she’d wanted and not, all at once.

The appointment was unofficial, technically, but the Seneschal doubted the nobles—most of whom still owed their lives to Hawke—would fight the Templars on it. At the very least, there would be no vote until the city had a semblance of order, and a single glance outside assured that was a ways off.

Hightown sprawled outside her window, a combination of smoldering rubble and half-demolished estates. Most of the bodies had been collected and removed, but the corpse of the Chantry, a giant, magically polluted crater, loomed over it all in its absence.

With a wave of her hand, Siobhan sucked all the dust and grime into a ball and set it aflame. It burned away into nothing just as a firm knock came through the door.

“Enter.”

Hinges creaked, revealing her brother. His blue and silver armor was streaked with ash and blood from days of triage and rescue with no break.

“Someone’s here for you,” he said without preamble. There was still anger and tension between them, words unspoken about what she’d done and why, but this wasn’t the time for mediation. Siobhan nodded and another figure in somewhat cleaner Warden armor stepped around the door frame.

“Loghain,” she breathed, fingers flexing against the wood of her desk.

She drank in his face. There were new lines across his brow, in the corners of his eyes, and the thin, pink line of a mostly healed wound wasn’t quite concealed by his unbound hair. Dark circles ringed his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for days. Depending on where he was when the news hit, perhaps he hadn’t.

But it had only been about a week since the Void rained down around Kirkwall. So how—

“I summoned him.” Carver answered her unasked question, scowling. “I needed a Senior Warden and Stroud’s on a recruitment tour and the Vigil is so insular as to be useless.”

“Needed a Senior Warden?”

“The red lyrium.” Armor creaked as Carver pursed his lips and shifted. “It’s tainted.”

Siobhan rolled her eyes. “You don’t fucking say. I thought it switched from blue because it of seasonal fashion.”

With a frustrated groan, Carver threw his hands in the air. “You explain it to her,” he muttered, shouldering past Loghain to leave. “Maybe she’ll actually listen.”

Siobhan turned toward the window, if only so she didn’t have to confront the piercing stare Loghain had fixed her with. When she spoke, her breath fogged against the glass. “What’s he on about now?”

“The boy is correct: red lyrium is tainted.” Time had not changed his voice, still low and slightly grating, yet steady and comforting against her ears. “Not just the color—it is Blight-Tainted.”

“What?”

In the warped reflection, she saw him open his mouth and she whipped around, glaring. “I heard you the first time,” she snapped before he could repeat himself, or something similarly asinine. “How do you know?”

“It sings. We can hear it, like the darkspawn.”

A heavy breath and Siobhan rubbed her temple. Her mind was spinning. “What does that mean? The implications, the exposure—“

“Your brother reports that when the Templars and remaining mages are separated from the Gallows, he cannot sense Taint within them. It does not seem to be contagious in that way.”

“Thank the Maker for small blessings,” she muttered. “I have enough to deal with as it is.”

“So you do.” Loghain stepped forward, closing the distance between them to only a pace. “Vicountess.”

Her poker face had always rivaled his and they both held now, even as she jutted her chin out and folded her arms. “Is that a problem?”

He snorted. “Not for me. You, on the other hand…”

“I can handle myself.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

“Then what do you doubt, serrah?”

Loghain hummed, idly flicking a bit of grime from his gauntlets. “Power begets power, Siobhan. You may retain and wield it with ease, but those necessarily drawn to your station will shape it into a weapon with which to fell you. Your words, your actions—“

He shook his head, and she could taste the bitterness of his words like a tangible thing on her own tongue.

“Even those you love,” he said lowly. “And it will matter not how much you love this city or what you would give to save it. If they perceive a weakness to twist, they will use it all against you.”

Siobhan closed her eyes. She thought of Mother, just a head stitched to another’s corpse; of Carver, bound in blood magic on a sandy cliff.

“They already have.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint sounds of continued search and rescue efforts outside. Finally, Siobhan shook her head and blinked her eyes back open.

“Luckily,” she said, not quite managing to keep the sour note from her voice. “Everyone I love has already left the city, or will be doing so in short order.”

“Is that so.”

“Don’t go expecting me to list off where they’ve all gone.” Siobhan snorted. “Not when I haven’t checked the office for any listening runes the Templars planted while Dumar was in office.”

A surprised chuckle escaped Loghain and Siobhan’s cynical half-smirk turned to something softer, more genuine. “But I would not have them here. If the Divine decides this is the moment for an Exalted March—“

“Yet your brother remains.”

“Carver would chew off his foot if I told him he shouldn’t. You, off all people, know what a stubborn ass he is.”

“Must be a family trait.”

“Perhaps.” She lifted one fur-lined shoulder in a casual shrug. “He’ll leave soon on his own. A Warden never stays for long.”

He studied her at that. She suspected that he could feel the bitter waves coming off her as she had from him earlier. It didn’t matter, and she didn’t care, because neither of them could change what it was.

“No,” he said. “I don’t suppose they do.”

[vidavalor]

@somehow-a-human When I saw you doing a post about Good Omens and Lost, I pressed the button (*groans at own joke* lol) to 'keep reading' immediately. How joyous to find a Good Omens Person to whom I can say that I still haven't stopped sobbing over "Not Penny's Boat" and have you know what I mean. One of the things I thought about when I first saw this scene in GO was the very Sayid & Hurley scene in Lost that you're talking about. There's some stuff in S1 that makes me think it's possible that you could be onto something about the idea that The Bentley is pulling music from another time so couple of thoughts that I'll throw under a cut then, brotha...

We know that The Bentley can play music like a regular car because, in 2019, Crowley had CDs in the car and Aziraphale picked them up when suggesting that they listen to some music, all of which makes it seem like they had fed the car music to play before. At the same time, though, the Queen that the car is playing in the 2008 flashback when Crowley is driving to and from Tadfield is all over the place.

Crowley listens to Queen songs from different albums and they're all over the place in the song in the different times we hear them. Sure, he could be listening to them on repeat (and I think he is with "It's a Hard Life") but there's also the fact that when Satan comes through the radio, it had seemed like Crowley was actually listening to a radio broadcast-- as we hear the DJ speaking at the start and it says BBC Radio-- but, then, "Bohemian Rhapsody" jumps deeper into the song as Crowley hears Satan (or, well, ya know, Satan possessing Freddie Mercury). The part it jumps to then both reflects and winds up scoring the horror of what is happening in the scene. Since the song is supposed to be playing within the scene and isn't just non-diegetic, it has the effect of seeming as if Crowley's mind unconsciously moved the song to another part as a result of being able to think, if not otherwise react or respond, during Satan's possession of him.

The song moves to that part of it because of what Crowley is thinking. It jumps to "I see a little silhouetto of a man" just as Crowley is unable to move and seeing the driver in the truck coming at him. It's eerie in the moment and it also plays like the darkest of gallows humor. He's helpless in the moment to do anything about what's happening to him and his mind connects it to the song the car was playing and the result is that the car plays that part of the song-- it reflects what Crowley was thinking. The struggle against an invasion of his mind is reflected by the actions of the car.

This would then mean that Crowley can control what The Bentley is playing with his mind, which goes along with the "our car" stuff from S2 and Aziraphale making changes to The Bentley that Crowley could feel because of the car being connected to his mind before realizing exactly how much Crowley could feel of it. Since we're saying Crowley can make The Bentley play anything that's within his mind, we are theoretically saying that he could choose to listen to whatever he wants from any other period of time that he's heard, right? He doesn't have to have it memorized-- he would just need to know when it was it could have been played and tell The Bentley to play it. This might have been how, based on what the DJ was saying when Satan showed up in 2008, Crowley was listening to a Queen respective that seemed to be broadcasting from the BBC on live radio-- but that had actually broadcast on live radio in the past at some point because Crowley was able to manipulate it to a different point in the song with his mind. It already existed in full at another point in time so Crowley's mind could act as a streaming service and skip to a different part of the song, consciously or unconsciously, because of its connection to the car.

This then raises the question of who, exactly, chose to have The Bentley play "Moonlight Serenade" for Aziraphale in S2. There is the theory that The Bentley has a sense of individuality about it-- has its own personality, is kinda its own entity-- and part of me likes the idea that Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is also its own thing and maybe it is. As a result of this idea, some people think that the car is gently ribbing Aziraphale a little in the scene by playing him "Moonlight Serenade" after Aziraphale requests something "modern" and that would be a bit funny but if we're saying that the car either isn't its own thing or can only play music being fed to it by the people who have control over driving it... and if we're saying that Aziraphale didn't choose "Moonlight Serenade" because he was asking to be surprised by the song... then we're also saying that, by the time he requested a song on the way back from Edinburgh, he had already become aware of the fact that Crowley was affected by any goings on in the car and it had made him uncomfortable so Aziraphale had started asking for a song instead. He talks to the car but it's really Crowley he's asking for music so it's really Crowley who chose "Moonlight Serenade."

There's an element of the same gentle ribbing there as this isn't what we'd call a modern song but it's also just sweet in a you-don't-need-modern-when-you're-a-classic sort of way. It's a soothing song-- literally, a serenade-- and calls back to what we already know was a pretty romantic era for them and one that's still on-going in the story. "Moonlight Serenade" could have additional meaning after S3 if it winds up in a flashback. And as for how Crowley got The Bentley to play it? Same way he did the Queen retrospective in S1-- he pulled it from a radio broadcast from another point in time. Just like the "Moonlight Serenade" on Lost.

Now we've just got to get Jacob to get on with crossing Aziraphale's name off his wall already...

Moonlight Serenade & Good Omens &... Lost...?

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

First off: I am a certified former band kid. I've been playing the trumpet for 17 years. I did marching band in high school & college, I served pep band march madness basketball realness, I'm a bona fide concert hall bitch, and I considered becoming a professional musician.

Because of this, the music of good omens is something I have been ACTIVELY avoiding! The risks of hyperfixating and spiraling into it are HIGH!!! I spent so much of my life deeply entrenched in music, all genres, all time periods & It's hard not to have a proclivity toward it. But I also expect it to be a huge topic and a deep hole to inevitably fall into.

But could I hold out forever? no. and something finally pushed me over the edge. Wait for it..... Lost. Yep. The fucking TV show Lost. WAIT WAIT, don't leave! STAY WITH ME!

Why Lost? And what does it have to do with Moonlight Serenade and WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH GOOD OMENS?! Well my lovelies continue under the cut with me and keep an open mind...

Okay so... Lost. Yes, the insane 2004 mystery plane crash island adventure drama. It's a wild ride, and a masterpiece and a little bit crazy, but overall pretty damn good. I've been on a rewatch spree and wouldn't you know it... parallels between lost and Good Omens kept popping up in my brain!! I mean they are both detailed intricate mysteries so it makes a tad bit of sense but there was one little detail that *might* be a *clue* so I figured I'd make a post cause why not? I promise you don't need to know anything about Lost to follow this!!

First off, what are some of the recurring themes of Lost the TV show you might ask?

Life & Death

Timelines & Time Travel

Literary Allusions (Catch-22, The Bible, A Tale of Two Cities)

Prophecies & Premonitions

Symbolism of Black & White

Yeah okay, that tracks, but look there are 121 episodes of Lost and 12 episodes (so far) of Good Omens so there's bound to be some overlap for these two ineffable mysteries.

You'll be thinking about now, "BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MOONLIGHT SERENADE?!" I'm getting there, shhh, lemme pet your hair gently and keep giving you background information to build it up shhhh...

If you've never seen Lost there is a very good chance you're mighty confused at this moment, so let me reassure you, you don't need to know anything about it to understand the connections I'm going to make. A brief synopsis is: Oceanic flight 815 crashes on an island. The plane crash survivors quickly discover the island is more than it seems to be and holds many secrets and mysteries. A lot of people die, most of them are murdered, it's giving Lord of the Flies. That's honestly all you need to know.

Time Travel & Alternate Timelines

Time travel is cannon in Lost. It's super confusing and I'm not even going to try to explain any of it here. It's honestly just not worth it. If you'd like to try and read about it, the abridged version is here, but I don't think the details are important. Just know it's real and confirmed and exists.

Okay so, In Lost season 2, episode 13 "The Long Con" two of the plane crash survivors are trying to find a signal on a radio they've found. While scrubbing they come across a signal playing Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. One character mentions it must be from somewhere nearby, but the other counters that this type of radio can pick up signals from anywhere in the world. There is a beat and then another character jokingly adds "Or any time. Just kidding, dude."

It's later confirmed that the Lost characters in 2004 are indeed picking up a radio signal from 1940 that is playing Moonlight Serenade, a product of time travel.

Congratulations, you've made it to the point where I'm going to bring Good Omens into the mix. In season 2, episode 4 "The Hitchhiker" we open seeing Aziraphale driving back from Edinburgh late at night/early morning. Uncomfortable with the darkness and silence he asks the Bentley to "play something that's got a bit of swing? I'm in the mood for something modern."

The Bentley obliges the angel, as she always will, and we are shown a shot of the radio specifically lighting up, so we know she's tapped into the radio to play this for Azi.

But hold on. Aziraphale asked for "modern"? Moonlight Serenade is most certainly not modern. It was recorded in 1939! I'd say in 2023 it's anything but modern, maybe not in Aziraphale's long lived opinion, but certainly in the Bentley's opinion, given she's only a 97 year old car.

I think you can see now what I'm saying here. I think the Bentley picked up a radio signal from 1940, maybe 1941? Episode 4 is of course our 1941 blitz magic show bullet catch flashback extravaganza, so... it makes sense. I know we like to headcanon Crowley and Aziraphale listened to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square in the bookshop in 1941 after the bullet catch, but what if they heard Moonlight Serenade on a radio instead?

What does it mean?

I think it could be a *clue*. A reference to this small moment from Lost and a nod to the first hint of the canonization of time travel in that series. We know Crowley can control time to some extent and we can see some evidence of time discontinuities and possibly time weirdness in season 2 so is it a hint that timeline funkiness IS happening? Do I want to get into the fact that the main character in The Hitchhiker, the Twilight Zone episode this episode is named after, is actually dead? No I don't, not now anyway.

SO! There it is... weird little connection that I couldn't get out of my brain. It just seemed a bit too... ineffable.

As always this is all for fun and all for fans! Don't ask Neil about these things, they're for us to have fun with. And something else that I don't think some people on here understand about meta-analysis; the goal of it is not to be correct. Refuting peoples posts, theories, analysis, and headcanons because you personally don't agree with them doesn't achieve anything. Meta-analysis is an exercise in critical thinking and creative writing. You could write meta about how Spongebob is a critique of the loss of christian values in modern society and you wouldn't be right or wrong, you'd just certainly be a person who wrote that for sure though. Just, be kind to each other, share ideas, you're allowed to disagree with someone's ideas or have different ones of your own but don't be cruel in saying so, don't call someone stupid, that's just silly.

Love you all, do something kind for yourself today <3

ps. The moment I see Michael Sheen with blonde hair come January I'm gonna bark like a dog, that's all. Thanks.

[ontheindigo]

yes Im not okay, yes I have been listening to ‘from the gallows’ on repeat for several hours,

[cherryxxmoon]

– 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Rating: E  Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke As she advanced down the aisle, Sakura's eyes were on one man, the one waiting at the altar, whose dark irises seemed in turn unable to give her respite.

He scrutinized her with such minuteness that a single glance went through layers of tulle and organza, making her feel naked under his gaze. The young pink-haired lowered her own, walking on the wedding march without really listening to it, burdened by the noise of her thoughts, the cries and squirms of her rioting soul.

Sakura ignored the smiles on the faces of those present, the moved tears of her dearest relatives. She walked as if she were going to the gallows and her head would soon be painfully separated from her neck.

A rush of revulsion twisted her insides when to greet her was the face of a man her heart did not recognize. His skin was a different shade, his hair too light, his eyes not dark enough, his smile so wide as to give her the impression that he was mocking her, satisfied with her misery.

A foolish thought, for Sakura knew that was not really the case. No one in that chapel was aware of the turmoil which stirred her soul and heart, of the grief which lurked in her bones and muscles, causing her such pain she felt dizzy. None but one.

The pink-haired's sad eyes met his again, more familiar, warmer, so terribly easy to interpret. She wanted to cry out, to demand him to stop looking at her like that, exuding an intimacy which never should have been there and a resignation which never should have taken root in his heart. Fight. Why don't you fight? A madness that Sakura knew was infeasible, a hope that bordered on insanity, a desire so visceral it could never be satisfied.

Sasuke never looked away from her during the entire ceremony. Sakura, on the other hand, kept her gaze down, not even listening to his words, certain that she would be able to catch the anguish in his tone of voice, as sharp as a dagger blade piercing her chest.

"— Sakura." Her name vibrated on his tongue, and Sakura wondered how the affection with which those letters were imbued, the belonging that his voice exuded, could not be obvious to the eyes of all present. "Do you take this man to have and to hold in sickness and health as long as you both shall live?"

Sakura lifted her gaze, determined to mirror herself in the dark eyes of the celebrant, who seemed to mentally repeat to her what she had madly wished for him to do in a burst of madness. Fight. Say no. Tell the truth. But she could not. She couldn't have. She would have ruined herself, her reputation, her family, the peace agreement reached by that arranged marriage— and she would have ruined him, the victim of a love which if expressed could have been lethal, a sin so sweet and blasphemous, a blessing and condemnation they would have to live with for the rest of their days.

"I do." And so she sanctioned the final blow to both of them, a bleeding wound which was going to rip through the core of their chests that not even the knowledge this would happen sooner or later could mend. Foolish and reckless, they had orbited each other until they condemned themselves with their own hands, greedy for forbidden and unutterable love and pleasure. Crucified voluntarily, repeating to themselves that not consuming that sinful flame would have counted as an even worse offense to Heaven, to saints and gods ready to judge and punish them— as was eventually happening. But it had not been the hand of the Lord which had annihilated them with a fatal lash. It had been them, selfish and conscious.

---

It had been easy to ignore the women's murmurs when she promptly dismissed them. She wanted to be alone; she needed it to breathe, to shed the mask she had been forced to wear. A few moments of relief, a few moments in which to pretend she was not falling apart under the weight of lies, of pain, of her torn and broken heart.

Sakura looked at the mirror without recognizing herself, dressed in white to embody a purity which did not actually belong to her. Lies and lies, from her mouth, from her face. Her eyes, however, were incapable of lying, sad and filled with mourning, brightened by a vivid glow only the moment she glimpsed the figure of the dark-haired behind her through the reflection.

She could not suppress or annihilate him, that love that burned and blazed like unquenchable flames, the passion and lust which lurked in her vile sinner's body. Sadness, remorse and pain completely engulfed by all that made her real and true, the force which provided her with oxygen, which pumped her heart to allow it to beat.

"Sasuke-kun—" The dark-haired lifted a hand to shush her immediately, as if with words she could shatter that moment which rested on the slender control they both had, ready to falter, to sanction their end. Sasuke continued to watch her, the onyx irises emitting everything he could not express verbally.

It was a cruel game they had been thrown into, into an even more vile world. Selfishness and lust for power had trapped them in a vortex where the only ones who really suffered were them. And then their lives had been seasoned only with ifs, assumptions. What if they had never met each other? If Sakura had not been a Haruno, so important and essential in the Senju's rise to power? What if Sasuke had not opted to exile himself among the Lord's gates, to redeem himself of a lesser sin than the one that now stained their consciences?

After contemplating and admiring her for endless moments, the dark-haired approached her with exhausting slowness, as if waiting for his body to come to its senses and remove him from that room. It never happened, as it had never happened in those years of hidden and forbidden passion, tasting so sweet.

Trembling hands found the pearl buttons, moving over to unbutton them one by one, with deliberate calm. Each imperceptible touch of his knuckles against her own skin was enough to instill mad desire in her, chills inexorably enveloping her body.

Their gazes trapped each other. No one was willing to deprive himself even for a moment of the sight of the other's face. Black and green mingled in a swirl of darkness and light, joining until they became a single flame burning with the intensity of the sun, ready to consume two mere sinners.

Sakura angled her head, exposing the milky skin on which immediately the lips of the other rested, greedy and unbidden, aware that they could not escape the force which compelled them to touch, to love, to be consumed.

"I have never seen such a beautiful bride," Sasuke whispered to her, in a sigh which broke against her bare neck. A chill possessed her back, as in her lower belly fanned the flames of a sin which brought her ever closer to hell, a fiery chasm into which she was voluntarily sinking. "So pure—" The dark-haired's arm encircled her waist, pressing their bodies against each other. "So candid and innocent." Lies upon lies but so persuasive in tone that they became absolute truths just for the sake of being able to believe them, of being able to entrust to him and him alone a purity from which he would strip her with false reticence. "How cruel it would be to deprive you of it, Sakura," Sasuke continued, lifting her wedding dress so that he could lock her thigh in an iron, possessive grip. "And how bitter the punishment of the one who would dare to stain it."

"Sasuke—" she exhaled, as his fingers grazed her clothed sex with cruel slowness. An entreaty, an invitation to go on, to sully her with every sin which was touching his mind, rather than to stop, to come to his senses, to redeem himself and her.

"He would burn in hellfire for even thinking that." His warm breath brushed her ear, and Sakura could do nothing but look at him, admiring him helplessly through the reflection of the mirror, succumbing to his presence so additive. The dark-haired looked back at her, reveling in the blush which dusted her cheeks, the parted lips which emitted delicate gasps, the eyes blazing with lust, that garish innocence which was going to dissipate due to him.

A genuine moan escaped her as Sasuke slipped his hand under her panties, palming her cunt, spreading her folds and feeling her arousal.

"But what is an eternity of damnation—" Succumbing to his own desire, to the lustful demon taking possession of him, the dark-haired wetted his lips, swallowing noisily. "When compared to you and your gentle sin." Already embraced by pleasure, Sakura hid her face in the crook of his neck, there where the white collar towered over the dark robes, over the cassock which should have acted as a warning but was by now skillfully ignored, so long as they lingered in that shared fervor.

Using his grip on the young bride's body, Sasuke turned her in his arms, guiding her toward the table to his left. Trapped between the furniture and the priest, Sakura grasped a flap of her white dress to keep it up, her legs spread, her sex offered to the man before her, whose fingers now explored her from within.

"So sweet and so tempting you are— look how you deceive even the most devoted servant of God." Sasuke led her hand to the bulge on his crotch. Her inners tightened around his fingers, milking all the pleasure they could get from them, quivering in anticipation of something thicker, harder to clench around.

"It’s your doing, father," exhaled the young pink-haired, leaning toward him, and he did the same, pressing their foreheads together. "It’s yours and yours alone— the desire to corrupt a young and innocent bride." His fingers curled inside her, causing her to moan louder. Hers, on the other hand, clutched his length through the clerical robes.

"You know how to make lies so terribly believable, with your bold lips, Sakura," Sasuke taunted her, his fingers now dripping with her fluids, as he continued to fuck her with them relentlessly. "Yet another sin of which they are the victims." The dark-haired sealed the reality of those words with a kiss, wolfish and wet, greedy and craving, invading her with all his vigor, whether it was in her mouth or in her cunt.

"Not the only one they're capable of," Sakura murmured against his lips, biting her own in a vain attempt to quell the sharp displays of pleasure. As if to come to her rescue, Sasuke paused, depriving her of a bliss so close to climax that it mingled with frustration.

"Show me then." He stepped back and stood there, motionless and waiting, under the heated and impatient gaze of the young bride. Sakura watched him minutely, seemingly so obedient to his duty, to his promise to God. Impeccable in his cassock, with the white collar towering over his neck, and there was no greater satisfaction than anticipating the undressing, the moment when the priest so composed and algid, with seemingly invulnerable faith, became disheveled and tousled, panting and sweating only for her, further than ever from the absolution he preached and granted.

Sakura fell to her knees shortly thereafter, her palms running upward along his legs, searching for and finding the buttons of his black cassock, which opened under the dark-haired's attentive and lustful gaze, trembling with anticipation.

She palmed his erection through his dark pants as her other hand crept into his tunic, feeling the rough skin, the well-defined abdomen, a secret which should have remained so, a nudity which should never have been discovered.

Sasuke groaned, his hard cock now exposed and clenched between the young pink-haired's fingers. She began to stroke him, as her lips testified to their perdition by closing gently on his nut, sucking with exhausting delicacy.

There was not only honor and reputation at stake. It was not just the sin they were imbuing themselves. If her groom's family discovered them waiting for them there would be the gallows and the promise of the hell to which they were condemning themselves.

Nothing had been able to contain the burning passion, the need to have and love each other strenuously, to the point of corroding and dissolving, as long as they did not deprive them of the other, the kisses and caresses, the fusion of their bodies as one. A cruel gambit of Satan, so inescapable that not even God's light could have brightened them, so lost and complete when seized by that darkness, where each was the other's light.

With her lively tongue Sakura licked the dark-haired's cock upward, lingering on the spot on the tip she knew brought wonder and perdition, if touched by her, if massaged by her fingers, if bathed by her tongue. She collected a few drops of his fluids with it, and the groan which followed acted as incitement, as her lips closed on his length, welcoming him into her mouth bearer of lies and pleasure.

Sasuke tilted his head back as the young bride bobbed her head and sucked him with her cheeks. An unholy melody filled the room, wet, choked sounds, groans barely controlled. She gagged on his cock, stubborn enough to take him in as far as she could, until the corners of her eyes were brimming with tears.

When no longer able to sustain the sight presented to him, the priest closed his eyes, going at the same time to move his hips to regain an almost entirely lost control. He fucked her mouth in a steady pace, spit and pre-cum sliding down her chin, soiling her white dress, witness of purity.

He was on the edge, Sakura could tell by the throbbing of his dick, by the way his fingers tightened around a few pink locks, undoing her elaborate wedding hairstyle. Hers clutched his cassock, the only foothold which kept his fervor from unbalancing her.

Sasuke pulled away a moment before the inevitable happened, depriving himself of a pleasure he longed to pour out elsewhere, yearning to have all of her before he granted her his seed. He grazed her lips with his thumb, gathering the wetness with which they glistened, before slipping it between her lips to allow her to taste it. And she sucked him, savoring without ever taking her gaze from his, the jade irises caught in his flushed face, his eyes alight with mad desire.

She got to her feet, being immediately pushed toward the bed destined for her wedding night, falling with her back on it, still adorned in her wedding dress. The dark-haired towered over her, his knees pressed against the edge of the mattress, his hard cock waiting to spring into action.

Sakura wrapped her legs around his hips and, without waiting any longer, the dark-haired slipped to the side her panties, burying himself inside her, deep and firm, gaining a sharp moan from her, more harmonious than the clerical choirs.

"Why would I desire Heaven—" he murmured, pulling out and then slamming himself again into her cunt, throbbing and wet, eager for pleasure. "If it is between your legs?" The young bride arched her back, then abandoned herself messily and exhausted on the bed, clinging desperately to the pure, white sheets.

His erection rammed inside her, embraced by her folds dripping with arousal, which clenched and trapped him, seeking ever greater bliss. The young bride began to meet his thrusts with her hips, supported by his hands, firm on her ass. Sasuke was guiding her toward pleasure, an accomplice and advocate of a capital and addictive sin, one she would rather die than ever deprive herself of.

"You're wrong—" muttered Sakura, and the dark-haired leaned toward her, abandoning her back on the mattress, steading himself on his right palm while his left did not leave her bare thigh. "It burns like hellfire."

The dark-haired smirked, kissing her again and again, firm in the rhythm of his hips, fucking her further, deeper. Sakura was now lost and disheveled, her pink hair spreading over her head like a halo, mingling with the rumpled sheets, the tulle of her wedding gown.

She undid the last buttons of his cassock, the white collar falling abandoned on one side of the bed, his now exposed chest pressed against hers.

"Let me soothe it then," whispered Sasuke, in a murmur which mingled with groans. He turned her with his arms, swift and determined, so that Sakura could find herself facing the mirror again. A different person than the young bride of moments before, composed and pious, innocent and pure. "You can watch us burn." He pierced her with his cock again and again, impatiently pacing, colliding against her ass and reveling in the unholy, desecrating sounds of their bodies coming together, the cries of pleasure, so sharp that even if Heaven wasn't watching it would have heard them.

With one hand the pink-haired kept her dress raised, while the other snaked his neck, her fingers gripping his disheveled raven locks.

He fucked her from behind, under the watchful gaze of both of them, greedy eyes following the sensual and sinful movements, a union profane and wrong, perverted and depraved, but in which the two of them were at peace, clean, filled with wholeness and belonging. Only together and fused were they alive and breathing. Only sin made the world real and worth living in. Hell was a meager atonement in comparison.

Sasuke branded her skin with his teeth, recklessly and madly, then running his tongue along the reddened spot on her neck. His left hand slid between her legs, stopping there where the flames burned with greater intensity, ready to fulfill his promise and ease her burning, granting her peaks of pleasure.

"Sasuke-kun—" implored Sakura, moving messily against his body, impaling herself on his hard, throbbing cock, accentuating the friction of her own cunt, of the sensitive nub, against his hand.

"Only God knows how much I crave you, Sakura—" Even Sasuke was now at the brink, cupping her cheeks with his free hand. "Because he himself doomed me to love you so much."

The knot in her lower belly loosened, tongues of fire grasped her, expanding toward every ounce of her body, like a heathen burned at the stake.

"Cum inside, Sasuke-kun— please," she begged him between ravings of madness and pleasure. "I am married now. I can bear your child." He needed no further incentive. The priest reached his climax by slamming into her one last time, releasing hot spurts of his seed into her cunt, which mingled with her fluids in a meaningful mixture, juices of a forbidden love just consumed.

They remained that way for several moments, entwined and heated, with frantic breaths and sweaty skin. Completely exhausted, far from the composure they masked themselves with, themselves only because they were together and free. Sasuke kissed her, without wolfish urgency, intense but slow, savoring each moment with lazy avarice.

"I love you," she told him, pressing her lips against his neck, up to his jaw. "God be damned."

"No, Sakura," the dark-haired corrected her, sitting back on his heels and dragging her with him, clutching her to his chest as if she were his most precious possession. "God be praised. Without him I would not have found you." Exhausted by the newly ravaged intercourse, Sakura managed to barely curve the corners of her lips into a smile. "My purest and most innocent sinner."

Part 2 here

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[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

Below are some of my favorite love-related quotes, most of which make me think of Le Gris now.

I feel like writing some blurbs/concepts for him, so you can send me a quote (and any other idea you have along with it) and we can indulge in our mutual Le Gris appetites <3

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“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell

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“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Pride And Prejudice by Jane Austen

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“He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

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“I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”

Possession by A.S. Byatt

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”We are asleep until we fall in love!”

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

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“He sweeps her hair back from her ears; he swings her above his head. He says she is his émerveillement. He says he will never leave her, not in a million years.”

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

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“We’ve loved each other so long I’ve never been a man and not loved her.”

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry

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“She is a mortal danger to all men. She is beautiful without knowing it, and possesses charms that she’s not even aware of. She is like a trap set by nature - a sweet perfumed rose in whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush! Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as my Lady when she strides through Paris!”

Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand

*

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”

Prometheus Unbound by Percy Bysshe Shelley

*

“She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don’t know what she was - anything that no one ever saw, and everything that everybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or looking back; I was gone, headlong, before I had sense to say a word to her.”

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens

* 

“I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century, to repeat to you once again my vow of eternal fidelity and everlasting love.”

Love In The Time Of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez

*

“I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees but to be quite upfront and completely truthful you make my body forget it has knees at all.” 

Love Language, Chasers of the Light by Tyler Knott Gregson 

* 

“The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.”

The God Of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

* 

"Each time you happen to me all over again." 

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton  

*

“You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell; what I mean is, that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me. But if you would return a favorable answer to my offer of myself in marriage, you could draw me to any good – every good – with equal force.”

Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens

*

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.”

Persuasion by Jane Austen

[aquarii-writes]

History on repeat(Dream x f!reader)

Ngl this was inspired by a dnf piece on tik tok. While I don't ship it the art was beautiful and the song attached inspired me to write this. This also includes my headcanons for Dream/his parents and I'll elaborate on it in a different post if enough people ask lmao

Notes: I should mention to look at my 'DSMP headcanons' especially Dream's part because that's where I kinda explain that I don't believe that Dream himself is a dreamon but that his mask contains one. I also used Dream's real name as his fathers name. I don't really like using the dsmp members real names if it's not in their user but I had to think of a name

WARNINGS: none I can think of aside from death and stuff of similar manners

WC:1,005

Genre: Angstyy

Two people sat together along the shoreline of a river. The colors of the sunset danced on the water. Turning the already beautiful area ethereal. Warm summer air tickled the woman; her blonde hair jumped with the wind.

"You're so beautiful [REDACTED]" the man spoke. His amber eyes held a love for the woman beside him; his lovely wife. Her green cloak acted as a pillow for her.

"You're too kind my darling" a smile played on the woman's lips. Her mask discarded beside her. The painted smile similar to the one she held.

"I love you with all my heart" a smile danced on the mans face. His lovely wife sat up and hugged him. Falling back into the grass the happy couple basked in one another. Masks long forgotten beside them. "Stay with me forever [REDACTED]?"

"Of course my darling dream" the twos faces were close as the wife spoke. It felt as though time sat there frozen to preserve the lasting moment.

Smiling towards you Dream held out his arms to get you to come towards him. As you got near Dream pulled you on top of him. His arms circling around your waist.

~~~

"Dream~" your voice was loving. Dreams mask was off as he watched you jump in the stream water. The sun was setting over the horizon and the light gave an other worldly glow to you and the water.

Playing with the locks of hair that fell into your grasp, Dream watched you. A deep seeded longing in his eyes. Out here away from everything was when Dream was the most caring. His affections unrestricted when he wasn't in the eyes of his friends. When he could easily sneak away.

Though the future had many plans for the two of you, but here in this moment the future could wait.

"I would do anything for you (y/n)" Dream's amber eyes looked like the sun. Specks of gold shined like they were directly in the sun. Nodding to his statement you kissed the man before you. An adoring hum escaped him.

Pulling away you mumbled out a response. "I love you with all my heart~"

"Will you stay with me forever?" with a teasing smile Dream rubbed your sides: tickling you along the way.

"Of course my darling Dream" an unknown feeling of deja vu came over the two. Seems as though something similar happened in the past.

~~~

"My dream!!' [REDACTED] screamed for her husband. "Don't take him away! Please!," the woman covered her small sons ears. The child didn't know what was happening. huddling into his mother arms the woman kept screaming for her husband.

Huddled under her cloak the small boy held a hand over his mother stomach and whispered to it. The boys father struggled against the men who held him away from his family. "CLAY! LET HIM GO! He didn't mean it.." [REDACTED] dropped to the ground crying. Her son hugging his mother. "Oh my baby Dream"

Dream's mother held onto him for dear life. Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his father get taken to the gallows. As a final goodbye his father threw towards them.

Crawling away from his mother, Dream grabbed the mask; his fathers mask. The plastic was cracked in a few placed, and some of the paint was chipped, but it was probably the last thing he would ever have of his fathers.

"Please just let my husband go" [REDACTED]'s mask was similarly painted though the tears the spilt from under it spoke another story. "It was the Dreamons who did it.. not my Clay.. not my lovely dreamer.." her whimpers drew her son back over to her.

"Mommy what's happening to daddy?" Dream wouldn't get an answer from her. Just wails and whimpers about how cruel the world was.

~~~

"Dream what did you do..," Tommy and Tubbo huddled behind you. A fearful look settled in your eyes. Dream's mask was just that, a mask. Behind it he held no remorse for what he had done and what he said.

He did plan on killing Tubbo, but the look in your eyes made his thoughts stutter. Should he not kill Tubbo? When Dream said he doesn't care about anyone it planted a seed in your heart. Did he really not love you anymore?

Dream didn't answer you. All he did was stare at you through the mask. "Take off your damn mask and answer me Dream" when your voice jumped at him all Dream could do was stare. He didn't talk and he didn't react. "Why aren't you answering me?! Dream WHY did you do it?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Like hell you didn't mean to!" your tone was sharp. It made the boys behind you move back as you came forward to hold Dream's face. This felt too familiar. Why does it feel so familiar?

Knitted brows went unnoticed behind the mask. His annoyed expression hidden to the world; to you. His everything. Before he lost it he wanted to marry you. He even joked about you being his wife. His darling wife.

"Do you not care about me anymore? After everything that's happened between us?" a certain sadness pushed your pain to him. It was the same sorrow his mother screamed from the top of her lungs. That's why it felt so familiar.

A desolate look decorated your (e/c) eyes. The same eyes he would've fought wars so see happy. The very eyes he believed he would love forever.

"It's not my fault- sweetheart it's not my fault" his words became more rushed as Sam pulled Dream away. Dragging him to Pandora's Vault. All the way to his box.

The misery and heartache Dream saw on your face reminded him of his mother. The heartbreak he never wanted to see again.

~~~

{REDACTED] held a baby in her arms as she watched her son play on the hill with her friends son. The baby girl in her arms slept peacefully as she spoke to her friend beside her.

Puffy had been a good friend of [REDACTED] for a long time now. "Puffy you have to promise me something"

"Anything [REDACTED]" Puffy watched the baby in her friends arms. The poor thing had been born months after her fathers hanging. The family had to go into hiding.

"Please after tonight take my babies with you.... I don't think I can carry on much longer with out my Clay.." despair was the only way Puffy could describe her once vibrant friend.

The woman's once vibrant green eyes now only held melancholy. The satchel that sat beside her only contained a few things; one thing being Clay's mask.

"Dream my beloved!" [REDACTED] called out for her boy. The mask that once adorned her face constantly had been vacant since her husband died.

Running up to his momma Dream reached out to hold his baby sister. Passing baby Drista [REDACTED] kissed her sons head before pulling something from her satchel.

"Dream listen to me. The world is a cruel and it will hurt you-" holding out Clay's mask to her son said everything to the small boy. Giving baby Drista to Puffy, Dream took his fathers mask away from his mother. "Wear this.. it was your fathers..," a sadistic smile rested on his mothers face.

It scared him, but it was the first smile he saw from her since his father died.

"Okay mommy" Dream slipped on the mask his father once wore and winced. It felt like strings were licking his face. It felt wrong. This wasn't his mask to be keeping was it?

~~~

The prison vault was deafening. Nothing was a really annoying sound when all that surrounded you was lava and crying obsidian. Though he had one thing to look forward to.

You promised to see him today. His lovely wife. Well you weren't married. He fucked up that chance when he lost himself to the mask. The dreamons that whispered to him constantly.

Ever since he came in here the whispers stopped. Except for when they speak about you.

The pistoning sound of the bridge coming brought Dream from his head. A sadistic smile grew on him. Throwing off the mask the threads retreated back into the plastic.

"(y/n) my beloved!" a crazed look adorned Dream's face as he looked at you. His beloved wife. "I love you so much~"

"Dream.." with a heavy heart you held Dream's face. His eyes held a look of longing love.

"Dream love.. listen to me. The world is cruel.. and it's going to hurt," your voice cracked as you held Dream's hands. Worry filled him as Dream dragged you towards him.

Pushing back Dream dug around in the chest of his room. A ring sat gently between his fingers.

"Wear this... it'll protect you.." a hopeful look held on to Dream's face. All his love and adoration for you.

"I'm sorry Dream.. I love you so much but maybe it's better if we split ways.... I.. why do I trust you so much? Your hands are scarred with murder, but I trust them completely.." crumpling to the ground you sobbed. Conflictions and pain battering against you for weeks.

Dream held you. He had seen this all before. History was repeating. He witnessed this happen between his parents. The very thing he never wanted to happen to him did. He's losing the love of his life.

Why does history have to repeat?

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: IX

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

MASTERLIST

The journey to the palace should have only taken three days max. And the Geralt should have been free to go about his business. However, the prince had other ideas up his sleeve.

Upon awaking the morning after the incident, he proclaimed with great elation that Y/N would no longer be allowed to ride on a horse.

“If she’s going to act like a dog, she shall be treated like one,” he had proclaimed with great enthusiasm, as if it had taken him all night to think of it.

It probably had.

So, instead of moving at the reasonable pace of horses, they were subjected to the pace of a stubborn, disgruntled girl who wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum.

A thick iron collar was padlocked to her neck, and her wrists were shackled together. They had considered her ankles as well, but Geralt had claimed it would take them too long if she couldn’t take large strides (not that she was taking them anyway). The collar and the shackles were connected to one another by a long iron chain that led to the prince’s horse, and to keep her compliant, a crossbow was trained on her at all times.

Geralt was forced to ride directly behind her, a silent reminder as to what they could subject him to if he put a hair out of line. He was forced to watch as she dragged her feet, slowing down until the prince gave the chain a tug, sending her to the ground. For a moment, she was being dragged across the floor, shoulder digging into the soft soil. Then she would struggle to stand, a difficult task when your hands were bound, and the horse never stopped moving. Eventually, she would get it, and for a while she would keep up an appropriate pace, but the indignation always returned and the cycled repeated.

When they camped, she was kept away from the fire’s warmth and given only scraps, a desperate attempt to break her spirit. Every night she was led into the prince’s tent, an offer, a bribe that if she were to take, small ounces of luxury would be granted to her. Every night she was tossed back into the cold.

It was those moments when Geralt didn’t mind the pace, because if they were moving slowly it meant that she hadn’t become another piece of land conquered by royalty.

When they did finally reach the palace, it had been a week and a half, and Y/N had been silent for three days (to the great annoyance of the prince who had screamed for an answer). While they had not harmed her, just as his threat had made them promise, she had still been abused. Her cheeks were shallower than they had been when they began. Hair matted; face covered in dirt, arms covered in cuts and bruises from hitting the ground. They burst through the door, the prince dragging her prize behind him as he entered the throne room.

All eyes turned to them, some interested, some full of hatred, all recognizing the woman who was being led forward like a wild animal. The prince pulled her forward, slamming the blunt edge of his sword into the bend of her knees, laughing as she dropped to the floor. He was going to soak in every moment, now that Geralt could no longer threaten him.

“I have returned,” the prince announced, arms outspread as he basked in the gasps of awe and wonder. The uncatchable beast had been caught, brought to her knees before their wealthy feet. The prince turned around to look at his prize, sprawled across the ground, but there was no such luck. She stared ahead, situated on her knees all while retaining a sense of entitlement. He had never seen someone look so regal while being mocked. “Bow before your king,” he growled, but she didn’t move. The only hint that she had heard him was a small moment where her lip twitched into a smirk. Struggling to maintain his composure, he motioned for a guard to step forward. A sharp sole slammed into her back and her forehead hit the marble forehead. When she sat up, emotion unchanged, a trickle of blood was running between her eyes. “I said, bow,” the prince howled, marching forward to do the job himself, but a booming voice stopped him.

“She is not my subject, therefor there is no need to bow,” the king said, standing from his throne, wrinkled finger pointing at his son. The prince looked ready to argue, to tantrum in front of the entire court, but for the first time since Geralt had met the pathetic boy, he held his tongue. “Do you seek trial?” he asked her, but she remained silent. Geralt willed her to speak, but she said nothing, only stared forward, daring them to execute her now.

“She does,” Geralt called, unable to bear the silence any longer. All eyes turned to him, including an extremely interested king’s. “She would like a trial.” Eyes returned to her and there was a small nod. Instantly, whispers filled the room like a tidal wave. “She will speak in front of the king, but the king only.” Another wave of uproar.”

“And I suppose you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then it is settled. Everyone out.” Protests erupted, but they were followed by quick footsteps exiting the room. Within moments all the remained were the king, Geralt, and Y/N. “You may unchain yourself,” the king murmured, almost with amusement, as he settled himself back into his throne.

Within an instant the cuffs fell to the ground and she stood, eyes dark as she studied the man across the room. Her fists were clenched to her side, but she did not advance as Geralt presumed she wanted to.

“Pull out a chair, sit, we have much to discuss.” Geralt was surprised to see she listened, dragging an ornate chair to the center of the room. “You may sit closer.”

“It is for both our safety that I do not,” she responded, voice harsh and rough from the lack of care.

“Both our safety?”

“If I sit any closer, I will want to harm you, and then your guards will be forced to kill me. Do not consider me rude, just realistic.” The king laughed and nodded in agreement, fingers drumming across the arm of his chair. The two stared at each other across the large expanse of the throne room before the king pulled a scroll from a beaded purse that sat beside him.

“Do you know what this is?”

“My crimes against humanity, I assume.”

“That is correct. Now, I will not insult you by assuming you are not capable of these acts, so you shall not insult me by lying about them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Let’s begin then. I shall read your crime and you will defend them to the best of your ability. The swindling of towns people across the continent, namely within my own kingdom.”

“It was not a swindle; they were simply overconfident.”

“They knew you were a Witcher than?”

“Absolutely.”

“The murder of five Witchers who attempted to capture you under the order of the crown.”

“They had no intention of capturing, only killing. I was merely defending my right to trial.”

“Six counts of horse thievery, including from my own stables.”

“It was my horse, wrongfully stolen from me in an attempt to disable me.”

“The massacre of one hundred men and women.”

“They were taking part in slave trading; I was merely protecting the freedom of the people.”

“Slave trading!”

“Yes, slave trading. I was being held as well, and I have marks to prove it. Torture, branding, had I not killed them both my liberty and the liberty of a few dozen others would have been taken.” The king paused as he pondered her statement before continuing.

“Evading arrest.” She only smirked at him, a smirk that he returned. “The murder of your mother and father.” Geralt could barely hear what was said after the accusation. She had murdered her own blood, that was a crime he was not acquainted with. He strained over the blood rushing through his ears to hear her defense, but it did nothing to console him.

“They sold me out.”

“That is not a defense.”

“It was not meant to be.”

“You cannot take the law into your own hands.”

“You do.”

“I create the law.”

“So do I.” He stared at her before he began to chuckle, the deep sound quickly turning into a rolling laugh that echoed around the room. She didn’t flinch a muscle, merely watched him as he laughed away her statement. When he had finished, noticing that she was not smiling along he quickly righted himself.

“You are full of insolence.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to return to the outside world, but I can offer you a deal.” She raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture for him to continue. “We will either execute you, or you will work for me, and uphold my law.” Geralt’s heart sunk again, an offer she would never take. As she had said repeatedly, no one controlled her, and if that meant death over chains, she would take it.

“Then ready the gallows,” she replied coolly, confirming Geralt’s suspicions.

“You are making a mistake.”

“No, the only mistake made here today was the offer you just made me, as it was both a waste of words and air. Send me your dungeons and tie the noose quick because the only day that I will reside beneath you is the day you walk over my grave.” Geralt wanted to scream, to snarl and spit in her face until she accepted the man’s offer but he remained still, silently seething.

The king laughed once more, but it was not full of humor, it was full of hatred. He had not expected to be refused, and yet she had thrown it back in his face without an ounce of regret.

“Guards,” he called and two entered the room, swords already drawn, expecting the worst. “Escort our prisoner to the dungeons, and the inform the executioner there will be an execution tomorrow at sunrise. Call all to see for this will be their greatest victory.” They dragged her from the room, and even without the chains she did not struggle, merely smiled as they dragged her away, already readying herself for the final moments of her reign.

 Taglist: @stuckupstucky​ @aurora-sweet​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​

[greencloakedfae]

:0 current favs?

he waits, by the riverside - oli julian, nick foster, kate stables

stand and deliver - adam & the ants

from the gallows - IDKHOW

little soldiers - the crane wives

thus always to tyrants - the oh hellos

special mention: have been listening to the renegade nell soundtrack on repeat while I study

tags, no pressure (my little list of mutuals that haven't already been tagged): @greencheekconure27 @broodytinygaycarmilla @butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway

I was asked this and told to pass it along <3: put 5 songs you listen to, post it, then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers :]

First off- I’m one of your favorite followers? 🥹

Songs that are my favs currently are, in no particular order…

Good People- Mumford & Sons ft. Pharrell

Just My Type- Jeremy Renner

Man’s World- Marina

Too Sweet- Hozier

Sun to Me-Zach Bryan

Thank youuuu

@mylifeiscomics @deardiary17 @chaoticrosesimp @joelslastofus @five-potatoes-high @nb-n0v4 @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @cowgirljol @hotspace39 @doctordiscosbignaturals @tatennant