#gentlemen. i must protest.

[heymacy]

You look like a fuckin' wet rat. Stop.

[golbrocklovely]

the rakish gentlemen // sam and colby

A/N: just a general statement across the board: i'm not going for historical accuracy here. i did a very small amount of research for this, most of which was based on the language and some of the societal norms but even then, it wasn't a thorough search. so if things are incorrect or not quite right… that's why. also this is heavily inspired by my new found love for bridgerton, so anything in the story that reminds you of that (show or book wise) - that's also why lol anyone that writes regency romances or stories, props to you bc the formal English alone made me want to off myself. just kidding… but not really. anyway, i hope you enjoy this one. it was fun to write once i got the hang out it. lmk what you think and i'll see you guys with another fic (hopefully) soon :)

prompt: being out in society was enough of a challenge, but overhearing two very sought after lords' snide remarks about you made you want to give up altogether. that is until you hatch a plan - make them beg for your hand in marriage, and then leave them high and dry. it should be simple enough. || AU!regency era sam and colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: formal english (lol), historical inaccuracy, lots of 'samuel' and 'cole' so if you don't like that don't read lol, snc are kind of dicks but they turn it around by the end somewhat, just a whisper of smut but not really, cliff hanger ending??, heavy on gender norms of the time period so be weary of that if that's something you don't like, bit of angst, everyone is of age/in their 20s

word count: 6347

~~~~~~~~

The weather in London during the middle of spring was the absolute best time of year, according to most in the Ton. To Miss Y/N Y/L/N, it was the most splendid of weather to promenade with one's closest confidant, and for her that was Miss Amelia Ruteledge. The two had been inseparable since childhood, living across the street from one another. And coming out in society together only strengthened their bond over the last two seasons.

"How eager are you for Lady Gillingham's masquerade ball this evening?" Amelia asked, coyly stealing a glance at Y/N.

"I can hardly wait. I am positively elated." Y/N replied dryly, her faux smile wide.

"Y/N, must you indulge in sarcasm?" She questioned.

"Yes, Amelia. I must," a quiet laugh fell from her lips. "It is hard for me to be excited for yet another ball, one where I will again be doomed to the corner of the room, watching as others dance."

"I had presumed you enjoyed observing." Amelia teased.

"It is not as fun anymore, ever since your courtship with Viscount Throne began." Y/N sighed, wiping away pretend tears from her cheeks, "Alas, my spinsterhood is in full bloom."

She shook her head, patting Y/N's arm sweetly, "Don't be ridiculous. You are nowhere near being a spinster."

"I'm two years out in society with little to show for it. One might believe I had contracted the plague, given how much the gentlemen of the Ton disregard me." Y/N rolled her eyes, her voice bitter.

"You mustn't say that. You are an absolute catch, by all accounts." Amelia argued, looking into Y/N's eyes.

She huffed. "Thank you. But your opinion apparently is the only one that is favorable towards me."

"That is simply not true," she protested back. "I believe many gentlemen in the Ton would admire you once they were acquainted. But I would not be surprised if your charm and wit intimidate them, thereby causing their reluctance."

A cheeky smile appeared on Y/N's face. "I couldn't have said that better myself." The ladies giggled, continuing down the walkway towards a small pond. Y/N glanced upwards, noting the eligible men coming their way. Grabbing Amelia's arm, she yanked her behind a tree close by, pressing her back tightly against the oak.

Amelia furrowed her brow, "What ails you?"

Y/N hushed her, looking over Amelia’s shoulder. "I don't wish to speak to anyone else presently. Particularly suitors."

"So you think hiding behind a tree is wise?" She blinked.

Y/N wanted to glare, but held back. "Guess I'm not as witty as you thought."

Amelia peaked behind the tree, their maids coming closer to them. She gestured for them to stop, not wanting the men Y/N was so flustered by to notice. The maids turned towards each other, giving a knowing look, and faced the pond instead.

"Did they leave yet?" Y/N whispered.

Amelia hummed. "No. They are still coming our way."

"Damn." She cursed, scrunching her face.

"Speak louder. I am sure your coarse tongue will make them leave hastily." She gaped.

Y/N held back more careless words, doing her best to remain calm. "I am certain that any gentleman has heard far worse words than a solitary curse from a lady's lips."

Amelia peaked again, her eyes widening. "Oh, you are correct about that. Did you see who was coming?"

"No. I just knew it was three gentlemen." Y/N dissented.

"It's Mr. Beaumont... with Lord Golbach and Lord Brock." Amelia choked out.

"Ah, even worse than I imagined." Y/N gulped.

Lord Samuel Golbach and Lord Cole Brock were some of the most sought after men in all of the Ton. Eager mamas and anxious daughters alike pined to be seen affectionately by the two Lords. They were not only rich, but handsome - a deadly combination. And with years of friendship under their belt, they were basically family to one another. Everyone out in society knew - to get in good graces with one, you had to be liked by the other.

But even with everyone wanting their attention, they were seldom to give it out. The rakish behavior displayed by the two was known throughout, which confused Y/N deeply. Why play cat and mouse if one knows it's not trying to be caught? Why pretend to be an eligible bachelor if there were no plans to seek a wife at all?

Y/N knew to stay away. She had no interest in them, moreover.

"Mr. Beaumont, I do believe you are one of the funniest men in all of London." Cole chuckled, clasping the man on the shoulder.

Edward bowed, "Such high praise coming from you, Lord Brock. You two are going to tonight's ball, yes?"

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world." Samuel grinned, glancing at Cole knowingly.

"I must ask, are there any ladies that have caught your eye this season?" Edward continued.

Samuel shook his head, "Unsurprisingly, no. Cole and I have very high standards. So high, in fact, it has been impossible to find anyone worthy of matching with." 

"How incredibly rude." Amelia murmured.

"I am confident there are several ladies in the Ton that would be worthy of becoming your wives. What about Miss Mullens?" Edward mentioned.

"Terrible dancer." Cole quipped.

He questioned, "How about Miss Walford?" 

Samuel frowned. "Her character is sorely lacking." 

"Miss Ramsbury?" He puzzled.

"Beautiful indeed, most obnoxious laugh I've ever heard however." Cole jeered.

"Miss Y/L/N! What about her? She seems well." Edward exclaimed.

A silence filled the air, Y/N only hearing the sound of her pounding heart within her breast. While she may not have harbored interest in either Lord, the notion of their thoughts about her caused her skin to tingle thrillingly. She had never heard a man speak of her in any way, romantic or otherwise. She was eager to know.

Both men snickered, an almost childish laugh cutting through. Samuel cleared his throat, "You must be joking, Beaumont. That lady, would be the last on our list to ever be courted by us. Remember, we have high standards."

"Not even worthy of considering, if I'm honest." Cole sniveled.

“I suppose those are the lower ranking ladies of the Ton.” Mr. Beaumont chortled.

Amelia moved to jump out from behind the tree, ready to give all three gentlemen a piece of her mind. Y/N grabbed her arm, yanking her close. She motioned for her to remain silent, listening once more to the Lords and Mr. Beaumont.

"It is getting late, good sirs. I must be arriving back home soon for late afternoon tea with the missus. Good day, Lord Golbach. Lord Brock. Best of luck on your endeavors." He bowed, the Lords following suit.

Y/N finally turned to all three gentlemen, still covered by the oak tree. She watched as the Lords went off in the opposite direction as Mr. Beaumont. She waited until they were far enough away, taking her first breath in for what felt like years.

"I cannot believe those men!" Amelia screeched lowly.

Y/N slid down the tree, resting her head back, exhausted. "It's incredible, really. Dare I say... humbling?"

"Calling them rakes is the nicest thing I can think of. They are-" She started.

Cutting her off, Y/N placed a hand up. "Save your words, Amelia. Heaven knows I'm thinking far worse than you."

She stared at the ground for a moment, replaying their words over and over in her head. It hurt to hear how cold they were towards her, someone they had never even had a single conversation with.

"Lord Golbach and Lord Brock don't know you, Y/N. And by the way they speak of strangers, they don't deserve to know you either. No wonder no one has won their affections. They have far too much for themselves." Amelia retorted. She fanned herself, feeling her skin growing hot with anger.

Y/N mumbled. "High standards, remember?"

"I have heard of the numerous rejections they’ve given to the ladies of the Ton. It's astonishing how sought after they remain." Amelia declared, utterly appalled.

Rejected. The word echoed in Y/N's head. No one knew that feeling quite like her, especially not the Lords. Who could ever reject them...

Abruptly, Y/N jumped to her feet with an incredulous smirk; an idea rushing to the forefront of her mind.

"Pray tell, what is that look for?" Amelia queried.

"I believe the Lords just need a dose of their own medicine." She sang snidely. 

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"What lady in all of the Ton has ever rejected them? Every girl and mama swoons at their feet; that's why they feel they can judge and dismiss anyone they want, regardless of how perfect a match the lady might be," Y/N stated. "So... what if that is turned on them?"

"How?" Amelia leaned back against the tree, studying her friend.

"Tonight's ball. It is a masquerade. Those two have never spoken to me, not once in all of the two years I've been out. Yet somehow, they've already declared I'm not worthy to be their wife just from mere appearances alone. Well, what if they aren't worthy enough to be my husband?" Y/N's eyes were wild, a mischievous glint sparkling within.

She gasped, "You're going to reject them?"

"I shall make them plead for my hand in marriage, only to desert them after all." She boasted.

"Do you think you can do that?" Amelia cocked her head to the side.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I plan to beat them at their own game. I am sure they won’t know what to do with themselves when a woman is actually disinterested in them. Plus, anything else my charm and wit can make up for… hopefully."

"Are you sure your skills are up to the challenge? This could possibly ruin you if done incorrectly. A man won't take his pride being scorned." Amelia worried, holding Y/N's hand briefly. 

She gave Amelia's hand a gentle squeeze, "I have been watching for two seasons what works and what doesn't. I've always been too frightened to be myself, to be vulnerable. But I have nothing to lose tonight. I am not interested in them, and they do not even see me as a potential match. I have to do this, for my pride alone." 

Y/N strutted away, nodding to her maid to follow her. She stopped for a moment, turning back to Amelia. "After tonight, no more Miss Wallflower." 

~~~~

Luckily for Y/N, being friendly with the modiste had its perks. For one, she was able to have some alterations done to her gown long before the ball. She was used to wearing more muted colors; colors that faded her into the background of any dance. But now, staring in the looking glass at herself, her rose colored gown almost sparkled in the candlelight.

She knew this would be one of the more flashier gowns, even for a masquerade. Lady Gillingham's balls were always known as being a bit uptight; the masquerade was the only one where going against her rules was allowed. But most in the Ton dared to not break them even so.

Y/N felt a rush of nerves hit her. Would this be enough to cause the Lords to notice her? She hoped. If not, her whole plan would be foiled.

The carriage ride to the Gillingham estate felt like an eternity. Y/N fanned herself repeatedly; the cool night air doing nothing for her warm skin.

Amelia and Y/N wrote to one another to meet at the Gillingham lineage painting that adorned the entrance. Both ladies concurred that the face of Viscount Gillingham in the painting always looked like he was cocked eyed; something they both had jested about their first time out in society. They knew that was their spot to meet if they needed to step away from it all. But tonight, because of their masks, they wanted to be able to find a familiar face in the crowd if anything was to go awry.

Y/N pulled her cloak tightly to her bodice, making sure her dress was covered. She gazed around the foyer of the estate, the grand ceilings always making her feel so small. She could hear the ball had commenced, a fanciful melody being played by the orchestra echoed down the halls. She waited under the painting, glancing at all of the attendees coming through the doors. Which one would be Amelia and her Viscount?

Rounding the stairs, a golden dress shone in the corner of Y/N's vision. She turned, making note of the matching locks of hair.

Along with their meeting spot, Y/N and Amelia devised a query only they knew. Y/N studied the woman, finally speaking. "Excuse me, have you ever read Emma? It is one of my favorite novels."

"There is nothing like staying home, for real comfort." Amelia quoted, relief hitting her at the sound of her friend's voice.

Y/N sighed, "Oh thank Heavens it's you Amelia. I thought you might already be in the ballroom."

Amelia shook her head, "I informed you I would wait until your arrival to enter the ball."

Y/N gazed over Amelia's shoulder, looking for someone. "Where is your Viscount?"

She smiled, "He had affairs to tend to, and said he wouldn't be able to make it tonight. So I'm all yours."

"You don't have to stay with me all night. Just until my plan works on the Lords." The girls locked their arms with one another, slowly walking towards the ballroom.

"They've already arrived. I saw them come in moments before you." Amelia whispered low.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, "Well, let's make our grand entrance then."

As the ladies walked into the ballroom, Y/N noted that they were the last two to enter. She held her breath, staring over the railing of the beautiful marble stairs. She could feel all eyes turn to her and Amelia. Amelia trotted down the stairs, her gloved fingers holding the banister gently. Y/N waited until she was at the bottom, and began her descent. 

Now was the time to woo over the men of the Ton, she thought. She untied her cloak, letting it fall off her shoulders; leaving it on the stairs. Light gasps fell from around the room. She knew her alterations would cause a stir, but gasps? She was taken aback by such sounds.

Not only did she go gloveless to this event, but her slightly lowered neckline showed off her most precious of jewels in more ways than one. The modiste spoke of how most of the Ton was not breaking Gillingham's rules, disregarding the whole point of a masquerade. Y/N knew this was her time to shine. To become a rule breaker.

Lord Golbach and Lord Brock were rule breakers themselves. And even more so, heartbreakers. They were aware of this too. Samuel and Cole gave each other a quick glance, noting the breathtaking beauty dressed in rose coming down the stairs.

Eligible gentlemen from around the room scurried over to Amelia and Y/N, doing their best to introduce themselves quickly. Cole smoothed out his suit jacket, parted his way through the crowd and reached Y/N in no time.

Y/N was taken aback by all the men surrounding her, never having this much attention before. As she glanced up, her eyes immediately made contact with a pair of striking blue ones. The pleasing smile, the chestnut hair, the almost devilish gaze.... she knew it could only be one man.

"Miss Rose, lovely to make your acquaintance." Cole bowed, speaking over all of the men pining for her.

She scrunched her face, confused. "Do you believe that to be my name?"

He blinked, "No. I'm simply calling you that because of your gown."

"Oh..." Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly, returning to a more disinterested persona. "How clever."

"May I accompany you to the floor?" He asked, his voice as smooth as silk.

A man in the small crowd let out a scoff, "Good sir, I do believe I was-"

"I think I can speak for myself, your grace." She turned back to Cole, a playful smile on her lips, "I'm afraid you aren't the first to ask. But if you care to wait, I'll gladly dance with you second."

Lord Brock was surprised, but he chalked up this misunderstanding to her not knowing who he was. No one ever denied Cole a dance. Even those with cards completely filled out. He bowed graciously, moving out of the way so she could be guided onto the dancefloor by the other gentleman.

By his short stature, Cole could tell it was Viscount Davis. While he did have a lot of money, he was a tiresome presence to be around. And surely, Miss Rose would soon find that out herself.

And Y/N did, in record time. Being eye-level with a gentleman was not exactly something she was used to, but all it did was make her very aware of his eyes stealing glances at her bosom. The song ended rather quickly, the Heavens listening to her pleas. Before she could even curtsy at the gentleman, Cole was already next to her, waiting to join her in the next dance. She almost laughed at how eager he was; how easily her plan was playing out. They bowed to one another, and the music slowly began. His expert hands slid into hers, warm and welcoming. His close proximity made her aware suddenly just how handsome he really was. She could understand, for a moment, why so many ladies fawned over him. And her heart skipped a beat.

"Would you be alright with me breaking the rules this evening?" Cole chimed in suddenly.

Y/N cocked her head, "That depends on what you intend to break."

"I would like to tell you my name, and perhaps you will tell me yours?" He wagered. 

"Perhaps..." She trailed off, detached.

"I'm Lord Brock. And if you glance over your shoulder now, the man by the refreshments table is Lord Samuel Golbach." He motioned with his head behind her.

Y/N did peak, noting the eyes of Samuel following her and Cole around the room. "Hmm. Interesting."

"May you wish to tell me yours now?" Cole smiled.

"No, I do not." Y/N shook her head plainly.

"I am surprised. But maybe I shouldn't be," Cole spun her, pulling her back into him. "It appears that you resemble me in many respects."

"And what respects are those?" She questioned.

"If I may presume, you seem inclined to forge your own path. You do not heed merely because it was asked of you." He remarked honestly.

Y/N felt her heart skip again, damning her feelings internally as she kept up her charade. "And you have been able to deduce all of this from the mere twenty minutes I've been in this ballroom?"

Cole smirked confidently, "What can I say? I possess the ability to read others well, particularly charming young ladies."

She held back the urge to roll her eyes at his response. While she wanted to beat him at his own game, she didn't want to be rude. "And how well has that worked out for you, my Lord? Since apparently you and Samuel can't seem to find a match."

Hearing Sam's name fall from her lips was shocking, but that alone made him like her more. She was feisty, and he enjoyed that quality in a woman. "Having standards set high has caused some issues, yes. But maybe I will find the one tonight."

"Have you already encountered someone that has peaked your interest?" She inquired. 

"I would say so. It shouldn't come as a shock since you're the only one I've danced with tonight. And the only one I plan to." He brought his face closer to hers, flashing a charming smile.

"How delightful," Y/N mimicked his look. "I cannot say I feel the same, unfortunately."

His face dropped instantly, "I beg your pardon?"

Y/N wanted to relish in this moment for forever, but the music was slowly coming to an end. "Oh, my apologies, my Lord. I thought we were speaking candidly." 

"You... you don't enjoy my company?" Cole stammered. Stammered.

"Well, you are an accomplished dancer and pleasing to the eye and yet... I am unable to see you worthy as a potential suitor." She curtsied dramatically as their dance finished, her mischievous eyes sparkling from the flames of the candles. "My deepest gratitude, my Lord, for being my second dance. If you'll excuse me, I must go see my other suitors, however."

Y/N turned away, swaying her hips sensually as she walked over to Amelia. Her skin felt like it was on fire from where Cole had been touching her. Even though she hated admitting it, something about Cole was mesmerizing. Intoxicating, even. If she hadn't heard what he said this afternoon, she could see a world in which she would fall for him.

But she couldn't focus on that now. She couldn't believe she had actually done it. She successfully rejected one of the Lords.

Amelia gaped, staring at Y/N. "I'm in awe of you, truly. You are a goddess amongst men."

"I feel like I'm going to faint." Y/N grabbed Amelia's arm, keeping her back turned towards the dancefloor. 

"Really?" Amelia pushed her glass to Y/N, who nodded a 'thank you'.

"Sort of." Y/N downed her lemonade, the refreshing citrus drink calming her nerves only slightly. "Is he still looking over here?"

"If by 'looking' you mean casting daggers, then indeed, that is the case. And," she giggled nervously, "try not to faint when I tell you this, but Lord Golbach is making his approach."

Y/N swallowed hard. "You jest."

Amelia gave a weary smile, "No, but I must make my getaway."

She backed away quickly from Y/N, who called out, "Wait, Ame-!"

"Miss Rose, how wonderful to finally meet." Samuel interjected suddenly.

Y/N took a deep breath, spinning on her heel to face him. "Lord Golbach."

He raised a brow at her, "You know who I am."

"How could I mistake a face like yours for any other?" She replied with a sneer tone.

Sam sucked his teeth, her biting tongue captivating him immensely. Ladies hardly ever truly said how they were feeling around him, and it was refreshing to hear such honesty. "I would entertain that notion if Cole had not informed me of disclosing my identity to you."

Her smile dropped, "I would still be able to pick you out in any crowd, my Lord. I would just have to look for the trail of broken hearts and I would instantly find the two of you."

"My reputation makes me sound harsh." He deadpanned.

She held back the urge to roll her eyes, "I think you and Cole are, in fact, harsh. Reputation or not."

A playful grin rose on Sam's face as he reached out his hand towards Y/N. "Dance with me, Miss Rose."

"And if I say no?" She responded defiantly. 

"I will leave you be," he answered. "But what fun you will miss, declining a dance from a gentleman whom you have already passed judgment upon."

She was surprised by Sam's charisma, his almost flirty nature. She politely took his hand, allowing him to guide her onto the dancefloor. Bowing, she steadied herself.. She was not used to this attention, especially from such desirable gentlemen. She knew deep down she shouldn't like teasing the Lords, but part of her enjoyed knowing they found her coveted.

He gazed down at her, inspecting her. "Your gown is quite suitable. You must come from a high ranking family."

"Thank you," she replied plainly. "And yes, some would say that. It helps that I am acquainted with the modiste in town, as well."

"Really? Not many are like you in that way. I've always found it odd how the higher ranking families in the Ton look down upon the working class." Sam admitted.

Y/N nodded, "Truly. It is such a pity. They are no different than us, the only major thing is that we were born into wealth."

"We are all human, after all." He concurred.

"Respecting our fellow man and cherishing the relationships we have and can make should be number one priority. It's a shame how many in the Ton don't see that." She remarked.

Samuel raised his eyebrows, spinning the young lady in time with the music. "You are one of the only women to think so. Many I have courted never spoke of such qualities."

She could feel her skin grow warmer with annoyance, "Interestingly, my beliefs stem from other women I've had the pleasure of knowing. How often do you ask any? Or do you merely go off of appearances and assumptions alone?"

His face dropped, a bitter smile resting on his mouth. "You and I must be similar in that regard."

"Possibly, yes. However, you are the one with a reputation of casting aside women you don't deem fit enough to be courted." Y/N argued, glaring.

He scoffed, "My apologies for having-"

She interjected, "High standards. Yes, I know."

The dance slowly began to end, her grip falling limp in Sam's hold. An anger unlike Y/N had ever felt was bubbling inside of her. Her grace and dignity almost flying out the window when she looked up at Sam, who seemed perplexed by her words. "I thank you for proving my assertions correct."

"And what exactly where they?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Your character is sorely lacking, and I will never want to court or be married to a man like that." Y/N spun on her heel, pure fire filling her veins. She ought to not have become so agitated, but she was unable to restrain herself. While both men played innocent and kind to her face, she knew of how mean they spoke of her mere hours ago. The sole reason they were like this was because of their ignorance of her identity. She had been taught her whole life to be respectful, to both men and women, no matter what ranking they were. And to see such blatant disrespect come from such a high caliber of men in the Ton infuriated her to no end.

This is who was supposed to be the aspiring husbands in the marriage mart? Being a spinster did not sound too bad after all.

Y/N wanted to find Amelia, but decided against staying in the ballroom. She ventured off to the entrance, standing at the portrait. She paced for a moment, trying to calm her nerves. She heard footsteps coming from the ballroom, expecting Amelia to be following her. But two men walked through, Samuel and Cole.

Her eyes widened as she watched them search for her. She rushed up the stairs, finding the closest room and hiding inside of it. It was a study, most likely Viscount Gillingham's. She closed the door swiftly, praying they hadn't seen her do so. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the window. Fresh air sounded absolutely wonderful to her. She walked over to the window, attempting to open it.

The door swung open, Sam and Cole staring at her quizzically. "What do you plan to do? Shimmy down the garden wall?"

She huffed, turning to the gentlemen. "Do you take pride in stalking ladies or is that just an extracurricular for you both?"

"You have a surprisingly mean spirit for a lady. You must have suitors lining the street waiting for your hand." Cole sassed, stepping into the room.

"Well, as long as you both aren't in line, I shall have decent prospects." Y/N sniveled.

Samuel ranted, "Pray, what precisely is your objection to us? You do not resemble any woman we've previously courted. Why do you harbor resentment?"

"I do not have to have been courted by you to dislike you, Lord Golbach. Perhaps I find your inability to care for a woman's heart atrocious and that alone sparked my malicious feelings." She rebutted, her hands firmly on her hips.

"Did we hurt a sister of yours? Perhaps a friend." Cole responded, almost in jest.

She shook her head heatedly. "No. No. As humorously as that would be, you hurt mine without ever courting me. So congratulations are in order for that feat."

Both of the gentlemen's faces dropped, annoyed. "How?"

"I overheard you, today, at the park. Along with your friend Beaumont. You all had such a delightful time picking apart different women, none of which measured up to your standards for one reason or another." She spat.

Cole shook his head, almost trying to reset his vision. "A-And what is wrong with having standards?"

"There is nothing wrong with that," Y/N grunted. "The problem lies in how you go about finding those standards. Let's not play foolish here: you both know how sought after you are. And you also know that you most likely won't be finding a match anytime soon. So why be out in society?"

Sam’s eyes rolled for a moment. "Are we not permitted to partake in revelry?"

"You can, but not at the expense of women's hearts or reputations!" Her voice boomed off the walls of the study. The room fell silent, the men watching her with wide eyes. 

She continued passionately. "Do you know how completely ignorant it is to badmouth a woman to one of your fellow gentlemen? It is already hard enough as a lady to find a suitable husband when you have every other lady fighting for said affections. But to have fellow men berate and downgrade you as if you are a second-prized poodle is humiliating. Because if you two think that way about me, how else do the other men of the Ton feel? How am I supposed to navigate a labyrinth I had no realization I was in?"

Both men were stunned into silence, but finally Cole spoke. "We should be wiser with our words, yes. But it's not exactly easy for us, either."

"Oh please." She murmured, exhausted.

He moved towards her, shaking his head. "We are told to act a certain way, to be men. The rakish behavior we have to put on is all but a front. At least for him and I. It is exhausting wanting to be open and vulnerable and honest when no one reciprocates those feelings back. So it's easier to put up walls and guard yourself and pretend to be something you're not. But in the end it all hurts the same."

"But you're a man. And not just any one, a prominent one. You could..." Y/N exhaled. "Change what is expected."

"It is not that simple. And it's already a lonely road for those that do not follow what is to be asked of you." Cole paused, swallowing. "I often wonder if a love match is something I will ever find, or if I'm doomed to face a marriage with a woman that is a complete stranger to me for the rest of my days."

She frowned, "Find someone to love, then."

Cole bit his lip harshly, holding back his hurt, "I wish I could. I wish my family would allow that. There are certain expectations I've been destined to meet since birth that I wish I could shake. But it's not as simple as it sounds."

Y/N looked towards Sam, "And what about you?"

"I... I don't know how to express myself. At all," he muttered, stoic and awkward. "This life of mine is not even remotely fulfilling. And I am afraid I am wasting it being someone I never wished to be."

For a moment, Y/N's heart ached for both gentlemen. She stared at them, and they were no longer men, but boys. And for the first time in years, when she expressed exactly how she felt without fear of rejection, she felt like a girl again. The brutal honesty of being a child with no expectations placed.

"I apologize for being so… careless." Her demeanor softened,  "Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed so harshly.." 

"No. Your honesty is refreshing. I don't think anyone has called us out in years." Samuel commented.

Cole smirked, "Or ever, really."

She giggled, and genuinely smiled, for the first time all night. They smiled back, their grins earnest. 

"You have the sweetest of laughs. Almost like honey." Samuel complimented.

She bowed her head, doing her best to hide her blush. "T-That is very kind of you to say, my Lord."

Cole chimed in, the men sharing a look. "May I ask you a question, Miss Rose?"

Y/N nodded, watching them as they drew closer to her.

"Would it be alright if I call upon you tomorrow?" He asked.

Samuel added, "I too, would wish to do that, as well."

Her eyes widened, "I beg your pardon?"

"You are merely unlike any lady I have ever encountered. Unlike any we have met before. And I am certain that both of us would cherish the opportunity to become better acquainted with you." Cole explained genuinely.

"Even after I've insulted you to your face?" She sassed.

"Even more so, yes." Samuel's eyes glimmered mischievously.

Y/N questioned, "Are you sure that would be wise?"

"I would say it's about as wise as you being in a room, alone, with the two of us. Unchaperoned." Cole's voice deepened, causing Y/N's eyes to flutter.

Y/N suddenly became very aware of how close the Lords were to her. Her lips parted, wanting to gasp, but she was rendered speechless. She glanced between the two of them, watching as the space between them and her came to an almost close. Her back was up against the window sill, and she could feel the heat of Sam and Cole's bodies rolling off onto hers.

She closed her eyes tightly, savoring the moment. This was her first time truly feeling stirred by the presence of a man. Multiple men.

"But you are gentlemen." She choked out.

His eyes darkened. "Of course. We would never do anything untoward an honorable young lady, like yourself."

"All you have to do is say so, and we'll stop." Sam uttered huskily. 

Cole spun Y/N to face him, her mouth falling open in surprise. He stared at her devilishly, his eyes taking in every part of her slowly. A breath blew across the back of Y/N's neck, startling her. She glanced over her shoulder through hooded eyes to see Sam, closing the space between her and him. His mouth danced up her neck, stopping right under her ear.

"Do you want us to stop?" Cole whispered softly.

Y/N shuddered a breath, his hands cupping her waist as he stepped closer to her. His mouth was on the other side of her neck, peppering light kisses up and down her throat. Y/N closed her eyes, her chest heaving as her breath fought to catch up. Y/N had had one kiss before in her entire life, right before coming out into society. And she had heard whispers of what... intimacy, between a man and woman was like.

But this was a whole new world for her.

Heat pooled low in her stomach as the men traced their lips over her skin, breathing her in. Sam's hands rested lightly on her lower back, tracing up and down her corset lining. Cole's hands rubbed up and down her bare arms, goosebumps rising in their wake.

Their bodies were firm up against hers. It was almost like a waltz the way the Lords' movements guided her. She was entranced by it all, following their every direction. Then, suddenly it hit her.

She won. And not only did she win, but the clock was very close to midnight. And it was time to leave.

Y/N took a deep breath, something she felt she hadn't done in ages, and slithered her way out from between each man.

"Well, gentlemen, this has been a lovely evening. But I must be getting home." Y/N stated calmly.

Both men were stunned into silence, again, by her. "Wh... What?"

"Did I say something surprising?" She gazed innocently at them, then headed towards the door.

Samuel and Cole stared at her in awe, an almost amused smile resting on their lips. She truly was incomparable.

As she opened the door to the study, Samuel called out, "You must tell us who you are, at the very least."

She paused, her hand resting on the handle. She had considered making her getaway, not letting them know who she was. But part of her wondered what their faces would look like once they knew it was her, Y/N, that left them this way. Hot and bothered.

She untied her mask slowly, holding it delicately in her hands. She turned back to the Lords, gazing at them both.

"Goodnight, Lord Golbach and Lord Brock. I hope you have a splendid evening." She bowed, and rushed out, taking the stairs quickly.

Sam and Cole stood in silence for a while, reliving the moments they had just shared with Y/N. Neither one could wrap their minds about what took place, or that it was Y/N - of all people - that had caused these feelings to occur. Feelings that both men had not experienced in a very long time, if ever.

Sam stuck his hand out to Cole, raising an eyebrow at him. "May the best man win."

Cole smirked, grasping his friend's hand tightly. "Indeed."

The gentlemen knew only one of them would win Y/N's heart. And now it was time to see who could ever conquer such a feat.

[n30nwrites]

Heel (Shifter TF141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 3 of Good Doggy.

Masterlist here

Warnings - Just some sadness. Some thought of death but nothing too in detail. Some talks of sex and mention of Mating??? But nothing too explicit. Reader is kind of a dick but I understand it, you won't for a bit though. Also Price thinks about some dark things like kidnapping/murder, along with some thoughts on noncon biting, Lowkey the boys get kind of yandere in a way but nothing too dark I think. Ghost thinks about killing you. Also internalized homophobia but enough to not even notice, Thoughts of dubious consent.

Updated: 3/5/2024

Beta Reader/Editor: The one and only @letmelickyoureyeballs

Gaz takes his first step towards hope and he now understands everything.

He understands why Soap wouldn't shut up yesterday about you. He understands why Price held that meeting. He understands why Ghost keeps staring. He understands why he had to wait.

All good things come to those who wait. And he was patient. Some god out there must have seen that and granted him you. Because even though your eyes are covered he knows that you are it for him. It hasn't been officially confirmed, but there was no way you weren't it.

He doesn't think he can handle you not being his mate.

The car door opens and a woman walks out. And you greet her with a hug and a whisper in her ear about the stares from the neighbors, which she laughs at and kisses your cheek. And Gaz pauses in his movement.

He can hear his pack’s footsteps as they stumble out the door. Their words of protest at his actions quickly came to a stop as they realized that someone had joined you.

You take off your glasses to look at them as you pull away and he can imagine a future with you. He wants to live in this neighborhood, your house or his but he knew his would be big enough for a litter of pups. He wanted to have you stay home, healthy and fat and never in danger. 

Kyle looked at you like there was something worth looking at.

He now knows that he is going to continue loving you, and that he does not see a future when you will eventually pass on as all humans do. You are too gorgeous to be real, exactly what he waited for all this time and he does not regret it all.

You can't help but question your neighbors. There's four of them, as it turns out. All in black which you would judge if you weren't doing the same. Maya follows your gaze and you know that their attention must be on her.

She's beautiful, and you aren't insecure of yourself in a way, but even you had feelings for her at one point. Her left arm is a metal prosthetic, one that was forged by a family friend. She stands tall and proud and it makes you feel more confident. 

"Can I help you gentlemen?" She understands society's norms. She's polite with a possible killer, she bares her teeth showing a smile that is wide and almost innocent to falsely secure these men in front of her. She was a killer in disguise. Prepared at all times.

"Just greeting the new neighbors." Kyle says and the other three come next to him. They are in your yard, something that makes you uncomfortable.

"You greet differently than your friends." You comment, glancing at Soap and Ghost. "Still seem to have a staring problem." You lower your sunglasses more trying to ignore the harsh light. You make eye contact with each of them and your chest aches at it. "This is my partner-"

"Maya." She interrupts, taking the attention away from you. "You gentlemen mind helping us move our stuff in." And you glare at her, not that you cared for their help, you didn't like people touching your stuff nor did you like strangers being in your space. She was the opposite, she didn’t care if people entered her house. You guessed that now you had to share a living space with her, you’d have to get over it at some point. They step closer to agree.

"Really gonna invite some strangers to help?" You say loudly, knowing that they heard because you didn't care to hide the dislike. 

"I don't wanna carry these boxes darling..." She drags out the word, "Plus you need to rest for work tonight." Your shift lasts from 10 pm to 6 am. "Don't want you to tire yourself out."

She puts on a caring layer. You trust her but you don't like this form of parenting she's trying to do with you. 

"I'm not leaving them with our stuff. Go get the boys set up." You tell her as you head to the back of the trunk and open it. Maya opens the side door, grabbing two animal carriers. You can hear your dog barking, Maya’s cat was probably sleeping. The car smells of sulfur and you twitch your nose, adjusting your face mask. "You can go back to your house." You say to them right as Maya goes inside.

"We said we'd help, might as well." You weren't expecting the accent to come from the stalker with the mohawk. "I'm Soap." Soap, it was a strange nickname. "That's Ghost." He points to the stalker with the mask. 

Soap and Ghost. Your two witnesses to your moving in. The men who just stared.

They look familiar.

"I'm Kyle." He's hot. You're staring at him, fully aware of that. They're all hot. He holds out his hand and you shake it, not immediately repulsing at the touch which was strange. You say your name. "That's Price." He points to John.

"John Price..." You say his name aloud, "And here I thought you were just John." You told him, grabbing a box of books and shoving it into Kyle's arms. "Living room, next to the built-in bookcase by the sun nook."

You kept shoving the boxes into their arms, anxious every time you couldn't see one of them. Out of all four of them, Ghost made you the most uncomfortable. He wouldn't stop staring. And you told him as much when it came to an end.

"Do you stare because you plan to kill me or simply because you have issues?" Maya had insisted you'd walk them to their house despite it being right across from yours. She said it was the polite thing to do, and you told her that it was bullshit but you weren't going to argue against her and waste your energy on it. Ghost was the last to walk onto the porch, still not blinking. "If you are going to kill me, you will fail."

"Why did you move here?" He asks, and they are all staring.

"Learn to blink." You tell him, "You do not need to know why I am here. We are not friends, we are not gonna be friends, Maya is nice to you because she thinks you are attractive and I can see where it is coming from, but this thing you are doing, talking and trying to help out and telling me your nicknames."

You pause as you stare at Kyle's eyes.

"It's useless. I want nothing to do with you."

And Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick breaks inside.

"You are being too cruel to them," Maya says as you close the door. The house is soundproof, she made sure of it. She knows they can hear the conversation if they wanted to, which is why she had blocked off any possible sound to escape.

"How? They are being a nuisance-"

"They are men who found their mate. I've seen worse reactions when soulmates meet, surprised they haven't hugged you at all." Maya manipulates her fingers in the air as if she’s plucking a string, and she probably is through her eyes. Maya had always had a gift to see the bond between others, The Strings of Fate, a curse Zeus put on everyone eons ago. Theseus escaped the Minotaur with his thread that connected him to Ariadne, and it seemed Clotho had it in for you. It used to be that everyone could see their own String of Fate, until a few centuries ago when an argument broke out amongst the Gods. Now only a certain few could, and Maya was one of them. 

"If they did I would cut their cocks off." You cringe at the idea of touch. "I do not understand why you are defending them-"

"Because you are being an asshole!" Maya shouts and you turn away, rubbing at your nose as you let out a sigh.

"I understand why they are acting the way they are." Kyle's and Soap's puppy dog eyes almost broke you, they were too handsome. "But you understand why I am like this. It is better to tell them upfront is it not?"

"You haven't even given them a chance-"

"I am not leading them on. I am not manipulating them like I could. I do not want anything to do with them and you know that that is for the best." She says your name to stop you, and you're confused by it.

Why can't she admit to herself the truth? It happened to you just a couple of years ago and you were already over it, but yet she couldn't be?

"Maya," You look at her, "I do not have a soul. I can not feel what they feel. It is impossible for me to have soulmates."

It's confusing. When everything you thought you know changes. How a simple moment becomes so complicated. It's happened to Gaz a few times in his life, where he's had to change everything he's thought and adapt to the new.

You were supposed to be a woman.

He was supposed to be straight.

He never thought about people in a romantic sense. Sex was one thing, it's a way to release emotions and it's something fun. You didn't have to have an emotional tie with someone for it. But dating was separate. You had to let people in for that, to let them know the ugly parts of you and trust that they won't run.

You weren't supposed to run.

Gaz leaves first. He's the first to stop staring at the air, going into his room and immediately undressing. His mind is blank, running on instincts. The minute he’s done, he’s out the backdoor shifting. 

The pain of his bones breaking quickly disappears, but he welcomes it despite how little it was. He grows paws and fur all over his body, and goes back to his basic instincts.

He's gone for hours.

Price is the last to move. He's angry at you for everything you said, he’s half a mind to go into your house and just kidnap you.

Who were you to tell him what to do? You were a selfish human, completely unaware of everything they were willing to do for you. You had them on a leash, begging for scraps of attention that you were starving them for.

You hated him, and that made John angry. He wants to burn your house down and show you that you can't be safe without him, he wants to kill Maya, she took you from him.

From them.

He can hear the howls from Gaz and he grabs a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet. He chugs it down, it's not that hard to finish a drink, especially when you crave the burn of it. He wants to shift as well, but that would require ignoring his responsibilities. 

He wished he could show you what makes him right for you.

He just needed one night with you and he was sure he could change your mind. One bite and it was all over, you'd be stuck with him.

He lights a cigar and stays in the kitchen, quiet.

Stupid, foolish human. Weak, you were pathetic truly.

It was one thing to not like him, it was another to hurt his family.

He thinks that killing you would make it all go away. Ghost doesn't care that it would hurt him for eternity if he was to kill you, he's convinced he can do it and make his pack forget about you, whether it's with time or a witch.

He's convinced that he could get away with it. 

And then he remembers your heart beat and he can't. He knows he can't kill you. But he wishes it was that easy.

Instead of planning your demise, Ghost calls every contact he has looking for information about you. Looking for anything, and while he finds out your last name, he comes to realize that you did not exist 6 years ago.

And when he calls Laswell to question you, she insists he stops looking if he wants to stay safe.

He does not listen.

Soap thinks about every movement you make.

He convinces himself you're playing hard to get. That you like being chased after like a bunny.

His bunny, his defenseless mate who doesn’t know what was good for him.

You were ignorant, it was okay.

He could help you.

"Ah will protect ye mate. Yer mines bun." 

------

NEXT

Okay so maybe I wrote a bit longer. And yeah maybe the boys do seem out of character but literally they will not be like this long, it is just the idea that losing half of your soul makes you mad.

This is just chapter 3 and it's heavy with angst ig?? Um next chapter will definitely be lighter, and so will chapter 5. But hey I guess it's your decision to stick around for that long.

Also maya looks like Salma Hayek because that is a beautiful woman.

And I am not sure how to write Soap's dialect?? I'm trying my best I swear.

Also please leave comments and reblog, more interaction means more interest and I'll probably continue to write it.

[whumplump]

Auction

CW: dehumanisation, bidding for a whumpee

The lights on the big stage came on and revealed the magnitude of the scene to everyone who attended the event. Rich men and women enjoyed their glasses of wine at the tables in the main hall. They fell silent to hear the auctioneer speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is an immense pleasure to welcome you here tonight!”

He signaled to his two companions, who headed towards the back of the stage.

“Tonight, I have a special offer for you, my dearings.”

The two men returned, dragging a medium-sized cage on wheels. The auctioneer walked over to it and removed the sheet covering it, revealing a wounded and cornered figure. The poor thing in the cage looked like a trapped animal, moving their eyes across the scene, passing each of the expressionless faces in the audience.

“Here we have a magnificent specimen. Young, healthy, except for these bruises which, by the way, I apologize for my team for causing them”, the auctioneer continued and the audience laughed.

He fit his arms through a recess in the cage and grabbed Whumpee by the back of their neck. He brought them closer for the audience to see, one hand firmly holding them in place, and the other gesturing to explain.

“Look, smooth, hydrated skin. See how the skin sits comfortably over the bones. It's well fed, you can see. Healthy eyes.” He held Whumpee's jaw with his other hand and forced them to open their mouth. “Perfect teeth. Also, I must inform you, it can read and write.”

Several people in the audience began to murmur among themselves, admiring the presentation of the species for sale. An individual raised his hand, but was interrupted by the auctioneer's explosive shout.

“So, let's get started! Who gives the most for it?!”

The audience started to make their bids. Rarely, the price would stand still and the auctioneer would threaten to end the bid, but before that happened, another guest would offer a higher price. Whumpee was released by the auctioneer and went to cower in the corner of the cell. They were shaking, more from the shock than from fear. Thousands of dollars were being offered in exchange for them, as if they were an artifact, a jewel. But Whumpee knew that, in the eyes of those people, they were worth less than that; a slave.

The competition between two specific guests was fierce. At one of the tables, Caretaker feared for the fate of the poor thing selling if they fell into the hands of a rich person with ill intentions, as were most of the people there. Whenever they bet an absurd amount, Whumper came up with an even higher one.

Caretaker squirmed in their seat and ate their own nails, such was their distress. They should be like Whumper, fight for that property. What would be the point of trying to stage a protest? Specimens like the one in the cage were sold at similar auctions every week. What was so interesting about agreeing with, or even trying to reprimand, these rich, sick people?

Whumper stood up from his chair and offered sixty thousand. Caretaker imitated the move and offered ten thousand more. Some other guests in the hall had the courage to increase their bids, but nothing more than a few tens of thousands, rising little by little.

Whumper decreed: 120 thousand.

The auctioneer tapped his shoes on the floor rhythmically. The final move made him jump with excitement.

“120 thousand! Going once…”

Caretaker looked wide-eyed at Whumper, who remained standing, certain of victory. They couldn't raise the bid. It was money they didn't have. If it was worth saving that poor thing in the cage, would it be worth lying and getting into debt?

“Going twice…”

Whumpee stood in the corner of the cell and approached the bars to look into the hall, full of rich snobs. Most were bored now that the bids were impossible to beat. Two guests, standing, one of them, looking at them with a kind of compassion, the other, with malice and possession.

“Sold!”

The room erupted in applause. Whumper smiled to himself and took a big sip from his wine glass in celebration. The auctioneer gave new signals to his companions, who were ready to take Whumpee's cell back to the back of the stage.

Caretaker did not applaud, and sat down defeated.

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 21 - Breakthrough

Breakthrough (noun) 1. [general] A sudden, dramatic, and important discovery or development

Tags & Warnings: none

"... and Aunt Susan had to swat him with our broom to get him to leave me alone, can you believe it? Some guys won't take a 'No' as an answer, but who'd want to marry a boring dud like Gustav? Much less when there are much more handsome and dapper gentlemen out there?"

Alastor blinked – one eye after the other - smiling politely, but as he listened to the babbling of that gossiping windbag Gladys, he felt more and more annoyed. There weren't many creatures in hell that he would endure the auditive torture of getting his ears chewed off while the wretch basically undressed him with her dead, black eyes for - but Rosie was one of them, and Alastor knew he had monopolized Gem for the last weeks, so a few minutes alone with her was the least he could grant his oldest companion. Still, he knew this was also Rosie’s form of punishment - and what a punishment it was. The women of cannibal town were always persistent enough whenever he came around, but Gladys... well, she took his rumored desirability as a bachelor to a whole new level. Whenever Alastor set foot into Cannibal Town, Gladys would rush out in search for him, like a damn bloodhound. Luckily for him, his shadows provided the means for quick escapes and avoiding any unnecessary encounters, and usually Rosie too would hold her at bay.

But now, he needed his full concentration and discipline to appear nonchalant, only letting out short, appropriate sounds as the scarecrow of a lady continued to chatter, eyeing him down and making suggestive remarks with an obvious wink.

Satan, that woman was really trying too hard.

He knew a good hour must have passed, surely this had to suffice, and he gave a quick cough to interrupt Gladys mid-babbling. "Ah, would you look at the time! Apologies, but I have to retrieve my assistant and return to my hotel."

Gladys wrinkled her nose in discontent. "But Alastor - we barely even talked for... " her boney hands pulled out a pocket watch from her childishly ruffled skirt pocket, "... ten minutes.

Only ten minutes? Huh. Well, that had to do. Alastor wouldn't stay a minute longer in the vicinity of this vulture, even if he'd risk Rosie's annoyance. It would be a cheap price to pay, given the alternative. "Oh, nonsense dear - when in your company, mere minutes can feel like eternity! Ha-ha, but I mustn't hold you off from looking for that catch of a man any longer. Wish that fella good luck from me if you find him!" And, as he turned and hurried to Rosie’s backrooms as quick as decorum allowed, ignoring her angry protests, he murmured to himself "The poor bastard is gonna need it."

As he swept the curtain back and stepped back into the warmth of the parlor, he scanned the room. Empty. Hm. He felt his ears itching, a sign that his patience was running dangerously thin.

"Rosie, my dear? Kitten? Where in the seven circles are you now?"

No answer came, but his erect ears caught something faint - almost like a breeze. Then he heard your voice. Or several? And... was that Rosie? He stepped closer, slowly as his curiosity awoke, towards the only other door leading out of her parlor, the one leading upstairs into Rosie’s private apartment. As he got nearer, he could hear it clearly now. Rosie speaking - encouraging, softly, gentle even... he reached for the doorknob as he felt a shift, a burst of sudden, powerful magick and energy and he smelled, felt and tasted the signature essence of her. Gem. His gem.

Losing any dignity he had, he almost ripped the door from its hinges, storming in and staring wide eyed at the spectacle happening before him. A smile stretched across his face, wide, sharp teeth showing and his pupils taking over his whole eyes, a wave of awe and adoration rippled through his being.

Gem had produced another copy. A yellow one, shining and sparkling like gold coated in iridescent powder. They were staring at each other, her eyes, shifting through the color wheel, fixated on her counterpart, who beamed back at her. He felt the pull again, the need to touch it, feel it, devour it - but as he took a step, Rosie shook her head, holding up a hand and spoke in a calm, but warning tone "Alastor. Wait. Let her try something. Please."

He took a deep, snarling breath, fighting the urge to ignore her. But he halted. Waited.

The room was quiet for a moment, still in a way that almost seemed like the whole of hell held its breath. Then, both of them looked at him. The alive eyes of his darling kitten, and the glittering ones of the copy. The latter started to move, so different than her rosy counterpart did. While the one Alastor had met moved like a snake, slow and seductively, teasing and flowing like a silken scarf caught in a gush of wind - This one moved like a ray of sunshine in a mirror - flittering, quickly and light-footed, almost as if it was bouncing off light itself. Three heads followed her movement, Rosie's face full of enchantment, Gem's full of concentrated tension. And his? What did he look like, he wondered, watching the alter ego coming towards him? The energy moving closer made him unable to think about anything but sheer, possessive delight. And pride. Gem was his, and this version of her was part of her, so he had to possess it too.

The golden copy took a last step towards him, her smile as bright as hells sun. She opened her mouth, and the short hairs on the back of his head stood when he heard her voice - like an echo of the familiar, soft voice of her, getting lost in a crystalline grotto, reflected through stone and water, but clearly audible:

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓖𝓮𝓶 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓮 𝓾𝓼, 𝓼𝓸 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽: 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓒𝓲𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮.

He couldn't take the suspense a second longer. His control slipped and his shadows leapt out to take her and bring her to him, into his grasp, not caring for Rosie's warning anymore as his main focus was on this beauty that his Gem had created, and the need to have it consuming him. But as his black appendages so much as touched her, she shattered into shards of gold, and broke into shimmering dust as he heard a laugh like a faint bell that quickly faded into thin air. Alastor cursed silently, the anticipation and eagerness he had felt turning into bittersweet disappointment, and the crackle of energy in the air turning into nothingness. Sabotaged by his own greediness.

He sighed, turning to the tutting sound of Rosie, but instead of the reproachful gaze and frown he expected, she looked smug and quite pleased with herself.

His gem however looked shaken, wide eyed, as if she was unsure if she was allowed to feel accomplished or not and searching his eyes for guidance. That she still was ever so submissive and molding to his whims as the day he met her made his stirring mind calm and his chest tight. "Well, would you look at that. You finally did it, darling." He commented, still holding his smile as steady as he could, his head tilted in amazement as those few words seemed to wash away all the insecurities that had been written all over her face.

"I-I did it." She said, voice small, and he could see the hint of a flush on her cheeks and neck, the sight causing his grin to widen as Rosie pinched her cheeks. "Yes you did, and how marvelous it was, dove! That darling Citrine is lovely, and the others will sure follow suit. Oh! Meeting them will be so exciting!"

Alastor only understood half of what was said. The ghosting jolts of energy still sparked around him as Rosie and his kitten had to fill the unnerving gaps of information about what had happened to get to this point. It irked him that he hadn't been here to see it all unfold, curse that hag Gladys for keeping him away and Rosie for sending him to her in the first place. The snarl growing was instantly erased when her vivid eyes found his, flashing in golds and pinks.

Forget the momentary disappointment, he reminded himself - this was a welcome, exciting development. The copies of her had some sort of sentience - not much unlike his own magick, which filled him with a smug sense of satisfaction. He should've been at least miffed about Rosie interfering in her training and taking a lead, but he couldn't bring himself to be. After all, maybe Gem needed a more gentle and... less possessive approach to foster what Alastor had intended to teach her. And if she could do it once, she could do it again, that he was sure of. The seed had been planted – and despite this little mishap, Alastor would make sure that no one else but HIM would be the one to nurse it to bloom.

Alastor bridged the short distance to the seating area, patting his lovely lynx's head in passing before he decidedly sat down in the one-seater and crossed his legs, leaning back with an expectant look and folded hands.

"So, now that praise has been sufficiently distributed: Would either of you lovely ladies be so kind to bring me up to speed?"

You felt weird. Good or bad weird, you weren't totally decided on.

Seeing your mother again, so vividly you even felt her gentle hands around you as you remembered the last real hug you got from her before you abandoned her and left for the Academy had sparked something in you. Something so powerful you felt like you split in half. And you had, in a way. It wasn't like the last times when those strange you-s appeared. You almost felt as if she was asking you for permission to show herself, vibrating inside you with the want to come out, and you had allowed her. Remained conscious while you had stared at the dark, yellow thing piecing itself together before you.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you. We all are." she had said in your voice. Different, slightly, but so remarkably you still.

"We?" You heard Rosie whisper next to you, but you didn't care to turn and look at her. All your attention was on her.

She chuckled, and held out her hand for you.

"The rest of us. You. I'm only one of many. You can call me Citrine."

Your arm lifted, slowly, as if not under your own control. It felt so surreal, her fingers brushing over yours. She was solid. Real. Not a dream.

"You're beautiful." Words just fell out of your mouth, and her clinking laughter rang through the air.

"Yes, you are." Citrine smiled at you. "Just as mom said - we learned to shine, right?"

It felt so right, and yet, not at all, to hear her talk to you, with your voice, your expressions. Talking about mom. It hurt. And yet, it didn't. It was confusing, but the way she felt so much like a part of you, so connected, it felt... good.

"What..." Your voice was a dry rasp as licked your lips in a nervous attempt to find the right words. "What is happening?"

"You are the one calling the shots, love." Rosie answered. She too was fixated on the shimmering figure, who turned her head to Rosie, a smile on her face. "She's right. You're our conductor, Gem. We are a reflection of you, parts at least."

As if in agreement, the voices in your head hummed in an overstimulating symphony, making your head fuzzy with noise.

‘A reflection.’  Your voice that wasn’t you echoed.

‘We are you.’

‘You are us.’

‘Parts of you.’

‘Light and Darkness...’

You opened your mouth to say something, but there was a bang and a voice that was as familiar as your own. You turned and saw him, and the way the shadows swirled around him, his red eyes fixated on the glittering being you had conjured up. Alastor looked...

‘Hungry.’  A voice whispered, and the others giggled.

‘Desperate.’

‘Fascinated.’

‘Dangerous.’

‘Perfect."

You blinked as Rosie said something you didn't really registered. Citrine was still staring at you, waiting. Waiting for you to tell her what to do. You could feel it, the energy flowing between the two of you, connecting you like a bridge. You wondered...

You concentrated, detaching your thoughts from the still chattering choir inside to visualize your own, stronger and clear through the noise. 'You... can you... go over to him? Talk to him?'

Citrine grins happily at you, almost glowing. 'Of course, I'd love to! What you want me to say?' you heard her answer in your mind, clear as day over the hum of the others.

You thought for a moment. 'Just... tell him who you are?'

Citrine nodded.

Then she was gone. She moved like sunshine, like light dancing on a water surface, and before you knew it, she had skipped over to Alastor. She said something, and you saw his shadows burst out to reach for her and she vanished into a golden sparkle, like dust particles in the sun. It all happened so fast, the moment so overwhelming that you felt like you could've missed it if you blinked.

Alastor was staring at the space where Citrine had been and it made your heart drop that he looked almost offended. Was he mad? Displeased that you did what he intended for you to do without his presence? Did he feel like you disobeyed him? Or worse... that you disappointed him?

"Well, would you look at that. You finally did it, darling."

His words extinguished the flames licking at your insides, and you felt relief and exhilaration rushing through you.

"I-I did it." You stuttered. He was proud, not angry. You hadn't disappointed him.

"Yes, and how marvelous it was, dove! That darling Citrine is lovely, and the others will sure follow suit. Oh! Meeting them will be so exciting!" Rosie clasped her hands together in glee, the corners of her eyes wrinkling and her lips forming an excited, wide grin. You were happy to see her so enthusiastic, but Alastor interrupted the moment with a loud clearing of his throat.

"So, now that praise has been sufficiently distributed: would either of you lovely ladies be so kind to bring me up to speed?"

You sat down, glad that Rosie did all the talking. You were still a bit out of it, trying to process everything that just happened, and it didn't help that the voices in your head were still talking wildly and in such a fast succession that it was hard to pick up a full sentence.

"So... that's about the gist of it. I thought I could help her tap into her powers, since, well..." Rosie gestured between you both, barely hiding the knowing smile tugging at her lips "... your approach might've been too... charged?"

You felt your cheeks flushing slightly at the obvious indication, but Alastor looked unperturbed, save a barely visible tic of his eye.

"Very helpful indeed." he stated, and the cannibal overlord giggled behind her hand as he rolled his eyes and adjusted his monocle in defiance of having to outright thank her.

Rosie hummed and brushed her shoulders against yours with a wink, a silent sign of 'Don't worry about him, we all know the truth.' and you felt yourself relax a bit.

"But I think it's about time we have to return to the hotel, dearest. We still have to report our plentiful successes to the princess, and we're already fashionably late." He pushed himself out of the arm chair, and you hurriedly sprang up at the flick of his wrist motioning you to follow him. Rosie huffed, half-annoyed and half-amused at the sudden rush her oldest friend seemed to be in, and lead you back down the staircase and through the still buzzing shop, throwing an unnerved and approaching Gladys a razor-sharp smile full of condescended pity as the three of you passed her and her friends. Rosie opened the shop doors, the bell over it chiming brightly while she bowed down to hug you goodbye.

"Alright, off you go. But visit more often, do you hear me, mister? That goes for you too, dove - don't leave me waiting to see you so long again, alright? You have my permission to nag his fluffy ears off if he holds you too... busy." Her eyes darted over at the broad man next to the two of you, twinkling with mischief while the tensed grin persisted on his face as he took your arm, leading the both of you to the sidewalk outside.

"What a threat, dear friend - I shall wear earmuffs in the future then." You almost laugh out loud, not expecting the joke, and the twitch of his hand on your arm and the softening lines around his eyes tell you he notices it. Relieved, you feel him relax a bit too, and he sounded more like his usual self when he added "Cross my heart, you'll see us both soon enough…"

Ozul slithered up your leg with a happy fizz while his shadows engulfed you, his sandy warmth making you shiver as Alastor wraps one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. "…at the latest at the Blue Moon Ball. Toodle-oo!" He sing-songed and with a loud crack of thin air being forced to separate, the streets of Cannibal Town and Rosie’s bellowed laughter were left behind and the world went dark and directionless again, with him as your only anchor. Suddenly your ears popped from a sudden pressure shift and you were back in front of the Hazbin Hotel.

You staggered slightly as the dizzy wave of your travel wore off. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to that kind of extraordinary transportation.", you murmured, letting your fingers run over Ozul’s head in a silent thank you as the shade hummed and retreated from your feet once you stood steadily enough.

Alastor grinned, one of his hands running through the loosened strands of hair that had escaped your neatly tied ponytail throughout the day's progress. "It's an acquired form of mobility you'll surely get the hang of one day. If the successes of today are any indicators - you're very capable to master any kind of extraordinary." One of his claws ran down the side of your neck, the other was still holding you pressed against him as if he was reluctant to let go. His voice dropped low and became the unusual kind of smooth that had become so dangerously addicting to you, its deep vibrations sending goosebumps over your arms and the back of your neck. "But I think we should postpone this particular discussion for a later time - our friends are surely waiting and we shall not waste the opportunity to gloat about our accomplishments today."

Your face flushed at the obvious praise and you felt a slight flutter in your chest as he released you, the familiar hand on your lower back returning as he led you to the front doors and opened them for you with such soft eyes you thought they must’ve been an imagination.

The instant change of atmosphere felt tangible as soon as the two of you entered the lobby. While the lobby was abandoned and empty, you saw Angel, his back to you and with slumped shoulders at the bar, with a concerned looking Husk behind it. The cat demon had a rag thrown over his shoulder and a half-empty whiskey bottle and two tumblers in his paws, his brows furrowed as he talked to the spider-demon sitting at his counter.

"Listen, I'm sure yo' can talk to her, or him, or whatever the fuck, about this mess, okay?"

"No! I can't!!!”, Angel whined, “Husky, you know her by now - she'd… she’d want to help, and I can't - I can't let her get involved with..."

"Talk to who about what?" you asked into the hall, ignoring the wave of annoyed static next to you. Husk looked up to see the both of you and sighed, putting the rag down on the counter, while Angel seemed to fold into himself even more, turning away from you even more as you hurried to his side.

"Ah, it's nothing, Rocks. Jus'... work-stuff has been rough today. I better get to bed, it's..."

You grabbed his shoulder as he tried to stand up and get away, and your eyes widened, burning with anger when you saw blue and purple bruises scattered around his neck like inky paint. With nimble fingers, your free hand came up to hover over the marks - hand marks.

"Angel, who did that? What.... what happened?"

"It's nothing!", he insisted, still avoiding to look into your eyes, but in twisting his body to wiggle out of your grasp he revealed his face just enough for you to spot a blooming black eye.

"Nothing?! Angel, that doesn't look like nothing at all! What's going on?"

Husk looked at him, and then at you. His frown grew deeper, and his paw clenched tighter around the whiskey bottle as Alastor joined the bar silently.

"If you don't tell her, I will." Husk said, his voice low and even despite the furious look Angel shot him.

"Keep ya' nose outta my business, whiskers. I said it's nothing. I just - fuck, I jus' wanna drop out of that stupid show. I got too much work stuff goin' on, Rocks. I - I'll explain later, I have to go. We'll talk later."

With a swift move the spider demon finally got free of your grasp, snatched the bottle of booze from the bar top and rushed out of the lobby.

"Explain what?! Angel! Angel, wait!" A hand on your shoulder kept you from running after him. You whipped around to see that it wasn't Alastor but Husk that held you back, his face resigned and tired.

"I wouldn't. That's one conversation he clearly isn't ready to have with yo' now, kid."

Your ears flattened, and the fur of your tail bristled with a mix of frustration and anxiety. The exhilaration of the day was gone, replaced by worry and confusion. Alastor took Angel's empty glass in hand, swirling the remaining brown liquid around as he sat down on the counter.

"Well, luckily you offered so generously to fill us in, Husker."

The cat demon huffed and returned to his place behind the bar, his gaze lingering on you, as he took the glass out of the radio demon's hand and replaced it with a fresh, filled one, before pouring himself a good amount and knocking it back.

"I'd rather just talk to her, but I guess the 'us' is necessary with this one... C’mon, sit down, doll, and let me fix yo’ a drink – yo’ gonna need it."

[violetmuses]

Roman Reigns + Female Reader (Part 2) 🖤

Fandom: WWE 

Character: Roman Reigns 

@episodes-ff @expert-texpert @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @babybratzmaraj 🏷

Part 1

====

2021 

“What are you doing?” His strong voice calmed down when Roman called your hotel room one evening. 

“I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.” Production would handle another episode. 

“See you then, but I can't sleep.” The Southern accent pulled forward again. 

“Damn. Sorry.” Your heart sank while time on the road could drain anyone. 

“Miss you.” His deep yet gentle tone offered kindness. 

“Ro…” You can't help smiling for just a moment tonight. 

“No pressure, but I won't lie about anything.” The response eased so many questions. Even on camera, chemistry burned. 

“Me too.” You'd stay honest because there's no other choice. “Hope you sleep better.”

“Thank you, Sweetheart. Good night.” His peaceful laugh ended the conversation. 

*****

Right before the scheduled match would take place, Samantha noticed you. 

“We've just started working, but our team had an important question.  Would you introduce Roman and The Bloodline?” Irvin smiled at you during rehearsal.

“No, thank you. You're the best.” You declined the chance and knew that Samantha worked so hard to reach this point. 

“Thank you, but it wasn't my idea.” Samantha held her heart. 

“Jimmy?” You nearly shouted and moved toward your “brother” Jimmy Uso. 

“Hold up. It wasn't me, I promise!” Laughing, Jim raised his hands to surrender. 

“Big Head!” Almost immediately afterwards, you walked to Jey and crossed both arms. 

“Hey! It wasn't my idea, either. I'm innocent, all right?” Jey chuckled back. 

“Then who?” You've quickly scrunched up your face.  

Incoming footsteps silenced various forms of chitchat and Samantha almost gasped out loud. 

Donning athletic styles once more, Roman entered as Paul Heyman trailed right behind him. 

“What's going on?” You looked at Samantha right away.  

“Roman called us this morning and wants you to do it.” Sam turned in the opposite direction before your voice could protest once more. “Love ya!” 

Holy shit! You thought. 

*****

Three roaring drum slams pulled this building into outright chaos and heroically ominous music would soon carry that future introduction here. 

Blue lights flickered throughout the large-scale environment and you simply waited.

“Ones” drifted up high this evening as you lingered next to Samantha. 

“I'm right here. You can do it.” Irvin encouraged your voice no matter what. 

“Thank you, Sam.” The gratitude only whispered in return. 

“Woo!” Fans cheered for The Bloodline just before you started speaking. 

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Your voice finally bolstered excitement. “Please welcome Special Counsel Paul Heyman, our undisputed  Tag Team Champions: The Usos. And acknowledge the Universal Champion, our Tribal Chief: Roman Reigns!”

Thousands of people shrieked beyond words and Samantha almost cried and jumped up, genuinely hugging you on camera. 

“For the first time since Samantha Irvin has debuted, this torch will pass.” Commentators welcomed your chance. “We can't imagine how she feels. What an honor it must be to share this incredible moment with the world.” 

This commercial break lined up as expected, but there's no better feeling in the world as you kept smiling. 

_____

“Before we start anything out here, I want y'all to know that this is the best night of my life!” Taking his microphone, Roman spoke up in that ring first. 

Out of nowhere, fans would start chanting your name.  

“Hear that?” Jimmy and Jey encouraged another special moment for you. 

“Gave us a hard time at first, but you just did the impossible.” Roman turned by your direction. “Our family doesn't quit and we are so proud of you!”

Countless fans would keep cheering even louder than before while longtime production cameras greeted your emotions near Samantha Irvin. 

“The Tribal Chief has spoken. Welcome to our program!” Announcers helped this impromptu moment before timing really continued on air. 

******

“It's all day.” Roman almost barked while locking down another opponent. “I'm a heavyweight! I'm the only man here. I'll lay on this little bitch all night long. 265 pounds of ‘can't nobody do nothing!’ 

“Stop looking at me like that!” You playfully nudged Samantha during the match tonight. 

“Now he's riled up. Don't get in trouble!” Sam joked about you and Roman, humored. 

“I haven't done anything.” You quickly defended yourself. 

“That's not what I heard.” Samantha fooled around. 

“If Jey started talking….” You shook your head at this point.  

“No.” Samantha refused. “I'm just telling you. This could be more than friendship.”

“TV banter doesn't count.” You've still known so much better. 

“You're sweating.” Samantha couldn't fight this laugh again. 

“Spotlights.” You fibbed a little, knowing that Reigns captured your attention. 

Ding, ding, ding! 

Even when Samantha announced Roman's victory once more, your happiness didn't waver. 

Nothing could stop The Tribal Chief. 

=====

2024 

“Oh my goodness! Roman Reigns has chosen vengeance over family to hit Seth Rollins with a chairshot.” Commentators pulled dramatics in the middle of Wrestlemania 40 against Cody Rhodes. 

“What?!” Shouting, you jumped up and tears reached your face while Samatha hugged you close. Thousands of fans yelled upon realization. 

Both anger and grief coursed through your veins. 

No one told you that Roman would take this chance near Rollins, thereby costing himself the championship title! 

“The WWE Universe is electric tonight!” Commentators explained more and more noise from this crowd with each passing moment. 

“Why did you do that? The Bloodline just pulled all that work for nothing! What is wrong with you?” You can barely process what’s going on, absolutely disappointed in Roman. 

One publicly dark moment on live television crushed four amazing years of power and kinship for his character. 

On the other hand, Roman dropped down, giving Cody enough time to line up his long-awaited victory. 

“Go, Cody. It’s your time. Finish the story!” That uplifting announcement pulled heartstrings around the world. 

“Here is your winner.” Samatha could barely hold back tears right now. “Our new Universal Champion: The American Nightmare - Cody Rhodes!” 

Dropping this microphone, Samatha opened both arms to hug you during Cody’s special celebration. Even loved ones entered the ring as fans cheered for this brand-new era. 

The Rhodes family would keep their legacy alive at last. 

_______

With Cody exiting the tunnel alongside his favorite people, you pulled countless emotions together and waved, definitely proud. 

“Congratulations!” You quickly raved this time around. 

Joyful cheering would move throughout this large hallway and Cody just smiled right before leaving. 

“You good?” Your “brother” Jimmy Uso turned the corner next and noticed drying tears right away. 

“No.” You sniffled. “Roman lied to me, Jim. I didn’t even realize that Seth would show up tonight.” 

“Damn. For real?” Jim can’t believe what happened, either. 

“Yeah. We scheduled the match for a while now, but Roman never warned me about the chairshot during rehearsal.”  You’re exhausted, sitting down in this hallway. “This changes everything.” 

“Hold up. Win, lose, or draw - you’ll always be my sister.” Jimmy still offered kindness to you no matter what. 

“Thanks, Uce. Ride safe.” Your heart just pulled this tired embrace before Jimmy stood and left tonight, keeping you alone with private thoughts. 

________

Marching footsteps woke up your senses again and you stood from the floor, trying to walk away before Roman could “defend” himself. 

“Baby? Princess? Listen, it was the show..” Nicknames and apologies echoed from his strong voice, but your heart dropped all over again. 

“Don’t talk to me. You lied, that’s not okay!” Tears flowed once more and your own voice struggled. “We promised each other…” 

“I know..” Roman’s tone nearly wavered. 

“Don’t talk to me for a while.” You can’t handle another argument and need to settle down. 

You stormed out before Roman could say anything else. 

*****

Soon enough, social media platforms blew up the Wrestlemania aftermath and your sister Naomi, Jimmy’s wife, pulled up her phone in this tunnel. 

“Look!” Naomi projected. You huddled with Samantha, outright curious while debates pulled everywhere between Cody and Roman. 

Yesterday, I mourned. Today is Day 1.  Out of nowhere, Reigns posted this shirtless treadmill video to signify his potential comeback.

“Uh-oh.” Your colleagues realized this moment, but you shook your head, walking away to hustle. 

Who knows what could happen next? 

****

Months later, SummerSlam reached calendars located everywhere and you didn’t know what to expect, just ready to watch absolute cinema. 

During this big-time event, the arena darkened as blue spotlights illuminated the space unexpectedly and your heart almost jumped out of place. 

No! When percussion thundered out loud and this valiant instrumental returned, you almost fainted in Samantha’s arms during this broadcast. 

“Holy hell! Our Tribal Chief Roman Reigns has returned for the first time since losing his crown at Wrestlemania 40.” Commentators encouraged that unbelievable moment. 

Sporting gloriously dark hair with one slightly greying beard, Roman scaled this black graphic t-shirt over his muscular frame and walked along in matching pants. His sneakers would march for battle once more. 

Just when this man could sprint to that ring, Reigns locked one glare for the first time since you left, almost turning in slow motion. 

Three unexpected words drifted by your path before Roman launched the downfall of Solo Sikoa. 

“I love you…” 

“Here we go, ladies and gentlemen.” Commentators relayed madness again. “Reigns just landed an incredible Superman Punch to Solo Sikoa!” 

Nothing makes sense. You’ve blinked tears away just before Roman leaned against the iconic ropes. 

“Ooh-wa!” Reigns lifted both arms and yelled to the ceiling, charging forward as thousands joined his famous battlecry. 

“The Roman Empire is back in place with an amazing Spear!” Cheering almost overwhelmed the announcement team, but you didn’t care, just grateful to watch everything plays. 

“I’m here! I'm back. Ya’ll need me now? C’mon!” Even production cameras welcomed back the Tribal Chief during this throwdown. 

Bawling your eyes out near Samantha, you lifted one finger towards the sky and would never look back again. 

[retold-tales]

Fated Crossings

Tedros Pendragon x Princess Reader

Summary: the fairwell dance leads him to his true princess

The hall was echoing with whispers and laughs as the students waited for Ms dovey to say why she called them here before their fair well dance its been a few years since Agatha and Sophie left.

Tedros has not anyone since scared their gonna leave her just like she did and he's more focused on his soon to be kingdom and he didn't need someone to distract him.

"Students I have some exciting news, princess yn well be joining us tonight, so be nice she was home schooled because of her mom's horrible accident" she paused clearing her throat.

"She will be joining us for the dance so be respectful and show her the ladies and gentlemen you've become" and with that ms dovey left to do the finishing touches for the dance.

Tedros didn't really care that some princess was coming he just wanted to escape for the night and relax "I'll see you tonight bro" Tristan murmured walking away and all Tedros did was nod.

But he wasn't the only that wanted to escape the prince that was coming tonight had never been outside her castle walls her father saying it was to dangerous and she had to beg him so she could go.

Later that day

"Ms dovey I assure you'll take good care for her" king Edward asked as he eyed his daughter who was bouncing on her feet "I assure king edward princess yn will have the time of her life and be safe" she smiled.

And as soon as king edward got back into his chariot yn was ushered into the ballroom gaining everyone's attention "everyone princess yn" and as her name was announced tedros finally looked up from his book.

He throat felt dry as he watched her carefully walked down the stairs and she was immediately surrounded by people who asked questions and interrupted her whenever she wanted to speak but they were dispursed by Ms dovey and he watched as yn kinda backed into the shadows.

"The balcony is that way" tedros spoke up scaring the poor girl "oh thank you" she squeaked and went out the door breathing in the fresh air "must be hard to be stuck in one place" tedros murmured standing beside.

He felt a connection to her he feels like he can talk to her "yea it's hard even to just getting fresh air I have like 50 men following me armed to the teeth" she whispered staring up to the stary sky.

"How about we ditch this party and I take you on a horse ride" he smiled she wanted to protest because she knew if something happened her father will have her head but she needed to get out.

She nodded her head eagerly and followed him down to the stables where he led her to a beautiful pitch black stallion she lifted her hand to his face and he quickly rubbed his face on her hand "he likes you" tedros smiled down at yn.

He gently helped her onto his horse and settled behind her, she was tightly secured in his arms making her flustered how could she be falling for someone she just met.

He took her around the grounds showing her his favorite spots and only stopped when he came to the cliffs edge where they decided to sit and talk.

They started to speak about her home schooling and his father and kingdom and they soon came to realize they almost had identical personalities.

Yn cuddled up to him as a cold breeze blew over them, he wrapped his arms around her they felt as if they knew eachother since forever tedros thought back to Agatha yes he liked her but not like this.

It was like love at first sight

Tag.List

@alathan13

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

This is random but I want to talk about and I think you’d have good thoughts. Anyway i think Gonta would be a punk with enough time to develop his counterculture ways. He’s already a leftist (He’s a gentlemen) but I feel like he needs some time to heal from trauma and then the next step is attending animal rights protests. Do u agree

I feel like I need a degree in Gonta Gokuharu to answer this correctly without risking the wrath of every gonta stan.

I wouldn't call Gonta punk though, Gonta is not punk, Gonta is very concerned about his family and his image because he wants to impress his family. He is a gentlemen because its what is expected of him to be for someone of his status, along with just thinking it's a nice thing to be. Gonta wants to be what society thinks he should be due to his family. Which is like, the opposite of punk. Even if he got away from that mindset, I also don't know if he'd even...like punk music? That doesn't feel like Gonta's vibe, and punk is a a musical subculture, if you don't like punk music, you aren't really punk.

I also don't see him at an animal rights protests, animal welfare especially bugs? Sure, but animal rights? That's a completely different thing that has a lot of roots and common ideas I don't think Gonta would really, agree with? People forget Gonta's lab was full of dead bugs too after all, which he directly calls pretty and said the person who prepared the bug samples must have loved them.

He's an entomologist, he pins and dissects insects. He believes insects should be respected, and he really really likes them, but Gonta will and has killed bugs. He literally helped find a parasite that was making people sick, a discovery which would inherently lead to these parasites being dealt with, aka, removed from their hosts to die. If Gonta prioritized insect life as one to one with a human life, he wouldn't have done that.

Gonta implicitly was raised around and understands things like predation and omnivores and the fact you can't treat an insect the same way you treat a person. I think he'd find animal right talking points confusing. although I am also now picturing Kokichi trying to explain that he's vegetarian to a very confused "but humans are omnivores? Kokichi sick?" Gonta who hadn't encountered the concept before because when would he have and it's very funny

[johanna-swann]

Someone already posted the transcript for this particularly wholesome (not) part of Merz' speech in front of the German parliament, so I decided to post the video. Transcript and translation under the video. People of tumblr, I present: Probably our chancellor by the end of the month, Friedrich Merz.

Transcript:

"Ist das Ihr Ernst, dass wir angesichts der Anschläge in Magdeburg, in Aschaffenburg, der täglich stattfindenden Gruppenvergewaltigungen aus dem Milieu der Asylbewerber heraus-. Ist das Ihr Ernst, dass wir angesichts der Tatsache, dass sich mittlerweile Eltern-, dass sich mittlerweile Elterngruppen zusammenfinden in ganz Deutschland von Kindern, die von Asylbewerbern Opfer geworden sind von schwersten Straftaten-, ist das Ihr Ernst, dass wir heute darüber in der Mitte des deutschen Bundestages nicht entscheiden können? Das kann nicht Ihr Ernst sein.

Meine Damen und Herren, wenn Sie- wenn Sie wollen, dass wir die Achtung der Mehrheit der Bürgerinnen und Bürger in Deutschland auch kurz vor einer Bundestagswahl zurückgewinnen, dann müssen wir uns in der politischen Mitte dieses Hauses als entscheidungsfähig erweisen, auch wenn wir wenige Tage vor einer Bundestagswahl stehen. Oder ist diese Bundestagswahl für Sie Grund genug, diese Entscheidung jetzt nicht zu treffen? Und dafür aber dann eine solche Auseinandersetzung fortzustzen, wie sie seit dem gestrigen Tag auch gegen mich als Person in Deutschland stattfindet. Ist das die Sache wert? Ist das die Sache wert?"

English translation:

"Are you serious that, given the attacks in Magdeburg, in Aschaffenburg, the gang rapes committed every day by members of the milieu of asylum seekers- are you serious that given the fact that there are now parent groups gathering all over Germany of children who have become victims of the most serious crimes committed by asylum seekers- are you serious that in the political centre of the German Bundestag we cannot decide on this today? You can't be serious.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you - if you want us to regain the respect of the majority of citizens in Germany even shortly before a federal election, then we must prove that we are capable of making decisions in the political centre of this house, even if we are only a few days from facing a federal election. Or is this federal election reason enough for you not to make this decision now? And then to continue the kind of argument that has also been taking place against me as a person since yesterday in Germany. Is it worth it? Is it worth it?"

My personal highlights:

baseless accusations of daily gang rapes committed by immigrants

Merz correctly gendering citizens ("Bürgerinnen und Bürger") but not asylum seekers ("Asylbewerber")

talking about children as victims of asylum seekers and their heinous crimes while the 2 year old boy who was killed in Aschaffenburg was in fact from an arab immigrant family (from Morocco I think)

thinking that collaborating with Nazis will cost him less respect from the people than leaving a decision on immigration law open until after the election (which is in 3 weeks)

calling himself and his racist politics centrist (had a good laugh about that)

calling out the other parties for being less anti-immigrant than he is, how dare they

Merz feeling personally attacked by people protesting against his racist, Nazi-collaborating arse (poor little guy)

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 16 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: So much happens in this chapter and so much tea is spilled here....and so I must warn you of a few things. There are some trigger warnings for this chapter and mentions of sexual abuse and past attempts of assault. Don't come for my head??? Anyways, other than the warning, I'm excited to hear your thoughts and please let me know what you think!

Getting her brother to acclimatize was easy.  All it took from her was the promise of the Sharpe competitive spirit and the fact that surely, she was going to decimate him in croquet.  A smile had broken out on his features as the two siblings, oldest and youngest, violently fought over the croquet mallets and who would be what color. 

That seemed to jar some of the other men into relaxing a little bit—and given Abe’s resilience and youthful spirit, he represented a bright and shining moment that they could relate to and get back to.  Ruth would consider it a win.  The only person who stayed out of their particularly vicious croquet game was Robby, though she had an inkling as to why. 

The two of them were cut from the same cloth.  And if it had been Ruth who had gone up in the air and survived and done those things, she would have wanted to throw herself into work as well.  But there wasn’t work to be done here, not in the same way that Robby would have a purpose with.  

“You’re making that face again,” Abe advised quietly—this time was the second go around for croquet and he was bound and determined to make certain that his sister lost. 

But Ruth wasn’t really paying attention to the game.  She was paying attention to the walkway, where Robert Rosenthal was currently walking.  If she could just get him to let loose and relax a little bit—to let go of the handles and let someone else drive for a change—then maybe these men stood a chance at escaping the burnout.  

“Hmm?” Ruth questioned, gaze falling back on her brother.  “You didn’t steal my turn, did you?” 

“No, we’re just waiting on you,” Abe said, gesturing emphatically at the hoops on the ground. 

Ruth lined her mallet up and gave a grin as the mallet collided with the ball.  It went straight through another hoop and she smirked at the men.  “I believe that’s another point for me.” 

“Ugh, we’re never going to stop her.  She’s more formidable than the Germans,” Pappy exclaimed. 

“As lovely as that is,” Ruth replied.  “I’m a bit parched.  I’m just going to grab a drink and then I’ll be with you gentlemen.” Before they could so much as protest, considering the fact that they were in the middle of a game, Ruth was off and out of sight.  She was a woman on a mission and if that mission entailed getting Robby Rosenthal’s head screwed on straight, then she’d be damn sure that she’d do it correctly. 

Ruth’s heeled feet clicked against the pavement and then the sounds stopped as she hurried onto the grass.  It didn’t take her long to catch up with Robby, catching him by the arm and giving an innocent smile. 

“Take a turn around the grounds with me?” 

“What is this, a regency novel?” Robby said, swatting her arm away in annoyance.  

“Maybe I just want to talk to you.” 

“Okay, Miss-Always-Has-An-Ulterior-Motive,” Rosie nearly snorted at the thought that she just wanted to talk.  The last time that Ruth had just wanted to talk, the two of them had nearly ended up verbally murdering each other in the hallway after a deposition.  

A slight frown curled on her lips and she glowered at him for a moment.  “Fine.  The therapist here says that you’re being uncooperative.” 

“And he thought that talking to you was going to make that better?” 

“Oh please,” Ruth scoffed.  “That’s not his intention in telling me.  They just think that a swift smack to the head might do the job better.” 

“Well you always were a woman of godly violence.” 

“Obviously,” Ruth said with a slight sniff as they walked.  “You’re deflecting though, even in this conversation.  Which is not like you, Mr. Always-Has-To-Be-Confrontational.” 

“I do not—” 

“I believe you just proved my point,” Ruth retorted smugly.  

Rosie let out a huff of air as they started down a hill towards a maze.  “Listen, I just don’t think it’s in my best interest or in the army’s best interest to have me here right now.  That’s all.” 

“Okay, so what is?  Letting you fly every single day until your brain just goes numb from what you’re seeing?” Ruth pointed out.  

Before he could retort to that, the two of them stopped short at the sound of a sob.  Ruth didn’t fail to notice the way that Robby’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched up.  He looked like he wanted to go to the boy sitting back there and crying.  But his heart was just as clenched up as his fists were.  His feet remained rooted to the ground and Ruth just gently guided Robby back out of the maze. 

“Listen,” Ruth said in a quiet tone.  “The Brass is worried about you.  And that means they’re worried about your men too.  Don’t make me knock you upside the head because you’re being stubborn.  Got it?” 

Rosie just let out a deep sigh, gaze falling on Ruth finally.  “Yeah alright. I got it.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth sat in the library, paper in hand and a pen.  She wasn’t quite sure what to say about what had happened in the last few weeks.  The fact that her brother was now here and at Thorpe Abbotts.  The fact that she had lied and was helping him stay in the military.  The fact that nearly everyone in the Hundredth had been downed or killed in action.  

How do you go about even beginning something like that?  But she had done her best.  About halfway through her letter to Dick Winters, Ruth just felt weary.  How was it that the only person she was really telling everything to was hours away from her and she had never felt further from humanity than she did at this very moment?  

The music from the next room was almost overpowering as she set down her pen, staring at the letter in front of her. How to express loneliness in a simple sentence?  She didn’t regret leaving him, she didn’t—but she missed him all the same.  She missed feeling like she was an actual person and not just an appendage by which the war was being fought.  

I feel out place here.  It’s not that my job isn’t important, because it is.  You know my job has always come first.  I just get thinking that everyone is going to go up in the sky and they won’t come back down.  And I’ll just be left here in the in-between, wondering what’s left for me when it’s all over. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you burning the midnight oil,” Robby’s voice flooded Ruth’s ears and she glanced up from her spot in her armchair, finding him standing in the doorway in his pajamas. 

“And you’re clearly sleeping as well as finals week,” Ruth retorted. 

“You and that therapist—” Robby just shook his head.  “He told me I’d find you in here.” 

“He thinks you should talk to me?” 

“I think it was his way of encouraging socialization, given how tense dinner was earlier,” Robby amended.  “Abe doing okay?” 

Ruth set down the letter, gaze flickering at Robby.  He had cautiously taken a few steps inside of the library, sitting down in an armchair not too far from her.  “He’s a good kid, he’ll be okay,” Ruth insisted.  “He’s tough as nails, that one.” 

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Robby cracked a small smile at her.  “Who are you writing?  Let me guess, Timothy—” 

“I would never write to him,” Ruth’s tone hissed out so quickly and in such a venom, Robert felt like he had missed something significant. 

“I thought that you two—” 

“Yeah well—” Ruth huffed out.  “I would never write to someone as awful as he was.” 

It was silent for a long second and when Ruth glanced up, she thought she saw something softening ever so slightly in Robby’s eyes.  And she didn’t like it one bit.  “I guess I always just assumed that—” 

“That I was the colossal bitch for breaking up with my fianceé a few months before the wedding?” Ruth deadpanned.  “Everyone thinks that they know what happened but they have no idea what kind of man he was.” 

Robby seemed to be struggling with his words.  “And—and what kind of man was he?” 

Ruth fell silent for a long minute.  “You remember the deposition we had to do together?  You said I was off my game and I looked tired?” 

“Well yeah.  Why?” 

“The night before, he had gotten back a few scores.  We had gone out for some drinks,” Ruth’s hands began to fiddle together in her lap.  A nervous tic given the topic at hand.  “And he was nice, as he always was.  But then I got him home.  And I’m not much of a drinker.  Maybe I should have been that night.  He wanted me to sleep with him—didn’t see much sense in waiting since we were getting married anyway.” 

“He didn’t—” Robby started. 

“Well I told him no,” Ruth cut him off.  “And then he told me that it’d be better if we just started now.  Because no wife of his was going to be a lawyer anyway.  His wife was going to stay home and have his babies.  I thought that was bullshit and told him so.  I guess he was so angry that he—uh—he wasn’t himself.  And he grabbed the nearest pan in the kitchen and he just….started hitting me with it.” 

There was a long beat of silence.  “Holy shit, Ruth.” 

“He must’ve hit me fifteen or sixteen times before stopping and trying to get on top of me.  But you know me, I’m so petty and competitive.  So I grabbed the pan and slammed it into his face.  It must’ve been one hell of a hit because he sobered up and began crying and apologizing.  But I was out of there, left the ring and everything. I told him that if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t hesitate to prosecute the shit out of him,” Ruth admitted.  “I went to a clinic in Queens so that mama wouldn’t find out.  He broke two of my ribs and left some permanent damage to some other things,” Ruth admitted. 

“But—but—you were there the next day.  At the deposition,” Rosie’s heart sank in his chest as he stared at her. 

“Well I don’t like to lose,” Ruth replied dryly.  “I never told anyone that story until now.  I guess it’s because I really do think you’re a good person, even if you annoy the hell out of me.” 

“Ruth,” Rosie started in a soft tone. 

“Oh don’t get all sentimental and weird on me.  I prefer being at odds with you,” Ruth said. She glanced at the letter on the arm of the seat and gestured at it.  “And as for who I’m writing, it’s my last boyfriend.  From Aldbourne.  Good man, good friend.  I guess I ran away when he wanted to get serious because of the Timothy shit.  Because I’m not going to stifle myself for anyone.  Not even myself.” 

It was a lot to take in.  And for a moment, just a shining moment, Robert Rosenthal thought that he saw behind the curtain to where the real Ruth Sharpe had been hiding.  She had been nicer before that engagement.  And afterwards, she had turned ice cold and bitter—and now that he knew why, it made him sick.  

“You know,” Robby started slowly.  “You coulda come to me.  I would’ve helped.” 

Ruth just let out a sigh.  “If I want help, I’ll ask for it.” 

“Would you?” He challenged. 

“Are you?” Ruth retorted.  “The way that I see it, you and I don’t get along because we’re too much alike.  And I hate to even admit that much, but it’s the truth.  You want to get the hell out of here because you need to be busy. You need to have things to do so that you don’t feel useless or so that you don’t break down.  It’s simple, really.” 

“Then what’s the solution?  Oh wise Ruth Sharpe,” Robby snapped in a sarcastic tone. 

Now there was that bite that she had been looking and waiting for.  Ruth let her lips curl up into a smirk.  “Well for one, your men need you.  So get your head on straight.  And two?  You’re a damn good pilot.  You compartmentalize as much as you can so that you can be at your best all of the time.” 

“Simple as that, huh?” 

“Simple as that,” Ruth retorted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abe was awfully suspicious that last day at the Flak-House.  He seemed to be more and more nervous the more downtime that the men had.  Because the more downtime there was, the more questions that they had for him.  And he had no clue on some of the things they were asking him. 

So that last day, he pulled Rosie and Ruth over to a table and began to lay out his plans. “Listen, I’ve told them that I was accepted into college.” 

“What college?” Ruth and Rosie immediately questioned at the same time.  

“NYU,” Abe admitted, running a hand through his hair.  “It should be fine, right?” 

“I mean, probably,” Rosie said with a shrug.  “As long as you remember that, yeah.” 

“You know,” Came a voice from the other table.  “You three are always looking like you’re conspiring about something.” 

And before Ruth or Robby could so gracefully handle the conversation, Abe had spun around and blurted out the source of all of their problems henceforth.  “That’s because we are!” Abe exclaimed. 

“You are?” Pappy questioned, gaze narrowing. 

“Yeah, I found these two kissing!  They’re in love and trying to get me to cover for them!” Abe blurted. 

Ruth couldn’t help the fact that her jaw simply dropped as she and Robert Rosenthal stared at one another.  This was hell, they were officially in hell. And there was no going back from that particular statement, however false it was. 

“I—what?” Pappy asked, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, we’re in love,” Rosie just looked like he was going to be sick. 

“Uh huh,” Ruth agreed blankly, unable to form a single thought process in her head. 

Abe leaned forward, a grin on his face.  “Oh you two are the best, thanks for covering for me.  I owe you one!” 

[queenmarytudor]

Mary I's Fight For The Throne

18th August - Mary makes her first Royal proclamation

Following Mary's jubilant entry into London, fights instantly break out between the mixed population of Catholics and Protestants. A priest who performs Mass has his chalice and vestments stolen, and "two or three hundred people assembled and made such riot that the mayor had been obliged to go in person to quell the tumult." 1 while on the 15th a "defamatory leaflet was scattered about the streets of the town:

"Noblemen and gentlemen favouring the word of God, take counsel together and join with all your power and your following! Withdraw yourselves from our virtuous Lady, Queen Mary, because Rochester, Walgrave, Inglefield, Weston and Hastings, hardened and detestable papists all, follow the opinions of the said Queen. Fear not, and God will prosper and help our holy design and intent; be assured that they have no great strength now, except two archpapists, Derby and Stourton; Arundel might be mentioned as the third, with the renegades (Sir Edmund) Peckham and (Sir William) Drury, chamberlain, who have no great power. As to the other personages in the country, of whatever condition they may be, they will assuredly prove tractable and conform to our belief, as we have seen by experience during the last seven years. But Winchester, the great devil, must be exorcised and exterminated with his disciples named above, before he can poison the people and wax strong in his religion. Draw near to the Gospels, and your guardian shall be the crown of glory!" 2

Hearing of this, and after already giving the Mayor and alderman of London "a writing to act and provide accordingly, and let it be known in the proper quarter, without making any solemn proclamation", Mary decides she must make an official statement. 3

On the 18th of August Mary makes her first royal proclamation regarding religion:

Her Grace, considering the great troubles and dangers that were brought forth in the past by the diversity of opinions and questioning about religion within the kingdom, and having learnt moreover that since her accession to the throne contentions have sprung up afresh owing to certain rumours and false reports circulated by wicked persons disposed to evil doing, has determined to make her resolve known to her faithful subjects, as follows:

First, her Majesty, being now in possession of her Imperial crown and estate pertaining to it, cannot forsake that faith that the whole world knows her to have followed and practised since her birth; she desires rather, by God's grace, to preserve it until the day of her death; and she desires greatly that her subjects may come to embrace the same faith quietly and with charity, whereby she shall receive great happiness. She makes known to her beloved subjects that out of her goodness and clemency she does not desire to compel anyone to do so for the present, or until by common consent a new determination shall be come to; but she forbids all and sundry of her loving subjects, of every age and condition, under the penalty of the law to stir up tumult or sedition among her people, on the pretext of upholding certain laws of the kingdom made according to the fantasies of men; but rather commands them to live quietly until fresh ordinances be made, because her Majesty desires, and strictly orders and commands, that all shall live in peace and Christian charity. Words of recent introduction, bandied as insults, such as “papist,” “heretic” and so forth, shall be dropped; and all men, by possessing their souls in the fear of God, and by a rightous life and holy deeds, shall truly show their desire to glorify God and His Word, as they profess in their reasonings and disputations to desire it. By these practices, and by honouring God, men shall live without fear and the tranquillity of the kingdom shall be maintained, whence her Grace shall derive great joy and contentment. But if any were to presume to hold conventicles in public or in private, and sow dissension among the people, her Majesty makes it known that she would do her duty in reforming their ways and punishing those who should be guilty of going against her laws.

Moreover, as we see that false rumours and reports are nourished and maintained by certain evilly-disposed persons who take upon themselves, without sufficient authority, to preach and interpret the word of God according to their own mind, in churches and elsewhere, publicly and privately, and by representations, by false printed books of recent composition, in rhymes, ballads and other foolish and unreasonable ways attack the ministers of God and the articles of the Christian religion which they have recently brought into controversy, which books, rhymes and treatises are given out by the printers and booksellers with evil zeal to sell them and make their profit, or rather with greed of unjust gain; her Majesty commands and strictly charges every one of her subjects, of whatever age and condition, that no one shall henceforth, under pretext of sermons or lessons, either in church, publicly or privately, interpret the Scriptures, or teach anything pertaining to religion, except it be in the schools of the university. Neither shall they print any book, treatise, dialogue, rhyme, ballad, comedy or argument except by special, written command of her Majesty, under pain of her displeasure.

Her Majesty strictly commands all and sundry that no one among her subjects shall presume by his own act to punish or rise against those who may go against the law, or against any who may have taken part by word or deed in the past rebellion made by the Duke of Northumberland and his accomplices; neither shall they take their goods nor offend them in their persons by violence or imprisonment or similar acts; but they shall refer them to her Majesty or her officers, so that they may be punished according to the law. Her Majesty does not wish to discourage any man from denouncing or giving information concerning those who may be guilty of the above-named offences against her own person or the members of her Privy Council, so that they may be punished as the law ordains.

Her Majesty enjoins upon all her subjects the observance of the said commands, and decrees that they shall everywhere bend to her will without reserve, and thus avoid her displeasure and the rigour of her wrath, giving her no cause for sorrow; being determined to leave no deed unpunished that may be committed rebelliously against the law, so that there may follow no troubles or disorders, but the laws be carried out to the letter.

Her Majesty hopes that her loving subjects will conduct themselves befittingly; and, in fine, she commands and strictly enjoins upon her mayors, sheriffs, justices, bailiffs, constables and other officers and public administrators to use all diligence in the observance and execution of her will and commands, and to see to it that they who shall wilfully break them be sent to the nearest public prison and kept there until notice be given to her Majesty or her Privy Council of their names and the fault imputed to them, together with their replies on examination; after which they shall receive their punishment according to the law, as an example to the rest. 4

On the same day, at Westminster Hall, John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland is found guilty of treason. After being released following Mary's entry into London, the "Duke of Norfolk, sitting under the cloth of estate, gave judgement". 5

The execution is planned for the 21st, however it is delayed a day once Northumberland recants Protestantism. He "received the holy sacrament, heard mass devoutly and performed all the customary acts of devotion according to the ancient religion, declaring loudly before those who were in the Tower that since he had forsaken God and the Church to follow the new religion he had done no good, and his actions had been unfortunate. He confessed publicly that he had continued in error for three or four years, and went so far as to approve the authority of the Roman Church, using words that avowed the said authority, as we have been told. He did not merely declare what is said above in the Tower, but repeated the same words on the scaffold, loudly, before the people. He recommended them to obey the Queen, whom he called good and virtuous, saying that she had attained the throne miraculously, by reason of her true right by inheritance, and that therein he acknowledged the hand of God." 6

On the 22nd of August "the Duke of Northumberland and Sir John Gates, late Captain of the Guard, and Sir Thomas Palmer, knights, were all three beheaded on the Tower hill, between 8 and 9 of the clock in the forenoon, and after their bodies and heads were carried into the Tower again." 7

Sources:

1. Spanish State Papers, 16th August 1553

2. Spanish State Papers, 16th August 1553

3. Spanish State Papers, 16th August 1553

4. Spanish State Papers, 16th August 1553

5. Wriothesley's Chronicle

6. Spanish State Papers, 27th August 1553

7. Wriothesley's Chronicle

[isadomna]

The Fall of Anne Boleyn

On the day of Katherine of Aragon's funeral, Anne Boleyn miscarried a son. Henry VIII was so disappointed that he started entertaining doubts as to the validity of his marriage to her. At this time, Henry had a new love interest in the person of Jane Seymour, one of Anne’s maids of honour. Many believed that with Katherine’s death the King could easily discard Anne and remarry without controversy. The main goal of the conservatives was to see Henry VIII annulling his marriage to Anne, send her away from court in disgrace, returning to the Catholic Church and reinstating his elder daughter Mary to the line of succession. The conservative party of the court was unaware of what was about to happen.

Around the beginning of 1536, Thomas Cromwell was told a story. In the French king’s court, he was informed, rumours about Anne Boleyn’s sexual fidelity were flying: letters had been obtained in which she was accused of adultery. This story reached England by means of Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who had been Henry VIII’s resident ambassador at the French court since the previous September. Henry VIII was furious, but, as ever, well able to dissemble his rage, and a discreet investigation was ordered. Of course, he could not publicly announce that he doubted his wife after he had rearranged the religious and political framework of Europe in order to marry her. Even while her behaviour was under investigation he continued to push for European recognition of his annulment and remarriage, and for Anne’s status as Queen of England. Politics was ever thus. The source for the January investigation into Anne’s fidelity is Alexander Ales, a Scottish theologian who was in London around this time. He later recounted these events in a letter to Anne Boleyn’s daughter Elizabeth I in September 1559.

Thomas Cromwell soon began interrogating Anne’s ladies-in-waiting, hoping to build a case against the Queen. Anne Boleyn must have been aware that Francis I of France was spreading unfavourable reports about her in his country. In March 1536, for instance, he revealed to the papal nuncio that Anne—“that woman”, as he coldly referred to her—was not really with child but pretended to have miscarried a son. Anne’s marriage was declared unlawful and invalid – after three years of Henry’s supporters arguing the opposite – due to his affinity with Anne’s sister. The ploy Henry had used to annul his marriage with Katherine was at once resurrected to ensure that Anne did not die a queen.

Accused of adultery with several gentlemen, incest with her brother George, plotting the King's death, and also reputed to have ensnared Henry VIII with witchcraft, Anne Boleyn was condemned to death and beheaded. The terrible fate that had haunted Katherine of Aragon, the execution of a queen on the order of her once loving husband, had come to pass. Katherine had narrowly avoided it, but the full force of Henry’s wrath descended upon the head of her rival.

The imperial ambassador Chapuys, a skilled lawyer himself, was shocked that Anne and her alleged lovers “were sentenced on mere presumption or on very slight grounds, without legal proof or valid confession”. Anne protested her innocence and said that no one could bring witnesses against her misconduct because she was not guilty. Only Mark Smeaton confessed to have had three sexual encounters with Anne, but he may have been tortured; historical sources are not unanimous on this issue. Thomas Cromwell later told Chapuys that the King ordered him to get rid of his Queen. Henry VIII’s “peculiar remorse for the wrong he had done Anne Boleyn by putting her to death on a false accusation” expressed on his deathbed and recorded by the contemporary Franciscan French monk André Thevet, who resided in England at that time, confirm his words.

The day after Anne Boleyn’s execution, the French ambassador rushed to Henry VIII’s private chambers to propose a new marriage treaty. Francis I desired Henry VIII to marry his own daughter, the sixteen-year-old Madame Madeleine. Henry protested, he would not marry Madame Madeleine because she was “too young for him”, and besides, he already had “too much experience of French bringing up and manners”, alluding to the late Anne Boleyn. He also added that he preferred to marry an Englishwoman because he could punish her if she misbehaved.

Sources:

Sylvia Barbara Soberton, Golden Age Ladies: Women Who Shaped the Courts of Henry VIII and Francis I

Nicola Clark, THE WAITING GAME: THE UNTOLD STORY OF THE WOMEN WHO SERVED THE TUDOR QUEENS

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Blonde twink gets destroyed by the clap of Brazil's ass cheeks

Jet stream Sam:

You like Brazilian chads with dummy thicc thighs that save lives, are an avid listener to bury the light, or have probably never played any other Metal Gear game since you are an avid RaidenxSam shipper who tends to forget or not know that Raiden has a wife (to be fair Rose repeatedly manipulated him and is a terrible cook so obviously Sam is the better choice and you have good taste in husbandos).

First Date:

You were at the local strip club, your boyfriend recently having dumped you. You decided you would go get drunk and watch some hot men dance to ease your troubles. You poured down your tequila and burped. "This better be worth it!" You brought all the cash you had on you which was pathetically small since your only source of income was from working at Wal-Mart.

Suddenly bright lights were flashing in neon colors and for some reason it reminded you of your friends rgb pc setup. "Hey ladies, give it out to our first man of the night, the incredibly sexy Corrente de Jato" Next thing you knew, men and women around you were screaming like they were at a boy band concert. "I guess this guy must be really popular huh?" Soon catchy techno music was blasting and out came a rugged yet chiseled man.

"Lets dance!" He began taking off his clothes and was soon only wearing a thong, not leaving much to the imagination. His rythmn matched the beat and you had to admit that he was pretty good because he could do some wicked moves on that dance pole. The money started pouring in. "Yes, yes I like this!" the man thought. In the corner of the room a slight growl could faintly be heard. There was a lone cardboard box. Underneath of course was none of then Raiden.

"That bastard! So this is what he's been up to? Well I think it's time to make my entrance!" He slowly crept to the front of the row. "What the hell is that?" Raiden was bumping into more people than someone playing bumper cars so everyone eventually took notice and stopped paying attention to Sam. "Shit! I think I've been compromised. Alright, plan b!" He tore away the box and revealed himself.

"Raiden? Is that You? What on earth are you doing here!?" The cyborg pointed his blade at the Brazilian man. "I'm the one that should be asking you that! This sword is a tool of justice but tonight I shall prove that I'm the victor!" Samuel laughed. "By all means pretty boy, if you think this is so easy then why don't you try it yourself?" Raiden took this as a challenge and entered the spotlight. "Alright. Girls like hot guys with accents rights? I think I've got this."

He readjusted his sombrero. "Hola, putas! Se habla español." An angry woman threw her beer bottle at him. "TAKE IT OFF!" He tapped the mic. "Please bear with me ladies and gentlemen, the show will start momentarily. El elemento por favor!" He tore off his suit and smirked. "WHERE IS IT?" Raiden thought he was doing everything right. "Huh?" The crowd was getting restless. "WHERE'S HIS DICK!" Just before Raiden could protest and trauma dump to the entire audience about how the patriots removed most of his body, Sam interjected.

"Hey, why don't we get back to dancing!" The boos turned back into cheers and then Raiden noticed the difference in the crowds reactions. He decided to give dancing a shot. He may be Liberian but he is 100% white with the way he danced. "GET HIM OFF THE STAGE!" Raiden was starting to get angry. "YOU GUYS JUST DON'T APPRECIATE THE ROBOT! BESIDES, WHAT'S HE HAVE THAT I DON'T!"

In unison the drunk patrons began yelling "NO DICK! NO DICK! NO DICK! NO DICK!" The cyborg sighed. He began to feel himself losing to Jack the ripper. "Fuck this, I'll just kill Sam and go home." he thought. Raiden tore the dance pole down and began to use it like L'Etranger. He went to stab Sam but the man managed to parry him. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE!?" he screamed. Unfortunately for Raiden, he was oblivious to the fact that Samuel hadn't been dancing at all but had been doing capoeira.

"SHOW ME A GOOD TIME JACK!" Everyone began to evacuate as the two men battled and the speakers began to play the only thing I know for real. The building was soon turned into rubble and the men lay there motionless, panting. "Well I'm out of a job now blondie so you better find me some work." Raiden let out a loud "GOD DAMNIIIIIIT!" and curled into the fetal position. He didn't want to deal with this shit again.

[aceship-sconesterprise]

In Our Favor

Part 423

McCoy

McCoy covered his mouth to hide a yawn. He really hadn’t gotten much sleep despite having laid down on the bed that had been brought in. His dreams had been unpleasant, things he didn’t want to remember.

He listened to Robbie and his sister talk with Scotty. Francine must have spoken with them the night before to arrange the chat. Had Robbie stayed home from class to be able to talk to his brother? Or did he have classes on Fridays? McCoy couldn’t remember at the moment. He certainly wouldn’t be attending his own classes that day. And who knew what the weekend would bring for Scotty and his healing. Maybe Monday classes would be right out too.

A hand gently shook his shoulder.

“Hmm?” McCoy blinked his eyes open and looked at Granddad next to him. The older man’s face showed his concern.

“Ye fell asleep love,” Scotty said.

The PADD was no longer in his hands. McCoy looked around and realized Francine must have put it away again.

“Did we finish talking to Leah and Robbie?” he asked.

“We did,” Scotty said with a weak smile. “Ye mostly snored.”

“I did not,” McCoy protested. All three Scott’s smiled at each other, but before anyone could say more there was a sharp knock on the door.

Averie opened it and Admiral Winston entered.

McCoy kept a sigh to himself.

“Good morning cadets. Ma’am, sir.” The admiral nodded at Francine and Alasdair. “I am Admiral Winston, in charge of security and this current investigation.”

The older Scotts introduced themselves.

“How are you today, cadet?” The admiral looked at Scotty.

“Better? The nurse has been in, but not the doctor yet.”

“Good. I see you have your security on the door.” She looked over at McCoy. “I spoke with your father yesterday evening. Starfleet’s security will continue to be heightened, but I am glad for the loan of his personnel.”

“Me too,” McCoy replied in what he hoped came out as a neutral tone.

“Besides coming to check on you, I wanted to inform you that we have made some progress. The officer who shot you has been cooperative and gave us a lead on where the Romulan has been staying. Unfortunately, he has already moved on, but we are continuing to follow up.”

“That’s something at least,” Granddad murmured.

“Obviously you two are dismissed from classes today,” Admiral Winston continued. “And I would like to extend that into next week if necessary. Your health is important and none of us would want you to overdo it too soon.”

“Where are your security officers?” Granddad asked. “Averie is on the door here, but I’ve nae seen your people.”

“Fair question sir,” the admiral nodded her head towards him deferentially. “At the moment the people I have chosen to watch over these two young men are in civilian clothes. Here in the hospital we’d prefer to not stand out.”

“So if someone tried something they’d think we were unprotected,” McCoy frowned.

“Yes, but not like that. I would not put you gentlemen in harm’s way as bait.” Admiral Winston looked taken aback at the idea.

McCoy let out a slow breath. Tiredness was turning to crankiness and he didn’t want to get himself in trouble. He reached over for Scotty’s hand and felt himself calm. Scotty gave him a squeeze.

“Mr. Scott I’m glad you’re feeling better. Ma’am, sir, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Admiral Winston took her leave.

“Leonard?” Francine began softly. “If ye’d like to go rest—”

“I’m not leaving,” he said stubbornly.

Francine smiled gently and nodded. “I know ye don’t want to, but ye could at least lie down.” She waved a hand at the extra bed. “We can keep quiet for ye.”

Scotty squeezed his hand again. “Mum’s right. Ye’re getting grumpy.”

“Hey!”

Scotty grinned. “Just kidding love. But please? Try to get some sleep?”

Slowly McCoy nodded. “Ok. But you don't all have to be silent because of me.”

“We won’t be, don’t worry,” smiled Francine.

McCoy stood up slowly, his body heavy and crossed over to the bed. The mattress was too firm, but he sank into it anyway.

Part 424

Scotty

It wasn't long before Leonard fell asleep and Scotty turned his attention to Francine and Alasdair. He was really glad that the two of them had come here. And he was also glad about the phone call they had organized. To see Robbie and Leah had been a good thing.

"He can be really stubborn sometimes," Francine said, glancing briefly at Leonard. She smiled gently and Scotty chuckled.

"Aye. It's usually like that when he's worried."

The smile on his mother's lips faded and she looked to Scotty, squeezing his hand.

"I just still can't believe it. I really thought this place would give ye a safe future and then... then this happens. I could've lost ye." Tears filled Francine's eyes and Scotty put his free hand on hers.

"But ye didn't, mum. And... if all goes well, Admiral Winston and the others will soon find the person responsible."

He said it, even though he didn't believe it himself. Somewhere out there on the streets was a Romulan who wanted to destroy them. A Romulan who had managed to force a member of Starfleet to commit such an act. And that scared Scotty beyond belief. He just didn't want to let it show in front of his family.

"But what if they don't? What if these people try again and... and..." Panic was written all over Francine's face and her voice threatened to crack, but Granddad interrupted her.

"Francine."

He gave his daughter-in-law a serious but gentle look and she swallowed hard, nodding. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"A-aye. I ken. We... we have to keep calm and hope."

Alasdair nodded. He, too, disliked the whole situation, but he tried to remain the rock in the surf.

"If only there was some way we could help..."

"Ye do, a mhàthair. Ye help by simply being here with us. That's all ye need to do."

Francine nodded once more and tried to smile through the tears.

"How about... I... I cook something for ye? I'm sure I can find a kitchen somewhere."

"That sounds very good. I'm quite sure yer homemade soup will help me recover faster."

By the time Leonard woke up from his catch-up sleep, the doctor had already been there. She had told Scotty that they wanted to run a few more tests on him in the afternoon, but that the results looked good so far.

"Hey, mo ghràdh. I hope ye got some rest?" Scotty asked as Leonard sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah. It felt good." The prince let his gaze wander around the room. "How are you? Where are Francine and Granddad?"

Scotty smiled and waited until Leonard had stood up and joined him again.

"I'm all right. The doctor was here and she said everything looks good so far. Granddad's just getting some tea and mum's on her way to make us some soup."

Leonard blinked in surprise.

"Soup?"

Scotty nodded.

"Aye. She said she'd find some kind of kitchen. She... she's dying to do more for us."

"I can believe that. She's such a good soul." Leonard's gaze became thoughtful. "But she already does so much for us just by being with us."

Scotty shrugged his shoulders.

"I know. But if it helps her cope with everything, then I'm certainly not going to stop her."

[skyyknights]

Too Much

Ao3

Too much. 

It’s all too much. 

Zelda sets her quill down atop the parchment spread on the table before her, pressing her fingertips lightly against her forehead. The overlapping chatter of dozens of council members swirls around her, making her head pound, and the room is hot and stifling. She can’t think or breathe or focus, suffocating in a time loop of endless noise and chaos. 

Something has to change. She can’t take much more of this, trapped amid handfuls of other bodies, her brain threatening to implode from all the noises in the room. She can feel her body trembling as her heart beats out of control, as loud in her ears as the voices around her. 

Zelda comes to a decision swiftly, lowering her hand from her forehead and drawing a breath to steady her nerves. “Gentlemen,” she announces after a moment, her voice barely making an impact in the deafening room. She sighs and pushes out her chair, standing and bracing her hands on the table for added emphasis. “Gentlemen.” 

The chatter dwindles abruptly as every head in the room swivels to look at the soon-to-be queen. She clears her parched throat, gaze falling to the empty glass at her seat. It was emptied long ago, and in the chaos no one thought to refill it. “I think we’ve had enough discussion for today,” Zelda says, doing her best to keep the strained fragility from her voice. “We’ll resume this meeting tomorrow.”

“But Highness–!” one council member protests. 

“Your Grace, I must beg a private audience with you–” intones another. 

“Tomorrow,” Zelda enunciates firmly, stepping away from the table. She holds up one gloved hand as a third man tries to interject. “I have some– business to attend to at the moment.” Quickly she walks towards the door before her face can give away the lie. “I will see you at tomorrow’s meeting, gentlemen.” 

The door slams shut behind her, sealing away the instant burst of chatter that erupts behind her back, and Zelda paces quickly away down the hall, lifting her skirts and breaking into a run as she sprints through the corridors. There is nobody around her now, but still the voices swirl thickly in her head, loud and insistent, hot against her skin. 

Zelda peels desperately at her gloves as she runs, tearing them off and letting them fall to the tiled floor. She slams into one of the heavy doors leading out to the courtyard and shoves it open, stumbling out into the cool evening air before collapsing in the grass, arms braced in front of her as she pants for air. Too much. It’s too much. She can’t handle the constant voices and pressure and hot rooms and disorientation–

A door opens, then falls shut, and footsteps approach her through the grass. “Princess?” a quiet voice says, and Zelda blinks, pulled momentarily from the nausea threatening to overwhelm her. Boots appear in her line of vision, brown leather caked in mud. She swallows the sour taste in her mouth and looks up, greeted by a face she knows all too well.

“Link,” Zelda says softly, blinking and taking a breath before shifting position so her legs are curled beneath her. She doesn’t have the strength to stand again, and she knows he won’t mind her not rising to greet him. “What are you doing here?” 

The hero smiles gently, crouching in front of her and holding out his hand, in which he holds a glass of water. “I figured you might need this,” he says kindly, his soft Ordonian accent punctuating his words. “I know how hot those meetings can get.” 

Zelda stares at him for a moment, lips parted, before gratefully taking the glass with shaking hands. She drains the contents quickly and lowers it, exhaling slowly. “Thank you,” she tells Link, aware of the concern in his eyes as he looks at her. “I needed that.” There’s a pause, and then she frowns slightly, looking up at him again. “How did you know?” 

“Oh.” Link looks embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and not meeting her gaze. “Well, I was, um, sitting outside the meeting room. I saw you come out.” 

“You did?” Zelda blinks, trying to recollect whether she saw him sitting there or not, but she can’t remember. The nausea hits her again, and she recoils, dropping the glass and wrapping her arms around her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles through gritted teeth, focusing on a patch of grass and trying to breathe deeply. “I’m usually fine with meetings, but today–” 

“That’s only natural,” Link is quick to reassure her, scooting closer. He lays a cautious hand on her arm. “You’re still recovering from the Twilight and all. Makes sense you’re not fully yourself.” 

“I suppose,” Zelda agrees slowly, sagging in relief as the nausea subsides. She just feels so tired, drained of all her former energy. Like she’s still trapped in the upper room of her castle, unable to do anything besides stare at the rain falling outside. She digs her fingers into the grass on either side of her and shuts her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of the fading sun on her face and reminding herself that Hyrule is safe.  

Link’s hand remains on her arm, a gentle pressure that grounds her to the earth. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Princess?” 

Zelda cracks one eye, glancing over at his lightly freckled face. “You can call me Zelda, for starters,” she says in a  serious tone, but her lips twitch upwards in the beginnings of a smile. 

Link laughs, his blue eyes crinkling with mirth. “I could, but I’m not going to,” he tells her with a grin, then frowns slightly. “Do you have more meetings today?” 

Zelda shakes her head in response. “No, thankfully. Tomorrow I will, but I can’t handle any more today.” She presses a hand to her forehead, her eyes slipping shut. “I’m just…so exhausted. And all of the people and voices and details, they’re just so much, I–” 

Link’s hand rubs gently up and down her arm, and Zelda leans into his touch. “It’s okay, Princess,” Link murmurs, voice soft and reassuring. “It’s going to be all right.” He pauses, clearing his throat before continuing. “Perhaps…if it would help at all, I could attend your next meeting with you?” 

Zelda’s eyes snap open, focusing on his face, which is swiftly turning red from his previous question. “You…would be willing to do that for me?” she asks slowly, feeling warmth rise into her own cheeks at his earnest nod. “I can’t tell you how much that would mean.” 

“Anything for you, Princess,” Link tells her quietly, mouth curved upwards in a smile. “As always.” 

Zelda has never been one for impulsive actions, but she can’t resist the sweet sincerity beaming in his eyes. She leans forward and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She can hear his pulse beating rapidly against his jawline as he, after a long moment of silence, gently enfolds her with his own arms, returning the hug. “Thank you, Link,” Zelda mumbles against his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze and listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “You always know just what to do.” 

She can’t see Link’s smile, but she can hear it in his voice as he tightens his hold on her. “You’re welcome…Zelda.” 

[a-m-pyra]

First Burn: Ch4 End of Summer (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

P went downstairs in the morning to greet the children, Mrs. Sharpe, Otto and Mrs. Seymour. He stood in the aisle and smiled as he saw the children and Otto stuffing themselves with still warm bread and jam.

“Good morning,” he said, and the children responded in chorus, some of them, like Otto, with their mouths full.

He felt hands on his waist, and when he turned around, he saw Alice beaming with a wide smile on her face, which he returned, looking closely at her face.

She looked different somehow. Her cheeks were pinker, her eyes seemed more expressive, and her lips were the color of fresh strawberries.

He blinked several times, unable to utter a word for a moment.

Alice was pretty — in a completely different way than Sophia, who was as beautiful as a butterfly — delicate and sheer. Or Eugénie, who was just like Spring — charming and delightful.

Both Mrs. Seymour and Alice were as beautiful as something dangerous. Mrs. Seymour was like a scorpion among flowers — she was inaccessible and constantly glancing warningly at the gentlemen milling around, and yet, although she was not a common beauty, attracted all these curious men — like belladonna and aconite. Alice, on the other hand, was like the blade of a foil — even while walking, he saw men admiring her, but none of them dared to approach her.

Maybe it was his fault, but he was sure that her sharp look would effectively scare away even the most persistent men.

But now he had the impression that she was even prettier. The makeup on her face highlighted everything he liked about her — her big green eyes, pale skin, and lips.

When he finally found his tongue in his mouth, he grunted and put his hands behind his back.

“You look beautiful,” he mumbled, as if unconsciously, and the children, Otto, even Mrs. Sharpe, looked at them with interest.

“Thank you,” she glared at him, “you too.”

Charlie and Otto looked at each other, making surprised faces; at least until Alice looked at them scoldingly.

“Be quick with this food, because the orphanage still needs to be decorated. Mr. Mitchell will arrive in less than three hours.” She grabbed P's hand and looked at him. “Will you help me take down the remaining decorations?”

“I'll just put Gemini away.”

Gemini didn't protest. P just put him on the table next to Otto and he and Alice went to the attic where there were a lot of old things.

Some were old clothes that the children had outgrown long ago. Others include furniture, frames, old sofas and armchairs; P suspected that it was from the time when Dr. Bumby was the director of the orphanage.

He saw a frame standing with the canvas against the wall. He grabbed it and turned it around, seeing that the canvas was cut diagonally and there was a burnt scorpion on the board.

He pursed his lips and looked at Alice, who was reaching for the box of decorations. He smoothed out the canvas, noticing the children standing around the middle-aged man.

“So this is Angus Bumby?”

Alice looked at him and moved closer. He saw her face tense, just like it did when all those women showed up at the orphanage.

“He is.”

“The biggest dick in England.” They turned around, noticing Mrs. Seymour, who must have just entered the attic. “I mean, not literally, but… figuratively.” She grabbed the oversized basket and smiled at them.

P looked decidedly confused.

“What happened to him?” he asked, and Alex blew a strand of hair out of her face and gave him another wide smile.

“Like any sociopath with a superiority complex, he thought he was doing the world a favor by hurting other people. I just had to show him how wrong he was.”

“Alex prefers to take decisive measures,” Alice explained, exchanging knowing glances with Mrs. Seymour.

Mrs. Seymour left the attic and Alice handed P one of the boxes; she took the second one herself and they both carried it downstairs, setting it in the living room next to the sofa and looking through what was suitable and what wasn't. After the children and Otto helped Mrs. Sharpe clean up, they immediately started helping decorate the downstairs.

Alice set about creating an altar on which the basket of offerings would later be placed. P and Otto hung decorations that would appear on high — wall hangings, cutouts and small wreaths made of ears of grain. The children, however, took everything they could put up and hang low.

Just before eleven, Mrs. Seymour came downstairs, asking with amusement that the children should be careful. She carried a huge basket of apples, plums, cranberries, ears of grain, sunflowers, bread and wine, all decorated with gold, yellow, orange and red ribbons with a white lace doily which Mrs. Seymour used to line the basket.

Mrs. Seymour walked up to the altar and everyone stood in a circle and held hands. P did it too, with some hesitation. He watched everyone else, they stood with their heads slightly bowed. Mrs. Seymour whispered something as she placed the basket on the altar, lit the candles, and drew an unusual symbol on the wall with chalk. She then grabbed the skirts of her dress and bowed. Only then could they let go of their hands.

P was terribly confused, but also intrigued.

The children dispersed as soon as Mrs. Seymour said they could return to their work, Otto, hearing that Mrs. Sharpe was going to work on the sunflower cake, went to help, hoping to nibble something while preparing, and Alice and P sat down at Gemini.

“I don't fully understand what just happened.”

“Providing gifts to the helping spirits of this place along with requests. Alex believes that every person has at least one spirit that guides them through life and helps them achieve their goals. Each of us thought of something they should stand up for or help us with. Alex is always asking for further spiritual development, and from sabbath to sabbath her skills and knowledge grow, even despite her attention deficit and hyperactivity. Sometimes also about prosperity and happiness for us. The children said they wanted to be happy.”

P had to admit that, despite living in an orphanage, they all seemed happy and full of life. He overheard Charlie and Abigail talking about how they hoped they would never be adopted unless by Mrs. Seymour.

And when Alice talked about attention deficit and hyperactivity, he finally understood what was happening to Mrs. Seymour. Bitten cuticles around nails, playing with jewelry, forgetfulness, irregular handwriting.

He wondered what else could come from this.

“Nan has been asking for her health recently, especially since her previous job severely damaged it. She feels better. It's hard for me to say what she asked for this time.”

“I wonder what Otto asked for.”

“I can guess, but I'm not sure.”

"What?"

“I know he wants acceptance, but I don't know if he asked for it.”

P wondered why he may not be accepted.

“He can be safe here; it would be a sick concept if it were not accepted in our circle; especially since Alex is facing the same, let's call it, problem.”

“I guess I don't quite understand.”

“I'm sure he'll tell you someday.”

There was a moment of silence as P wondered if he should ask her.

“What did you ask for?”

She scanned his face and tucked her leg under her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“For prosperity…you know what.”

He nodded, understanding what she meant.

“And you? What did you ask for?” She rested her head on her hand.

“I didn't ask. I was too…confused.”

Alice parted her lips, then grabbed the apple and handed it to him.

“We can fix it. While holding the apple, think about what you wish for, then put the apple in the basket, say thank you and bow.”

“Do you think this will work?”

“Everything indicates that Alex's abracadabra is working. Or, for the unbelievers, the placebo effect. Either way, you can try. If it works, that's great. If it doesn't work, you won't get hurt anyway.”

He pursed his lips and glanced at Gemini.

“Try it, at worst nothing will happen.”

P rose and, standing in front of the altar, pressed the apple to his chest. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, thinking about how much he wanted to finally be a real human. Who feels hungry, can try food and drinks, who can get really tired, feel drops of sweat on his face after hard exercise, or get bloody when he cuts himself with a knife.

He then placed the apple on the pile of others and silently thanked, bowing.

The fire from one of the candles suddenly glowed brighter and swayed, as if there was a draft somewhere nearby.

P looked at Alice, who was smiling in his direction.

“And what now?”

“You can sit down,” she replied with amusement.

It was shortly after twelve when there was a knock on the door. Alice immediately got up from the couch where she was sitting with P and Otto, and with a joyful squeal she threw herself at the neck of a man with curly blond hair, a dark purple coat and a subdued orange vest.

Alice was about to call out to Mrs. Seymour, but before she could open her mouth, they heard Mrs. Seymour running down the hall and then almost flying down the stairs to fall into the man's arms, also throwing her arms around his neck and letting him lift her body slightly.

“You don't even know how much I missed you.”

“We saw each other less than a month ago,” he said with amusement.

“And what about this? You were supposed to come more often.”

The man set Mrs. Seymour on the floor.

“I need to introduce someone to you.” She entered the living room with the man, and P rose from his seat. “Jacob, please meet Pinocchio, our new charge. P, please meet Jacob Mitchell, my almost-brother, lecturer at Oxford University, formerly at Cambridge.”

Jacob extended his hand towards P, and he grabbed it, and they both shook it with small smiles on their faces.

“Welcome to the family, P.”

To the family.

P's smile widened and Alex grabbed Jacob's hand, pulling him upstairs.

“Come on, Jake, I have some hot tea.”

Jacob's eyes widened, and his lips quirked into an interested smile. They both disappeared upstairs, and Alice and P looked at each other and laughed.

“I don't remember anyone making tea,” he finally said, and Alice shook her head.

“Because it's not about the tea you drink, you silly. She meant gossip.”

“Gossip?”

“You've just met the biggest gossip duo this side of the Thames. Congratulations,” Otto replied, and P looked at Alice, who covered her laughing face with her hand.

Mrs. Seymour and Mr. Mitchell were a duo unlike any he had ever seen. He had never met two people who got along so well; they shared their sense of humor — although it was extremely silly — they talked about everything that came to their tongues and even teased each other with the same affection.

Alice grabbed his arm, following the rest of them towards the garden. There was a huge fire burning there, blankets and thermoforms were hung on the garden furniture, there were a guitar and an accordion next to two chairs, and in a moment Mrs. Sharpe was to bring mulled wine, tea, sunflower cake, plum tarts, and then apples with cinnamon.

P felt a strange feeling in his stomach as soon as he smelled all the smells from the kitchen. Everything smelled so sweet, caramelly and slightly spicy.

Mrs. Seymour introduced him to Mrs. Isabelle Wingrave.

They both seemed to feel terribly intimidated by their new acquaintance, but P felt a little more confident when Alice was with him, and Mrs. Wingrave when Mrs. Seymour and Mr. Mitchell appeared at her side.

Inez and Diggie argued about seats, each of them hoping for easy access to the sweets, and only one of them could sit next to Mrs. Seymour, next to whom the sweets were to be placed.

Eventually, Mr. Mitchell moved the wicker sofa so that the two of them could sit together.

“Too bad I can't eat any of this,” he muttered, and Alice grabbed his hand.

“I'm sure you'll be able to someday. Now, just enjoy the chants and conversations.”

And the chants started a moment later. Mr. Mitchell played the accordion and Mrs. Seymour played the guitar, singing a lively song perfect for dancing — and sure enough, some of the children decided to dance. Otto embraced him and Alice, swaying and singing with Alice along with Mrs. Wingrave, Seymour, and Mr. Mitchell.

At the end there was applause, and after a while another song was played, to which Otto led Mrs. Wingrave and Alice. Their mid-length dresses swirled as Otto tried to lead them both while singing.

He saw Alice extend her hand to him. He felt a strange cold in his stomach. He shook his head, only for Alice to turn hers urgently.

She just wanted him to have fun.

She walked up to him, taking his hand, and then the song ended, and a street musician who often stood in the area and played his violin stuck his head out from behind the wall of the orphanage building.

“May I do so, Miss Seymour?”

“Of course! There's always enough seats, and we need one more instrument.”

He smiled and sat down to the side, starting to play.

“There's no turning back now,” Alice told him and P sighed, nodding.

Paradoxically, it was Alice who led him more than he led her. He didn't feel completely confident yet, he didn't know what the melody line of the song was. Everything was changed by Alice's encouraging smile that played across her lips as she sang, as if to him. He felt more confident as he took over the lead of the dance from her, making her laugh delightfully.

The children were not at all embarrassed, jumping, dancing with each other and in a circle. Occasionally he saw them whispering to each other, but Alice's warmth and the weight of her body in his arms distracted him.

“Now, let’s go for one! And now let's go drink wine!” Nan announced, emerging with a cart filled with mulled wine and still hot cinnamon apples.

The same sound and feeling coming from his stomach again.

“Has anyone developed an appetite?” Nan asked, and P lowered his head, embarrassed.

“I can't eat.”

“Try it,” Charlie suggested. “At worst, someone will fix you.”

Nan handed him one of the apples with a spoon and poured mulled wine into a mug.

P felt stressed; and then everything was fine. One bite at a time and one sip at a time.

He looked towards the window, which showed a piece of the altar. The familiar bluish light that only he seemed to see glowed softly.

Then he looked at Mrs. Seymour — she was smiling as if she saw it too.