#how very interesting mr viper....how very interesting indeed

[anbaisai]

local octopus shot on sight

Bonus of said prefect:

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 21: Breakfast Aftermath

Summary:

It's the dawn after the sleepover, and Azul and Jamil find that what happened last night was no dream.

As they prepare breakfast, they talk about how they would like to spend their day as a couple, taking their first steps under a brand-new dynamic...

Word Count: 3,492

The eggs sizzle on the pan as Jamil arranges the bacon on the plate.

"Are you having tea, Jamil?" Azul asks, taking the teapot on the shelf of Octavinelle’s kitchen.

"Hm?" Jamil blinks out of his daze, his mind still reeling from the fact that he's now dating Azul.

Really? He's dating Azul?

How did that happen?

He feels both bewildered, confused, and overjoyed, so when he responds to Azul, he does so with a smile. "Oh, sure."

Azul prepares the cups on a tray along with the teapot and sugar bowl. He glances at his watch and looks at Jamil. "Do you plan on getting some sleep before starting your Halloween work today? You just recovered from your fever last night."

"Oh, I don't think I can sleep anytime soon," Jamil grins. "Call it the high of adrenaline but I don't wanna miss hanging out with my boyfriend while he's still here."

Sevens, he sounds so strange, but he finds that he doesn’t care about it one bit. Which is strange as well. Good thing he doesn’t care about that either.

A smile appears on Azul's face and he walks over to Jamil. "You really are a sweetheart," he kisses Jamil’s lips and presses forward enough to make Jamil lean back a little against the counter. Azul's eyes are twinkling when he straightens up again. "I'm still suspended from the committee, so I can probably stay here until the afternoon. Are you going to stubbornly stay awake that long?"

"I'll sleep if you feel like sleeping at any point before you have to leave," He playfully wags the spoon at Azul's direction. "We know you're the one who needs it more than I do."

"Are you making a deal with me, Mr. Viper?" Azul raises an eyebrow playfully as he prepares the plates.

"Less a deal and more a reminder, Mr. Ashengrotto." Jamil lightly threatens. "If I see you overexerting yourself today, I'll be dragging you to a bed myself."

"My," says a voice, and Jade walks into the kitchen, already dressed and freshened up despite the early hour. He smiles at them. "So this is where you two have been. I was wondering where you both were when I woke and saw that your mats were empty." He blinks down at the food on the stove and the plates. "Is this for all of us?"

"Yes," Azul nods with a smile. "We were already awake and we thought we might as well prepare breakfast."

"I see," Jade says. "First dinner and now breakfast from you two? The future of the café is looking bright," he chuckles. Then he turns to Jamil, still smiling. "So will you be dragging Azul to bed before or after we eat breakfast?"

Jamil goes red and pretends to be very focused on transferring the eggs from the pan onto the plates.

Jade smoothly moves on, amused at his reaction. "So how long have you two been up ?" Then he tilts his head, the picture of innocent curiosity. "Or… did you two sleep at all?"

"We were talking and didn't notice the time," Azul says. "Then it was nearly time for breakfast, so here we are," he gestures around the kitchen.

"Here you are indeed," Jade smiles. "Must be quite the interesting conversation to keep the both of you up. Shall I go wake the others? Or do you need more time to prepare?"

"Let them sleep. Assembly for the second day doesn't start in a few hours for them since they're not Halloween Committee Members like you," Jamil replies, starting to calm down from his embarrassment. "You're free to help us, if you want."

"Ah, you don't mind me intruding?" Jade muses, his eyes narrowing in indecipherable delight before he starts to roll up his sleeves. "Then allow me."

Jade gets a loaf of bread and a knife, and sidles up next to Jamil while he slices the loaf smoothly into even parts.

"I've never noticed how much of a great cook you are, Jamil," Jade smiles. "I knew you had talent, but I watched you work with Azul last night and I do admire your efficiency and attention to detail. What do you say we discuss your possible inclusion to my café over dinner later?" he asks sweetly, even batting his eyelashes twice. He has turned to fully face Jamil, leaning against the counter and ignoring the loaf of bread.

Jamil notices Azul glancing in their direction, but Azul quickly looks away and returns to preparing the cutlery.

Jamil raises his eyebrow at Jade. "Excuse me?" he asks, making it clear that he’s put off with Jade’s advances before trying to get back to work. "Stop playing around. The sooner we finish this, the better."

"But I wasn't playing around." Jade says, turning uncharacteristically serious. "I wish to discuss business with you. Over dinner. Just you and me."

Jamil's eyebrow twitches. "Do you do this to every potential employee? This seems unprofessional–"

"I suppose it is, but that's because I'm only offering it to you. I genuinely want to get to know you better," Jade smoothly replies, going back to his loaf of bread as he adopts a more bashful tone. "My apologies if I seem too direct. I find myself yet unaccustomed to the way humans socialize and interact…. However, it'd certainly be an honor to learn more about it with you."

"What's gotten into you?" Jamil tenses up, unsure where this situation is escalating to. This guy's never acted like this before. He looks at Azul and silently asks him for help.

Azul's shoulders are tense, and when he catches Jamil's gaze, he puts down the cutlery and approaches them. "Jade, I think you're making your potential employee uncomfortable," he says, standing on Jamil's other side. "As your co-manager I must advise you that it's bad for business," he smiles politely.

"Oh?" Jade says in an innocent tone, but there's a delighted smirk underneath it all. "I certainly wouldn't want to make Jamil uncomfortable. I only wish the best for him," he looks at Jamil fondly before turning to Azul again. "You wouldn't mind if I steal him for today, would you?"

Azul's polite smile falters for a second, and his jaw seems to become more tense. "Hm? Asking me if you can spend time with Jamil? That's in rather poor taste, don't you think? Jamil is his own person and is capable of deciding for himself with whom he wants to spend time. And I believe he has already rejected your dinner invitation."

"Won't you convince him, then?" Jade pouts at Azul. "I'm sure you'd want me, your childhood friend, to become close with your new friend? I promise I'll take good care of him."

The polite smile doesn't leave Azul's face, but a shadow seems to pass over him, and Jamil is suddenly reminded of a large gate being ripped off its hinges in the depths of the Coral Sea.

"Jade," Jamil tersely states, crossing his arms. "I'm not interested in you in that way, so it's best you drop it now… for your sake."

Jade makes a small gasp, looking crushed–though there's something off about it, like there's amusement in his sadness. "My, how ruthless… You won't even give me a chance?"

"Hell no." Jamil replies immediately.

"And why ever not?"

"I'm just…" Not interested, is how Jamil would have normally ended it, but he shares a gaze with Azul and steels his resolve. "I already have my eye on someone else."

"Oh~? It looks like things have changed over the course of a few hours, then," Jade merrily concludes, all notions of rejection melting away in the blink of an eye. "Very good. It pleases me to see that you two are finally being somewhat honest with yourselves, even though it seems there's still a bit of bashfulness in the presence of other people."

"What the— You asshole!" Jamil hisses, about to brandish the kitchen knife to his face.

Jade laughs, delighted. "Why hide it? I don't assume there's anything to be ashamed about... is there?"

Jamil pauses, frowning. "No, but…"

"The Sea Witch made bargains with folks who are desperate enough to do anything for what they want, all because they no longer had much of a choice," Jade explains, gaze softening. "You both have found each other without the need for any such sacrifice. Why bother taking the pains to hide it? And if people were to be aware of what you two have, no one would be making advances on either of you and actually mean it."

Azul purses his lips, but his posture starts to relax.

"You were aware that I could have been faking it, yes?" Jade asks Azul pleasantly.

"Yes," Azul curtly replies.

"But you didn't want to risk it in case I wasn't," Jade concludes, sounding delighted. "Well this is a good morning, indeed!" he claps his gloved hands together. He walks over to the plates and cutlery that Azul had prepared. "I shall take these to the dining area and start setting up."

Then Jade seems to notice something on the table outside the tray. He chuckles and picks it up; it's a spoon that's been bent into the shape of a horseshoe.

"You have strength, Azul, don't hide it," Jade says pointedly, holding up the utensil. Then he places it back down on the table. "See you at breakfast~!" he says cheerfully then leaves the kitchen.

Azul lets out a breath. "Jade Leech," he mutters with a shake of his head.

He goes to pick up the bent spoon and easily straightens it, then he goes to the sink near Jamil and begins to wash the utensil.

"Should've just gone straight to shanking him from the get-go," Jamil sighs before he walks over to Azul, tentatively placing a comforting hand on his back. "Hey. You okay?"

Azul relaxes under his touch and turns to smile at him. "Yes," he nods. He turns off the faucet and turns to lean against the sink. "Jade was right, I did think he might just be messing with me, because that was Ace's question last night before our game started, remember? He asked if we'd be okay if he or Jade made advances on either of us." Azul shakes his head again. "But you looked really uncomfortable and… Well, you know my feelings about feeding that giant angler fish."

Jamil smiles and lays his forehead on Azul's shoulder. "I think we should still try to feed him to the angler fish, just for good measure."

A laugh bubbles out of Azul. "How about you? Are you okay?" he asks Jamil. "Do you still feel a little creeped out about it?" he rubs Jamil's arm soothingly for a moment.

"About the angler fish or about Jade?" Jamil jokingly asks before straightening up to look at Azul. "Honestly, having a Leech twin coming onto you out of nowhere was terrifying. Who knew what would've happened if I had turned him down while he was being serious? Why are we friends with these crazy guys again?"

"There is never a dull moment with them around, that's for sure. I thought I was finally going to see one of your infamous stabbing techniques," Azul quips, then he brushes Jamil's hair from his forehead and tucks it behind his ear. "Are you feeling tired at all? We could nap again in your room later if you like, but are you sure you want me to accompany you again? Your residents might have figured out that I stayed in your room yesterday."

Jamil shakes his head. "I'm not tired, but… Well, Jade has a point. I don't see what we have to hide". Then he shrugs. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they already kinda know."

Azul's eyebrows lift. "Have they said anything?"

"They've certainly asked questions extremely similar to the way the others teased us last night," Jamil mutters. "Didn’t they say anything when they talked to you about me that time you visited?"

Azul thinks about it. "Well, that whole conversation did start when one of them asked if we were 'a thing', and if that meant I could sway you to make their study sheets easier," Azul smiles. "How did you answer their questions?" he looks at Jamil curiously.

"A lot of them would ask how you've been or if you'd be visiting anytime soon," Jamil recalls. "Then when we got back from the Coral Sea, they wanted to know everything. I didn't understand it myself at the time so I told them to leave it for another day. Then you visited, we slept in the same room... And the ones who were in the dorm by dinner time last night gave me strange looks when we left for Octavinelle. I'm just saying... I don't think anyone would be surprised."

Azul falls in thoughtful silence. "Enrico and Mel had been the same," he says. "They had seen us dance at the ball, and after you left RSA last time you visited, Mel asked when you'd be back. Then Enrico pointed out that I never listen to him when he tells me to take a break, but I listened when you were there,” Azul smiles fondly at the memory. “Were we obvious to everyone else except each other?"

"Guess we've been dating for much longer than either of us expected," Jamil chuckles. "But if anyone else tries what Jade did, I stab them and then you feed them to the anglerfish?"

"Sounds like a good plan, darling," Azul says in amusement. Then he looks around. "Is there anything else we need to prepare? The tea is done brewing, the eggs and bacon are here, and the bread loaf has been sliced. Despite Jade's less than ideal visit, he did make himself a tiny bit useful.”

"I think that's simply Jade in a nutshell," Jamil shakes his head. "We could also prepare some coffee, for those who need a heavy kickstart to their day." Like me. "And while we're at it, what do you think of Jade, anyhow? He's always been so much more... hard to read compared to Floyd. Have you been good friends with him too, by any chance, at least as much as you seem to be close to his brother?"

"I wasn't very close to either of them back then," Azul says. "Apart from the rare times that we went to the shipwreck, we only really started to spend time together after our quiz bee last month. And I do consider the twins as friends, even Jade with his ominous smiles and underhanded methods of finding out whether his friends are dating. We had a few meetings about his café already, and I've found that he can be sincere in his own way.

In one of our meetings, he was straightforward with saying that he wished that I were the Octavinelle Prefect instead, so we could work together much more easily. And I've seen him interact with your other schoolmates; even his tendency to threaten and leverage others has a certain fairness to it, and he doesn't tend to go overboard even when he's angered. At least from what I've seen.

Though I suppose I can just understand him because we're similar in that way, I used to leverage people with my contracts too, so I'm hardly in a place to judge. And he did help us in going to the Coral Sea even when I didn't fully explain why and it was at the risk of getting in trouble with his Prefect."

"Huh…. That's true. Jade went and helped you without asking for compensation, didn't he?"

Jamil remembers how the only payment that Jade asked from him was to bring Azul and Floyd back safely. Jade really does have a soft spot within him somewhere.

"Octavinelle Prefect?" Jamil raises an eyebrow at Azul, impressed. "I'm only trying to get you to NRC, but he wants you to be a Prefect… I wonder why. I'm beginning to think he has some sort of grudge against Rey. What do you think?"

"I've never met Rey so I can't say," Azul says. "But it seems like Jade wants someone with whom to strategize and manage things, and this Rey doesn't have the focus that Jade is looking for. I did get the impression that Octavinelle seems more carefree than Scarabia. To hear Jade say it, Rey practically lets them do whatever they want as long as they don't cause too big of a trouble. How much do you know him as a fellow Prefect?"

"You're right that he's carefree. He's got Kalim's party-loving nonchalance and Leona's languid nature, and would often be the one who speaks and chatters the most during our Prefect meetings,” Jamil explains. "He's not… too bad, but he is rather un-serious. He often gets on the nerves of stern people like Riddle but he's at least skilled in mediating a conversation whenever debates or arguments get out of hand. I've never seen him and Jade work together since Jade became the Vice. Perhaps as much as Jade wants to work with someone of his nature, Rey feels the same way?"

"That makes sense," Azul says as he puts the coffee beans in the coffee maker and starts the machine. "It's too bad that they're not inclined to work together. How about you and your Vice Prefect? Are you on good terms?" The scent of coffee starts to fill the air as the coffee maker begins brewing.

Jamil glances up at the ceiling in thought. "Good enough terms, I suppose. If it says anything of his nature, he's one of the few students who hadn't been setting up traps for me... though now it's hard to tell if traps mean a good thing or a bad thing anymore. I don't know him too well either, but it's mostly 'cause he likes to keep to himself in general. I think many of the members come to him for fortune-telling stuff, though."

"Fortune-telling?" Azul says as he prepares a cup. "Is he skilled in such things? I don't think I know anyone in RSA who has that kind of magic, so it's a novel thing for me.”

"I've never asked for a reading before, so I wouldn't know," Jamil shrugs. He never felt super comfortable getting his future spelled out before him, though he has dabbled in the area before. Mostly due to Najma's insistence. "In NRC, we've got subjects like Divination so some students have gotten good at reading omens and fortunes. I can read some tea leaves myself, though I can't say I'm skilled at it."

"Oh? What sort of fortunes can you read from tea leaves?" Azul asks. "Are they anything specific or more general?" He pours the coffee in the cup and reaches for the sugar bowl. "And do you take sugar in your coffee?" he adds.

"Oh, you can keep the sugar," Jamil tells him. "I usually drink the coffee as-is but maybe some cream for today would be nice. And as for the fortunes, no, they're not specific. You can ask me a question and I can, at the very most, answer a confident yes or no. But how or why? Can't do that. I was mostly doing it because Najma was hopping in on a trend."

Azul nods. "I can see why it would be a fun trend to try out.” He puts cream in the coffee and stirs it, then he places the spoon in the sink and hands Jamil the coffee cup on a saucer. "Here you go," he smiles. "Do you have a lot of work to do today?"

Jamil blinks in surprise, not expecting to receive the coffee immediately. "Oh, thanks… And um, perhaps. It depends on the state of Scarabia's booth when we get there. Plus Sam might need a helping hand or two. Being the only open shop on campus most likely means we'd find the most amount of visitors there. But honestly? What I wanna do is show you around all the booths we made. Were you able to see any of them before you came to see me yesterday?"

Azul shakes his head. "No. Just the walk from the gate to the Hall of Mirrors got me winded already, and Rielle had sternly reminded me to not walk around any longer than I had to, so I had gone straight to you. I feel better today, though, so I'd love to see them," he smiles.

Jamil brightens up. "Cool. Just tell me every time you need a break, okay?” He picks up the tray of eggs and bacon.” Now, shall we go and bring all of these to the dining hall? Maybe the others have woken up."

"Yes, let's go." Azul picks up the tray of tea and coffee, and they both bring the freshly prepared breakfast out of the kitchen.

<- Chapter 20

Chapter 22 ->

(Masterlist)

[pedros-mustache-main]

if you leave before the start (i)

summary: he’s your husband, but that doesn’t mean you have to be his wife.

word count: 7.7k+

series masterlist

chapter warnings: arranged marriage ceremony, unlikeable reader (y’all she is a straight up meanie!), alcohol, language, innuendo

glastonbury, somerset, england. 1840.

according to your father, it is a good match, a very good one indeed. 

he has wealth, status, a sizable estate. you have a healthy dowry and connections to parliament by virtue of your father. he will give you a safe life in the countryside, and you will provide him access to the inner-workings of government and an heir to carry on his family name. together, you will live in wedded bliss—no troubles, no worries to turn your hair gray, but perhaps the odd village scandal to keep things interesting.

really, you should be happy. dozens of your friends have gone to the marriage bed and found themselves sated by romance and fripperies. you are no different from say, sally, who met her intended the day of her wedding and wrote to you a week later that her husband proved to be a delightful man with amiable qualities. in all truth, you are merely one in a long line of women who have been pawned off to the highest bidder. you are not the first to meet such a fate, and you certainly won’t be the last. there is nothing unique about your situation. your father reminds you of such when you smash a chinoiserie vase to the floor at his pronouncement that yes, you are to be married to gwilym lee on the first of the month and you will be quiet about your rage.

god, you hate them both.

you’ve seen this gwilym lee only once, on the day of his meeting your father. you’d crouched at the top of the stairs, peering over the railing into the vestibule below where your father stood with mr. lee, shaking hands over the arrangement. from your vantage point, you could see mr. lee was tall and well-built, that he had a soft, genial face, and a well-trimmed beard peppering his jaw. when he’d laughed at your father’s joke—the timbre of his voice filling the hall—you’d risen to your feet, rushed to your room, and slammed the door behind you with enough force to ensure everyone in the house knew of your distaste for the matter.

insufferable prat. where did he find the nerve? entering your home, passing pleasantries with your father, all the while intending to steal you from the nest like a common viper? it makes your blood boil.

so much so that on your wedding day, stood before the mirror in your room, a cream gown pinching your waist and pearl-pins digging into your scalp, you want nothing more than to take ahold of the mirror and ram your knee into the glass, shattering the pane. you hate it; you hate every bit of this. and your father is sorely mistaken if he thinks you will go quietly.

you look magnificent, this you will concede. the gown your mother bought suits you well, though it is a tad demure for your taste. it’s silky to the touch, the short sleeves capped by an inch of lace. your back is held straight by the tightness of your corset, and the neckline exposes the crest of your shoulders. it’s simple—nothing compared to the gown rebecca wore on her wedding day—yet it should leave those in attendance breathless. you smirk as you glance over your shoulder, your eyes running over the cloth buttons decorating your spine and the swath of garment circling your feet. yes, though plain, it will do; you are the diamond which sparkles within the box, the true gift.

a knock sounds on the door of your bedroom, and you shoo your maidservant to answer the call.

“your mother, miss,” abby whispers.

you huff, twisting side to side as you smooth a hand over your stomach. is that a wrinkle? you frown as you pick at the fabric. “let her in.”

the door creaks as abby widens the opening, and your mother, with all her self-important and put on airs, sweeps into the room. she’s dressed in her statement color of purple, and a heavy necklace rests around her slender neck, the diamonds glittering in the light pouring through your bedroom window. she stands behind you, her delicate hands on your shoulders, her gaze shimmering with unshed tears.

“oh, my dear,” she says. “you look marvelous.”

you arch a brow in a silent challenge. “i know.”

if your mother sees the bait dangling before her, she does not rise to the occasion. she merely tightens her grip on your shoulders, the edges of her smile stiffening. “i’ve brought you something. an early wedding gift.” removing her hands from your shoulders, she motions to abby, who brings forward a square, velvet box. “this was my mother’s before me and her mother’s before her. now it is yours.”

abby opens the box to reveal a gold necklace within. the necklace chain is thin, the heart shaped locket at the end trimmed with yellow garnet stones. four small birthstones, each no bigger than the width of the nail on your pinky, rest in the center of the heart. 

“the birth stones of your family tree,” your mother says, noting the way your eyes linger on the colored stones. “i’ve added yours—sapphire—next to mine.”

emerald, aquamarine, ruby, sapphire. four women, four lives, four marriages arranged by money, position, and power. 

you wave your fingers in dismissal. “it’s gaudy, mother.”

in the reflection of the mirror, there is no mistaking your mother’s disappointment. it swallows her face like a shadow and erases the single spark of joy dancing around her irises. she looks down, fiddles with her fingers, and you are struck by her frailty in that moment. she’s haughty on her good days, a tyrant on her worst, but she’s never frail. you open your mouth, unsure of what will come out, but then you see her wedding ring and you look away.

“tell me, mother, since i am to be married in much the same fashion as you: will this gwilym insist on sleeping with the maid staff as your husband does?” her head lifts, fire lurking beneath her gaze. you narrow your stare. “when was the last time father laid his hand on you outside of the public eye?”

there’s a long pause as your mother considers you with her fire-laced eyes. you can feel the heat of her glower on the back of your neck, and you stand straighter. 

“i’m sorry i ever birthed you.” her voice is low, gravelly. 

you snort in amusement. “at least on this we can agree.”

she shakes her head, and a curl tightly wound against her scalp breaks free of its pin. “you will be a curse upon your husband. i am sorry for him.”

“i take that as a compliment. any man willing to all but purchase his bride deserves nothing but a wretched wife.”

turning, you lift a veil from the end of your bed. you hand it to abby and lower your knees to aid her in the process of pinning the veil to the crown of your head. once your veil is attached, abby slides a stem of baby’s breath behind each ear. you apply the finishing touches—pearl drop earrings, elbow-length gloves, a pair of silk heeled boots, a pale pink bow over the laces—then face your mother.

“well?” you spread your arms. “how do i look?”

your mother reaches out and brushes her fingers along the edge of your gloves. “like a dream.”

you tilt your head as you gather the train of your veil from the floor and shove it in abby’s waiting hands. “funny,” you say. “this feels a lot more like a nightmare.”

sidestepping your mother, you glance over your bedroom one last time then hurry down the stairs to the overcrowded foyer. as per your father’s request, the household staff have arranged themselves in two formations on either side of the room. it is unlikely you will return to this house after the marriage ceremony. you parents will come and visit you at mr. lee’s manor home, and you will never have the pleasure of darkening the halls of your childhood home again. thus, it is time to say goodbye and, loathe as you are to admit it, you feel a lump of emotion rise in your throat as you survey the faces you’ve seen slip from room to room or wait behind every corner your entire life.

your father stands before the door, already cloaked and ready with his top hat. he nods to the staff and then meets your gaze. he beams with pride, with pleasure, and you feel sick to your stomach.

“well, i dare say it is about time we made our way to the church.” his shoes clip against the marble floor as he crosses to your side. “you look a picture of a blushing bride, m’dear.” he offers is elbow, and you fit your hand in the curve of his arm.

with all the air of queen victoria on her way to marry prince albert, your father parades you down the foyer, his steps slow and regal. the servants on either side bow or curtsey in deference, the tops of their heads the last thing you shall ever see of the people who have been your confidants in moments of crisis and your playfriends in childhood. the air in your lungs feels hot, and something wet pricks the corners of your eyes.

it’s all slipping away before your very eyes—anything you once held dear—and you are powerless to stop it.

two footmen pull open the double doors, and sunlight streams into the hall, sparkling in its intensity. for a moment, you are blinded. you lift your hand to block out the sun, blinking against the pain lingering between your brows. 

“[y/n]?” your father must mistake the moment as sentimentality rather than pain. “do not cry, m’dear. you are on the threshold of a new life.”

you lower your hand and turn your face to him. he’s smiling, truly convinced of his goodness to you. he looks older than you remember. his beard is peppered with gray, his forehead wrinkled. when did he age so? when did you stop paying attention?

the weight of the universe presses in on your shoulders, and you wish for all the world that you could turn back time and be his little girl again, content to worship at his feet. but you are his jaded daughter now, on the precipice of ruin, and he is your condemner, not your savior.

“father, i—”

he cuts you off with a finger. “mr. lee is a good man, [y/n]. he will take care of you, of that i am sure.”

“but i—”

“no buts, daughter. what’s done is done.”

at his gentle prodding, you leave your childhood home and any girlish notions of love behind.

your walk down the center aisle of saint peter’s church feels much the same as your walk down the foyer of your once-beloved home. guests stand on either side, wide skirts and tailored suits smooshed in the narrow pews. your footfalls echo in the cold chamber. it’s a steady beat, unlike the rapid tempo of your heart. beside you, your father radiates all the joy you should be feeling as the bride, so you feel no compunction to paste a smile on your face. he’s happy enough for the both of you. 

the only difference between your walk down the aisle and your walk down the foyer is what lies at the end. 

at home, there had been sunlight. it blinded you, yes, but it was warm and comforting against your frozen skin. it reminded you for the briefest of moments that the sun continues to rise on the darkest days. perhaps, you’d thought, at the end of the tunnel, there is hope for you yet...

here, between the gray stone walls of the church, there is a man waiting for you at the end of your journey. the sight of him—tall and effortlessly handsome—grinds that sliver of hope to a pulp. you’ve never hated anyone more, and your future stretches out before you in a chasm of disappointment.

it’s hard to focus when your father kisses your cheek and hands you off to gwilym. the blood rushing to your ears is loud, and it clogs the rest of your senses. you can barely breathe, so stunned by the turn of events that has brought your existence to this. the hatbox of girlhood fripperies that is shoved beneath your bed—full of ribbons and wedding announcements and dried flowers from the garden, each an image of the life you thought you would lead—withers to dust in the back of your mind. it is replaced by a steel trap, and when gwilym places his warm palm in yours, you lock your heart deep within the trap’s depths. you resolve then and there that no man shall move you—not one.

you cannot seem to tear your eyes from gwilym’s profile as the priest begins his droning. you knew gwilym to be handsome in the brief glance you’d stolen from the top of the stairs, but he is unnervingly good looking up close. from the vantage point of any of the wedding guests, you’re sure you look like a besotted fiancé, but your scrutiny runs deeper than mere appreciation. it confounds you. how could a man such as this one, with his grecian face and soft eyes and curved mouth, resort to a bride package? surely he has a handful of paramours eager to be in your position. he could have his pick of the litter.

but then you remember: you are more than a bride. you are an open invitation to a seat in parliament and an untainted womb and pretty piece to hang off his arm. disgust roils in your stomach, and you finally look away.

a low bench digs against the flesh of your knees when you kneel to take the lord’s supper. you open your mouth, accept the thin wafer and the wine, and snap your jaw closed. gwilym has the audacity to reach for your hand and squeeze your fingers while the priest recites a blessing. without sparing him a glance, you pull your hand away, thankful for the layer of fabric that kept his skin from touching yours.

during the vows, you meet his gaze. you’ve never seen eyes so blue. they look like the english sea, pale and dark and churning with foam and still all at once. you move your stare to the center of his forehead and repeat the vows when you hear your mother roughly clear her throat after you hesitate too long. you trip over the word obey and sneer at the idea of life with gwilym until death.

it’s the pronouncement of a kiss that hurtles your attention forward. the blood pumping in your ears drains; the buzz of frustration at the back of your head fades; and all is silent. 

“gwilym, you may kiss your bride.”

gwilym looks between your eyes as if he’s considering. you narrow your stare on a challenge, and something flickers across his face. frustration? disappointment? you cannot tell.

when he leans forward, you stiffen and move your chin a fraction to the right out of impulse. he hesitates, then, and you can feel his breath fan the side of your face. your eyes flutter shut; you grit your teeth.

his mouth lands on the corner of yours, nothing but a brief touch to signal two souls becoming one. to you, it feels like a slap to the face. unbidden tears rise to your eyes. you choke them back when gwilym turns you to face the wedding guests. you know less than half the people in attendance, your family being smaller than his, and the unfamiliar faces smiling back at you needles the anger simmering below the surface.

how dare they all turn out in their most resplendent gowns and pressed suits and grin and clap as if this wedding were more than a sham! how dare they congratulate gwilym when he ushers you down the aisle as if you were no more than a prized hog won at the county bazar!

you hate him. you hate him. you hate him.

there is no time to make your hatred known as your mother comes to sweep you along to the wedding breakfast. she tears you from gwilym’s side before you can share a single word with your new spouse, and she tucks you close in the carriage bound for hiraeth manor. 

her breath is warm against the side of your face, and her fingers adjust a loose strand of hair slipped from the chignon at the base of your head. her motherly doting, so out of character, threatens to break you entirely, fraught with emotion as you are, so you turn your head to face the window. the somserset landscape hurtles by, the rolling hills and towering trees, and you bite hard on your lower lip to keep the tears at bay.

“you shall be ever so pleased with life at hiraeth, [y/n],” your mother says. “your father is not without his wealth and position, but the lee family? goodness, they put us to shame.” she reaches for your hand and curls it between both of her palms. “you will have hiraeth to run, of course, and then the townhome in bath and forty-five thousand a year? you will want for nothing, daughter.”

you say nothing. you keep your gaze trained on the countryside, your stomach weak with the jostling of the carriage.

“i do wonder if i have trained you well enough for the job of running a household. hiraeth is larger than whitemarsh, to be sure, but—”

“mother.” you blink and remove your hand from her grasp. “stop talking.”

she is quiet a moment before whispering, her voice edged with thinly-veiled anger, “[y/n], I know we shared our own disagreements this morning but you are my daughter and i am pleased for you. you would do well to recognize what an opportunity your father has given you in this match.”

you do not hesitate in a biting retort. “the moment you allowed father to barter me off in exchange for a bump in position i ceased being your daughter. i am my husband’s wife now.”

“continue with an attitude like that and you will be a cuckolded wife, left alone to wither while the world continues to turn.” your mother’s nostrils flare. “you are lucky mr. lee is of a forgiving nature. any other man would have your tongue snipped after hearing such insolence.”

“i wouldn’t know about mr. lee’s character, mother. I have yet to exchange pleasantries with my husband.”

your mother falls silent, and her skirts rustle as she scoots away on the padded bench. the movement, small as it is in the cramped interior of the carriage, sends a sharp pain through your heart. you clear your throat to swallow a sob. 

you will not cry—not now, not ever.

but truly you want to cry. you want to curl your head in her lap and release the tears you’ve been tamping down since your father told you of the match. you want her to stroke your hair and tell you it will be alright, that you’ll be alright. you want her to tell you that she’s sorry.

she’s not sorry, and she would never cradle you. she did not swaddle you in her arms as a babe; she won’t start now.

the carriage takes a sharp turn, sending you lurching against your mother’s side. you grunt with the effort it takes to reposition and disentangle yourself from your mother. she fusses with her now-wrinkled skirts and tuts under her tongue about proper decorum, but you’re not listening. you’re too busy leaning forward, your head knocking against the window pane as hiraeth manor comes into view.

“fuck me,” you breathe, throat gone dry in surprise.

your mother give an unladylike snort of derision. “yes, i’m sure he will—eventually.”

hiraeth makes whitemarsh, an altogether stately and proud manor home, look like a factory worker’s hovel. it is large, sprawling over the hilltop on which it overlooks rolling meadows on all sides. the tan facade glitters in the reflecting pool at the base of the hill, and an ancient willow’s dangling limbs skim the water’s surface. you shrink back against the bench as the manor draws closer. it seems to grow with each moment, new wings and additions sprouting before your very eyes. all this—yours to manage. the task is a formidable one, and your mother must know she has not prepared you for something like this.

the carriage rumbles over a cobblestone drive edged with flowering shrubs and rolls to stop in a circular receiving area. a nondescript footman unlatches the carriage door, and you tumble into the fresh air. you try not to gape, really you do, but it’s hard when such an estate looms before you. if your husband will not swallow you, make you insignificant in your own right, then this house surely will.

an arched door tucked in the corner of the courtyard opens on a heavy creak. you turn to see a short girl exit the home, followed by a wiry woman. the girl drops to a curtsey, her pale cheeks flushed.

“welcome to hiraeth, miss,” she says, a heavy lisp on her tongue.

“mrs. lee, how wonderful it is to finally welcome you to hiraerth!” the wiry woman stretches out her arms to take your hands. her sculpted face pulls into an eager smile, and you resist the urge to lower your defenses. “my name is mrs. brown and i’m the housekeeper here. this is angelica, your personal maid. we thought we’d be the first to greet you before escorting you to the breakfast. everyone is already here and waiting in great anticipation of your arrival.”

you look between mrs. brown and angelica, gauging their sincerity, before motioning to your mother. “we were held up briefly. my mother gets ever so sick on these winding roads.”

“[y/n],” your mother hisses.

mrs. brown gives an uncomfortable sort of chuckle as she looks over your mother’s pinched face then takes your elbow in hand. “no matter, no matter. you can follow me to the breakfast hall. there’s no time to freshen up now, but angelica will show you to your rooms as soon as she has the chance.”

you bristle at the idea of a room set aside solely for eating breakfast, but as mrs. brown guides you through the winding halls of hiraeth, the idea make more sense with each hallway and room you pass. it’s clear mr. lee has more space than with which he knows what to do. a breakfast room indeed.

the room in question is not far off from the entryway of hiraeth. there’s little chance to take in your new surroundings, so you set your jaw and square your shoulders as mrs. brown opens the door of the breakfast room. you step across the threshold, your mother close behind, and hold your breath.

you meet his eyes—gwilym’s—before anyone else’s. he sits in the middle of the arrangement of tables, an empty seat by his side. you glance at the chair to his right then at the other empty space at the far end of the room. the four tables are arranged in a sort of a square and, if you look the empty spot furthest away from gwilym, you’d be fortunate enough to neither hear his voice or see his face. a towering bouquet of flowers sits in the center of the table, and that spot has a particularly nice view of the white roses. you make to take the spot with the view of the flowers, intent on letting everyone in attendance know your feelings on the matter, but your mother beats you to it.

the bitch.

with a huff, you curl your hands to fists and all but stomp to the only remaining seat. the room is quiet, heavy with anticipation as you drop to the chair. your arms itch to fold themselves over your chest, but you are wise enough to resist. though you will not mask your anger, you will tamp it down to a degree. it wouldn’t do to wake up tomorrow and see your name in the gossip columns. that would be a dreadful start to a life in a higher societal position.

beside you, gwilym openly runs his eyes over your profile. you can feel him study you, but you do not flinch beneath his inspection. you keep your eyes on the centerpiece and drum your fingers on the tablecloth.

rising to his feet, gwilym picks up a glass chalice and lifts it. “my friends, i am very glad to be sharing this morning with you all. since the passing of my mother, hiraeth has been without a mistress, and it brings me great happiness to finally have a wife of my own who can fill this house with as much joy as my mother once did.” he twists to look down at you and settles his hand on your shoulder.

you look up, frozen under his touch. his palm envelopes the entirety of your shoulder. his gaze is soft, much to your surprise. as it was for those brief moments in the church, he looks at you only with tenderness; perhaps even pity. there is nothing angry about his eyes; it seems it might be impossible for his face to be anything but mellow. you harden your stare.

“[y/n]”—your name in his mouth. you want him to wipe his tongue and promise never to speak it again.—“welcome to hiraeth. from all of us to you, i truly hope you will be happy here.”

you blink, your mouth parting when he sits and motions for the covered platters around the table to be uncovered. leaning forward, you lower your voice and speak to him for the first time without the aid of a wedding script.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “all of us to you?”

gwilym thanks the man sitting to this left when he is passed a tray of eggs. he scoops some onto his plate then offers the platter to you. “would you like some?”

“uh—yes, yes—i suppose.” he drops of pile of fluffy eggs onto the cream china then passes the platter to the woman on your right, who you belatedly realize is none other than mrs. brown. you scoff and whirl to face your husband. “mr. lee, are we eating with the hired help?”

the fork that’s halfway to his mouth pauses, and his brow pinches in a confused frown. out of the corner of his eye, he looks at you. “is it wrong to celebrate nuptials with one’s staff?”

you sputter. the linen napkin in your hand bunches in your fist. “yes!” your voice is too loud for the gentle and amiable air of the room, but no one makes a move to correct you. they wouldn’t dare. “wedding breakfasts are for family and friends, mr. lee, not servants and scullery maids!”

gwilym swallows the food in his mouth and shrugs. “this is my family, [y/n]. i am celebrating—forgive me, we are celebrating with our family.”

you must look ridiculous, your forehead wrinkled with a frown and eyes narrowed in disbelief and mouth agape, because gwilym laughs and points to your plate with his utensil. 

“eat your food, wife, before it gets cold. you will come to understand how hiraeth runs in due time. if it eases your anxiety,” he adds, “we will celebrate with my friends in the coming week in bath. that is the celebration you are anticipating, i’m sure.”

he returns to his conversation with the man—the butler or valet or hallboy—at his side, effectively dismissing both your outrage and your petty insolence with nothing but a gentle reprimand. 

you hate him.

you do not eat your breakfast. you sit with your hands fisted in your lap and your jaw set hard. across the table your mother purses her lips and looks pointedly at your plate. you turn your gaze away.

gwilym must truly be a nincompoop if he believes you will simper and bat your eyelashes and allow him to treat the staff as family simply because he is your husband. never have you heard of such a foolish sentiment. there is a clear boundary between staff and family never to be blurred. 

your skin itches, and you long for a hot bath.

as breakfast continues around you, you survey the room. the eggshell blue walls stretch to meet a high ceiling, the trim around the border a bright white. you catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the gilded mirrors hanging between a pair of large windows. you look sour, like an over-ripe lemon on child’s tongue. 

the breakfast concludes some time later when the kitchen maids rise from their places to return to their duties. a skinny girl with glittering eyes takes your plate still laden with food. her voice is airy when she speaks.

“did you not like the breakfast, ma’am?” she balances your plate on her forearm, another stacked along the inside of her elbow. her cheeks flush when she moves to take gwilym’s empty plate and he smiles at her.

gwilym answers for you. “of course she did, gildy. what’s not to like when you and mrs. cliff are at the helm? mrs. lee is simply overwhelmed by the talent you possess. she confessed that all your sweets were nearly too delectable, she could hardly take another.”

sucking in her lower lip, gildy beams at the scuffed toes of her boots. “thank you, sir.” she bops a curtsey before scurrying through a side door.

you flash gwilym a harsh look. “i can answer for myself, sir.”

“i would prefer you answer with a modicum of kindness.” he nods his head to the side in consideration. “i’m not altogether sure that’s possible, so i thought i would save gildy the heartache.” he drops his napkin to the table and stands, offering you his hand. “come—would you like to see your rooms?”

spare gildy the heartache? he did no such thing for you when he agreed to taking—no, stealing—your hand in marriage.

you leave his hand hanging midair when you stand, adjusting the bustle of skirts around your legs. “i would, yes,” you say. “it’s been a trying morning, and i’d enjoy some silence and a bath so i can rid myself of the filth eking through my body.”

the jab does not land where you intended as gwilym merely laughs at your discontent. his laugh is loud, startling in the now-quiet breakfast room. he reaches for your arm and fits your hand in the curve of his elbow, patting your still-gloved fingers with his.

“your father said you were a spitfire,” he says, shaking his head in his amusement. “i see now he was not mistaken.”

at the arched doorway through which you entered, you bid your parents a hasty farewell. it is not an overdone affair—no tears, no final embraces. the days where you held your mother’s hand or clung to your father’s leg have long since passed. you merely wave them off with an upward tilt of your chin and a half-hearted promise to write before the yuletide. gwilym makes no comment on the stilted air between yourself and your parents. perhaps he knows you would stamp on his foot the moment a question slipped beyond his pretty mouth. you’re not entirely above stamping on his foot just for the sake of it. you resist the urge, however, knowing there’s bound to be a maidservant or hallboy lurking around the corner, waiting for a drip of juicy gossip to bring back to the servant’s quarters. you’ve already given them enough fodder for one day with your behavior at breakfast.

once your parents are securely in their carriage and enroute home, gwilym tugs you further into the manor. “come, your rooms are this way.”

you say nothing, question nothing, about separate bedrooms. it is a relief, in all truth, though you wonder if he will darken your doorway come the evening. your throat clenches. you pray to all the saints he will keep his grimy hands to himself or you’ll do more damage than a crushed foot.

you pull your hand from the crook of his arm as he guides you, preferring to keep your hands clasped behind your back as you walk. gwilym pauses in his explanation of the home’s original construction. he goes so far as to stop walking, and you pass him before realizing he is not by your side. in the wide hallway—one side boasting an array of polished windows, the other decorated with marble busts of his family tree—he blinks at you.

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

you have to laugh. the sound resounds in the empty hallway, and you toss your head back in a fit of amusement. “goodness, you’re slow, aren’t you?”

he frowns, the first inkling he may possess anything other than an easy-going nature if pushed. “what is it i’ve done to offend you?”

you gawp and try to keep yourself from falling to the floor in surprise. “you must be joking, surely.”

shaking his head, a line forms between his brow. “no. i don’t understand why you are so cross.”

you turn your face away for a moment, inhaling slowly. you cross to the wall of windows and count to ten. the grounds of hiraeth are lovely—forest green grass, neatly-trimmed hedges. far as the eye can see is yours. in the span of one morning, you have gone from moderately wealthy to blessed beyond your wildest imaginations. your husband is handsome and thus far been nothing but considerate of you. it could be worse. and yet, somehow you feel as if you are the only woman who has been made to suffer a fate such as this.

you turn slowly on your foot and meet his gaze. he’s patient, you’ll give him that. he simply stares at you, waiting for some sort of explanation.

you decide to give him one.

your jaw tightens as long-neglected rage begins to boil in your stomach, and you draw in a deep breath before unleashing your indignation in a measured, even tone that fills the hall with its power.

“i am cross, sir, because i believe you to be a viper. you have stolen me from my comfort of my mother’s nest, and i fully anticipate you swallowing me whole. you are no better than the scottish barbarians who kidnap their brides and hide them away in the countryside. you are a thief and a coward, evidently unwilling—or perhaps unable—to woo his own choice of woman. i did not even have the pleasure of seeing your backside before being made your wife, and for that offense, i will never forgive you. marriage is meant to join two people who at least have been made somewhat acquainted before the ordeal. our marriage is a sham and an offense before god. so, you’re right—i don’t like you very much.”

it pleases you to see him so pale, so undone by your words. his chiseled jaw scrapes the floor, and a flush breaks out on his cheeks. you smirk in triumph.

at the sight of a maid inching along the wall at the far end of the hall, you hold up your arm and snap for her attention. “oh! girl!”

you hasten away from your husband, leaving him in the wake of your outburst. your skirts swish along the waxed, hardwood floor, and you meet the maid halfway down the hall. she stares at you with wide eyes, fear lurking beneath the surface. she must have heard. you’ve never felt more powerful.

linking your arm tightly around hers, you cast a look over your shoulder. gwilym’s hands have turned to fists. “my husband and i are finished speaking,” you say, your voice loud enough for him to hear every inflection. “show me to my rooms, won’t you?”

the following week is a rush of gown fittings, growing accustomed to the running of hiraeth, and attempting to make your husband’s life miserable.

the gowns are meant to fill your wardrobe for the social season. you arrived with a handful of dresses, yes, but with a home in bath, it is likely that you will spend a significant amount of time at dinner parties or galas. so tuesday afternoon, the day after the wedding, you are presented with an array of fabric and fashion sketches. from your place on the fitting stool, you glance over the options and pick your favorites: the teal blue which will come with an embroidered bodice; the scarlet red with lace-fringed sleeves; the dark green which will host tiered-layers cascading to the floor. it’s a hefty bill, but your husband has money enough to spend on four separate wardrobes if you so choose.

wednesday morning, mrs. brown insists you take a tour of the lower floors and accustom yourself with directing the maid and kitchen staff. you begrudgingly follow her and offer tight-lipped smiles to the flushed and nervous faces staring back at you. you truly could care less about the goings-on downstairs; that was always your mother’s job. but your mother isn’t here, and it’s up to you to preside over the well-being of the household staff. there’s so many of them, you wonder if gwilym will have annulled your marriage before you have the chance to commit all their names to memory. you can certainly pray that will be the case.

throughout the week, you revel in spurning gwilym’s kindness. you avoid him, mostly, choosing to take your breakfast in bed and your afternoon tea in the garden. you suffer through dinner with him, sat across from him at the end of a long table. you ignore his polite comments and questions and simply focus on eating your food. when he leaves a gift outside your bedroom door—a single white rose and a newly printed copy of a novel he thinks you might enjoy—you simply turn up your brow and send it back to his office. he invites you to ride about the grounds with him, and you scoff at the idea, turning on your heel and waltzing down the hall without a fare-thee-well.

to his credit, he does not shout, does not so much as grit his teeth. he bears it all with grace and composure, and that’s what frustrates you the most. you wish he would shout. you wish he would tell you to grow up and act your age. something—anything—other than the saccharine care with which he treats you. a snake with manners, it seems.

on friday morning he catches you in the breakfast room. you openly sigh when he enters, setting down your knife and reaching for your cup of tea.

“i thought you had gone,” you say, your gaze trained on your reflection in the mirror across the room. your skin is clear, your hair piled atop your head in a mess of artfully arranged curls and pins. you tilt your head to the side. hm, you really are a sight to behold when done up well. your husband is blessed.

the husband in question drops to a seat opposite you, and, for a brief moment, you note the way his waistcoat fits snug against his broad chest. you look away. “no, actually. i was hoping to steal a moment of your time this morning.”

“you’ve done a lot of stealing from me already, mr. lee.” you slide your gaze to him, challenging. “are you sure you want to continue down this path of thievery?”

as you anticipated, he does not rise to the occasion. he actually smiles and shakes his head in amusement, the knob. you roll your eyes. “your tongue does not quit. it truly amazes me.”

“i’ll have to increase my efforts to anger you, then.”

he smirks, continuing to spread butter across his piece of bread. “there is a party this evening,” he says, catching you off guard with his change of topic. “i don’t know if you recall me mentioning it, but my friends in bath are throwing the two of us a wedding party. we’ll be leaving late this morning in order to arrive before nightfall.”

“oh, that’s a shame.” you place your teacup on its saucer, pat the corner of your mouth with your napkin, then meet his eyes, yours round with innocence. “i’m afraid i can’t attend.”

he pulls an incredulous face. “it’s not an option, [y/n]. my friends are most eager to meet you, and they’ve worked very hard at making this party something you and i will both enjoy.”

a heavy moment of silence passes. you smooth your hand across the tablecloth and smile sweetly, lifting your gaze from beneath your lashes.

“i understand that, mr. lee, and i am sure your friends are lovely people. however, i simply cannot attend.”

his knife hits his plate with a bit more effort than is necessary. you bite your lower lip to keep from smiling in triumph.

“why ever not?” he asks. there is an edge to his voice; it’s slight, but it’s there. your heart lifts with glee.

you shrug, and your earrings sway against your neck with the movement. “well, i just don’t want to.”

gwilym sputters, and his hands clench on the table. inhaling deeply, he holds your gaze, and a muscle ticks on the side of his jaw. if you weren’t so intent on hating the man, you might find his anger thrilling.

instead of shouting, gwilym rises from the table and gently pushes his chair in. he clears his throat and drums a finger along the chair back before saying, “we leave at eleven o’clock, [y/n]. please be ready.”

you bat your eyelashes and take a bite of a pastry, grinning, giving him no promises.

at ten-forty-five you are dressed, but have no intention of joining gwilym on the trip to bath. instead, you study yourself in the floor-length mirror in your dressing room. much to your surprise, one of the gowns recently drawn up had arrived the night before, and after taking breakfast, you’d grabbed angel and had her help you into the dress.

you sway back and forth before the mirror. a wine red, the light catches in the folds of the skirt and the ruching over your chest. a pearl pendant rests in the middle of your breastbone, a teardrop pearl dangling from the pendant itself.

“don’t you like it, angel?” you ask.

from behind you, hands clasped before her waist, angel nods in earnest. “oh yes, mum! you look like a goddess.”

“i do, don’t i?” you pout and turn to face her. “shame about not going to the party. who will see me look so splendid?”

before angel can answer, your dressing room door bursts open. you gasp, whirling to face the storm cloud of a man in the doorway.

“gwilym!” you hold a hand against your heaving chest. “you mustn’t scare me like that!”

he looks well, dressed in a crisp suit complete with black tailcoat and trousers and deep green waistcoat. he wears no tie of any sort, though a gold pocket watch chain hangs from his waistcoat pocket. despite his arranged clothing, his demeanor is decidedly less put together. his face is splotchy with an angry flush, his eyes boring holes into yours.

“goodness, what has gotten you into a tiff, husband?”

his nostrils flare. “i told you to be ready by eleven.”

“and i told you i am not going. did you not hear me?”

“i told you it wasn’t an option.”

you sigh and level him an unamused stare. “i am ever so tired of people making decisions for me.”

“we are going—together—to bath.”

you glance down at yourself and lift your arms in defeat. “i’m not dressed for the occasion, so i shan’t keep you and make you late.”

gwilym’s eyes dart to angel then back to you. he seems to be weighing his options, whether or not giving in is worth it. he runs his hands around the brim of his hat, his eyes narrowing in thought. finally, he seems to make up his mind. he pops his hat on and just when you’re ready to wave at his retreating back, he stalks into the room and loops his arms around your waist. you screech when he lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder as if you weigh no more than a feather.

mortification and seething anger crashes over you in rush. the feeling is hot, like boiling water beneath your skin. “unhand me, you villain!” you beat your fists against his muscular back.

he says nothing.

“i swear to you, gwilym lee, if you do not put me down this instance, i will scream!”

again, he says nothing. he walks toward the waiting carriage, the hallways and rooms in which you could seek shelter whizzing past you with the speed of his gait. you kick your legs out like a donkey, attempting to connect with something which might impede his progress.

nothing helps.

the outside air is cool against your hot skin, and you fight him all the way—all arms and legs and nails against whatever flesh you can find—until he deposits you in the plush interior of the carriage. he slams the door in your face, adjusts his crumbled waistcoat, and rounds the carriage to the other side. once seated beside you, his breathing labored and jaw tight, he taps the roof of the vehicle.

“onward, smith!” unlike his breathing, his voice is steady, and you want nothing more than to reach across and tear his windpipe out of his throat.

powerless to stop it, the carriage begins its journey toward bath.

taglist: @im-an-adult-ish​ @itsametaphorgwil​ @queenmylovely​ @captvinswaan​ @joeslee​ @gwilymleeisbae​ @ineloqueent​ @queen-paladin​

[crimsonrae]

I saw you were taking request. May I request your take on sub! Napoleon, with a plot of course. I don’t know really. If you don’t feel comfortable please ignore this request!! Xx

Hey Nonnie! 

I had to really think about this, because while I don’t think Napoleon would be averse to being a submissive in private, I do think that the notion wouldn’t occur to him right away. He’s a very take action and control type of guy, so I wrote this as more intro Sub!Napoleon... if that makes sense and it came out a little more of a tease fic than I intended, but I like it. I may make a part two to this that will be a bit more explicit, but for now - I hope you enjoy

Warning: Mature Themes.

NapoleonxOFC

Nightingale.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Napoleon knew that for certain as he watched his mark walk away. She had been his ticket into the theatre... quite literally. Illya had discovered days ago that the theatre’s manager was a woman with access to all pertinent areas.  

They needed that access.

Why?

Because in two days' time, an exchange between the premier warlord of Eastern Europe and the Black Market’s most successful weapons dealer was going to occur during a viewing of Stravinsky’s, The Nightingale.

Tickets had been sold out for months and frustratingly they had only been able to gain intel on Sergei Rundolski, the warlord. The information that U.N.C.L.E. had attained on the weapons dealer was simply a codename: Viper. Not even a description.

It hardly mattered now. Their time was up and they needed access to that theatre.

He had taken one look at Peril’s surveillance photo of the manager and knew he would have admission to that opera in no time. She was a mousy, quiet-looking woman. Her hair pulled back into a bun and glasses too large for her face. Cute, in a librarian-chic sort of way he supposed... Lonely too, he’d bet. All he needed to do was turn on the charm and she’d be putty in his hands.

At least that had been the plan.

He had ‘stumbled’ upon her outside of the bar she frequented for a nightcap. Smooth apologies for knocking into her small frame and an offer for a drink falling from his lips before she could so much as blink at him. Her eyes had been wide as he smiled down her. A shy hesitance fluttered at him as she accepted his offer.

He thought he had her then.  

She had wine. He a scotch.

“What is it you do, Mr...?” She queried politely.

“Burke. James Burke, I’m in acquisitions.” He answered calmly with a quirk of his lips, “And you?... No, let me guess. Glasses, a simple, but very flattering day dress, smudges of paint on your hands and we’re near several museums... An art restorer by chance...Mrs. -?”

Faint amusement shimmered in her gaze as she sipped at her wine, “Miss. actually...And no, I’m not nearly talented enough to restore art. My job is much more boring, I assure you.”

He didn’t miss that she hadn’t given her name. She was cautious... and bashful. Against his will he found himself being charmed. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had given him a truly honest smile and not a coquettish smirk or suggestive grin, but the rueful quirk of her lips was nothing but genuine.

He tilted his head curiously, “Oh, I’m sure you’re plenty talented, my dear. And I doubt you could ever be boring.”  

A cute little hum, almost a giggle bubbled from her as she shook her head, “You’re too kind, Mr. Burke... And what is it that you acquire?”

“Gems.” Napoleon stated softly and by the intrigued look he received, he remitted flirtatiously, “I find precious little gems that have been undervalued and make them shine again.”

“Oh, I see. Diamonds in the rough?” She responded with a timid grin that was just the right amount of tempting.  

Napoleon responded with an answering grin, “Yes...diamonds in the rough, indeed.”

His hand moved gradually across their little table and brushed tentatively against her soft fingers. She inhaled sharply at his gentle touch, her fingers flexing under, but not pulling away. A curious – searching gleam entered her eyes as she peered up at him uncertainly, “Mr. Burke....”

She petered off and dropped his gaze embarrassed.

So, he pushed, not hard, but gave her a definite nudge as he rested his warm paw fully over hers, “Would you like me to walk you home?”

She tensed and slowly removed her hand from his. Her shyness, now replaced by impassivity as she politely murmured, “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Burke...but I think I should be on my way – alone. Goodnight.”

Without another glance in his direction, she slipped from her seat and darted for the exit. He watched as she scurried from him and wondered where he had erred. 

Hurriedly, he threw a few bills on the table and started after the curious little mouse. Missing Illya watching from the back of the bar with an exasperated frown, “Smooth, Cowboy.”  

She was half a block away by the time he caught up, “Wait... wait, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She huffed quietly before glancing at him from the corner of her eye, “You don’t follow direction well, do you, Mr. Burke?”

Napoleon’s brow furrowed, “Wha-”

“I believe I said that I would make my way alone.” She stated simply, sharply – never once breaking her stride.

Her tone caught him off guard. It was the first time that she had shown him more than a meek-mild exterior. There was a thin strain of steel shinning at him now and he was fascinated by its appearance.  

He easily kept pace with her as he responded amused, “You did, but -”

“But you decided that the shy little girl didn’t know what she really wanted.” She interrupted, annoyance coating her visage, “You took my very vague interest and decided that I was charmed and willingly for whatever games you had in mind, no?”

“No.” He denied with equal fervor. Unwilling to admit that she was partially right, but he hated being so easily read, “I was merely being polite.”

She scoffed and turned to gracefully scale the steps of a stooped home. He followed like a moth to a flame.

Her hand rested on the handle to her door, but she turned to glower at him, “I’m not so naïve, Mr. Burke. Charming as you are, your intentions were less than polite.”

The latch disengaged as she pushed down on the handle. Napoleon quickly placed his hand over the door, preventing her from opening it but didn’t speak until she met his gaze again, “I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

“And I don’t like you.” She returned bluntly, “Leave.”

He narrowed his gaze at her.  

He had hoped to seduce into his bidding, but frankly, now he would coerce her if need be. Too much was ridding on this mission, “Make me.”

He didn’t expect the kiss.  

Not with the infuriated glare he had been receiving. He had expected to be slapped for his petulant challenge. Instead, her hand had wrapped swiftly around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a bruising kiss that had made his head spin. 

By the time he had bearing enough to reciprocate, her delicate fingers had snagged onto his tie and cinched the knot uncomfortably tight against his throat. He choked, partially in pain, partially in surprise. His hand reached for hers to relieve the pressure but found himself stilling as she tutted.

He was shocked by the hot stir of arousal that flooded him at the sound and blamed the lack of oxygen to his brain for that reaction.

“I do like it much better when people are direct. Don’t you, Mr. Burke?” She murmured, brushing his lip with her thumb.

He nodded hesitantly, his skin buzzing with the need to touch and be touched.

“Do you want me, Mr. Burke?”

His gaze widened intrigued and confused by the drastic change in the woman before him. Gone was his little mouse and in her place stood a confident vixen.

Napoleon nodded again and found it to be true. He did want this confusing creature. He wanted to push her, bait her... see how she would react, see what she would do to him. He had a feeling he would enjoy it. 

Desire burned in her gaze and she whispered  “But there is still the problem of you following instructions. Perhaps, I should teach you a lesson.”

“And what lesson would that be?” He managed to rasp out.

They stared at each other a moment longer. A silent war waging within her that he only half understood. 

She pursed her lips and tugged a little on his tie, “I’m going to invite you in, Mr. Burke, under the condition that you do exactly as I say when I say it. Do you think that you can do that? If not, leave now.”

She released his tie and he finally was able to take a deep breath. He cocked a brow at her as he smoothed his appearance, “And if I do neither of those things?”

She shrugged, “The police are only a phone call away.”

She pushed the door open to her home, allowing him the chance to make the decision of staying or leaving unencumbered. Not knowing that leaving wasn’t an option for him.

His eyes fell to her hips as she swayed passed him and he bit his lip appreciatively as his gaze traveled down the curve of her legs to the dangerous-looking heels she wore.  

He always did have something of a shoe fetish.

His cock stirred and twitched. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. 

When she looked over her shoulder, he smirked, “I can follow instruction.”

She arched a brow at him, “We’ll see about that.”

Part Two___________________________

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[horrorslashergirl]

A takeback on a raven. A Shadow Story

Authors Note: History is always interesting and everyone has one. Shall we take a glimpse at the infamous Boston Serial Killer?

Warning: 18+ because of sexual assault, abusive behaviour perhaps and some uestionable themes. Just putting the warning in case.

Words: 1.9k

It was autumn in Boston and the rain just stopped as the preteenagers exited the school, all glad for the ending of the program, looking forward to getting home for the weekend. Everything was peaceful until a little boy was pushed into a puddle from the rain, all his clothes getting wet and leaves sticking to his face.

He looked up at the group of boys laughing and smirking at his form, the books from his satchel fell out into the dirty ground, destroying the pristine white pages.

"Looks like the ugly raven fell off the tree." one of the boys, probably the leader mocked, kicking at the books and throwing them all around the ground covered by the amber leaves of autumn.

The little boy didn't say anything, but he avoided looking up at the aggressors, only for one of them to take his book from the ground and hit him upside the head with it.

"We are talking with you, crow. Hey! What's this?" he asked, opening the destroyed book and looking at the content inside, the group accompanying him and checking what the pages held.

They all began to laugh and the boy felt a heavy force on his head from the obnoxious and obscene sounds the group was making.

"Check this out, guys! Naked women!" the leader said, snorting at the images.

It was actually an anatomy book, very much detailed and nothing improper at all; it was educative, but the low-brains were too blind to actually see, probably couldn't even read the title of the book anyway.

Before they could throw any more insults, the teacher came by them, scolding the group and promising them that she will have a very nice discussion with their parents. The pre-teenagers scowled and looked down at the boy on the ground, rolling their eyes and starting to walk away.

"See you on Monday, pervert!" The leader yelled before stalking away after his group.

"I told you that you should away conflicts, especially with Henry." The female teacher told the boy, getting his books from the ground and handing them to the black-haired boy.

"I-I tried." he whispered, putting his belongings back in his leather satchel.

"Lucas, if you indeed tried you wouldn't have been here. Now, go home. You wouldn't want to be late for dinner." she quickly told him, then walked away, leaving Lucas alone, who slowly got up, whipping the dirt and leaves from his pale cheeks, which had a slight rosy tint.

He walked to the bus station, waiting for the next one since he missed the principal one. At last, this one wasn't crowded with his classmates and bullies, so he could sit in silence until he arrived home. On the long drive, he pulled out his books so that he could inspect them; indeed destroyed, but not completely, although he will have to get all the unwanted mess off and dry them.

He really hated this school, but not because he didn't want to learn or because of homework. The classmates and pretty much every kid was a Buffon, ignorant over the edge and it made him always wonder why he was learning among a wave of monkeys who couldn't distinguish tendons from bones.

"Last stop! We are here." the driver announced, getting off from the seat and exiting the vehicle to be met with the imposing view of his house that looked like something from a Tim Burton art book.

He opened the large gate to enter, stepping on the brick sidewalk and on the stairs to the large mahogany double doors, his tiny hand wrapping around the door handle and pushing the door open, only to be met with the face of his aunt, younger sister of his mother.

"You're late and oh my! You look horrible!" Aunt Mia said, her brown eyes widening and she grimaced at the dirty and disheveled look Lucas was sporting, not like he wanted to.

"Your mother is in the living room, having tea with the ladies of her literature club. If she sees you like this, she will go bonkers." Mia whispered to Lucas, narrowing her eyes at the boy.

"Get your clothes off right now. I just whipped the floorboards and cleaned the carpets. I don't want to see one spot of mud on them." Mia said with finality, moving with the tray of tea tools to the kitchen to refill them.

Lucas sighed, putting his satchel down and tugging on the black vest off, the white button-down came next, a shiver running down his spine at the coldness. He put his shoes neatly on the doormat and unbuckling the belt, tugging his khaki slacks down when he heard a scream.

His amber eyes looked up to see his older sister at the top of the main staircase, looking at him like she saw something repulsive.

"Mother!" Amelia yelled, making Lucas's eyes widen, knowing that this won't turn out to be good.

In a few seconds, not enough time for him to get his clothes and run upstairs to his room, his mother exited the livingroom stopping once her amber eyes laid on him, the other ladies peeking their heads from the living-room, curious and also hungry for something to gossip about later.

Everything happened in a flash of his mother's long black dress and a slap echoed in the gigantic victorian style house.

"You pervert! This is how you present yourself in front of so many ladies?!" Evelyn's booming voice meets Luca's ears, his cheek stinging from the slap, his tiny hand holding the red spot of skin.

He wasn't one to cry, he never cried, just looking down in shame as he heard his older sister snicker and his mother's friends whispering all kinds of things that he blocked from understanding; probably very judgemental comments.

Evelyn looked down at her son with a viper like glare, her amber eyes matching Lucas. He looked up and felt his legs tremble, so as quickly as possible he got his wet and dirty clothes off the floor and dashed upstairs to his room, avoiding his sister's smirking face at the embarrassing moment.

After cleaning himself up and getting dry clothes from his closet, Lucas looked into the mirror of his bedroom, making sure he was presentable, his raven black hair slicked back.

He grimaced at the color; the reason for why he was labeled as the raven or crow.

A knock at his door made him glance to see his aunt, Mia with her lips pulled into a thin line.

"You missed dinner, young man. Also tomorrow you have waltz classes, piano lessons and let's not forget about your homework and also Evelyn told me that tomorrow you will clean the attic. A reminder to never pull a stunt like that again. I saved you some dinner, but don't expect this to be a normal occurrence. You know how important punctuality is." Mia rambled and all Lucas did was listen, because what else was he supposed to do when you're surrounded by women.

He was the only male inside the house; Evelyn, his mother who reminded him of a witch from the fairytales, then his older sister Amelia who looked a lot like Evelyn and Mia, his aunt and younger sister of Evelyn who was responsible for cooking and cleaning, since she hasn't married a rich man like his father.

All Lucas know about his father was that he was rich as his mother stated and he was very fond of literature, one of the reasons the library of the house was mostly used by Lucas. Amelia was too busy following after Evelyn to actually open a book and read, at last, a paragraph.

Lucas followed Mia to the kitchen, sitting down at the table and eating the leftover boiled vegetables and cold steak of beef. He heard Evelyn and Mia talk outside the kitchen into the front entrance of the house.

After he was finished, he washed the dishes and was ready to head back to his bedroom or perhaps the library to find a book to take his mind of the events today.

He was meet with his mother and aunt, all put together, dresses perfectly without a wrinkle, make-up was neatly done to hide the aging and the hair? Not even a rebel lock out of place.

"Mother?" Lucas asked, making the women look at him.

"We're going out tonight, Lucas. There is an important event in town about new investors for the new hotel. We've got invitations." Evelyn said, fixing her fur coat and lipstick in the mirror by the front door.

Of course, they were out hunting new fresh meat or better said a new wallet to get their manicured hands onto.

"I'm no longer with Mr. Gladstone to tie me down so we don't have to worry about anything." Evelyn muttered and Lucas fought the urge to grimace and say something.

Mr. Gladstone as in his father; Evelyn's former husband, now deceased and a loving father as much as Lucas could remember.

The two ladies exited the house and closed the door behind them, not even saying goodbye to the little boy, leaving him in the darkness, save for the faint light coming from the chandelier above.

He sighed and decided to went straight to bed, not even in the mood to read anything. He was tired and not in the mood to do anything at all. He marched upstairs and sadly he had to pass his sisters' door that was wide open, more feminine voices coming from inside.

Amelia was with her friends, probably having a sleepover or just a gathering for doing make-up and their hair.

He tried to be discreet and quickly pass the door, so he won't be observed.

"Hey!"

No such luck.

He looked over his shoulder and saw one of Amelia's friends, long curly hair in a golden color following down her shoulder and mischievous sky blue eyes looked at him.

"You're Amelia's little brother, right?" she asked, making him slowly nod.

Amelia turned from her friends and grimaced once she saw Lucas.

"You again? Stop creeping out of the corners like that, pervert!" she yelled, bopping his nose pretty roughly and making it sting; a normal habit of hers.

"I'm going downstairs to get some snacks. It might take a while." Amelia said and walked out of her bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen.

Lucas was ready to bolt to his bedroom, but he was pushed inside his sister's room by the blonde; his amber eyes looking at the older girls who smirked or whispered to each other.

Lucas was only 10, while his sister was 17 as were the females in front of him.

"Umm...I need to go...My curfew is...." he shuttered, trying to excuse himself, but then he felt the blonde move behind him.

"Awww why in such a hurry? You're too big for a curfew." the girl whispered in his ear, making him blush and gulp down.

Before he could say anything else, he was pushed forward, two girls holding his arms and his eyes widened as he looked at the blonde, who snorted.

"Yell and we will tell that you tried to come upon us." the way she spoke, made the boy shake in fear, not used to what was happening. Sure, he was slapped and beaten up over his hands with a wooden spoon by his mother, but not this.

The blonde started to work on the belt that held his slacks; the gesture finally hitting on what they were planning. Lucas wasn't obvious to this kind of activity; he was very educated, but never indulged in them.

Another girl, a redhead closed and locked the door, giggling at Lucas's scared expression.

"This will stay between us all." the blonde whispered against Lucas's lips.

[jacquiesims]

Viper Canyon - Chapter Seven

‘Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon. 

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”’

TW: Violence, Death

October 1852

Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon. 

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.” 

The three passengers that remained exchanged glances of relief. They were exhausted and starving – the journey had not been an easy one like the last. The party had seen illness, death, attacks from the natives, injured animals that Elijah was forced to put down, and worse.

Jacob and Alice Sawyer were siblings from Pennsylvania who had travelled westward with Jacob’s business partner, Harry Dunn. The two men had been barbers back east and Alice helped run the home they all had shared. 

It seemed strange to Elijah that the three of them would come together to Viper Canyon, most men wanting to make a name for only themselves, but stranger things had happened. Most of the bachelors that Elijah escorted came by themselves but it wasn’t unheard for siblings to travel together. 

And yet he was still thankful for the skills the men brought along with them – they’d treated Elijah to a haircut and the occasional shave on the trail, and even he had to admit that the prospect of a proper trim and clean shaven face by a trained hand was appealing. He wondered absentmindedly how long it would take for the men to open their barber shop.

Jacob, Alice, and Harry waved goodbye at Elijah as he forged on home, leaving the party behind at their selected plot of land. 

He would be back to check on them, certainly, but at the moment, he was eager to get home and rest in a proper bed in a clean set of long johns.

Meanwhile…

The Yates Bank had been open on Main Street for two months exactly. 

Mr. Yates, a benevolent man, had made his fortune several times over in foreign trade and decided to move westward with his family in hopes of enriching his coffers in a new economy. He had done just that – many who came across the country needed loans to see their visions of frontier life to fruition, and the Yates Bank had nearly made back its upfront costs of construction in interest already.

John Williams had finally settled into his position as teller at the bank. He’d tried his luck in the mines, but after several weeks with no luck he opted for the safer option of a salaried job under Mr. Yates and his son, who were both fair employers. 

John smiled as a young woman came through the front door. The wind behind her carried in the subtle smell of her perfume and his heart skipped a beat. He was instantly struck by her beauty – he’d never seen her around Viper Canyon before, and he would’ve certainly remembered if he had. 

“Good day, miss,” he said pleasantly. “How can I help you?”

The woman seemed to have not heard him. She looked around the lobby, eyes lingering on the expensive drapes and well-crafted furniture. 

“Madam?” 

She blinked her large brown eyes, finally turning towards John. 

“Lovely waiting area,” she remarked flatly. 

John’s brows knit together. “Yes. It is. Mr. Yates has very fine taste. Can I help you with something, ma’am?”

“Especially fond of the draperies,” she said, taking slow strides toward the teller’s desk. “Do you know who happened to make them?” 

“Er…” John was confused, but he tried his best to oblige the woman. “I believe Mr. Yates had them commissioned from an interior designer in Aridia, miss.” 

She scoffed. 

“Is there anything I can help you with today? We provide loan and investment services, money conversions, and we have some lovely iron safes in the back for sale if you’d like to have one of your very own at home…”

“Well, what about the money?” She asked. “I’m interested in keeping my savings in this bank. They’re much safer here than at my home. Where do you keep it?” 

John was relieved, glad the woman was actually interested in doing business. “Our money is kept on the top floor in an extremely secure vault, miss. Only Mr. Yates, his son, and I know the combination,” He added with pride. 

“Lovely,” she said. “Could I see the vault?”

“Well,” John fidgeted, “We don’t really allow customers on the second floor unless they have a meeting with Mr. Yates, for security reasons, you see.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I have to see the vault before I know if I want to keep my money here.” 

John felt put on the spot. He’d been explicitly trained by Mr. Yates to never let someone up on the second floor unless he was expressly informed that the individual was allowed up there. But if he let the woman go without seeing the vault, then he would almost certainly lose her business. Surely Mr. Yates would praise him if he secured another customer for the bank – by the looks of her frock, she was well-off indeed. 

“I’m sure a little peek won’t hurt,” John said with a smile. “Mr. Yates and Mr. Morris are out for the afternoon, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. If you would follow me, miss.” 

“Thank you,” the woman said gratefully, following John as he unlocked the door towards the back room.

John stood in front of the vault door. 

“Here it is, ma’am. As you can see, it’s an absolute stronghold of security. No one is getting in here without the combination.” 

The woman looked the door up and down. “There isn’t any security? No one watching the door?” 

John waved his hand dismissively. “There’s no need, really. The vault door is state of the art. Mr. Yates had it brought all the way from New SimCity – and it cost a pretty penny, I might add. I assure you, this door can withstand a blast from dynamite, even!”

“Dynamite, you say?” 

John beamed, turning towards the door and giving it a firm knock. “Yes, the manufacturers assured us – AH!” 

He turned back around to see the woman brandishing a revolving pistol, the barrel pointed squarely in his face. 

“Open it.” 

“Miss! Is this really necessary?” 

She sighed, growing impatient. “Open the damned door.” To make her point even more painfully clear, she pulled back the hammer of the gun with her thumb, resounding a sinister click. 

Cold sweat began to pour down John’s pallid face.

“If you open the vault and let my men take what we like, I’ll spare your life. If you don’t, I’ll have to settle for…” 

The woman swirled the gun around in her hand, making up her mind, before pointing it at the tip of John’s shoe. 

“Making due with a few of your toes.” 

John struggled to speak. “I…miss, please – I can’t…” 

“I said open the door, you idiot!”

At the rage in her voice, John’s trembling hands opened the vault door. Horrible, icy guilt swept over him as the woman stepped inside, never letting the barrel of her gun stray. 

“That’s more like it,” she smiled. “Nobody needs to get hurt. Just do as you’re told.” 

They stood there for a moment, John trembling with fear, until he heard the door downstairs open and heavy feet rush into the waiting area.

“Fantastic work, Rose!” 

John was suddenly in the company of several terrifying looking – yet cheerful – men. They began to fill their bags with all the cash and finery in the vault. The woman watched, hand steady as she kept John at gunpoint. 

“Don’t take it all, boys,” she said. “Leave the people with a little.” 

One of the men piped up. “Can I take the vase? It’d look lovely in the parlor, Rosie.”

“Oh, sure, love. Don’t get too greedy, though.” 

John’s blood moved in his veins like slush as the men carried their bloated bags downstairs, leaving the vault nearly entirely empty. The woman’s eyes never left his pallid face. 

“Jimmy?” She called. 

The smallest of the men – if he could even be called a man, John thought he was more of a boy if anything – strolled over to his mistress. 

“What do you need, Rose?” 

She smirked. “Take care of this one for me, will you? You know how I feel about witnesses.”

“But-but!” John choked. “You said if opened the door!” 

“Don’t be a fool,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “You really believed the word of an outlaw?” 

The boy cracked his knuckles, looking at the cowering teller fiercely in the eyes. John’s gaze drew along the deep, dark scar that marred the boy’s face. 

“What’re you lookin’ at?” He spat. 

John tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat to no avail. “Nothing! I, er…” 

“Ugly scar, ain’t it? Got it from a man…who kind of looked like you.”

“What’re you going to do to me?” John whimpered. 

The boy grinned darkly. “I reckon I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. I like feeling the struggle.” 

“Please!” John cried. “Please, don’t do this!” 

The woman scoffed again. “Do you really want to spend the last moments of your life begging for mercy like a coward? You sad little man.” 

James reached out with both hands, but before he could grab John’s neck, the man threw up his hands in surrender. 

“Please, just shoot me,” he sobbed. “Let me die an easy death, please at least grant me that!”

The woman considered John for a moment. An odd expression crossed her face before she chuckled. 

“A lady never dirties her own hands.” She nodded towards the dark-haired boy. “Jimmy.” 

The boy grabbed John’s taut neck was a terrible force, tackling him to the ground. The teller thrashed horribly against the brick floor, choking for breath. Stars appeared in John’s eyes, he clawed at the boy’s hands for relief but his grip was like steel – blood vessels began to crack open in his eyes as his vision grew black and distorted. 

Rose stood back and watched, sliding her pistol back into her skirts.

John’s body lay limp on the vault floor. 

“Lovely work,” she said to the boy. 

He stared at John’s unmoving corpse on the floor, expression unchanging. 

The woman approached him from behind, resting a gentle hand on the boy’s back. 

“Let’s get back home,” she said quietly. 

The boy nodded and followed her out of the bank to the waiting getaway coach outside.

To Be Continued 

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Eight

(More characters introduced! There are so many...I know the plot seems a bit all over the place but things will all come full circle eventually. Thanks for reading!)

[thecrenellations]

Return of the Thief Notes, Part One: The Book of Pheris, Volume I

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part Two | Part Three | TaT)

Contents:  "So, so, so” watch, Costis watch, swearing, trashing the king’s attendants, being objectively wrong, boundless enthusiasm and love 

I promise I’ve had more developed thoughts since these often incoherent ones, but I’ve enjoyed having these notes to refer to - for sentimental reasons and for  entertainment, so here they are, for others who enjoy liveblogs and/or being whisked back in time to their first read of this wonderful book.

Format: Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Dedication, Table of Contents, Exordium:

There it is – to Sounis

Exordium – vocab #1

Interregnum?!? Alyta?

Pheris!!!

Yeah I love him from the first page

MOIRA

MOCKING COMMENTS HELP! Gen lives!

A new level of unreliable narrator

Moira, messages of Gods, Pheris, messages of __

Wtf is going on in this study? A zoo?

high king vs great king vs annux?

okie dokie dude

Chapter 1

1. Susa – Costis

2. Infirmity – who gets to be hero/tell story (I started reading right after the book launch, in which mwt spent some time talking about her writing influences and decisions connect to this question - Pheris isn’t her first disabled protagonist and storyteller, of course, but it was lovely to meet him properly directly after hearing her talk about it. Book launch foreshadowing part 1...)

Melisande?

Is this why he wasn’t taught to read?

3. Always the summer

Bees!

4. Hunting cat… hm…

Ok … shrine … 😬

5. Once again we start with a disaster or having to flee

Which Eugenides precipitated

Bite!

Little monster :(

6. Falling…

:(

7. :( :( :(

His purpose? D:

8. YIKES

Chapter 2

9. Hello there! (Gen!)

Massive chair?

10. CRACKED WATER JUG (amphora motif???)

11. Triangle from seal!

Gen that’s rude to Pheris :( (“He will fit in very well with my attendants”)

Wait. This must have happened before ACoK! (nope)

12. :(

Xikander … never made an impression before

How old is Pheris? (lol)

13. Philologos come thru!

Royal closet reappears!

14. Hello weird secondhand scene!

He is Eugenides

Marina…

15. Petrus? GALEN? OH SHIT! 

Is this why Galen was called? (nope)

16. Hell yea Petrus

Miras’ golden balls oh no

All these previously unnamed sucky attendants!

17. Ula – goddess of hearth and healing

Ok … Galen … or a god? Eugenides????? (why did these options occur to me before Mr. Shows Up At Your Bedside At Night himself)

18. Finally the attendant floor plans I crave + hunting scenes!

19. EXCUSE ME he slept through Sounis + Eddis wedding!!!

Again – high king!

20. So Ion is beautiful … hmm.

Yeah … Sejanus has facets. I like it.

21. Clearly no one would know what king would do … lol

Don’t mind me just sorting the attendants on a spectrum of awfulness!!!

22. SO SO SO – ION!!!!!

How many fucking attendants are there and how many are on my hit list!

Is “the necessaries” bathrooms or like … him stealing? (just the bathrooms ... the Gen-Pheris parallels were really getting to me at this point)

:(

23. OH MY GOD THE UNIFIED CREST

Also … frogs. Frogs.

24. Big day for Gen huh

Definitely an aura of Something as he writes about Gen

25. HELLO EVERYONE

26. Sorry Kamet, Pheris does the physical descriptions better. They’re beautiful

I’m blacking out at Eddis and Sounis

27. Jesus Christ. The bear.

Cousin time!

Under the table is the new up on the roof!

Uh… twin imagery ….

Gen’s feet!

Jesus. The matching

28. Cleon … wtf? A cousin?

A trial for Sophos?

Show! Us! Sophos’s! Shoes!

29. If u throw things out the air shaft you might hit the king

Was it a chicken?

Lol nvm the guy at night is Gen. That is … very sweet

- Showing up at night

- Accent

- Complaining about Petrus

- Swearing

- One hand

I am judging Costis and Sophos for not describing the paneling in Gen’s room!

Chapter 3

30. Was it a chicken?

An earring huh, good hand huh

31. Literally screaming “NO!” at Gen. Don’t joke about dying! I am killed by Gen on annux day. This is. My boy. Yes he is perfect. Yes he will refuse to get up. I love him. I died on page 31

Philologos is still the best of them

32. Dancing bear indeed

Always the powdered gold

Ruby!!!!! <3

Aww a smile!!! <3

Pheris he likes you!

33. They both love invisibility and lost it … I cry

Erupt like the sacred mountain excuse me!

OR WORSE return to bed! Lol

34. He’s Eugenides when he’s talking to Attolia

Ouch hero talk

! from Irene!

My queen!

Hey Phresine!

They way we do <3 he’s hating it but he’s so comfortable with her

Sister and bro mention! C’mon!

I love them

EYEBROW

35. Honestly that’s a yes (“I have no idea what you mean, my queen”)

It’s so cute they hang out in the morning … like how long was it even since they’ve seen each other lol

:( tough walk for Pheris

Is it prophecy time?

Lol how long does this construction take?!

Also … she’s pregnant, huh? but no one knows (nope)

Is befriending someone weaponized as a prank count for Gen’s enemies to friends list?

Also SHOW ME the magus. I know he’s here!

36. Pheris excuse me, why not recreate this!

Lol cast off language of history indeed

Feel the thrum of the goddess!

EXCUSE ME… a minor goddess? Mystery goddess? Or Philia?

Oh Gen

37. Well, Gen, someone is having a worse day than you.

Damn, how far we come.

Aww Sounis, babe, I love you and so does Gen

[drawing of the four of them sitting in a row]

38. Artadorus???? Pomegranate?

39. HEIRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A friend! Also lol. Two smiles, for Pheris and Heiro..

40. Yesss Melheret joke in action.

Costis has left tho right?

Jesus, Melheret

SHE GAVE HIM A HORSE (I COULD NOT DEAL with this entire conversation, but then again I could not deal with this whole book.)

41. I love them all so much

“on that horse, you will look like a king” I can’t with her sense of humor

He sure did say that

I feel like I’m missing something with the fight on foot thing … remembering battles?

Helen called him Gen!

Sophos stop talking about yourself and bringing apricots into everything lol

Lol these bystanders don’t know how lucky they are. Nor does Pheris, yet

42. She’s protecting him

Also … Gen … you didn’t want to be a soldier.

43. Guards have capes

2 startled men … hm …

Oh Gen. The fucking brutal echoes…

44. :( :( :(

Gen tell your wife you’re sick!

The attendants are so dumb

45. So, so, so :(

Tell who? Petrus?

Wink!

Yes?

46. Bleeding! Salt! Lemon! Heck no! What is he, a piece of meat?

Oranges?

47. “savoring each bite as if it were my last” ... Same … but with this book

Hmm… Alyta! Goddess of the gentle rain! (despite this “hmm,” I did not put the pieces together)

48. Oh no Teleus! And someone?

Aw he realized <3 lemon water

49. Gen eat your broth lol

50. I love them.

Ion’s really trying to make up for what he did that one time

51. Without the approval of the great goddess HAHAHA

I love them. Cousin time! Growl?

Idk whether or not to be reassured, Gen.

Wow Cleon I do not like that. Also didn’t he die? (...)

Comma (“I am not, Eddis”)

Go smack him!

52. Gen I love you.

Helen I love you.

He’s so bad at self care but I love him

Chapter 4

55. love that our narrator just disappears and reappears

56. Attolia’s brother’s bedroom? Yikes. Ominous. A detail in a story we’ve already gotten, different every time <3

57. fucking attendants. 3 good ones. Medander you were beneath Costis’s notice before but I hate you. Costis didn’t have time for you or Xikos or Xikander and nor do I

58. interesting pawn talk!!!

59. <3 Pheris :(

The Gen comparisons though

:( :( :( :(

60. flamboyance <3

Cemphora bush

Bees

61. I love him

62. I love them

Also lol “Your majesty?”

63. Name … hm … (“I have deliberately omitted [my tutor’s] name here”)

64. more twin imagery I swear

WAIT … it was his birthday! Not just Annux day?!! Gen was born in late summer???

Attendant list thank you

65. laying it all out there, huh … (that one Gen quote)

Lol they’re the same but Pheris likes horses

66. Insellia! Hello nice to meet you

67. Gen that’s mean. (“He is hardly even half of one.”)

68. Coleus leves???

“I am Eugenides.” <3

Gen why

69. Gold cups???? Hmmmmm. Also lioness. Def invoking Costis. (they’re probably not the cups, but STILL)

Earth….

70. Moira! Hi!!! Rainbow shawl!

Like a rabbit!

Pester!

I’m … very sad he uses his Attolian accent with Helen

71. Aaah so good

Mortals

Moira knows another messenger?

Does he think he can’t die in battle?

72. hmm are they WRANGLING?! (Galen and Petrus and my Fire and Hemlock word association)

Kill that pastry Irene I love you

morning training with his … guard? (Is that the whole guard or a guard? Costis senses tingling once again.)

73. Oh gen.

Ouch! (“to send people to their deaths and not risk my own is contemptible”)

Is she implying he’s paying Therespides?

74. Interesting Cleon plan. So many doubles

OUCH. (“Only if he comes back from the dead.” I assumed Lader had died in the war; it’s a different ouch now. I love that they both accidentally say things to each other that poke old wounds, and it’s not a big deal but it’s also not dismissed! Their relationship has come so far, and I love them so much.)

75. Verimius – Lavia – Celia??? Somebody is queer in there!

A GUARD

This scene confuses me. Xortix? Layteres? Aris! but dice thing is less political … so maybe? (just wait....)

76. So many reasons to hate Medander

Hey Costis! You exist! KoA happened!

Gen is just … still so uncomfortable and miserable. He chose, he has people, but still.

RIP Clopius also WHAT

77. Lol Hilarion’s grand statements

78. Yorn Fordad Hello!

Luxurious mustache

The mighty Pents?

Besin Quedue – she’s coming 4 you watch out

79. RIP Baron Hippias

Chapter 5

80. Spring! Plays! Cenna!

81. Oh dear

Oh dear

At least they said he was pretty

83. ?!? :( wine

Uh oh. Stockpiling

85. What even.

AAAAAAAAAH COSTIS

86. Omg Irene. Hissing. I love her.

Also … Gen’s the viper

Also this scene was written by Pheris.

Damn.

87. oh no.

What better man

She fucking quoted Howl. I love them.

Also, bees (this scene killed me)

90. Falling?

Oh shit

Also … Juridius and Pheris, Susa and Costis (comparing demands for information)

93. oh my god (IT’S THE WINDOW SCENE)

Oh my god

Uh

94. She! Called! Him! Gen!

I love this and it scares me

Lol Chloe

Irene you learned from her though

95. D:

96. :(

97. water stuff

98. what the heck

OH NO (Quedue scene)

Hm

100. yikes

Omg

Wow.

102. yikes yikes YIKES

103. a blade has protruded from his chest (tbt to The Thief)

jesus

106. shit

Did Gen hit him?

108. lol Phresine

109. lol

I want genuinely every character’s reaction to this shit

Chapter 6

111. what the heck Gen.

112. like a god [crown doodle]

114. Perma?

116. Gen. Gen. Gen. Do not.

117. AAAA (god intervention)

122. Juridius to Dite

124. bye Iolanthe and Ileia! Tell us about Caeta and Silla.

125. did not expect so much Ion

Chapter 7

127. Fryst god of winter

She laughed!

They’re so married

128. OH SHIT (Costis ship is sighted and I remember what’s about to happen next)

Interesting timing

He rode the horse home?

131. Beauty and good, beauty and kind

134. The gods’ goodwill

Keep them safe <3

135. Is that his MOM?!! Wtf (it was!)

Pheris steal those earrings!!!

RING! SMASH BOX!

137. AMPHORA EARRINGS (and flowers)

138. I love Phresine

139. Why do I feel like all the game birds are pigeons

140. meanwhile Gen’s been hanging out with Kamet. Shit. I cannot.

WELCOME HOME BOYS!

HELL YEAH KAMET ATTEND THOSE MEETINGS!

RELIUS COME THRU

141. lethium soup! The reversal

Safe for you

142. of course he knew <3

143. Kamet time! I love him. We get to see Kamet!!!

Also … echo of Gen’s notes on Mede

145. very handsome. … gaycostis vindication (referring to @costis’s url at the time and this post. Little did I know what else was to come in the next chapter and then a few months later with the adaptation news...)

Do you know who I am?

Chapter 8

147. Of course he’s a cartographer

A favorite huh

148. of course she didn’t tell us his age!

149. the angsty window staring I crave

Music!

151. adventure, huh

I do have a soft spot for Melheret

152. concerned about amphora gift

153. Glad they can be well and united in spite!! (Gen and Melheret)

154. Pheris loves math and I love him

155. Hello Teleus. Hello olives

Lol Relius is not into math

156. pigeons. Inkpot!

157. yeah honestly. He tortures people. He was NOT tortured by the king

159. lol (“I have noted the elective nature of certain behaviors” ... I love Relius and Pheris.)

160. The Invitation! I <3 it

161. EXCUSE ME WHO

Legarus!

FOLKS HERE WE ARE (I cannot overstate how wonderful it was to read this page. I did not know who the poem was from, and “Someone loves me very much, even with all my faults” is even sweeter to reread, but it’s just ... his confidence is so different from the tentative consideration of a new philosophy of trust and love we see in KoA. And there is subtextual queerness in the books before this one, some more apparent and some more subtle (and what is obvious to one reader may be subtle or invisible to another, in these books especially), and there is the attendant love triangle a few chapters back, but HERE - here, Pheris acknowledges the real feeling and love in Legarus’s disastrous relationship and tells us directly that his lover was a man, here he seamlessly makes it clear how bi and poly Relius is, and he quietly ties these relationships and realities to his growing understanding of the world. It’s not subtext. And there’s a lot more to come, but this page really hit me, and sort of promised the “more to come” while assuring me that what had come before, more subtly, was there. I used to have heteronormative readings of both these books and myself, and when Thick as Thieves brought them crashing back into my heart after years away, I knew better about myself, and I saw that - or the possibility of that reading -  reflected in the new book, and it was such a good surprise. It meant a lot, and this page meant a lot, and that is why I’m writing a small essay to accompany this note.) 

Lol wow

162. Where are you traveling, man (this question remains)

163. Fuck you, Orutus

164. Stole an inkpot!

165. the map!!! (Kamet’s)

166. I love them!

167. The Math Master hmm

Am I an oracle (Nope! :) )

[hj-creates]

Our Secret- Chapter 2

After their evening chat on the balcony, Jefferson has a proposal for the Hamiltons. Alexander is NOT on board. Chapter One is here:

(I'm sorry I can't get the Read More cut to work)

***********

Alexander was hastily scribbling at his desk. He heard someone knocking and he ignored it, knowing Eliza was closer to the front door. When the knocking became more insistent, he huffed and called out to his wife. "Eliza! Someone's at the door!" Another knock, more of a banging this time, then the doorbell. "Eliza!! Philip?!" He heaved a deep sigh and placed his quill in the inkwell. "Am I the only one with ears in this household?" He stomped over to the door and yanked it open. He instantly wished it had gone unopened. "Thomas." He frowned. "What a lovely surprise."

Jefferson smirked. "You know your left eyebrow twitches when you are lying." Alex opened his mouth to protest but Jefferson cut him off. "It is okay if you are not pleased to see me Alexander. I am not here for you."

"And just what exactly would you be here for?"

"Thomas!" Hamilton's wife called from behind him. "How lovely to see you again!" Eliza scampered over and gave him a warm hug as Alex bristled. "I'm so sorry I didn't hear you ring. Philip and I were in the garden. Would you like a cup of tea? I'll go fix one for you. Here, let me get your coat." Jefferson handed her his rather audacious frock coat with a smile that Hamilton thought was reminiscent of a viper. "Have a seat in the study, sir. I'll bring in some refreshments."

Thomas sauntered down the hallway out of view and Alex rolled his eyes. "Eliza, you don't have to do that you know. Treat him like he's royalty and we are just SO pleased to have him in our humble abode."

"I most definitely DO have to do that, darling husband. All guests in our home get treated with the utmost respect and hospitality, whether they are royalty or paupers. It is simply the proper, polite thing to do. Put your petty differences aside and remember your manners while we entertain the Vice President." She hung up Jefferson's coat and walked to the kitchen.

"Our differences are certainly NOT petty." Alexander mumbled and walked slowly to the study.

Philip was already inside, sitting beside Thomas who was very animatedly talking about something or other. Alex slumped into an oversized chair near the fireplace. "You know more than half of what Mr. Jefferson says is untrue."

Philip looked over at his father then back at their guest questioningly. Thomas did not seem bothered. "Your father views all opinions not shared by him to be lies." Alex opened his mouth to protest but Jefferson cut him off for the second time. "It is not his fault. He has not traveled the world like I have. It causes him to be a bit more closed-minded."

"Oh please- like baudy nights in Paris make you some sort of high-minded-"

"Gentlemen!" Eliza stopped her husband from continuing. She set the tea tray down on the small table in front of the sofa and handed out small cups and saucers. She then presented their guest with a small plate of pastries.

Thomas's eyes lit up. "Meringues! My favorite!"

Eliza seemed pleased. "Yes, I heard they have been a staple in your home since you brought the recipe back from France. I've been trying my hand at them for when you come visit."

"You are an angel, Mrs. Hamilton." He smiled warmly at her. She grinned and offered the plate to her husband. Alex, wondering why his wife had taken a sudden interest in the goings-on at Monticello, took a molasses-infused delicacy covered in powdered sugar while Philip grabbed a honey-jumble cookie.

While sipping his tea, the older Hamilton glared at his foe who was obnoxiously humming his delight at the dessert. As Thomas made quite the show of licking his fingers, Alex couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “Why are you here, Jefferson?”

“AH!” Thomas turned toward him. “I am so glad you asked! My business here is actually regarding your brilliant son here.”

“Me?” Philip’s eyes were wide.

“Indeed.” He smiled at the young man.

“What do you want with Philip?” Alexander dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin.

“I wanted to offer him an internship.”

“Really?” Philip’s face brightened.

“No.” Alex’s voice was low.

“Alexander… don’t be so hasty.” Eliza smiled softly. “A position in the office of the Vice President. That could be a wonderful opportunity.”

“This is what I was thinking.” Jefferson agreed. “Are you interested in politics, Philip?”

"He has been studying law. He is to become a lawyer like his father.” Hamilton said sharply.

“Isn’t the law also what you studied?” Thomas asked.

“Yes.” Alex said tersely.

“And yet you served in the Washington administration for almost five years?”

Alexander clenched his jaw.

“I am interested in politics. I’d love to someday hold office and try to shape this nation like my father did.”

“Wonderful, I thought that might be the case.” Thomas grinned. “And since Alex is no longer involved in the business of running this country...”

“I said no.”

All three of them looked at Alexander.

“Pop.” Philip looked disappointed.

Alex hated to see him down but no way would he send his son into that snake pit. “I’m sorry, son. I just don’t think-“

“You really are going to let your pride get in the way of Philip’s future?” Eliza tried to keep her tone measured but her husband sensed her irritation.

“Eliza… if Philip really is interested in government then I have plenty of… friends… in the capital who will gladly let him be on their staff.”

“None of your friends are the Vice President.”

Thomas could barely hide his mirth. “She has a point, Alexander.”

Hamilton sat back and attempted to not sulk. “You really think your life would be improved by spending time each day with this man, Philip?”

“I think…" Philip tried to be very careful with his words. "I could probably learn plenty of things that aren't taught in school.”

Eliza looked at her husband hopefully.

“Fine.” Alexander nearly spit the word out. “But if I so much as sense your influence on my son, he will never be allowed in your offices again.”

“Fair enough.” Thomas set his teacup on the small table and stood up. “Monday morning, Philip. 7 a.m. sharp.”

“I’ll be there.” The younger Hamilton sprang to his feet. “Thank you, sir.”

Eliza strode into the hallway to fetch their guest’s coat and Jefferson turned to Alexander. “I appreciate you finally seeing the opportunity I may provide for Philip.”

Alex got up and tugged on his waistcoat to straighten it. “I don’t like it one bit. But I will also not punish my son for our years of disagreements. Do well by him, Thomas.”

Jefferson smiled wide and gave Alex a dramatic bow. “But of course. Good day, Hamiltons.”

[thedeevirus]

Could I request a nygmobblepot ficlet with this prompt please 8. “Very little slips past me these days.”. Thank you!

Anonymous said:Hi, could you write anything on a) “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” b) “I’m never letting you go.” (preferebly dark and said by Oswald) or something cute with the two of them being found out by the GCPD when Ed still works there?

buntesfuenkchen said:51. The jittery, sick feeling when you can’t do anything… Maybe some Angst nygmobblepot with happy end? 🙂

Enjoy!

Added to Nygmobblepot Ficlet Collection on AO3

***

Ed tries to whistle nonchalantly as he busies himself with filing reports. Wincing athow loud it seems in the confines of the GCPD forensic lab, he purses his lipsto silence the wavering sound.Even as he switches to muttering the facts and figures on the reports aloud, hecan hear the echoes of the conversation he had shared with Oswald the previous night rising to the fore.

‘What’swrong Ed?’ Oswald whispers in his head.

Alanguid voice heavy with sleep. Ed can almost feel the warm weight of Oswald’sarm around him, the ticklish sensation of his breath on his neck, Oswald’s cockpoking him in the back even as it softened, the blankets tangled around theirankles, the perfumed smell of the lube in the air mingling with the salty tangof sweat-

‘Whatmakes you think there’s something wrong?’ Ed asks, not noticing how he repeatsthe question under his breath.

Puttingthe folders down, he begins to clean his glasses. He can feel Oswald’s eyes onhim just as they were the previous night even though Oswald is not there withhim now. They shine like glass in the dim light of Ed’s apartment as he scrutinisesEd’s overtly cheerful tone.

‘Idon’t need informants to know something’s bothering you’, Oswald says, ‘Verylittle slips past me these days’.

Ed triesnot to tell Oswald. But the feeling of those fingers soothingly tracing alonghis back and arm is akin to drawing poison from a wound.

‘Just… stupid things people are saying at work’, Ed recites.

Hefeels like a child again, the verbal jabs of bullies akin to physical blowsleaving him reeling and shocked. Their snide side glances and laughter is likeinvasive insects on his skin. Insects that burrow down deep inside and squirmin his stomach whenever he thinks about work.

‘What kind of things?’ Oswald asks.His tone is too affectedly casual. Ed looks over his shoulder at him and is metwith the watchful eyes of a predator. Ed imagines lethal claws uncurling andswallows hard even as he plasters a fake smile on his face.

‘It doesn’t matter-‘ he begins.

‘What kind of things’.

It’snot a question and Ed fights down the urge to flinch even as his cock pulses atOswald’s dangerous tone.

‘Thatyou’re just using me’, Ed says weakly and tries to stifle a compulsive, shakylaugh.When said aloud it sounds ridiculous. What he and Oswald have is special: a bondforged in blood. Someone else’s blood.But when Oswald does not laugh with him, Ed clamps his jaw shut to stop the writhingimaginary insects in his stomach from bursting out of his mouth.

‘Doyou think that’s true?’ Oswald asks, tone calm and measured.

Hissoft voice makes cold sweat break out on Ed’s skin. It’s so at odds with thepassionate growls that had issued from his throat when he had been fuckinghimself raw on Ed’s cock a few minutes before.

‘Ihope it’s not’, Ed says, feeling his throat constrict, seemingly in an attemptto stop him confessing his fear to the predator in his bed, ‘It’s just I’venever had anyone care about me and…I guess I’m just scared’.

‘Of me?’

‘No’, Ed answers truthfully, ‘That one day I’ll wake up andyou’ll be gone’.

Ed isstartled to notice wet drops on his glasses when he looks down. He reaches upand realises he has been crying. He inhales and exhales as he looks around forsome paper towels to clean his face.He knows why he is crying. He’s surprised he hasn’t started sooner.When he had woken up that morning, Oswald had been gone.

Ed doesn’tknow what’s worse. The feeling that he has perhaps ruined his chance withOswald by casting doubt on their relationship or the horrible, sickening possibilitythat his co-workers have been right on the money. That Oswald has indeed justbeen using Ed for a cheap thrill.

Edcurses as he sees there are no paper towels but the sound of a door opening makeshim start.

‘Takeit easy Nygma’, Officer Eckhart says snidely as he enters, ‘Don’t have a girly fit’.

Ed’s jaw tightens as Eckhart looks over his shoulder. Ed’s keen ears pick up ‘talkin’ to his imaginary friends again’ followed by quiet sniggering.

‘Howcan I help you Officer?’ Ed asks robotically, suddenly extremely interested inthe tabletop.

‘Areyou crying?’ Eckhart asks with audible savage delight.

Eddoesn’t look at him. He can hear giggling from the doorway and realises Eckhartis not alone. He never is. He’s always with his cronies. Ed wonders if perhapsthey suspect his hand in their former compatriot, Dougherty’s, death butswiftly realise they are too unintelligent to make the connection. They’re herefor the same things all monkeys enjoy. Shit slinging and dick measuring.

‘Howcan I help you officer?’ Ed repeats, crossing his hands behind his back,determinedly not wiping at his eyes.

‘Meand the boys’, Eckhart says, rubbing his stubbled chin ponderously in an futilephysical attempt to convey contemplation, ‘We were just wonderin’ aboutsomethin’. Maybe you can help?’

‘Shoot’,Ed says through clenched teeth, eyes drifting to the selection of toolset outto the right of where Eckhart’s hand is resting on the table. The scalpel looksparticularly appealing but Ed has always liked the obvious lethality of abonesaw.

‘Wewere just wonderin’, Eckhart begins but then his composure breaks and heguffaws the rest of the sentence, ‘Do-do you like it when Penguin ri-riddlesyou? Or-or does he like it up the tail f-feathers?!’

Ed flinchesas the tobacco on Eckhart’s breath wafts over him, tainting him. The whole station is poisonous: a nest of vipers. The laughteris deafening in the small room, ringing off the walls and reverberating deepinto Ed’s core. His heartbeat is hammering in his ears and Ed can feel warmwetness on his palm from where his fingernails have cut into his flesh. Ed isso incensed, he can’t speak. He can’t even think. He just reaches for the scalpel…

And realisesthat Eckhart is now laughing alone.

Eckhartrealises too and his chuckles gradually die away. He looks around dumbly and Edsees him freeze. Like someone who has just spotted a large spider on theirbedroom wall.Ed’s heart leaps with relief. He knows only one person could cause such avisceral reaction.

Edsteps forward, the better to see around Eckhart’s bulky frame.

AndOswald is standing in the doorway. His gold, shimmering dress coat reminds Edof a lighthouse on a night time sea and he feels himself being physically drawntowards it. Towards the only person who has ever made him feel safe.

‘What’reyou doin’ here?’ Eckhart asks but his voice has lost his boisterousness. It’s blusterous but Ed sees the sweat break out on Eckhart’s bald head and the shallowway he breathes.

‘Mr Nygma’,Oswald says in a clear voice, ignoring Eckhart, ‘We have business to discuss’.

Heoffers his hand to Ed who takes it without hesitation. When he feels Oswaldsqueeze his fingers, Ed no longer cares about what other people might think.Oswald is here. And Oswald is all that matters.

‘Youcan’t just barge in here and-‘ Eckhart begins but Penguin holds up his otherhand.

Hemakes sure Eckhart is paying attention then clicks his fingers.

Eckhart’sfriends file in like obedient dogs and take up position, encircling theirfellow officer. Their eyes are hard, resolute, but a couple of them have thedecency to avoid eye contact with Eckhart. Eckhart looks at Oswald, confusedand Oswald disdainfully throws him a piece of paper. Ed catches a glimpse ofthe paper before Eckhart snatches it up.It’s a list of female names and addresses.

‘You’rethe only unmarried officer in here Eckhart’, Oswald says, ‘Lucky you’.

Eckhartis breathing heavily now. Ed thinks he should be.Everyone in the room knows what’s about to happen. Ed just hopes they won’t disturbhis filing system before they finish.

‘Please’,Eckhart says hoarsely, ‘Please, I’m sorry-I-I didn’t mean it’.

‘I do’,Oswald says coldly and leads Ed out of the lab.

Asthe door closes behind Ed, he hears the first punch and a choked, weedy noise. Thesound of a jaw being broken. Eckhart’s former cohorts are literally not pullingany punches.

‘Areyou alright?’ Oswald asks as they head for the parking lot.

‘Youarranged all that for me?’ Ed asks as they go down the stairs.

Edhelps Oswald descend, savouring the scent of Oswald’s cologne, picturing itcleansing him of the stink of the GCPD. Oswald smelt of blood and life to him.

‘You’reworth it’, Oswald says simply, sighing gratefully as they take the last stair.

Oswaldstraightens and fixes his coat before they resume walking. Ed spies Oswald’slimo immediately. He notes that Oswald has not let go of his hand once.

‘Haven’tyou realised that I would reduce this whole damn building to rubble if Ithought it would make you smile?’ Oswald asks.

Thefierceness in his eyes makes Ed’s knees feel weak and when Oswald lets go ofhis hand to get into the other side of the car, Ed feels the absence of hisfingers as a physical ache.He climbs in and closes the door. It feels final and he knows he’s not comingback to the GCPD. As he faces Oswald, he feels no sadness. He’s feeling more alive with everymoment.

‘Why?’Ed breathes as the car begins to drive.

Theworld outside the limo windows fades into a blur as Oswald places both hands onEd’s face and draws him close. Ed feels as if his skin is on fire beneathOswald’s fingertips. Sea green eyes fill his vision, hypnotic, alluring and dangerous.

‘Because I don’t care what anyone else thinks’, Oswald says, ‘Ilove you and I’m never letting you go’.

Edknows he means it and it shatters his tenuous grip on his self control. Hegrabs Oswald’s feather like hair and pulls him into a fierce kiss, mewling asOswald begins to ravish his mouth, knocking his glasses askew. Ed pushes backphysically and thrills when Oswald lets him. Before he knows it, he’s kneelingon the limo floor and fiddling with Oswald’s fly, practically purring as Oswald’sencouraging fingers trace through his hair.

‘Promise?’Ed pants thickly as he reaches inside Oswald’s briefs.

[placetobenation]

If nothing else, 2020 will be remembered for the moments that rocked us all, right. Whether it be the COVID-19 pandemic, the George Floyd protests, the civil unrest, the lack of social interaction, the constant in-fighting and more, there have been things that have definitely rocked our collective World. Now, late this week, we get another bombshell in the wrestling world as a new wave of exually assault allegations have hit the squared circle. The biggest current day name is Matt Riddle, who made his SmackDown debut Friday night. How long he stays is anyone’s guess as there are now allegations from fellow wrestler Candy Cartwright, someone Riddle was allegedly involved with, that he forced her to have sex with him. Jim Cornette and Jack Gallagher, who has already been let go by the WWE, have both been accused as well. Now, I’m not here to take sides since only those involved truly know the truth. But, count me thoroughly surprised that the WWE continued to hype Riddle and show his win over newly crowned Intercontinental Champion AJ Styles air Friday night on broadcast TV on FOX. There’s certainly room for a lot of backlash there to come, no pun intended. The WWE is not alone in these allegations as superstars from AEW, Impact Wrestling, NXT UK, Progress and more have been implicated. This story is just beginning and will have many twists and turns before all is said and done.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to those involved. For those brave enough to share their stories, we are there for them.

For their part in the matter, the WWE issued this statement on Friday afternoon:

“We take any allegation of this nature very seriously and are looking into the matter.”

Star of the Week – Is there really any question? The Viper, Randy Orton gets our top spot this week. Not only does he take out Edge, pinning him and putting him out for the next 4-8 months with a triceps tear, but he builds on it the very night by punting his best friend Christian back on the sidelines after coming out of retirement for an unsanctioned match. Oh, BTW, thanks to the Nature Boy, Ric Flair for the low blow assist too! Still the dirtiest player in the game Natch!

BACKLASH PPV

WWE Championship Match: Drew McIntyre defeated Bobby Lashley

Universal Championship Handicap Match: Braun Strowman defeated The Miz & John Morrison

Greatest Wrestling Match Ever: Randy Orton defeated Edge

RAW Women’s Championship Match: Asuka vs. Nia Jax ended in double-count out

Sheamus defeats Jeff Hardy

Women’s Tag Team Title Triple Threat Match: Bayley & Sasha Banks defeated Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross vs. The IIconics

United States Championship Match: Apollo Crews defeated Andrade

Fully entertained by BACKLASH. Sure, we could’ve done without the double-count out from Asuka and Nia Jax. Sure, the Universal Title Match wasn’t a classic, but it was better than I thought it was going to be. But, let’s be honest, Edge vs. Orton was fabulous! Even without the devastating torn triceps injury to Edge, the match delivered on so many levels as Randy Orton got his revenge on his former rated-R friend. No, it wasn’t the Greatest Wrestling Match EVER, but it never was going to be. But it proved that those at the top of the chain can indeed wrestle and tell an amazing story at the same time.

Drew McIntyre vs. Bobby Lashley was physical as all hell and yes, we get the beginning of the end for Lashley & Lana after she costs him the title victory.

The Women’s Tag Team Triple Threat delivered on all fronts as did Sheamus vs. Jeff Hardy. The in-ring action was fantastic and pushed both storylines forward.

Apollo Crews got the night going on a good note making Andrade and Angel Garza not like each other even more, with help from Kevin Owens.

As for the “Viking Profits” taking on the Ninjas instead of each other? LOVED IT!

RAW

RESULTS

Kevin Owens defeated Angel Garza

The IIconics defeated Natalya & Liv Morgan

United States Championship Non-Title Match: Apollo Crews defeated Shelton Benjamin

Drew McIntyre & R-Truth defeated Bobby Lashley & MVP

RAW Women’s Championship Match: Asuka defeated Nia Jax

Unsanctioned Match: Randy Orton defeated Christian

Loved it:

WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED?! This #Unsanctioned Match between @RandyOrton & @Christian4Peeps took a significant turn following the actions of @RicFlairNatrBoy!#WWERaw pic.twitter.com/iwa4Zv3bKO

— WWE (@WWE) June 16, 2020

The dirtiest player in the game – Having Ric Flair align himself with Randy Orton to put a low blow into Christian’s efforts to defend his friend Edge was fabulous! Granted Orton doesn’t need the help, it was a nice touch and might even add some fun to Flair with Orton and maybe Charlotte Flair down the road.

Asuka wins – I don’t know why the WWE felt the need to give us a win on Monday night instead of Sunday night, but Asuka needed it. Charlotte Flair is right – Nia Jax should be nowhere near the top of the title picture.

Good thinkin', @WWETheBigShow… Maybe The #StreetProfits and #VikingRaiders SHOULD settle their series with a #WWERaw #TagTeamTitles match! pic.twitter.com/xdUNrhNUrM

— WWE (@WWE) June 16, 2020

Ninjas – Having The Big Show come on the scene to help The Viking Profits deal with Akira Tozawa and the Ninjas was hilarious! Hope they continue it.

New pair?

Part 1 – Lana & Natalya – Are we about to get a pair of brats paired together with Lana and Natalya now screaming their displeasure to the World, together. Natalya’s just mad at everyone and Lana’s now looking for a new love after Bobby Lashley’s divorce request. This one could be interesting.

He's done it again … with the big assist from @RonKillings!!!@DMcIntyreWWE is still YOUR #WWEChampion. #WWERaw pic.twitter.com/NomvpbuXgx

— WWE (@WWE) June 16, 2020

Part 2 – R-Truth & Drew – Loved the back & forth between the two champions. McIntyre saved his own bacon, as well as R-Truth’s with a clean win over Lashley & MVP. Hope we get more of these two in the ring and of course, outside it. R-Truth is comic gold my friends!

Are you gonna go my way?

Zelina Vega – Who will Vega choose as Andrade takes on Angel Garza?

NXT

RESULTS

NXT Tag Team Championship Match: Imperium (Marcel Barthel & Fabian Aichner) defeated Breezango (Tyler Breeze & Fandango)

Damian Priest defeated Killian Dane

Aliyah defeated Xia Li

Dakota Kai defeated Kayden Carter

Bronson Reed defeated Leon Ruff

Women’s Tag Team Championship Match: Bayley & Sasha Banks defeated Shotzi Blackheart & Tegan Nox

So good…

This is @WWENXT Women's Champion @shirai_io's house now! #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/h4luLGWnxd

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) June 18, 2020

Champions abound – Sasha Banks & Bayley come home to NXT to defend the Women’s Tag Team Championship only to meet the new NXT Women’s Champion Io Shirai’s wrath to end the night. Talk about inserting yourself into the upper echelon of the WWE. Now, that could be a fun three-way in the future!

NEXT WEEK: @RealKeithLee will defend the #WWENXT #NATitle against @JohnnyGargano & @FinnBalor! Whoever walks away as the champion from that match will face @AdamColePro on July 8th in a CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯! pic.twitter.com/FxFm070sG0

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) June 18, 2020

Fireworks:

Adam Cole vs. Keith Lee vs. Finn Balor vs. Johnny Gargano – Everyone wants the titles! So, what better way to have it go down than to have Commissioner Steven Regal lay down the gauntlet. Next week, it’s Lee vs. Gargano vs. Balor for the NXT North American Championship with the winner getting a shot against Adam Cole on July 8th in a winner-take-all champion vs. champion match. Glorious!

Very interesting:

Keith Lee vs. Adam Cole vs. Karrion Kross – Just what does the North American NXT Champion have in store after breaking Scarlett’s hour glass that she left for the NXT Champion last week? Give me a specialty match with these three please! Kross and Scarlett won’t be taking that lying down.

What the heck was that?

The Undisputed Therapy – Poor Roderick Strong! Poor man can’t even look eye-to-eye with a car trunk!

The NXT Tag Team Title battle between #Imperium and #Breezango quickly spiraled out of control once #IndusSher arrived. #WWENXT @_StarDESTROYER @strongstylebrit @Malcolmvelli @gurjar_saurav @RealRinkuSingh pic.twitter.com/oiVH4cVS2z

— WWE (@WWE) June 18, 2020

Tag-team chaos – Suddenly, the tag team division in NXT is stacked!

Numbers game:

Drake is decimated – Poor Drake Maverick. Yes, more guts than brains and it left Maverick lying prone after a 3-on-1 beatdown by Santos Escobar, Raul Mendoza and Joaquin Wilde. Who will help Drake when he recovers?

Not the brightest bulb in the pack:

Bronson Reed – Sorry Mr. Reed, but Karrion Kross is going to come for you, i.e. kill you next week. Sometimes it’s better not to poke the bear.

It's only Wednesday, Rob.

@RobertStoneWWE "distracts" @XiaWWE to allow @WWE_Aliyah to get the pin! #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/xVN0GTAX9V

— WWE (@WWE) June 18, 2020

The Stone Brand – Need we say anymore? At least Aliyah got a win!

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

Intercontinental Title Championship Match: Matt Riddle defeated AJ Styles

Shorty G defeated Mojo Rawley

SmackDown Tag Team Non-Title Match: The New Day defeated Lucha House Party

Sasha Banks defeated Nikki Cross

Hated it beyond belief!

.@SuperKingofBros just pinned @AJStylesOrg!#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/eB0JZeo1jp

— WWE (@WWE) June 20, 2020

Matt Riddle – Seriously! Not only is Matt Riddle the center of an alleged sexual assault controversy, but what the hell is he doing beating the newly crowned Intercontinental Champion in his first match on SmackDown. HATE. HATE. HATE how bad the WWE makes their champions look on TV. It’s a countless line of new title-holders that lose on television right or shortly after winning the title. The Miz & John Morrison, Asuka, Charlotte Flair, Bayley and now Styles. It’s not a good look for the champions. Why make them champions if you are immediately going to make them weak? Now, it has nothing to do with the match itself. The match itself was pretty good, but just misplaced especially with the social atmosphere the way it is right now.

Loved It:

The AJ Celebration – Now, while I hated that Matt Riddle gets a win over AJ Styles, I did love the build-up to it. Styles plays the pompous ass so well and having Daniel Bryan as the man to build up the roster as new foes was perfect. Cesaro’s facial expression made me laugh-out-loud too!

She's done. @SonyaDevilleWWE is intent on taking away "the one thing that matters" to @WWE_MandyRose. #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/aoPz5cKQyc

— WWE (@WWE) June 20, 2020

Sensational Sonya – Sonya Deville is one of the hottest things on WWE TV these days! On the mic, in the ring and overall greatness, Deville is as delicious as it gets right now on Friday night. It’s a shame that it took so long for the suits in the back to give her a shot to be herself. It’s also a shame that there’s no live crowd to feed off of because they surely would be eating this up as I am!

Huh?

"You look like you've seen a ghost…"#SmackDown #FireflyFunHouse @WWEBrayWyatt @BraunStrowman pic.twitter.com/UyZv9HvjNV

— WWE (@WWE) June 20, 2020

What’s up with Bray? – So, are we now Fiend-less? I thought we were done with the Wyatt vs. Strowman feud – we should be after a clean loss at Money in the Bank. I’m not buying the whole “I created you, I must destroy you” argument that was played out the first time they met a few months ago. Why should I care now? Just because of a wardrobe change? Got to give me more than that WWE!

Superstars vs. NXT Up-and-comers – Why is it OK for the SmackDown superstars to be around the ring with no social distancing but the NXT upstarts have to be behind glass the whole show? Makes no sense but I did at least like that they’re listening to us here at TWITW. We’ve been telling them to get the other current day superstars to ringside for weeks!

Tag Team Mayhem:

Message sent!@WWECesaro & @ShinsukeN want the SmackDown Tag Team Titles and RESPECT. pic.twitter.com/Lqeqyzboaj

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) June 20, 2020

The New Day – Not only do Kofi Kingston and Big E get into with the Women’s Tag Team Champs, but also get attacked by Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura after their win over Lucha House Party.

Bayley & Sasha Banks – Speaking of the Women’s Tag Champs, the BFF’s get ambushed by Nikki Cross leading to a one-on-one match between Cross and Banks. Love the fire and it looks like Sasha & Bayley have replaced Charlotte Flair in appearing on every show in the WWE every week. Maybe they could challenge for Cody Rhodes TNT Championship on AEW too. Now, THAT would be something! Just as an aside, even just cheering at ringside, Alexa Bliss is a true goddess as Corey Graves would say.

Parting shots:

Welcome to NXT Mercedes Martinez!

Don’t forget to watch the final chapter of The Undertaker: Last Ride this Sunday on the WWE Network. Will the Boneyard Match vs. AJ Styles be UT’s final match? How did it all come about? It should be fascinating.

Coming up this week:

RAW – Championship Monday:

Women’s Tag Team Title Match: Sasha Banks & Bayley vs. The IIconics

RAW Men’s Tag Team Title Match: The Street Profits vs. The Viking Raiders

RAW Women’s Championship Match: Asuka vs. Charlotte Flair

24/7 Championship Match: R-Truth vs. Akira Tozawa & The Ninjas

Ric Flair and Randy Orton

NXT:

North American Championship Triple Threat Match: Keith Lee vs. Finn Balor vs. Johnny Gargano

Karrion Kross vs. Bronson Reed

Damian Priest vs. Cameron Grimes

SmackDown:

Intercontinental Championship Match: AJ Styles vs. Drew Gulak

Sheamus toasts Jeff Hardy

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at jcrowe567@gmail.com. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND!

[smoothshift]

Best YouTube Car Channels - Help me finish the list via /r/cars

Best YouTube Car Channels - Help me finish the list

I'm making a giant list of The best car channels with descriptions.. any help is much appreciated

MOTOR TREND CHANNEL Where to begin, these guys are one of the powerhouses of the youtube car world. With 3.6 million subs and nearly a billion views on their 25,000 videos there’s no shortage of bored stopping tire shredding content. These guys cover several different segments of the autosphere. First off they’re the geniuses behind ROADKILL and you don’t even have to be into cars to watch Freiburger and Finnegan work their magic. Roadkill is about two guys going on journeys with a wide variety of cars that either should or shouldn’t but are on the roads and it’s nothing short of brilliant. From the general mayhem to the crusher camaro and even the draguar you’ll be left very entertained by every video they produce. oh and be sure to check out this video of them swapping the LS engine out of the muscle truck and into an old bonneville jet boat. The Second show they produce in a similar manner to RoadKill is Dirt every day. One man, one vision and one name, Fred Williams. Fred is an enigma, to understand Fred you must dive into his world of awesome old and new school offroaders oh and giant motor home go karts… but you’ll have to go to his playlist to understand that one. Dirt everyday, much like roadkill is well worth watching on entertainment value alone, but being into trucks and cars makes it just that bit more awesome. Definitely worth your time. The third show they produce is one called head 2 head. Hosted by a few different people and all of them good in various ways, head2head is a show that takes cars, normally 2 and pits them against each other in a number of measured outcomes, such as g forces, acceleration and braking. But it goes into much more depth about how the cars feel to drive and really shows off the capabilities of the cars, especially when randy pobst get behind the wheel for some timed laps. This show is really entertaining and informative about the high end cars for sale today and well worth watching even if you’re not buying. The final thing worth noting for motortrend are the events that they run every year, this includes SEMA week which shows everyone what’s going on at sema as well as a bunch of competitions between the hosts after each episode, Best driver’s car which takes the best new cars of the year and pits them against each other in one epic show down, The diesel power challenge; a week of the biggest baddest street trucks putting out huge power going tow to tow, Hot rod drag week which is the same thing but for hot rods, ultimate adventure week which is some awesome 4wd rigs going on a trip to some of the best 4wd spot in america and finally Top Truck Challenge which rounds up the most hard core massive off road rigs you’ve seen and pits them against each other in some epic challenges.

MIGHTY CAR MODS The next channel in the list is the one and only Mighty Car Mods, Marty and Moog have been delivering huge entertainment value for going on 7 years now. There videos have developed over the years from performing simple mods in there parents driveways to full blown builds on some legendary cars, more recently featuring the likes of super gramps, ms daisy and moogs supercharged classic jdm mini which are all worth watching. Marty and moog can also be seen taking some maad trips overseas in special feature episodes to places like New Zealand, Dubai and Japan where they often buy a car, give it a MCM treatment and then show us all the maad time they have with it.

PETROLICIOUS Petrolicious, these guys are one of my personal favorites for relaxing and watching awesome cars that have awesome stories. The filmmakers don’t actually make an appearance but it’s done instead like a feature film where it’s all about the car and its owner. Whether it’s a story about a family that hid bugattis during the war from the Germans, the son of a ferrari racing legend and his late dads 250 gto racecar or even just a humble bmw 2002 there is no shortage of awesome films with spectacular cinematography to kick back and watch.

JAY LENO’S GARAGE Here’s a man who need no introduction to the car world. Jay is on a mission to the the car world the wonders of some of the rarest and most bizarre cars around. Jay’s love of cars is what makes this worth watching, well that and the awesome cars you get to learn about.

HARRY’S GARAGE Harry is probably only familiar to those who have watched evo before. He has a few great videos there but has more recently started his own channel dedicated to showing off some really unique and cool cars he’s obtained. The best part about the show is infact Harry himself, his knowledge of cars is immense and the stories he knows about them are fascinating, he also mostly reviews cars the he himself owns which means you get the real in depth tour and some great shots of him taking the cars to the limit. Some of his best work is; the time he drove a Lamborghini Countach from Sant’agata to the UK. a ferrari testarossa from the UK to the sahara and even a veyron vitesse on the Mille Miglia. The channel only puts out about a video a month at the moment because Harry is naturally a man in demand.

DOUG DEMURO If you haven’t heard about Doug Demuro’s R32 GTR Skyline then you have indeed been under a rock. Doug is a man who has a need to inform you, the people about the cars you want to buy. This has briefly been misunderstood by the car community as just mere bragging by dear mr doug demuro, however I am pleased to inform you that it is not and that Doug actually asks you, the people what car you think he should buy and then goes and buys that car. For example he’s just bought the car you guys suggested, the polls showed that you all wanted him to buy a dodge viper and so he went out… Read more

EVO Evo is kind of like the British version of Motor Trend but with a touch of Chris Harris and Harry’s Garage Whom both actually make appearances. The run a series of similar events and shows too, such as EVO deadly rivals which is a comparison of two similar cars, EVO diaries which is typically a review of one particularly interesting car, EVO review which is kind of similar to EVO Diaries and of course Car of the Year which is a massive shakedown of the best drivers cars going around.

FASTLANE DAILY CEASED. FastLane Daily was your one stop shop for a fast dose of what’s going on in the car world however since purchased by another company the show has ceased being produced and at great cost to the car community. I recommend following Dereck D’s person channel as a result of this.

XCAR FILMS/CARFECTION Xcar Films/Carfection is another british youtube channel which releases a mixture of review videos feature films on cool cars & general top X number of things about this car videos, there content is always of a high standard and they feature some awesome rides.

THE SMOKING TIRE The Smoking Tire, who can go past Matt Farah and an awesome ride to fill some time in the evening? Matt Farah all round good guy and no bullshit reviewer features tonnes of awesome cars on his channel brought to him largely by viewers. The content is always worth watching because it’s never just another review of a stock mustang or another stock lamborghini but instead it’s often someone’s actual ride and one they’ve spent time and money on, which gives us an insight into what mods do what for different cars. Every now and again we get to see a video of his personal project, a fox body mustang too. Matts videos are largely ‘one take’ style which means largely unrefined and unedited but this has its own charms and if you really want to see him in a highly edited and glossy video you can jump onto the /Drive network which we’ll get to shortly.

SHMEE150 Shmee150 is arguably the king of spotting exotic cars. He follows around all of the coolest events and delivers the footage straight to your screen. Shmee uploads a huge amount of content from all kinds of places that we wish we could go, he also hangs out with some of the coolest people to chat about the cars. oh and he’s got some pretty cool cars of his own that you get to check out too!

REGULARCARS Regularcars is a unique experience is an experience you need to have. The man manages to capture the pure distilled stereotype of each and every car like no one else. He takes us on a ride along in all those everyday cars that most of us reside in and delivers some fantastic songs and humour. Summed up this channel is car owner comedy.

/DRIVE & /DRIVE /Drive & /Drive+ (UPDATE: RECENTLY ACQUIRED BY Time Inc’ WHO JUST AXED THE FAST LANE DAILY, UNSURE OF FUTURE OF THIS CHANNEL) Until /Drive became paid i’d argue the guys at drive made the best free videos about cars on the internet and to be fair free was too cheap for the quality of video they make. They have had all of our favorite youtube characters like Matt farah, Chris Harris and the big Mike Musto. In a similar vein to that of Motor Trend they have a number of various shows such as: Tuned with Matt Farah which is about some of the coolest tuned cars on the internet, /Big Muscle with Mike Musto which is all about that big muscle car scene, AfterDrive with Mike Spinelli which is hosted with guests who discuss all about those questions you have about the cars we love and a range of other special series. Overall /Drive is a great channel and there old content is worth trawling through fro hours of great watching.

VEHICLE VIRGINS Vehicle Virgins is hosted by Parker Nirenstein who started Vehicle Virgins back in 2012. The videos are a mix of reviews and vlogging style videos. The more recent content has been a mix of “x number of things you’ll like or hate about this” and more general reviews of cars.

CARTHROTTLE Carthrottle is kind of like the car community hub on youtube, there content is great for a laugh and presenters Alex and Ethan are extraordinarily entertaining to watch. The content is really regular and varies in style and quality, it features the x number of things about this thing to do with cars, reviews of peoples crazy builds and the stories behind them, reviews of some absolute classics and much much more. Carthrottle also has a great online community on there website and awesome social media accounts.

SAABKYLE Saabkyle is a man who knows more about your car than you do, if you’re thinking of buying a car or just generally interested in the most in depth reviews of cars Kyle will walk you through the whole 9 yards. The man’s passion is limitless and getting to really see all the coolest features of every and any car is great because it’s so often glossed over by powerslides and the numbers.

CARBUYER Carbuyer this channel is less car culture and more consumer reviews, its for the mums and dads and people looking for the best cars in the class for the dollar value. Still interesting though.

CAR & DRIVER MAGAZINE Car & Driver Magazine Like Motor Trend these guys are on of the largest car magazines in the world. These guys do a mixture of informative reviews, quick run downs of new cars and more recently some feature pieces on car culture cars. The production value is high and the videos are somewhat few and far between but the passion is there so it gets a recommendation from us.

JALOPNIK One of the biggest and best blogs on automotive content has recently started producing some great car content on youtube. There new series Jason Drives which is about some extremely weird cars is absolutely hilarious. It's part of Gawker media so ah be prepared for that

THATDUDEINBLUE ThatDudeinBlue or David Patterson is a youtube personality all round massive car guy. The guy is out living the life we all want to and takes us along with him in a largely vlog kind of way. Some of his features are driving bonkers tuned cars like 1000hp supras and mental EVOS, He’s also doing some awesome builds such as full on resto mod 240sx build and modding his mustang along the way.

SALOMANDRIN Salomandrin is a bit of a rich kid who has some pretty epic super and hyper cars. Its a mix of look at me im rich and some pretty cool comparison videos. check out the Hyper 5 series..

MCMTV2 Mighty Car Mods second channel. i recommend the double unicorn series about a a nissan stagea they modify. They post podcasts and other little tit bits

MOTOMANTV MotomanTV is a guy who just loves indepth vidoes of reviews, maybe one for the more matue crowd. Interesting and good.

FINNEGANS GARAGE Roadkills own Finnegan has started his own personal youtube channel where you get to see him work on some of his own awesome projects, need I say more than a twin turbo v8 jet boat? He posts videos around once a fortnight, sometimes more.

ROADS UNTRAVELLED Arguably one of the best of the youtube channels that produces car content and also one of the most under subscribed. The videos are of stunning film quality, the cars are beyond amazing and Marcus is the most humble of hosts who gives you a real insight into the car world and car he’s driving. This is a guy who was born to drive and review cars, this will undoubtedly be one of the biggest car channels in the near future. Hosted by Marcus Vandenberg, Roads Untraveled brings you inside car culture like you’ve never seen it before with fast-paced video features, reviews, written articles, as well as our weekly podcast. Whether you’re into the latest JDM and tuner trends, big displacement muscle, or just want to know what it feels like to take a ride in a supercar, we’ve got you covered. We love car culture just as much as you do, which is why we want to share the experience.

EVERYDAYDRIVER These guys do a mixture of informative reviews, quick run downs of new cars and more recently some feature pieces on car culture cars. The production value is high and the videos are somewhat few and far between but the passion is there so it gets a recommendation from us. The content is a mature nature and is friendly for all audiences.