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Tyranids vs Orks
by Paul Dainton
#tyranids#hive tyrant#rippers#gaunt#tyranid spores#hive fleet leviathan#monster#orks#warboss#battle#paul dainton#40k
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Tyranid Ripper Swarm, Hive Fleet Leviathan 12-Jul-2023
These new Nids are something else, eh?
#howadzpaints#miniaturepainting#warhammer40000#warhammer40k#tyranids#hivefleetleviathan#ripper#rippers#ripperswarm#leviathan
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Daily Drawing #54
Played with my TTRPG group last night, so drew my character The Behemoth. We did fight skeletons but actually I grabbed the necromancer and slammed him into a skeleton instead of this lmao. Just didn't wanna draw a whole extra guy.
We're playing Savage Worlds in the Rippers setting! Basically Victorian monster hunters. SW doesn't have classes but they're essentially a Barbarian, with a berserk ability and everything. Rippers specifically has this system of implanting body parts from supernatural creatures to give abilities and such, so Behemoth is a hand-to-hand fighter with werewolf claws. And is full of fiend's blood, and is abnormally big. I'm a sucker for dark experiments and body horror. I usually play magic users in DnD so I was purposefully trying to make a very different character. They've been pretty cool to play so far!
#art#sketch#drawing#daily drawing#artists on tumblr#original character#OC#TTRPG#tabletop RPG#player character#Behemoth#skeleton#Victorian#Victorian monster hunter#monster hunter#Barbarian#Rippers#Rippsers Resurrected#Savage Worlds#SWADE
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🐙Hunt the supernatural!
Save on select Rippers titles from Pinnacle Entertainment Group on Fantasy Grounds. 🎩
🗡️Gear up and join the fight!
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Short story from Tank girl movie
Been a bit to long then I'd like, but school has been hectic and will continue to be hectic, lol. Either way, here is a short story I wrote. Please give me feedback about spelling or the story in general. I'd be happy to improve!
@primary-022 since you wrote something and tagged me, I wanted to write something and tag you too. I hope you like this!
Just a short story to explore more of the Rippers dynamic, because I'm curious and have ideas. Mostly just DeeTee and T-Saint right now.
WARNING: swearing, threats of ripping people's heads off, brief mentions of sexual content (but there isn't any), mentions of a corpse, mention of cannibals(but no one gets eaten)
---
These girls were going to get the Rippers killed.
No one seemed to notice or care, except T-Saint. The moment they fell in through their sub-gate, he knew they were trouble. Not only did they broke into the Rippers home, but they were strangers, wore Water and Power clothes, made random sexual gestures, and didn’t take anything seriously. T-Saint would threaten their life and they would just laugh it off.
Well... to be fair, the Rippers did give them some ‘truth serum’, which T-Saint was pretty sure was just laughing gas.
Eitherway, imagine to his surprise that at least half of his mates wanted to spare the women. Too make matters worse, DeeTee bought their sob story of some little girl getting kidnapped. T-Saint managed to convince him to have the girls prove themselves by pulling off a heist, half-hoping they'd get killed. Unfortunately, after a chaotically messy heist, they pulled through with the goods...
which, unfortunately again, turned out to be a bunch of boxes full of dirt. Dirt, and the corpse of the scientist who created the Rippers, Johnny prophet. Murdered by Water and Power. It was enough to fully convince the Rippers to work with the girls. Majority rule.
So, against T-Saint’s better judgement, he sucked it up and went through with it. However, he still kept an eye. Maybe these women didn't have any ill intent, but they sure were crazy as hell.
The blonde woman who referred herself as 'Tank girl' (or Rebecca by her friend), started to mess with Donner's radio. The same one they used to listen into Water and Power radio frequencies.
"Please don't - " Donner said, reaching towards her.
With a grin, Tank girl tore out what looked like a lightbulb, causing sparks to fly from the radio. Donner winced and gritted his teeth.
"Just would make a great dildo," Tank girl declared, shaking it in front of him.
Laughing, she got up and joined the other girl, Jet. Donner just stared after her, face completely wide in shock. From the other side of the room, T-Saint shook his head. Now they're breaking all of our crap.
"Here you go!" Tank girl said, tossing the antenna to Jet.
She scrambled to catch the antenna, startled. Quickly recovering, Jet thanked her and went back to whatever it was she was making. Better not be a fucking bomb, T-Saint thought. Not even Donner dared to make a bomb - it was a quick way to kill everyone.
"Hey," DeeTee said, appearing beside him. "You seem stressed."
No shit, T-Saint thought, flicking an ear. "They're going to get us fucking killed."
"Have some faith."
Tank girl picked up what seemed like a box knife and inspected it. Shrugging, she tossed over her shoulder, hitting Donner. He winced back with a shout, grasping his forehead.
"No," T-Saint said, shooting DeeTee a look. "I don't think I will."
DeeTee sighed. "Please be chill, but I'm a little concern about your... ‘attitude’."
"’Attitude’? What attitude? I have a great attitude!"
DeeTee raised a hand to calm T-Saint down. But the gesture just made T-Saint even more pissed off. During the whole ordeal with the girls, DeeTee had been after T-Saint for every little thing. As if T-Saint were someone to be kept on bay. Who’s going to keep those chicks at bay? I’m the only one being cautious, and he thinks I just have a bad attitude?
"Don't freak out," DeeTee said. "I just meant that you've been... 'moody'."
"I'm not being moody!" T-Saint snapped. Moody, seriously? "I'm the only one whose taking this whole fucking situation seriously, while the rest of you just dance around! Do you not see how much of a problem this is?"
"It's..." DeeTee waved a hand sideways. "A change. We'll adapt to it, like we always. A little bit of new company wouldn't hurt, would it?"
"It would! It's always been just us. There's a reason we don't work with others. They never liked us."
"I understand, but you cant base it on a few bad experiences - "
"They've all been bad experiences."
It wasn't an exaggeration. When the Rippers first broke out of the lab, they quickly found a desolate place alone. They avoided the bigger ‘factions’ or big groups that were ‘government-military’, in fear that they’d be force to be weapons. So they turned to join the few communities left in the world. It didn't go well.
At the sight of the Rippers, people had screamed and attacked. But, who could blame them? If T-Saint were in their place, he would freak out at the sight of a mutated kangaroo-man. The worse cases, were when people seemed friendly, but turned out that it was for their own gain.
After a couple of rough interactions, it become apparent that they were better off on their own.
"Remember last time we trusted some kid?" T-Saint asked, still burning from the memory. "The goat skull on her head? Yeah, everyone thought she was chill... then we almost got skinned alive."
"That was unfortunate; she seemed like a good kid. Just had bad influences."
"She was a cannibal."
DeeTee inclined his head towards the women. "They aren’t cannibals."
"No; they're worse." T-Saint rubbed his face. "They're crazy, stupid, and have no impulse control. Did you know I caught her fucking Booga?"
"Booga?"
"Fucking Booga!"
"Which one?"
"The one with the tank. Who else?"
"Ah." DeeTee glanced at Tank Girl. "Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time. Everyone's been a little interested in them; look at Donner right now."
On cue, Donner leaned against the table across Jet. He was talking, trying to touch her forearm. Unfortunately for him, Jet kept pulling away with a frown. Unfortunate for her too, T-Saint thought bitterly.
Unlike her friend, Jet was quiet and sensible. A lot more respectful then Tank girl. T-Saint didn't like either of the women, but at least found Jet bearable. Bearable, but a pushover. Watching Donner's advances, T-Saint considered going over and pulling him away. Already got one dumbass laid. Don't need another one.
"I don't like this," T-Saint told DeeTee.
"I know; we all know. You've been very loud about it. That's why I'm concerned about you - everyone is concerned. You're temper is flaring up."
"Temper? You're worried about my temper and attitude, but not about them?"
It was a nod to the two women, who seemed to be arguing now. During T-Saint and DeeTee’s entire conversation, Tank girl kept grabbing random objects and bringing them to Jet. But now Jet was complaining about having too many unnecessary objects.
"I'm optimistic about them," DeeTee said.
T-Saint resisted the urge to pull off his ears. "You said that about goat skull girl too. Look where that got us."
"Could you at least - "
"Watcha talking about?" Tank girl asked, jumping in front of them from out of nowhere. "Gossiping like a bunch of school girls during lunch?"
"Nothing," T-Saint snapped. "Piss off."
Tank girl threw up her hands in an offended gesture. "Well, excuse me!"
"I'm sorry," DeeTee interjected. "We're just not use to company."
"Yeah, I can see that. This place is aaaa mess. How do you guys get anything done?"
Tuning out of the conversation, T-Saint crossed his arms and stared at her. Noticing this, Tank girl turned back to him, cringing.
"Sheesh," she said. "You really need to lighten up."
"No," was all T-Saint said.
"You need a little stress relief or something?" Tank girl asked, reaching for his pants.
Immediately, T-Saint seized her arm and shoved her away. "Don't fucking touch me!"
DeeTee quickly raised an arm, blocking T-Saint’s chest and holding him back. Tank girl backed away with her arms in the air, mumbling something about stuck-ups. Before T-Saint could say anything more, Tank girl circled around and went back to Jet.
DeeTee dropped his arm and turned to T-Saint, frowning.
"If she touches me again, I'm ripping her head off," T-Saint snarled, pointing to Tank girl.
DeeTee held up a hand. "Easy. She didn't mean - "
"I don't care what she means. I'm ripping her head off if she touches me."
Despite keeping a neutral expression, one of DeeTee's ears twitched. Annoyance. DeeTee rarely got frustrated or upset. That's why he was the outspoken one of the group. So why the fuck is he annoyed at me for?
Taking a deep breath, DeeTee said: "Listen: I understand things have been rough lately, with Water and Power and all of that. But that's also why we're working with them. We both have a common enemy. You don't have to like them and I'm not going to force you to like them. But you need to keep cool.”
T-Saint snorted. "I have a right to be pissed at that!"
"Yes, you do," DeeTee agreed. "But I don't want you to lose your head and do something you'll regret! I’m concern about you. You've done it before, you could end up doing it again if you don't control your temper."
"I don't - "
DeeTee gestures towards T-Saint's hands. T-Saint glanced down at his sharp claws - a perk of being a mutant kangaroo. There was some blood now. Not much, but a bit.
With a strike of realization, T-Saint looked back up. Tank girl had made it across the room again, with Jet and Donner. All three stared back at him with wide eyes. Tank girl in particular just looked offended, cradling the arm he grabbed.
Though it wasn’t his intent, T-Saint didn't regret it; she had it coming. He'd do it to anyone who tried to touch him like that. What T-Saint didn't like was everyone else, including DeeTee, watching him carefully. As if he were some savage beast about to go rapid.
T-Saint remembered years of trying to control his temper as a kid. Trying to stay cool when he was a cop. Then the comet and kangaroo thing happened. Each day, he felt more and more of himself slip back into that anger, lashing out more.
DeeTee, to T-Saints annoyance, is right. Of course he’s right. He’s always right.
"Fine," T-Saint muttered. He looked away, crossing his arms again. "Alright! I won't rip her head off... Can I at least hit her if she gets in my space, though?"
DeeTee sighed. "Well... alright, of course. That's fair. Just try not to kill her."
"Yeah nah. She's going to get us all killed first."
"They're not going to get us killed."
Something shot out of Jet's invention. It crashed into the ceiling, shattering the light into hot pieces. A chunk fell on Donner who crashed onto the ground. Despite just being attacked, Tank girl started laughing at the commotion.
After a moment of stunned silence, T-Saint turned to DeeTee. "You were saying?"
---
Notes:
So I kinda see T-Saint as this grumpy guy who is tired of everyone's shenanigans. Maybe he has anger issues which I wanted to explore a bit
DeeTee is more of the calmer guy and honestly, if it weren't for the "We're a committee now", I'd think he's the leader
T-Saint and DeeTee have a respectful relationship, obviously. I got the feeling that T-Saint listens and respects DeeTee more then the other Rippers.
TBH, I don't really like Donner for reasons (his creepy 'advances' on Jet, like what the). So I'm just re-imaging him as less of a pervert and more of just a simp tech guy
Obviously the Rippers don't really like outsiders, for obvious reasons. It's a post-apocalyptic world where everyone is kinda mean. Also, the Rippers are mutated kangaroo men. If I saw one in real life, I'd probably scream in shock (then feel bad about it)
Tank girl is Tank girl, lol. I hope I wrote her properly
#short story#fanfiction#tank girl#tank girl movie#Rippers#I'm not sure what else to tag#Kinda new to this lol
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#kuroshitsuji#black butler#sebastian michaelis#ciel phantomhive#kuroshitsuji meme#kuroshitpost#i know she is not canon but Hannah will always be my fav#grell is a certified war criminal tm#she is literally jack the ripper#i guess there is Seb too...#God forbid women do anything better then him#🙄
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Crash Team Racing Nitro-Fueled //Part 3// - Rippers Crazy & A New Arena!!!
#youtube#Crash#Team#Racing#Nitro#Fueled#Part#3#Rippers#Crazy#and#A#New#Arena#Crash Team Racing Nitro-Fueled#Part 3#Rippers Crazy & A New Arena!!!#PS4#PlayStation 4#Red-Wolf16#Fallen-Wolf16GH
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BENJAMIN O'MAHONY Ripper Street 5.01 "Closed Casket"
#benjamin o'mahony#ripper street#ripperstreetedit#frank thatcher#tvedit#actor#men#menedit#guys#gifs#holesrus#mine#*
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hungover 😓
#call of duty#cod#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#soapghost#ghostsoap#my art#simon stayed up all night watching youtube conspiracy videos and has solved the jack the ripper case#johnny is still asleep#it's 15:43 pm
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Time Traveller AU part 14
I’m back baby!🕺
Check out the Time Traveller masterlist here! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!
Your body wakes up before your mind does. You feel the warmth of the sheets first, unlike the freezing cold when you dove into the snow and saw-
Jack the Ripper.
Your eyes snapped open at the sensation of someone touching your feet and prepared yourself to see the notorious murderer having a foot fetish.
“Relax. I’m just bandaging your feet.”
Silas?
He’s the Ripper?
“What are you-” you gulped. “You… you found me?”
Silas raised a brow at the fear in your voice. “It would’ve been hard not to. You were lying on my side of the bed, under my covers.” He stated, pulling your feet back in his lap gently. “There’s no need to be scared really. I’m not mad that you got in my bed. I mean- after your performance last night, I suppose its the least you deserve.” He massaged the healing balm into your soles. “I’m not a monster, Y/n.”
What? “I- I was in bed?”
Silas looked at you befuddled. “You still are. You left the stage after your dance, and when I came to the room, I found you in bed.”
Did I… did I imagine all of that? Was I in bed the entire night? Did I hallucinate running off to the snow and seeing the Ripper after that tea-
The tea!
You glanced at Silas who was now wrapping bandages around your feet with utmost care.
He probably told Cadbury to lace my tea with God knows what! It makes sense. Cadbury is the most loyal servant to Silas, they have that knock-off “Bruce Wayne-Alfred” relationship going on.
“Did you drug me?”
Silas’s head shot up. “What?”
You pulled your legs back. “Did you drug me last night?”
“Have you lost your mind-” Silas nostrils flared at your accusation. “No, Y/n. I did not drug my wife-”
“Stop it.” You snapped. “Dont pretend like you give a crap about me. You were counting on me to fail on stage, to embarrass myself for whatever stupid revenge you have planned.”
His lips pulled into a thin line. “I was counting on you to fail and look how that turned out. You lied to me. You said you didn’t know ballet at all and then proceeded to dance like a prima donna. You ruined my plan but you don’t see me complaining. And now you dare to accuse me of drugging you?”
“I’m not accusing you, Silas. I know you did it! You made Cadbury gave me that tea laced with something so that I would make a fool out of myself, but things didn’t turn out the way you planned, did it? I don’t know what drug you gave me, but my pettiness will always be stronger than anything you could spike me with!” You screamed at him. He stared at you with bridled fury as he pushed your now bandaged feet off his lap before standing up.
“I will say this for the last time- I did not drug you. I did not plan on drugging you, ever- and if I did, you surely wouldn’t see it coming because my intelligence would always beat any amount of your pettiness, Y/n.” Silas’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you were hoping to achieve by pushing all these absurd accusations on me. I admit that I did plot for you to not perform well in front of the queen, but like I said before- we’re on the same team. Like it or not, we’re married. You’re associated with me, thereby you are my responsibility and while I may use you from time to time to exact my revenge- which I have told you about, I would NEVER go as far as to endanger my own wife for this.”
You scoffed. “Wife? This is a sham marriage-”
He leaned closer suddenly. “Sham or not, we did get married in front of law and in religion! You are my wife, my family now and I dont need to stoop as low as to hurt you.” Silas stared into your eyes and for a second, you almost believed him.
But very early on in your life, you knew better than to trust any man who wasn’t your father or brother.
“But you did hurt me, Silas.” Confusion flickered in his eyes. “You have hurt me several times, but it never hurt me before because the wounds weren’t ever that deep. But last night, you- you crossed a fucking line.”
“I told you I didn’t drug you-”
“I’m not talking about that, though that may have been less painful than what you actually did.” You said before pushing him away to stand up and move past him.
“And what did I do?” Silas watched as you walked on your injured feet, but he knew it would be fruitless to try and stop you.
You glanced over your shoulder. “Why should I tell you when you didn’t care enough to remember it in the first place?”
-
You stomped all the way outside to the gardens, where snow covered as the eye could see. You wanted to confirm it, to look for any clues that would indicate that you did not hallucinate your encounter with the notorious murderer.
There has to be something. It cant- it had to be real.
You found the tree and remember it was near the spot you dove into. But no matter how much you looked, how much snow you shoveled, you couldn’t find anything. If any footprints did exist, they were covered by the snowfall. There was nothing left behind, not by you, or by the Ripper. Not a drop of blood, or a strand of hair. Nothing.
Huffing, you marched back inside the house, ignoring the ache in your feet and the frost in your hands. As soon as you entered, you spotted Cadbury making his way to the dining room with a tray in his hands.
“Cadbury!” He halted, looking back at you in surprise as you walked upto him. You already knew what his answer would be but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Cadbury, I need you to be honest with me and know that if you lie, I will catch you.” You tried to sound as menacing as possible. “Yes, ma’am?” He looked clueless. Resisting the urge to grab him by the collar and throttle him, you settled for a huff as you asked him.
“Did you drug me last night?”
His brows shot up in surprise. “Drug you? Why would I-”
“Cut the bullshit.” He looked even more shocked at your tone. “Last night, before I went on stage, you gave me a cup of tea. I know for a fact that you spiked it with something. Don’t deny it, I know it. Just tell me if Silas put you up to it.”
He shook his head. “Ma’am, I can assure you I did not drug you tea, nor did I ever intend to. All I gave you was chamomile tea to calm you down.”
Before you could accuse him again, Sarah called for him in the dining room. Cadbury looked at you apologetically. “I have to serve Miss Sarah her breakfast before she leaves. Would you like something as well? Eggs, toast… tea?”
You glared at him harshly enough at the end that it made him rush back to the dining hall.
Wait, Sarah’s leaving?
You entered the dining hall and saw Sarah sitting there.
“Oh, good morning, my prima donna!” She made her way to you, pulling you in as she pecked your cheeks, her eyes shining. “I didn’t get to see you again last night, but my darling you were so wonderful on stage! I am so proud of you, my little star! Everyone is talking about you! And even praising me for training you, but the credit is all to you!”
You smiled, heart fluttering at praise. “No, I did well all thanks to you.” Squeezing her hands gently, you asked where she was going. “I heard Cadbury say you were leaving-?”
“Ah! Yes, darling! I’m going to Edinburgh for a couple of months. I need to take care of some family business there. I’m sorry love, I was so busy with everything that I forgot to tell you. I thought Silas would’ve mentioned it to you.”
Yeah. Silas, my lovely husband, would always keep me in the loop.
An hour later, you and Silas stood at the doorway watching Sarah’s carriage leave.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was leaving?” You muttered, eyes trailed forward. You knew if you looked at him again, all the anger from the morning would return.
“I forgot.” You almost wrung him by his neck.
“You always keep things from me.”
“Y/n, dont start.” He let out a small huff. “Why does it even matter? How does her leaving affect you?”
You looked at him in disbelief. “Its not about her leaving. Its that you didn’t tell me! Why the hell do you keep things from me?!”
He turned to you, narrowing his eyes. “Oh so now you want to play the doting wife? She’s my grandmother, she told me! Me knowing is enough! I am not privy to tell you anything!” He snapped. “Like you said, this is a sham marriage and as far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but an employee. Know your place, woman!”
He marched out of the house in fury, leaving you standing there in absolute shock.
You sat in the gardens, stewing over what happened with Silas when Cadbury came to fetch you.
“Miss, there’s a carriage waiting for you.” “What? Why?”“I would assume its to take you somewhere.” You pursed your lips to not let a sarcastic comment slip.
“Who sent the carriage, Cadbury?” Did Silas sent it to take you out for an early lunch and make up?
“Mr Blackwood.” Henry?
You made your way towards the carriage, about to ask the driver when the carriage door swung open.
“There you are, kitten!” Henry grinned, stepping out of the carriage. “I should tell you, its not good to make your boss wait.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you want, Henry?”
“Well, I came to fetch you, seeing as you are in fit condition and not busy, there’s no reason for you to be skipping work.” Work? Ah, yes. You were supposed to be at the office at 8am and its 10am now.
“I’m not coming back. What use is it if I cant write what I want without you shutting it down?” He shrugged. “Silas did make me a good deal last night while you were dancing- marvellously, I must say.” He went to grab your chin but you smacked his hand away. Sighing, an amused look in his eyes he straightened his broad shoulders. “You can write what you want, within reason, and I’ll allow it to be published.” He nodded his head towards the carriage. “Shall we, milady?”
“I’ll think about it-” You turned to leave when he caught your wrist, yanking it to make you collide with his chest.
“I was being polite, kitten.” He looked down at you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Get in the carriage, Y/n. Now.”
-
You were sitting on your desk after making a brief stop at Henry’s tailor, so that you could change into a suit for your male disguise. The suit, even though it was the cheapest one available at the shop, was still pretty expensive and luxurious enough for a small time reporter like you. It turned a few heads, but only Colin asked you where you got it from.
“One of Silas’s.” You muttered dismissively, which now that you think about it, sounds like you wore your husband’s clothes after shacking up.
You didn’t know Colin also shared the same thought when he took a sip of his half-n-half coffee (half alcohol, half coffee.)
“Anyways, want to go to hospitals with me? Investigate, now that you are in disguise anyways.”
Looking up from your desk, you spotted Henry in his office talking with someone. His eyes made contact with yours for a moment, and he winked at you.
“Sure.” You need to get out of here before you combust.
“Great. I was thinking we could go to St Peters hospital-”“No.” You stood up, grabbing your coat. “We’re going to Aveline’s.”
“The asylum?” Colin asked, following you.
Yes. The same asylum Silas forbade you from entering. Why? You don’t know, but you suspected it was linked to something personal so you respected his wishes. Now? Fuck. That.
He crossed a line with me. Now I will too.
You made your way towards the exit, which happened to be near Henry’s office (because he wanted to keep tabs on everyone who entered and left the building) and you were ready to fight if he tried to stop you. But before you could, Henry suddenly left his office- his face was alarmed. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he left with a few men, practically running out of the door.
What was that about?
-
Why was Henry in a rush? Why did he look so alarmed?What was his deal with Silas? What had Silas offered him for you? Where was Silas—
“Here we are.” You both stood at the street of the asylum, spotting the guards at the gate. The place still looked as lavish as ever, the beautiful gardens and the Gothic inspired architecture, now encased in snow gave the asylum a daunting yet “you’re-too-poor-for-this-fancy-rehab” look. “How do we get in? The guards stationed wont permit us to step a foot in there, and I’m pretty sure Silas gave them a word about you and me.” He stated, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.
You looked at the asylum, looking for something until your eye caught it.
“Its a big place, Colin. Come on.”
The property itself was on a large piece of land, surrounded by walls and tall trees, which meant that there had to be another opening. Plus, with how heavily its snowing, the guards aren’t always on their stations. You just need to find another way in.
And you did.
“Colin, get your stupid leg over the wall!” You whisper-yelled at him as you gave him a boost. Colin, who apparently had no upper body strength, was struggling to climb the wall. “I am trying!”
“Try harder!” You gave him another shove, practically jostling him up at this point. Finally after a few more minutes in the cold, he was able to sling his leg over. Panting, he extended his arm to you. “Take my hand. I’ll pull you up.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right.” In a flash, you scaled the wall with the expert of a mountaineer. Colin watched in surprise as you perched yourself next to him on the wall, without even breaking a sweat. “How did you-?”
“I’d love to get into details of how much more athletic I am than you, but we need to get down before someone spots us. And I still have to help you down before you break your hip, grandpa.”
Moments later, you two had made your way inside the asylum, blending in with the other visitors there. “Go charm the nurses and staff. See what you can find. I’ll go look around.” You told Colin, who only warned you to beware of the patients there.
You walked down the hallway, looking into the rooms with the doors open, most were unoccupied, which would make sense since its lunch time and everyone’s probably eating or doing some activity.
You were about to walk back to Colin to see if he’d made any progress when your eyes caught sight of a door. It… it was different than the rest. The paint was chipped, and the door itself looked quite old. Not unused, since you couldn’t spot any dust. The doorknob was made of wood, while every other doorknob you’d seen here was metal.
Walking upto it, you were immediately hit with a daunting aura. Looking at the doorknob, you spotted the areas where the paint was more chipped, the pattern indicating where someone’s hand would hold it.
Your gut is screaming at you to open this door, that there is something behind it that you need to know. With your hand hovering only a few millimetres above the handle, you’re about to enter-
“Hey!” You froze, whipping your head around. An angry nurse stood there. “What do you think you’re doing, young man?! This area is off limits!”
“Off limits?” She glared. “Yes, off limits! Who even allowed you here?!” She marched over to you. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
If she caught you, then Silas will find out and he’d make it much harder for you to find out anything about him.
“I’m so sorry. I was just- I was just looking for the bathroom.”
She narrowed her eyes at you. “The bathroom is all the way at the other end of the hallway, with clear signs! What are you doing here?!”
Oh shit. What possible excuse could you come up with as to why you’re trying to break into a room in the asylum?
“I heard someone crying.” A flicker of confusion came on her face, but you continued to pile on the lie. “I was just going to the bathroom when I heard someone crying. It was- it was just so pitiful, so heart breaking, like- like-”
“Like a girl wailing?” She asked, her face paling.
You nodded. “Yes! And- and as I came near, I thought that someone was calling for help and I was just going to check in-”
“No. No, no, no.” The nurse shook her head, grabbing your forearm as she began dragging you away. “No one is allowed in there. Mr Fitzg-” She cut herself off before she could reveal anything further.
“Mr FitzGeorge? As in, Silas FitzGeorge?” Her expression gave her away. It was Silas, and he was connected to that room.
“Tell me who is in that room.” “No one.” “Tell me the truth. I heard someone cry-”
“This is the truth!” She harshly whispered as she dragged you out of that hallway. “There is no one in that room! It hasn’t been occupied for years, not since she-”
“Since who?” You pressed. “I clearly heard someone cry. And you confirmed it. Is there someone being abused? You tell me now before I go break down that room!”
Her eyes widened as she grabbed your arms tighter. “No, please dont- I- I- fine, I’ll tell you the truth.” She looked around before whispering. “You cant tell this to anyone but… someone died in that room. It was- it was a girl, and she- she wasn’t getting better in the head anymore. And then one day, she just- she jumped out of the window and broke her neck. Ever since then, many people have said that they’ve heard a girl crying and we all assumed that it was just her spirit trapped in that room.”
“Who was the girl?” “I cant tell you-” “You can and you will because if you don’t, I will have my friends at the police department come and give this place a visit and possibly examine a patient’s death due to hospital negligence.” You could’ve said that you’d have story leaked to the papers but you didn’t want to arouse suspicion if she told Silas about someone snooping around his business.
Biting her lip, you saw the defeat in her eyes.
“Daisy. Daisy FitzGeorge.”
Silas’s elder sister.
The nurse proceeded to tell you that the last time Silas came to the asylum itself was on the day of her funeral. He saw her room and then paid the asylum to keep this room as is, leaving her belongings there and its been unoccupied and in its original state since.
“I think he just wants to preserve what was left of her.” The nurse added thoughtfully.
Maybe thats why he’s never visited the asylum again, why he didn’t want me wandering in and finding about Daisy. Silas has painful memories linked with this place, and perhaps he didn’t want me knowing about his sister being a psychiatric patient.
You felt a small part in you feel guilty for snooping around his business. You’re no stranger to the loss of a sibling-
No. You closed your eyes. Not now.
The nurse lead you back to the main hall where Colin was chatting up some doctor. You’re about to head back to him when you remember something.
“Does the asylum offer volunteer work, say something like… a barber? I see some residents who could do with a good hair cut or two-”
The nurse looked at you like you were stupid. “I’m afraid not. We have a strict policy against non hospital staff bringing in sharp objects like scissors, blades, the sorts.”
“Right. Thank you.” You nodded before turning around.
So, Benny is a liar and I hope for his sake, its for a good cause.
-
It was an hour before closing when you and Colin came back to the office… which was now in utter chaos. The place was divided, men on either side with papers scattered everywhere as they kept a yelling.
“What the hell is going on here?” Colin asked a coworker but you were focused on the screaming match in front of you.
“We need to be the first one to report this!” One man yelled. “It is our duty as journalist, as honest men! To make the public aware of this!”
“We cant until we permission from above!” Another countered. “Besides, what use is it publishing about such crimes except to make the people panic!”
“Then let them panic! It is a greater calamity to not know and be afraid of the unknown, then to know and be afraid of the known!”
“But we still don’t know who the Ripper is!” “The articles about him will rattle him-” “No, it’ll only idolise him and give him the validation he needs!”
Colin pulled you aside to fill you in on what the coworker had told him.
“The Ripper strikes again.” “I figured. Who did he kill this time? More night girls?”
“One girl and two men in broad daylight.” You frowned. The Ripper hadn’t ever targeted men before. No, his usual targets were women, often prostitutes. And he was mostly active at night time, when the darkness concealed him and his intentions.
“Where did this happen?” It had to be the Gentlemen’s club. It’d explain why Henry left in such a hurry.
Colin looked uncertain whether to tell you or not.
“The FitzGeorge estate.”
Your face paled. “My… home?” For a moment, you felt like the sky fell on you.
“Yes but-” You rushed past him, flying out of the door.
One girl and two men.
You ran as fast as you could down London streets, pushing people out of the way.
One girl. Two men.
It could be anyone. The Ripper doesn’t target the rich. No, he has a pattern. He’s a serial killer and serial killers stick to their patterns.
But you cant trust a murderer. You cant trust someone who is not right in the head.
One girl- maybe its just a passerby, maybe a sex worker for the two men.
Or maybe Sarah came back.
No. Your lungs screamed for a break as you rushed down.
Two men. Two men. It could be anyone, someone you don’t know.
Or it could be Cadbury and Silas.
Killed near the FitzGeorge estate.
He’s sending me a threat. He’s coming for me next.
The estate came into view and you saw the crowd of people and the cops trying to hold everyone back. You tried to go past the gates, but seeing that you were still in disguise, they found it hard to believe that you were “Mrs” FitzGeorge.
Fortunately, Cadbury was outside and able to recognise you.
“Thank God you’re home, miss Y/n!” He helped you inside the house. “You wouldn’t believe the people trying to get in-” “Who- who did the Ripper kill, Cadbury?” You asked breathlessly.
“I dont know them personally miss, and I doubt I’d be able to recognise them with how badly they were mutiliated. But I heard the detectives say that they were Mr Blackwoods employees.”
“Henry’s employees…? From the club?” He shrugged. “I dont know miss, but the detectives found the bodies outside the estate walls. Mr Blackwood was the first one to arrive at the scene with the detectives and he recognised the bodies apparently.”
He came here?
“Where’s Silas?” You asked instead.
“He went to work this morning. I’ve tried to reach him but to no avail…”
You had Cadbury send someone for Silas. He needs to be home right now.
Its not because I care about him. I’m not worried that these murders near his house was a message and that he’s the Ripper’s next target.
With a handkerchief held to your nose to mask the awful smell, you went to the crime scene to look at the mangled bodies that were now being removed for autopsy.
Henry was there as well, his usual cocky expression replaced with concern. If you looked closely, you would notice a hint of…unsureness? Fear of the unknown?
“Henry.” He turned to you, his expression now guarded. “I’m sorry for your employees… demise.”
He gave a stiff nod, confirming that they were indeed his workers. “Why is the Ripper targeting your staff?”
“There is no Ripper.” He snapped. “I told you before, he’s nothing but a fictional character created to instil fear in public.”
You excuse his tone for being “overwhelmed by grief”. “Okay. But we can agree that there is a particular man going after your employees. Why?”
His lips fell into a thin line, and you could see him trying to control his anger. “I don’t have the time to let you play detective so that you could write a story for the paper to make yourself feel good about “making it as a strong woman in a male dominated field��, Y/n. Step aside.”
You instead, blocked his path. “Yeah, I don’t need you to dominate any fields, Henry. I’m only asking you so that when my husband, you know- Silas, comes home and asks me why is there a crime scene and a crowd outside his house, I can give him an answer instead of letting him go to the cops and report the last murder of that woman outside your club and bring your shady businesses into light for the world.”
Henry narrowed his eyes at you before leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“If he comes for me, I will come for everything he holds dear and make him watch as I destroy his world.” You glared at him as he stared you down. “You don’t get to make threats here, Y/n.”
You returned back inside the house, where Cadbury informed you that he still wasn’t able to get ahold of Silas. With Sarah gone and most of the house staff busy being interrogated by the detectives, you had the house all to yourself.
You wandered around the house, hoping for an epiphany to strike you for all the questions that plagued your mind.
Why did Benny lie about volunteering at the asylum?
What happened to Daisy?
Why did Silas not want me at the asylum?
Who is killing Henry’s employees?
What were they even doing near this house?
Who is the Ripper?
Entering the library, you sat in your usual spot near the window at the end, a cozy corner behind the shelves. This was the place where you were trying to fix, or rather- create your time machine. Yes, despite everything that had been happening, you still found some time to actually work on your way home. For now, you had only done the maths and collected some raw material to start building it, but you still had a long way to go.
This would’ve been much easier if I had my old machine, even if it had been destroyed by the blast, at least you wouldn’t have to start completely from scratch.
You had hidden the metal scraps and a notebook under the shelf because the maids never bothered to clean under there (judging from the dust collected there) and when you pulled them out from under there, your hand touched something hard as well, something unfamiliar.
Bending down to look, you spotted a black leather-bound book. You pulled it out, sitting on the floor as you wiped the dust off it, coughing in the process.
You began reading it, heart sinking the more you flipped the pages.
This was Daisy’s diary.
-
I have to tell Silas!
You ran out of the library when Cadbury informed you he had returned home.
Making your way to his study, you barged in with Daisy’s diary in hand.
“Silas!” You panted as you saw him sitting down behind the desk, glass of scotch in hand. “Where were you?! I was worried-!” You cut yourself off when you saw the disdain behind his eyes.
“Silas?” His eyes landed on the diary and you saw a new wave of rage flash across his eyes.
“I told you to not go to the asylum, didn’t I?” He stood up, hand gripping the glass. “I told you not to pry. I gave you everything- money, land, power, that fucking job at the paper, everything. All I asked was that you don’t go to the asylum.”
“I know but-” Silas threw the glass against the wall, shattering the crystal.
“Dont talk. Don’t fucking talk or I swear to God, I will hurt you.” He whispered but the words echoed into your soul. His eyes were rimmed red as he took a step towards you, then two backwards, balling his hands into fists. Clenching and unclenching. Holding back.
“You went to the asylum, you went to her room, you fucking read her diary. Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Silas yelled, and you couldnt tell if he was crying or drunk. Or both.
You stood frozen as he continued to scream. “I- I don’t understand what you were trying to do? Are you trying to write about my dead sister, desecrate her by telling the world about her suicide, drag my family through the mud? Didn’t I tell you that I wont tolerate that? Not even by you?”
He walked upto you again, this time he was so fast that you thought for a moment he was going to strike you.
“Worst thing is, you don’t even realise what you’ve done. What you’ve taken from me, what you’ve ruined for me.”
He closed his eyes and backed away from you, running a hand through his hair frustratedly.
You let out a shaky breath. “Silas. I understand what losing a sibling is. My brother- my brother died too-”
“Good. And if I was him, I’d kill myself. Wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like you.”
Tears welled up in your eyes as your lips parted.
“No. No, no, no.” Silas glared at you. “Dont you dare fucking cry. You’re not the victim here.”
He shook his head at you. “You know why I’m so fucking infuriated with you? Its not because you went against my direct orders and pried into my personal life. No. I’m mad at you because you have no fucking shame. Not an ounce. You’re no better than those woman in Henry’s club, actually you’re way worse because they sell their bodies for money but you? You sell your self respect, your dignity for nothing except under some false pretence that you can make it in this harsh world as a woman when in reality, all you want is to find out about everyone’s secrets and write a fucking column about it for a few pennies. You just don’t want to admit defeat, just cant accept being told no and I have no doubt that this characterless, shameless habit of yours, prying into people’s business is the very reason your brother is no longer here.”
Neither of you knew how long you two stood there in silence, but you were the one who moved first when the diary slipped out of your hand and fell on the floor with a thud.
You simply left his study, then his house, and continued walking into the cold winter night with nothing to keep you warm, not a coat or a shawl, not even shoes.
“Characterless.”
“Shameless.”
“I’d kill myself. Wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like you.”
“Someone like you.”
Someone like me?
Me?
You fell to your knees, your bare feet no longer able to stand the cold. Or was it because of Silas’s words?
A wretched sob broke from you. Then another, then you quieted down, biting your tongue as your lips quivered like that of a child’s. You tried to breathe, to bring air into your lungs but it seemed so hard to do. Your shoulders shook as your body finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling to the snowy ground.
Qasim.
Qasim.
Qasim.
Your brother’s face was the last thing that came to mind as you felt someone’s arms wrap around you before your world faded to black.
-
“Make sure that the club is prepared for the New Year’s party. Have Lady Scarlett bring the new girls for our special guest. No expense is to be spared.” Henry’s assistant nodded obediently, jotting down all the details.
“Did you take care of the bodies?” Henry asked, taking a puff from his cigar.
“Yes sir. The funeral arrangements were made and the burial was done at night. Unmarked graves, as usual.” Henry gave a approving hum, his eyes darting to the wall, then back at the assistant.
“Did you find the Ripper?”
“Not yet, sir. I’ve placed the highest bounty on him and still no news. Its like he doesn’t exist.”
He exists alright. Henry took another inhale of the smoke. “Increase the bounty. Send more men and interrogate everyone. And hire more security around the club.” The assistant nodded again. Henry closed his eyes. “Is someone keeping tabs on Y/n?”
“Yes, sir. I sent two guards to shadow her. Last I heard, Mrs FitzGeorge-” the assistant cleared his throat when Henry glared at him. “Miss Y/n, had walked out of the FitzGeorge estate in tears. One guard came here to report to me while the other is still keeping her safe.”
The corner of his lips quirked up. Silas must’ve found out that you went to the asylum again. He was having someone follow you. What a creep.
Henry stood up from his chair, putting out his cigar. “Clear my schedule for tomorrow. Its time to pay Mr FitzGeorge a visit.”
And bring Y/n home.
See you soon, kitten.
-
“Stop being such a baby.” You roll your eyes as you hear him fill your pantry with groceries.
“Hey! I’m your older brother. If anyone’s a baby, its you!” Qasim admonished you playfully.
“Says the man who wants me to go skiing with him because he’s too embarrassed to ask anyone else to film him doing small stunts.” You tease as you continue to read your history book. Qasim walks over and plucks it out of your hands. Glaring at him, you try to reach for the book. “I have a test tomorrow and I still have 8 chapters to go.”
“Why do you wait until the last minute to study? This is quite self destructive.” You cross your arms. “Well not everyone is blessed with an eidetic memory like you.”
“True as it may be, I still use my brain to actually understand the concepts rather than just memorise it word-for-word.” He opened the book, taking a look at the topic you were reading before scoffing. “Ancient Egypt? Come on, I’ll teach you it myself.”
You opened your eyes to someone petting your hair.
Knowing who it was, you weren’t startled as you woke up.
“How are you feeling?” Benjamin asked, watching you sit up in your old bedroom.
“Better.” You smiled gently.
Last night, after running out of Silas’s house, Benny was the one who found you crying in the snow, barefoot and near hypothermia. He wrapped his coat around you and took you home, the flat and you explained to him what happened at Silas, what he said to you. If Benny didn’t feel himself compelled to console you, he would’ve marched all the way to the estate to strangle Silas himself.
Sitting at the table, eating the breakfast he made you, you were reminded you of all the good times at the flat. Everyone else was at work for now, but they’d be returning in a few hours.
“Y/n.” Benny pulled out a few documents and passed them to you. “I got what you asked for.”
Wiping your mouth, you picked up the stack of papers and read them.
“DIVORCE DEED”.
It wasn’t what you asked for, so much so it was what Benny had strongly suggested you to get. After he told him what happened with Silas, he was ready to go over there and beat the shit out of Silas but he stayed back for you. You needed someone last night, someone who didn’t make you feel like you were all alone.
Someone like Qasim.
So, ignoring all the evidence and lies that pointed Benny as a suspect to the murders, you used his shoulder to cry on. He ran his fingers though your hair all night and advised you to part ways Silas because even if you were to overlook all the awful words he said to you, you cannot stray away from the fact that he threatened to hurt you. Thus, it would be unsafe for you to go back to him.
You agreed, partly because of his reasoning and partly because you just- you’re tired of everything now. You need to go back to your timeline, and for that, you need to divert all your attention to making the time machine.
Picking up the pen, you looked at the document again, eyes focused on the name “Silas FitzGeorge”.
Benny squeezed your hand. You nodded. This is the right thing to do.
With a sigh, you signed the document.
Benny took the documents. “I’ll have these delivered to his house.” You hummed, knowing that if he went there himself, he’d probably get in a fight with Silas.
“Y/n.” You looked up at him. “Dont worry about anything now. I’ll take care of everything, hm?”
“Thank you, Benny.” You stand up. “I would need some help with a new wig for work. I left my stuff at Silas’s and…” He waved you off, understanding your predicament. “I already was working on a couple of new pieces for my new clients. Come on, Mr Holmes.”
-
Silas hadn’t slept a wink since yesterday, so his hangover was significantly still worse and his morning got even more worse when Henry strolled in his study.
“Well, you look like you could be having a better day.” Silas glared at him from his position.
“How did you get in here?”
“Just charmed a maid with my irresistible looks.” He grinned, sitting across from him.
“Great. She’s fired.” Silas rubbed his bloodshot eyes, that were tired and itchy. “Now now, no need to go around firing the staff just because you’re in a bad mood. Speaking of bad mood- where is your wife?”
Silas stared at him, not with jealousy but… with indifference. “I don’t know.”
“Not a good quality in a husband to not keep tabs on his missus.” Henry smirked.
“I dont need to keep tabs, when you already are.”
Henry raised a brow. “So you know that I know where she is?” Taking his silence as an answer, he continued. “Go ahead, ask me where she is.”
Silas stood up and for a moment, Henry thought he was going to punch him. Instead, Silas staggered over to the corner table to grab the bottle of scotch.
“I dont care.” He said, pouring himself a drink.
“Trouble in paradise?” Henry pushed. Silas took a sip. “What do you want, Henry? Is your paper in trouble that you would need to write about my marital life? I would assume that you would have a lot to write about now that more employees of yours have been murdered. How many does it make it now? 3? 4?”
The smirk was wiped off Henry’s face. “Thats precisely why I’m here.” Silas walked back to his seat, not offering him a drink. “I hope you don’t pursue this case with the police. I wouldn’t be bothering if I could just buy the detectives, but seeing as this has happened near the house of someone belonging to royalty, they are concerned for your safety. I want you to make them brush this under the rug and we can all go on our ways.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because if you dont, they will go digging around my business. And if they get in my business, I will send them your way as well.” Henry’s lip quirked up. “You’re well aware that I know where Y/n has been going about, hm? I remember her last visit was for an assignment, where did she go? Ah, Aveline’s asylum.”
Silas’s jaw ticked and it took everything in him to not smash the glass in hands on Henry’s head.
“I hope we understand each other, hm?” Henry stood up, buttoning his coat when Cadbury walked in through the door, looking alarmed.
“What is it?” Silas snapped as Cadbury rushed to him and gave him a stack of papers.
“Sir, I- someone left these for you- they-” Silas pulled the documents out and read them, his brows furrowing as his lips set into a thin line.
He set them on the table and Henry couldn’t help but peek.
“DIVORCE DEED”.
Henry couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips.
Fucking finally.
“I’ll take my leave now, Mr FitzGeorge.”
Henry left the manor in a rush. He needed to see you now.
-
Colin was expressing his happiness on you coming back to live with him and the guys when Henry had called you in his office.
“How are you today, Y/n?” Henry asked, closing the door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for taking the day off today, you know, after what your marriage has fallen through.”
Your eyes widened. “How did you-”
“I know everything, Y/n. I knew this was going to happen eventually, after all, how long could you have resisted a man like me?”
“What the hell do you want?”
Henry stood against the desk, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I have a proposal for you.” The stupid smile on his face gave away that you were not going to like what he was going to offer.
“Marry me and I’ll take care of you for life. Or- don’t marry me, and you’re fired.”
“What?”
He pushed himself off the desk. “You know I fancy you, despite all your quirks. I think we’d make a great team, make a lot of people very mad, especially your soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“So you just want me to be pawn for your plans?”
He shrugged. “Well I’d hoped we could eventually grow our family, but if you’re not into that, then sure. You can be a pawn for me to use. You had no problem with this arrangement when you were with Silas.”
You stood up from your chair. “How… dare you?” Seething, you walked upto him, who only smiled looking down at you. “I would rather jump off a building than marry a disgusting piece of cow dung like you. You think just because I’m a divorcee, you can threaten me into marrying you just so I could have a job here? Fuck you. I quit.”
You stormed out of his office, leaving Henry grinning at his plan working.
“Mark my words, kitten. You will end up marrying me. One way or another.”
-
“Fucking fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” You screamed as soon as you got back to house, knowing no one would be at him right, you needed to get your rage out before you combusted. Shaking in anger, you grabbed a glass and you were ready to throw it against the wall but decided against it.
“Y/n.” Qasim had been looking everywhere for you, after you’d vanished from the time your cousins came over to lunch. They had made some mean comments about… well your family’s financial status, and if it weren’t for your parents presence, you would’ve returned the insults with something worse enough to make them cry.
Instead of replying to them, you were now seeking revenge by throwing a brick through the window of their new car.
“Y/n, what are you doing?” Qasim whisper-scolded, looking around to see if anyone else had stumbled upon his 7 year old sister trying to damage their cousin’s car. “You know this is wrong!” He said as he pulled the brick out of your hand.
“Its only wrong if you get caught. No one’s around to watch!” You huffed.
“I caught you! Besides, even if no one is watching, God is!” He pointed up in the sky.
“So? Allah will forgive me. I’ll pray more, worship more often, fast, even use my pocket money to give to a charity!” You explained how you’d get off scot-free for all your sins.
Qasim smiled, pulling you away from the car. “Yes, Allah is Ar-Rahman- the Most Gracious, and Ar-Raheem- the Most Merciful. He would forgive you, but not the way you’re doing it, hm?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you further away. “What you explained are acts of worship and yes, you’d be fulfilling your duty as a Muslim to God, but what about your other duty? Islam isn’t just about worshipping Allah, Y/n. Its half of your duty as a believer, but the other half is your duty to the humans around you. How you treat them, talk to them, your mannerisms. So even if you were to worship Allah, He wont forgive you for doing wrong to someone unless that person forgives you themselves first. Allah is very fair. If He has allowed you to feel hurt someone’s words, then He has also allowed other people to feel hurt too.”
Your shoulders slumped as your plans were foiled, knowing he was right. Qasim pecked your forehead, rubbing your shoulder to cheer you up. “Besides, this is no way for a Muslim to act. We should always try to be on our best behaviour, maintain composure and reflect. It’ll allow you to think more clearly.”
Maintain composure and reflect.
Letting out a sigh, you placed the glass back on the table before sitting down to rub your temples, trying to ease the ache that was forming.
Reflect.
Reflect.
Reflect-
You stood up as your eyes landed on Colin’s typewriter in the corner. Grabbing it, you made your way to the table and grabbed a stack of blank sheets and began typing away.
Hours later, you were leaving the house just before the guys returned from work but you stumbled into Benny on the street.
“Y/n? Where are you going?” He saw you hiding a few pages in your hand.
“I- um-” Concern flickered in his eyes as he came near you. “Tell me. I can help you.”
You weighted your options, contemplating whether it’d be good to trust Benny with this, despite letting him help you earlier.
Exhaling, you made the decision.
“I need to get to the printing press. Now.”
A flash of confusion appeared on his face before he nodded. “Okay.” Without any further questions, you two made your way towards the printing press as the sun went down.
-
After spending the entire night, printing hundreds of copies, you and Benny walked out of the printing press with stacks of papers. Walking down the streets of London in the cold winter, the sun just beginning to rise, Benny turned to you.
“Are you sure about this? Because once this is out there, there’s no going back.” He looked down at you, and judging by the determination in your eyes, he already knew the answer.
“Yes.” With a nod, Benny took half the stack while you had the other half.
“Alright. There are some paper boys that wait near the corner. Lets have these distributed.”
Henry walked into his office that day, finding it unexpectedly silent. For a moment, he thought the place was empty but when he spotted the employees gathered around a desk- your desk. Upon closer inspection, he noticed they were all surrounding Colin, who seemed to be engrossed reading a paper. Henry slowly pushed through the crowd and peeked over Colin’s shoulder, his eyes widening at the headline-
“The Ripper Strikes Again!
By S.H.H.”
S.H.H?
Henry snatched the paper, his eyes scanning the article his ex employee had written. It entailed the details from the first murder outside his club to the very latest that had taken place outside the FitzGeorge estate.
S.H.H.
It didn’t take much time for him to figure out that it was you who had written this piece and while a part of him was very furious at you for ruining his plans and image, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at you because he knew you couldn’t have done this alone.
No, you didn’t have the money to print this, let alone distribute this throughout London.
This has Silas written all over it.
“Get back to work!” Henry yelled making the crowd scatter away. “Colin. My office, now.” He seethed before storming off.
“I swear, I don’t know who wrote that article. I just picked it up on the way-”
“Shut up.” Henry opened his drawer, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, a rare sight since he’s often seen smoking cigars. But cigars are for celebratory occasions. For now, he needed something to calm down his nerves before he combusted.
As soon as he had finished inhaling the first cigarette, he lit up another one, taking slower drags out of it this time. Colin could only watch in both shock and nervousness as Henry sat down on his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.
Finally, he opened his eyes and pulled out a file from the desk drawer, throwing it at the table for Colin. Colin stared at Henry in question, whose eyes were focused on the wall, deep in thought.
“You’re working on exposing horrible hospital environments, aren’t you?” Colin nodded. Henry took another drag before looking at him. “Here’s conclusive proof that would support your article. I want you to write it by the end of the day so it gets printed for tomorrow morning’s paper. Oh and Colin?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You will write what is in this file and you will not give me any excuses as to why you can’t, because if you don’t write it, I will find someone who will and I will make damn sure that you don’t get to work another day in your life as a journalist. You are replaceable.” Unlike your cross-dressing roommate. “Do I make myself clear?”
Colin gulped. “Yes, sir.” He stepped ahead to take the file, his heart racing as he saw the name on the file.
“Daisy FitzGeorge”
-
Silas sipped his scotch, his blurry vision a testament to how many drinks he’s had. Glass in one hand, the papers in the other, the only words visible to him were “DIVORCE”.
Divorce.
You were divorcing him. He doesn’t understand why… he’s upset? No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not upset with something like this. I am merely… intrigued. Just slightly.
And why am I intrigued? I knew this marriage wasn’t going to last, I specifically told her that it wouldn’t? So why am I even wasting my time thinking about this when I have better things to do?
His eyes fell on the ring you had sent along with the papers. The wedding band. He set the papers down and picked it up, twirling it between his hands.
Did she divorce me because I yelled at her? Or did she already plan on leaving me?
He scoffed, standing up as he made his way to the window. Why would she leave me? I’m richer than her, I’m smarter than her, and if we’re being honest, I beat her in looks too. I am out of her league. Who the hell does she think she is?
I gave her everything. More than she deserved. Compensated her for everytime I had to use her for my plans. She had no reason to complain. She had no reason to leave me. She has no reason to leave me.
His eyes flickered to the snow covered garden.
She has no reason. Of course, a woman like her, would try to use me. She wants me to go after her, beg her to come back. The audacity!
He set his glass aside and pulled out a pen, his vision clearing as they focused on the documents.
You think you can trick me, huh? You want a divorce, Y/n? I’ll give-
“What the hell is that?” Silas whispered, gazing out the window and in the distance, just near the tree line, he saw a shadow, seemingly facing in his direction.
How long had it been standing there?
No. He’s way too still. The shadow doesn’t seem to be moving, breathing even. Silas’s drunk brain could only come up with two conclusions.
Either someone is trying to scare him (possibly Henry) by building this snowman or whatever, or someone is actually trying to break in (probably one of your several male friends).
And he planned on finding out who or what it was and taking his anger out on it.
He stormed off into the snow, with the divorce papers in hand, lest its you and he needs to shove them in your face.
-
Its been over a week since you wrote the article on the Ripper, which made news all around town, created enough buzz for major publications to start talking about them… including your last place of employment.
Henry of course, hadn’t taken so well to your details about the murders of his employees, so while his paper had mentioned a few paragraphs about the Ripper, they didnt mention anything about the victims being associated with Henry. And shockingly, the paper had instead used its front page to write about the “harrowing treatment at Aveline’s asylum” but it was really just an expose on Daisy FitzGeorge and how the FitzGeorge (and by association, the royal family) may have mental illnesses.
So… you understood why Silas had been silent this entire time. You understood why he hadn’t found the time to respond to your divorce papers. He’s probably dealing with Henry for what he made Colin write, and he might be dealing with keeping his reputation intact as well as being grilled by the queen. And with everything that had happened between you two, you knew it would be best if you never saw him again.
But… its been almost two weeks now, and you need to start working on your time machine again, for which you would need your little journal that you had so stupidly forgotten to take along with you when you left his house.
And so, here you were standing inside the FitzGeorge foyer at mid day (when you knew Silas would be away at work). In hindsight, you could’ve sent someone else, perhaps Benny in your place to fetch your journal, but you didnt want to risk him beating up Silas in case he had decided to take the day off.
The house seemed awfully quiet, more gloomy than usual, which you blamed the London winter for, but something was off.
Seeing that nobody was there to greet you, you decided to make your way towards the library, only for rushed steps to come your way.
“Mr Silas?” You spotted Cadbury coming from the corner, only for his concerned face turn hopeful as he ran towards you. “Oh Miss Y/n! Thank heavens, you’re here!”
“Cadbury, what’s going on?” You spotted the bags under his eyes.
The lines on his forehead deepened as he contemplated on how to break the news to you.
“Mr Silas… is missing!”
“What?”
“He hasn’t been home in over two weeks! I have looked everywhere for him! His workplace, bars, hospitals. But he’s nowhere to be found!”
You sigh. “Maybe he’s at a friend’s place. Or maybe he’s with his uncles or cousins.”
Cadbury shakes his head. “I checked! I contacted his friends, and I went to his uncles places without raising suspicion of him being missing, but he hasn’t seen any of them since the day he went missing.”
“And what day would that be?”
Cadbury’s voice died down. “The day… the day after you sent the divorce papers.”
A pit formed in your stomach. The day after I sent the divorce papers… that was the day the Ripper article was published. The news about his sister was also written that day, but it was printed out the next day. Which meant that Silas probably hadn’t read about Daisy, which then meant that if he lost his calm and snapped, it may have been due to the divorce papers you sent his way.
No. You assure yourself. He possibly couldn’t be affected by the divorce deed. He expected it- he demanded it. He assured you, he would give it to you before you two were even wed.
“You’re overthinking this, Cadbury. For all you know, he could be with his grandmother, wherever she is.” At your words, his face fell even more. “What is it?”
He gulped. “Miss Sarah fell ill when she left.”
Your eyes narrowed. “How ill?”
“Very. She’s bedridden now and doctors haven’t found a cause for it. She has been writing letters to Mr Silas, but since he’s been gone and I didnt want to cause her further distress, I… I have been writing to her under the guise as her grandson.”
You blinked at him. “What?!”
“Please, Miss Y/n. I didnt have any wrong intentions, I just didnt want Miss Sarah to worry herself in her condition.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. If Cadbury had been caught disguising himself as Silas, then Sarah wouldn’t still be writing back to him. Which means that Silas is… actually missing.
“Where did you see him last?” You asked him.
“In his study, when he was talking to Mr Blackwood. I gave him your um- divorce papers, and after Mr Blackwood left, he asked to be left alone. When I went to check on him the next day, he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the house!”
“Okay. Lets check the study first.” You both walked towards the study, your mind trying to think of where he could’ve gone.
Wait, Henry was here. He may have sad something to provoke Silas. Or maybe he blackmailed him? Perhaps, Silas has gone to run an errand for him?
No, it wouldn’t make sense for Silas to be doing favours to Henry, if the latter still went ahead and published his family’s secret.
Cadbury opened the study’s door and let you inside, the room was scattered all around.
“I left it as is.” Cadbury confessed as you looked around. “I didnt want to disturb his belongings. Mr Silas doesn’t appreciate it when anyone touches his things.”
Looking at the scene in front of you, it looked like he left in a hurry. His glass was still half full with the drink, and if you know anything about Silas, he never leaves his alcohol unfinished.
After an hour of searching the room for clues, all you could conclude was that he left in a hurry and with the divorce papers, since you couldn’t find them either.
He must’ve signed them and was coming to deliver them to me personally. Or perhaps threaten me.
“Do you know where he is, Miss Y/n?” Cadbury asked, worry etched on his face.
You sighed and shook your head defeatdly. “I don’t know, but I think its high time we report this to the police and his family.”
He immeadetly shook his head. “We cant do that! Mr Silas’s uncles will jump at the opportunity to take his assets and involving the police will make everyone know in high society-”
“What else do you want me to do, Cadbury?” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to report it, then dont. But the longer you keep this from the authorities, the more it’ll raise suspicions towards you. Just- you know what? Do whatever you want. I’m no longer a part of this family, and I’m no one to meddle in its affairs.” You tried to leave but Cadbury blocked your path.
“Technically ma’am, you still are a part of the family.”
“What?”
“The divorce deed… is nowhere to be found.”
“Yes. Because Silas has it.”
“It doesn’t mean he signed it.”
You blinked slowly. “What?”
He shrugged innocently. “I didn’t see him sign it, neither do I know if Mr Silas had any intentions of doing so. And you didn’t see him either.”
Your blood ran cold. “The papers are with Silas-”
“But we don’t know for sure if he signed it. You are still Mrs Silas FitzGeorge.”
You clenched your fists, trying to reel yourself in. “Stop playing games, Cadbury. You know Silas has the papers, you know he has signed them-”
“I do not know. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still happily married to Mr Silas.”
“Enough!” You walked unto him, staring him dead in the eye. “Silas has divorced me, he has the papers! And before you say that you didn’t see him sign it, I don’t think that argument will fly in court!”
“Court?” He raised a brow.
“Yes. Court. If I cant find the divorce papers, I will get a lawyer who will fight my case and have the judge accept the end of this relationship! And if this is some sick game that you thought would stop me from getting a divorce from Silas, if that is the very reason he has suddenly gone “missing”, let me assure you, I will fight tooth and nail and get my way!”
The butler maintained his composure, despite your menacing tone. “You can do as you want, ma’am. But if you are going to involve the court in this, then I must contact Mr Silas’s lawyer who has documents containing important information that you must see.”
By evening, the lawyer had come and you were not expecting the information he came baring.
With trembling hands, you scanned the pages, eyes widening with each word.
“I, Silas (Edmund) FitzGeorge, hereinafter referred to as “the husband”, being of sound mind and body, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and I hereby revoke all previous wills and codicils. I am married to Y/n L/n, hereinafter referred to as "my wife," and I have full confidence in her and wish to provide for her after my passing.
Y/n and I are married under the laws of Islam and the British crown, and both parties have expressed mutual interest in ensuring that their marital relationship endures regardless of any future physical separation, and
The Husband wishes to secure the continuity of his marital bond with The Wife under extraordinary circumstances, and
WHEREAS, The Wife, understanding the gravity of this arrangement, agrees to the terms outlined below,
NOW, THEREFORE, in consideration of the mutual promises, covenants, and obligations set forth herein, the parties agree as follows:
ARTICLE I: CONDITIONAL MARRIAGE BOND
Condition of Divorce:
Notwithstanding any future legal proceedings or claims for dissolution of marriage, The Wife shall not be permitted to divorce The Husband unless one of the following conditions occurs:
a. The Husband’s Death: In the event that The Husband is declared legally deceased by a competent authority or court, and his remains have been conclusively identified by appropriate authorities, or
b. The Wife Locates and Identifies The Husband’s Remains: Should The Husband go missing or be presumed dead, The Wife may pursue divorce only if she personally discovers, identifies, and confirms The Husband’s remains. This confirmation must be made through formal identification methods accepted under the laws of British empire, and shall be accompanied by appropriate documentation (e.g., medical or forensic certification of death).
No Divorce Without Finding Remains:
In the event of The Husband’s disappearance under circumstances where his remains are not conclusively located, The Wife shall not initiate any legal action to dissolve the marriage until The Wife has personally located his remains and has provided the court with satisfactory proof of the remains' discovery.
Duration of the Agreement:
This Agreement shall remain in effect as long as The Husband's remains have not been conclusively found. Should The Husband be found alive or if his remains are discovered, the terms of this Agreement shall automatically expire, and The Wife may pursue divorce proceedings under applicable laws.
ARTICLE II: TERMINATION OF AGREEMENT UPON FOUND REMAINS
Disappearance:
If The Husband disappears under circumstances where there is no conclusive proof of death, The Wife shall maintain all legal rights to pursue a divorce as if The Husband were alive, but only after making a reasonable effort to locate his remains through all available means.
Notification of Discovery:
In the event that The Wife discovers The Husband’s remains, she must notify The Husband’s designated legal representative, within 14 days of the discovery. Upon receipt of this notice, The Husband’s legal representative shall confirm the identification of the remains and provide written notice to both parties.
ARTICLE III: CONSEQUENCES OF BREACH OF AGREEMENT
Breach by The Husband:
If The Husband is found to be in breach of this Agreement (e.g., by acting in a manner that leads to fraudulent claims of death, or failing to comply with identification procedures), The Wife may petition for divorce under the laws, irrespective of the condition precedent regarding finding remains.
Breach by The Wife:
If The Wife attempts to initiate divorce proceedings without satisfying the conditions set forth in this Agreement, The Husband shall have the right to petition the courts to invalidate any such divorce attempt, and may seek damages for breach of contract as provided by the law.
ARTICLE IV: MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Mutual Consent:
Both parties acknowledge that this Agreement has been entered into freely and voluntarily, and that each understands the extraordinary nature of the conditions set forth herein. The Wife acknowledges the serious implications of this contract and agrees to abide by its terms unless the conditions of divorce are satisfied.
EXECUTION
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties have executed this Agreement on the day and year first above written.
[Husband's Full Name]
Silas Edmund FitzGeorge
[Wife's Full Name]
Y/n L/n
Witnesses:
Cadbury Hawthorne
Colin (surname)
“You and Mr Colin signed these documents the night you had your Nikkah with Mr Silas.” Cadbury quietly said, answering you question as to when you had signed a bullshit contract like this.
Silas fucking tricked me. He took advantage of me, put me on the spot and had everything so rushed that I didn’t even have the time to read the documents I signed.
“This is trickery. I didn’t agree to any of this-”
“That argument will not fly in court, ma’am. Your inability to have read through the papers you signed out of your own volition, still means that you did signed and agreed to the terms.” The lawyer explained.
You stared at him. “So what? You’re telling me that I cant divorce Silas, that no court will grant me a divorce from him unless I find his body?!”
“Its not necessary you find his remains. If he’s still alive, you can still get the divorce.” The lawyer answered, ignoring the angry vein on your temple. “Even if you don’t find him, you still are the sole inheritor of all of Mr Silas’s assets. I think thats a pretty sweet deal.”
“I dont want his stupid assets! I want the fucking divorce!”
The lawyer closed his brief case. “Then I suggest you find Mr Silas, ma’am.”
-
The first few days at the manor had been hard for you. Refusing to trust Cadbury, given his history as being Silas right hand and well, you still suspected him of drugging your tea, you fought with him. Well it was more like you yelling and throwing things at him, and he just calmly reassured you over and over again that he was and will be for the foreseeable future- loyal to you, while dodging the fine china plate you frisbeed at his head.
When you finally came around to the idea that Silas may actually be missing and this is not some ruse, that he might be in real danger, your first thought was to contact his family. But Cadbury strongly advised you against it, saying that even if you were to only inform Sarah, she would eventually reach out to her sons to help find Silas, which is a bad idea because according to Cadbury, they would jump at his inheritance which Silas left all to you and to acquire it, they will stop at nothing. Even if they have to do something less than savoury to you.
“So you’re staying back at the estate because you need to find Silas, dead or alive, in order to get a divorce from him?” Benny asked. He came here after he found you moving back to the manor.
“Yes. I signed a document saying so. And I think that if I were to stay here, I’d be able to find more clues to his whereabouts.”
“Cant you just get a dead body?”
“Ok, first of all, where would I get a random dead body that looks like Silas? Secondly, no. The authorities need to actually verify that I bring Silas’s remains, not some random guy’s. And since Silas is part of royalty and not a nobody, its almost next to impossible for me to fool anyone.”
Benny dragged his palms over his face. “Why does it even matter that you’re not a divorced? You can just come back and live with us!”
“It does matter because I am married to a FitzGeorge, and I am the duchess of Westminster, and because if I need to marry again, I cant without divorce from my last husband!” You explained. Part of the reason you’re staying at Silas’s manor is because you want to find clues to where he is, but also because with the house entirely to yourself, you can peacefully build your time machine.
“So how do you plan on finding Silas?”
“Well, first I have to determine if he’s actually gone missing or if he’s just hiding away-”
“Why would he hide?”
“I dont know, to avoid confrontation? Maybe he thinks that I’ll come for his money, which I don’t think is the case since he has given it to me now anyways.” You rubbed your chin. “Perhaps he has enemies? His life is in danger and he decided to vanish, while also keeping me bound to him just to have the last laugh.”
Benny chuckled at your suggestion. “Okay, so how will you determine if he’s missing or hiding?”
“I plan on drawing him out.” You replied. “Force him out of his hiding place.” Which isn’t as easy as it sounds because one thing is for sure, Silas is very resilient.
Cadbury walked in with tea. “Is it done?” You asked the butler who nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It should be ready for operations in a week.”
Benny looked confused. “Whats done, Y/n?”
You took your teacup from Cadbury, hiding your smile. “You’ll see. Oh and tell Colin to see me when he can.”
-
Colin stood outside the building you’d given him the address to.
“The London Post” He read the name on the board, which looked like it was newly installed.
He walked inside, where a receptionist greeted him and lead him to an office upstairs. On his way, he saw a bullpit full of desks with employees working in full swing. Looking at the dozens of typewriters only further confirmed his suspicions that this was a newspaper agency. But what he didn’t understand was why you had sent him here.
Was it to write an article for this paper? Or did they want to interview him for his latest expose he was forced to write on Daisy FitzGeorge?
The receptionist knocked on the office door before someone inside gave permission to enter. Swinging the door open, Colin was just able to catch the glimpse of the brass plaque on the door.
“Y/n FitzGeorge, CEO”
You were sitting in behind your mahogany desk in your plush leather chair, smiling as you greeted Colin.
“What is all this?” Colin asked, sitting down from across you.
“Dont you like my new workplace?” You asked, setting aside whatever paper you were working on. “I bought the building to start a new paper. The London Post! Has a nice ring to it, hm?”
“It does. But… why exactly did you start a newspaper company?”
Because I plan on drawing out Silas by using his money lavishly and while the first idea that came to mind was to burn it in a bornfire, another idea came to mind.
Why not use the money to ruffle some feathers as well?
Henry was going to be a problem for you longterm, you knew that for sure. So while you and Benny may have been able to get away with writing something against him one time, you doubt you’d be so lucky again.
But you cant say that to Colin without sounding like a complete lunatic.
“Because I want to write freely. I want to write the truth without some rich dirtbag trying to brush it under the rug because it interferes with his business.” Colin was impressed.
“That is… excellent. You will make a lot of people unhappy with this, but I suppose you don’t care about it.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “The truth needs to be out there. People should be able to acquire knowledge and decide for themselves what they should do with it.”
“Admirable. And I suppose you wont have to dress up as a man again. Perks of being the boss, hm?” He commented, making you laugh.
“I didn’t just invite you here to show off, Colin.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your desk. “I want you to work here.”
“What?”
“You can write your articles on the horrid healthcare system and you’d have your own team to help you in investigations. I’ll back you up, all the way. Whatever you need-”
“Ok.”
“Hm?”
“Ok. I accept your job offer.” Colin stood up, shaking your head. He didn’t need to be convinced much to leave Henry Blackwood.
In the evening, you failed to notice a pair of eyes stalking your form as you got in your carriage and went home.
“I seriously need to hire better security. They cant just let anyone in.” You grumbled as soon as you spotted him lounging in the parlour.
“Oh please. Like that would stop me.” Henry smirked, making himself as he poured himself a drink. “I thought you’d be happy to see me after so long, kitten.”
“So all it takes is one sip of alcohol for you to start deluding?” You rolled your eyes, giving your coat to the maid as you walked inside the room. “What do you want, Henry?”
“Just some answers, kitten.” He smiled, though it wasn’t a genuine. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The London Post.” “Ah. The newspaper. Its a nice name, hm?”
“Y/n.” He warned.
“Henry.” You mocked back. “What is it of any concern to you?”
“Is this your big plan to get back at me? The moment I propose to a soon-to-be-divorcee, you go running back in the arms of Silas? If money was all it took, need I remind you- I have plenty more than Silas?”
Great. He just called me a gold-digger in my own house.
“First of all, I doubt that any amount of your blood-stained money will ever compare to Silas’s generational wealth. Its about class, something you wouldn’t know about.” You ran a hand through your hair. “As for why I’m back with Silas, well why don’t you see it this way? The mere idea of being with you repelled me so much that it drove me into the arms of another man.”
“And where is this other man?”
“Perhaps he was also repelled by you.” Henry crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so? Huh. So he’s been hiding away weeks before I actually came.”
Your eyes narrowed. How does he-?
“Ah ah. I saw that look.” He snapped his fingers, sauntering over to you. “What? You really didn’t think I’d find out that he’s been missing for what? A month now?” You kept your mouth shut as he gloated. “Not a bird flutters its wing here and I am not aware. I know everything, kitten.”
Either he’s bluffing, or he’s the reason why Silas is missing. “Silas isn’t missing. He’s away on business.”
“Dont lie, love. I know the truth. Besides, what I cant figure out is why you’re back here after that nasty fight with him? I mean, the last time I saw Silas, you had sent the divorce papers yourself.”
Did you see him sign them? Is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you feigned innocense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I agree that I did take time apart after our… marital discourse, but thats normal. Lovers fight, not that you’d know. I imagine most women in your life are threatened into a relationship with you.”
He smirked. “You think about me with other women? Is my kitten jealous?” Your unamused face made him chuckle. “I just came here to congratulate you on starting your new business. Hope it doesnt burn down before it makes a real mark.”
“Is that a threat?” “Did it sound like a compliment?” You scowled, and he smirked. “My kitten has a tendency to go a little crazy and scratch others. I’d hate to be the one to have to tame you, although-”
“Get the hell out of my house!”
Henry cackled, enjoying getting under your skin. He got ready to leave, glancing at you one last time.
“You don’t belong from this world, kitten. Stop meddling with my business before you get hurt, hm?”
As days went by, the Ripper began his killing spree again. More victims came to light, most of them were people who were out and about well after midnight, but there were some cases where the victims were… just normal people. The London Post had a dedicated team working on reporting this case audit was garnering more attention. You might even dare to say… that it was more popular than Henry’s now.
Benny would swing by your office whenever he could, usually with snacks and make lighthearted conversation. You knew what he was doing though- he was checking up on you. And really, you don’t blame him. After breaking down in front of him, to sending divorce papers to Silas, to quitting your job and writing an article that damages your ex-employer’s repute, to then moving back to living at your “missing” husband’s home (who you cant divorce until you find his remains) and then starting a whole new company, who wouldn’t want to check how someone like that is doing mentally?
Its sweet really, it really is. Which is why its so hard for you to look at him as a potential killer. It doesnt help all the lies he’s told you, not to mention his relationship with the shady cross-dresser who practically threatened you to not bother Henry.
I really, really hope you’re just a closeted gay Benny.
You woke up to the sound of yelling. Looking at the clock, the needles pointed to 11 pm. You got out of bed, wrapping your night robe around yourself before leaving the room. Following the clamour, you found yourself on the top of the staircase and saw the source of noise standing in the lobby down.
It was Silas’s uncles, William and Adolphus . The two men were yelling at Cadbury, the poor butler trying to shush them and prevent them from passing past him.
“As I said sir-! Mrs Silas is asleep at the moment and I cannot allow you to enter Mr Silas’s study without her permission.”
“You have no right to stop us! And I don’t need that wench’s permission to enter wherever I please!” William, the eldest FitzGeorge shouted.
“Actually, you do.” You finally spoke up, shutting them all up. You gracefully descended the stairs, eyes narrowing down at them. “As it happens, I am the co-owner of this house.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, I tried to stop them-”
“Its alright, Cadbury.” You turned your attention back to the two men who were looking down at you. “Now that you have disturbed me from my sleep, what seems to be the problem?”
“Your stupid servant is stopping us from going to Silas’s study-”
“He’s a butler, and you will give him the due respect or you can march yourself out of here. Now.” Your words made the room silent again, and one could cut the tension with a knife.
Adolphus, the middle child of Sarah, seemed to be the one with more sense. “You’re right. But as it happens, we are in a bit of rush and we need to go to the study.”
“Why?”
“There are some papers there.” Adolphus stated, mistaking that this would be enough to satisfy you.
“So?” You crossed your arms over your chest.
“So? So we need to get them.”
“Why? Whats so important about them?”
Adolphus looked at you, then at his brother who had an angry being popping on his head, then back at you. “Silas… has granted us some money. We need those papers to access that money.”
“Ah. That is important.” You hummed, and the uncles took this as a sign for them to go and retrieve them. “Halt, now.”
“What?” William seethed.
You sighed dramatically. “Now I understand the pickle you’re in, but as it happens, Silas has absolutely forbidden anyone from entering his study without his permission and since Silas hasn’t told me beforehand about letting his uncles in, I’m afraid I cant let you go there. He’s weirdly territorial about it.”
“Then where is Silas?” William barked.
“I dont know. As a good wife, I don’t keep tabs on where my husband goes, when he’ll be back or stick my nose in his business.” You smiled charmingly, knowing these chauvinistic jerks will eat this lie up.
“Look, we’re his family. We wouldn’t betray our own.” Adolphus tried to reason with you.
You shrugged. “Orders are orders, uncle. I’m just an obedient wife, listening to my husband because I’d just be a fool not to!” Your voice drips with honey.
William glared at you, and was ready to bark an insult when you beat him to it.
“Cadbury, please show our guests the way out. Don’t hesitate to use more help if needed.” You leave before they could get another word in.
When Cadbury returns, you’re sitting in Silas’s study, holding the file that the uncles wanted. However, it didn’t say anything about any money being set aside for them. It was just Silas reiterating that you were his sole inheritor of everything.
“Ah thank goodness you didn’t let them in, ma’am.” Cadbury breathed a sigh of relief. You hummed, looking at the document again before setting it aside. You have a gut feeling that if they were to find out that Silas has left everything to you, they would not be happy.
“Did you tell them that Silas has been missing?” Cadbury shook his head. “No ma’am.”
“Then how did they know he wasnt home?”
It is possible that word got out via the house staff that he hasn’t been home in a while. Or that someone from the outside is spreading the news. Perhaps a business partner? An enemy? Maybe his uncles have a hand in his disappearance. Or it is entirely possible that Silas is behind this and is using his uncles to put me under pressure?
Whoever it is, its high time to put an end to all of this. Silas needs to be found out.
“Prepare my carriage for tomorrow. I’ll be leaving to see Silas’s grandma.”
-
You sensed something was gravely wrong the next day you saw Cadbury.
The butler held a letter in his trembling hands, his face pale as he read with wide eyes.
“Mrs- Mrs Fairbrother is- is dead.”
What?
You grabbed the letter from his hands, reading the details of how Sarah passed away yesterday in her sleep. It was sent by her housekeeper, who said that Mrs Fairbrother wanted to be buried in London and her funeral arrangements done by you.
Two days later, you were standing in Silas’s study, looking out the window at the funeral service arranged. Despite the large amount of attendees, everything went smoothly. Cadbury made sure of that, he basically handled all the things on your behalf.
Perhaps he knew you’d need your energy for something else soon.
You’d met with the people only briefly, accepting their condolences before you went back to hiding in the study. Sarah was buried in the family cemetery, next to her husband and near her granddaughter, Daisy. You didn’t go to the gravesite yourself, it only reminded you of Qasim. You don’t think you could ever handle going through that ordeal again.
Not to mention the big elephant in the room that you have to address.
Silas is not here.
You may not know much about him but you know for a fact how much he loved his grandmother and the fact that he’s not here means that he… he might actually have gone missing. And not by his own will.
Is he missing or is he dea-?
Cadbury entered the study with a knock, a cup of tea in his hand.
“Thank you.” You take the cup from him. He smiled, understanding your gratefulness for letting him deal with the funeral.
“I just wanted to give you a heads up, ma’am. Mr William and Mr Adolphus are waiting in the parlour downstairs with the will executor. He says its important for all family members to be there.”
“I understand.” You sigh before standing up. You walked into the parlour where the uncles were drinking
“Look who decided to finally join us.” William sneered.
“I want to say its nice to see you again but I don’t want to insult the dead by lying.” You turn your attention back to the executor. “Please lets get this done with already.”
“It wont take too long, miss.” The executor says before opening the envelope. “The will states “I am grateful to all who attended my funeral. I knew my time was coming soon, which is why I left London a month ago. It was my dream to see my beloved Silas get married and what a fine lady he chose for this family. He took care of me, as did Y/n when she became a part of our lives. Which is why I Sarah Fairbrother FitzGeorge, in sound mind and with no pressure from anyone, am leaving all of my wealth to Silas and Y/n. For my other grandsons, I leave a trust fund that they will acquire if they get into Oxford college like Silas did. The trust fund will be distributed to reputable charities if they don’t make it to college.
For my sons, William and Adolphus, I leave only this-
I know what you did. I was made aware of it in my final days and I am ashamed to call you my sons. Which is why you are both removed from my will and are not entitled to a single pound from the inheritance. If I could, I would strip you off the respectable FitzGeorge surname. Shame on you.” The executor folds the paper back. “That concludes the will, now if you could all just sign here-”
“I am not signing this bullshit!” William threw the glass on the floor, the crystal shattering everywhere. “This is complete bullshit! How the fuck does she not leave anything to me?! To her own sons?!”
The executor narrowed his eyes. “I understand this can be difficult to digest-”
“Mother must’ve been delirious. That explains it. Women experience hysteria on the daily now, its very common now a days. Why else would she leave nothing to her owns sons, and everything to Silas, who did not even bother to attend the funeral!” Adolphus spoke up.
“I assure you, sir, your mother was not delirious. She was not a mad woman when she executed her will. I was there, with two other witnesses.”
“So what? We get nothing and Silas and his bedwarmer get everything?!” William yells, glaring at you. “Where the fuck is Silas?! He cant get a single penny of this will unless he’s here!”
“I-” Your voice died down in your throat. What do I say? How long can I avoid this question?
“What?” Adolphus questioned but William walked to the executor. “Did you hear that? He’s not here which means he doesn’t get the bloody inheritance! And neither does she!”
“Actually, Miss Y/n is entitled to all of the inheritance as Mrs Sarah stated in the will.” A voice interrupted. You looked at the doorway where Cadbury was walking in with Silas’s lawyer.
“This is a private matter. You need to leave.” Adolphus stated, not liking the intrusion.
“I’m Mr Silas’s lawyer and he’s allowed me to be in matters in his place.” He set down his briefcase and pulled out some documents. “Mr Silas has already given all of his inheritance to Miss Y/n and anything that Mrs Sarah has left for him, will also be going to Miss Y/n.
-
The Ripper has Silas.
He’s made that much clear to you over the last two weeks via all the letters and cryptic messages he’d sent you, which you didn’t take seriously at first because for all you could know, this could be just a prank or from Silas enemies to scare you.
Then came the present.
It was a small box with a red bow on it, left on the windowsill of your room. When you opened it, your blood ran cold at the contents inside.
It was a ring. The wedding band.
The day you married Silas, his grandmother gave you her late husband’s ring to give to Silas. It was a family heirloom and it was his grandfather’s. Losing it, it’s not something Silas would risk just to trouble you.
He was in serious danger. Especially if the Ripper is the one who has him.
You wanted to go to the cops, but knowing how they never actually came close to catching the killer, you decide to go to someone more powerful.
The Queen.
Now I know she may not have MI5, but surely she’d have contacts and perhaps some secret agents who’d do a much better job of finding her royal relative.
“The queen is busy and cannot see anyone at the moment.” The royal servant told you at the front door. That’s as far as they’d allowed you to enter.
“I don’t think you understand. My husband, a royal member of the family has gone missing and possibly been abducted by the Ripper-!”
“I don’t think you understand, miss.” He cut you off. “The queen is simply too busy to entertain any civilians or their lost men.”
“He’s not a civilian! Silas FitzGeorge-”
“Is not recognised by the royal family. Please refrain yourself from associating that name with the prestigious royal household.”
You looked at him dumbfounded. Is he- did the queen really just cut Silas out of the family?
“Then as a civilian, I am begging you to let me see the queen. I want to find my husband and only she can help me.”
“The queen has far more important engagements at the moment.”
Clenching your fists to stop yourself from swinging at him and running inside the palace, you asked him. “Does she hate Silas that much that she didn’t attend Sarah’s funeral? Or did she loathe Sarah that much that she refuses to help find Silas?”
“Let me show you the exit-”
You swiftly turned and left, your body ready to combust from anger.
How can anyone do that? Just refuse to help a family member? You’re no stranger to enemies-in-family, but still- she adored Silas enough to reintroduce him as a part of her family just months ago. Did she really just hate him for marrying me, or as Silas showed the world- “married for love”.
How can you just turn your back on family?
You stormed into your office, breathing heavily. Fine then. If she won’t let me see her, I’ll make her come to me.
“COLIN!” He came into your office alarmed. “I need you to allocate 5 of the best writers on a new project. Give them whatever they need, no expenses spared.”
“What’s the project?”
“The royal family.”
“What?”
“Every crime they’ve committed, every scandal they’ve been involved in, every time they’ve so much as swatted a fly! I want it all reported and published.” Colin’s eyes widened at your words.
“Y/n it’s not wise-“
“Colin, I’m not in need of wisdom. I know what I’m doing, I know the risks I’m taking, so spare me the advice and do what I’m asking you to do. Please.” You rubbed your temples.
He gave a nod. “Very well.”
“Oh and Colin?” “Yes?”
“Please send the team working on the Ripper to me. And if you could, please send for the coppers.”
“Why?” Colin asked, testing his luck.
“Silas has been taken by the Ripper. And I have letters from him.”
-
The next few weeks were very busy, with police officers interrogating you about Silas and the Ripper to representatives coming from the royal family to stop you from slandering them, which besides being satisfying to your ego, was also good for business as people loved to watch “the rich get torn apart a new one”.
But you didn’t have the time to enjoy that when you had a literal serial killer murdering people left and right with notes attached, always written to you. Well, not exactly to you- he’s kind enough to just praise your paper for getting details right about him, and only rarely adding in corrections about how he murdered someone,
You had asked him to return Silas in one of the articles your paper published, pleading him to send “the love of my life” back.
The psycho slashed a smile on the next victim’s stomach, with the words “GOOD JOKE!” written in blood on the walls.
To deal with all that, you had decided to cross out one item off your list-
Get rid of the portrait.
The moment you returned home from the crime scene and spotted the painting that was glaring down at you, you had it pulled off the wall of the staircase and set out in the gardens.
“Having a bonfire, are we?” Henry spoke from behind you, rubbing his hands as he saw you standing alone in front of the large fire pit you’d started.
Watching the last bit of the paper turn to ash, put your mind at ease. “Care to join?” You asked.
Henry’s lips quirked up. “Oh I’d love to be by your side-“
“I meant the fire. Care to jump in?” You didn’t move your eyes from the fire.
He pouted. “Oh kitten, if you want me to keep you warm, I know far better ways-“
“I’d rather you push me into the fire.” Your monotonous tone makes him chuckle. “I can’t do that. I’d lose the most popular person in Britain then!”
“Popular?” “No need to be humble, love. You’re both the most hated and most loved woman in all of England right now! People just loathe the way you’re tearing down the monarchy and yet they can’t help but adore your fake tears for your missing husband.”
“They’re not fake.” You whisper. “I do miss Silas, and I do want him back.”
“I need him.” To finalise the stupid divorce. “But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find him.”
Henry stared at you, an unsavoury emotion swirling in his eyes though he managed to keep his expression neutral.
“You don’t need Silas. You think you do, but the human body is capable of surviving with way less than the bare minimum.” He looks ahead with you at the dancing flames. “All you have to do is leave this place and go home.”
“It’s not that simple.” Shaking your head, you answer him. “I can’t just up and leave him, not when I know he’s in danger, when he’s being held hostage and I can do something about it.” You finally turn to him, finding him staring at you already. “Which is why I sent for you today.”
He raised a brow. “You want me to find Silas.” He said in an unamused voice.
“Please.”
“I may be fond of you, kitten but don’t you think it’s harsh and frankly, unreasonable to expect your admirer to find a man for you?” He chuckled, roaming his eyes anywhere to conceal his jealousy.
“I’m desperate-” “Clearly.” He scoffed.
You took a deep breath. “If you find Silas, I’ll leave him.”
Henry’s head turned to you. “I’ll leave Silas, I’ll divorce him. I’ll leave London for good.”
He looked at you for a moment before sighing. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
Your shoulders relaxed. “So you’ll find him? Good, I can go and deal with the monarchs-“
He grabbed your shoulder. “Not so fast, kitten. First, you’re going to attend a party with me.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to have the most popular lady on my arm for a night.” He grinned, making you roll your eyes. “Besides, I think you’d enjoy seeing a few familiar faces there, for your paper, hm?”
-
You were standing inside the Gentleman’s club, waiting for Henry to receive you. It was a grand party, they usually are around here but everything seemed to be grander this time around.
Two weeks ago, when you were given an invitation to the club, Henry had asked you to stop publishing anything regarding the Ripper, as to stop giving him the attention he seemed to thrived on and make him slip up in an attempt to regain his popularity back. So, you ignored the letters you got from the killer, reading them but never responding.
There was a large guest list but no masquerade this time, except for the workers who were responsible for “entertainment”, they wore masks.
You saw many of high society there, including the sleazebag Charles Dickens. He never seemed to issue the opportunity to be present anywhere debauchery is popular.
“You look ravishing, love.” Henry’s husky voice reached you before you felt his arm on your waist. You frowned at his closeness but decided to put up with it for the night, after all you did agree to be “arm candy” for the night.
“Aw, are you afraid someone might see you being so cozy with the most handsome bachelor in London?” His earthy cologne filled your lungs, and you hoped by the end of the night, you don’t end up smelling like him.
“Most handsome bachelor? So you have found Silas?” You feigned innocence but he didn’t seem fazed by the insult, in fact pulling you closer to him. “You’re looking just too gorgeous tonight for me to admonish you, but who knows? Maybe we can arrange some type of punishment to put you in your place later tonight.”
You smile seductively at him, putting a hand on his chest. “Not if I punish you first.” You drag a nail over his chest bluntly, making a mischievous glint appear in his eyes.
“Yeah? What do you have in mind, baby?”
You giggle sweetly, batting your lashes up at him.
“How does getting whacked by a cactus sound?”
“Exciting!” He gave you a huge grin. “Pain is pleasure, kitten. And I’ll make sure you learn to love everything I give you.”
You push him away, rolling your eyes as he chuckled. “Pervert…”
“I jest, milady. Come now, let’s greet our guests.” He takes your hand and pulls you along.
“Our guests?” He nods. “You are my date for the night, so you’re going to be hosting these guests with me. I think you’ll find some very interesting people here.”
“Yeah? Like who?”
He leaned down to whisper in your ear, nodding ahead. “See that man with the beard? That’s Mr Bell. He’s currently working on a device that’ll make it possible to communicate from distance.”
Bell… as in-
“Alexander Graham Bell?!” You harshly whispered.
He quirked a brow. “A fan, are we? Didn’t know you’ve also been following his work.” Only since elementary school science class!
Henry then nodded at another guy in the corner. “See that young fellow in the corner, surrounded by women? Yes, that’s Louis Pasteur. Odd fellow, always going on about invisible germs and what not, but I know a genius when I see one. That’s why I invested in him, even if I don’t fully understand what he’s working on, I know he’ll worth something someday. I wouldn’t get too close to him, he smells like spoiled milk often.”
He then waved at two ladies sitting on a sofa, surrounded by men and women- entertaining them. “Enjoying yourself girls?” They smiled at him with flushed faces, as you turned away in horror.
“That’s Dr Elizabeth Anderson, first female to qualify as a doctor in Britain. The young gal next to her is nurse Florence Nightingale. Sweet girl.” Henry introduced you and never in a million years did you imagine meeting your scientific heroes in a place like this.
“What- what are they doing here?” “What do people do at a party? Enjoy.” “I meant, what are they doing here in this disgusting place-“
“Excuse you, but my club prides itself in maintaining its hygiene better than most hospitals here.” He grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter passing by. “They’re here because I want them here. Every guest here tonight, I have granted them favours and now, they’re forever indebted to me.”
“Why do you want them here tonight?”
He sipped his drink. “Let’s just say, they’re here to make someone feel comfortable tonight.”
You frowned. “I don’t feel comfortable.” Henry laughed. “Oh, I love you darling, but tonight, we have a more important guest than you. Come now, they should be coming soon and I’d hate for you to miss their entry.”
He took you along with him up the staircase, standing over the railing as you looked down at the main floor, a clear view of everyone.
“Henry.” He was leaning over the railing, his shoulders looking even more broad as he rested his arms against the bannister. “Did you find anything?”
He understood what you were referring to. “I found a lot of things, it’s all in my office, but nothing that tipped off to Silas’s whereabouts.”
“What about the Ripper’s whereabouts?”
“I’m focusing on finding Silas. Not a deranged killer.” “Henry-“ he narrowed his eyes at you. “How are you so sure that he took Silas? For all you know, Silas could be hiding because he cheated on you or something.”
“He sent me the ring.” “So what? He could’ve just-”
“No!” You snapped, making him narrow his eyes at you. “He wouldn’t have just given up the ring for petty revenge or to make my life difficult. He wouldn’t- you don’t know him like I do. The ring is very important to him, he wouldn’t give it up without a fight.”
Henry was ready to say something, probably argue more, but right then, a commotion started on the ballroom floor.
All the guests had started to look towards the entrance, where some men stood. There were hushed whispers of disbelief, people looking around to make sure that someone else was also seeing at what they were.
The chief guest had arrived. And as they appeared from the shadows and into the center, your breath hitched with almost everyone there.
It was Prince Edward VII, Queen Victoria’s son and successor.
What the hell is he doing here?
You turned to ask Henry, only to see him walking down the stairs to greet the prince. Why did Henry invite the prince to the club? What evil plan did he have in mind? Or did he do this for you, so that you’d write about royalty being associated with such perversity?
You turned away from the bannister and looked around for Henry’s office.
After a few minutes of walking in on people making out, you finally found the office. Stepping in, you spotted a file on his desk and as you suspected, it had everything on Silas’s life, including how Daisy ended up in the asylum. Apparently one day, uncle William had called her over to his estate to discuss an important family matter.
She never returned. It’s reported that the following morning, William and Adolphus had her admitted to the asylum because she was “acting odd” and was “delusional”.
The file also details that while it was rare, Silas was able to visit Daisy a few times there whenever he got time off from boarding school. Unfortunately, in less than a year in the asylum, Daisy had taken her own life.
You close the file, setting it back on the desk before moving towards the other side and sitting in Henry’s chair.
Might as well go through his stuff if I’m snooping.
You open the single drawer and it has a small box containing a few cigars and some papers. You close it and are about to make your way outside when you hear footsteps coming towards the room. You look around for shelter before ducking under the mahogany desk, just as the door opens.
“Why haven’t you been responding to my letters?” You heard Benjamin’s voice. “Why did you make the guards turn me away whenever I came here?”
You heard the sound of glass clinking and a drink being poured. “And yet here you are. Take a hint, Benny boy.” You recognised Lady Scarlett’s voice.
“Scarlett” you heard strain in his voice. “I just- I don’t understand. What are Henry’s intentions with Y/n?”
“What do you care?” The annoyance was evident in Scarlet’s voice. “You love her or something?”
There were a few seconds of silence. “She’s a friend.”
Scarlet’s heels clicked as he walked to the corner of the room to pour herself another drink. “She’s been taken care of.” “What do you mean?” “She won’t be meddling with our business again, I had a talk with her. She won’t be coming back here. And if she does… well, I’m afraid your friendship won’t save her.”
“Scarlett-” “Do the job you’ve been given, Benny. Find out who’s been going after Henry’s business. We lost another two guards that were sent to keep an eye on Y/n.”
What?
A few seconds later, you heard them walk out of the office. Sighing in relief, you stand up to leave from your hiding spot but hit your head on the mahogany desk. You groaned, clutching your head as the drawer slides out slightly from your head bump, and that’s when you spot it.
A secret compartment on the side of the drawer!
It had a small lock on it, which was easy to open with a bobby pin. The small wooden door unlocked and without missing a beat, you opened it.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was in there.
“No- how…?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the object, from-
The Time Machine.
My Time Machine!
Thud.
You jumped at the sound. It came from the window. You didn’t move from your spot, either waiting for the source to reveal or perhaps you were too stunned to move.
A few seconds later, it happened again. Only this time, a rock burst through the window, shattering the glass everywhere. You stayed on the ground before creeping towards the windowsill to find the source, and there he was- standing alone in the dark alleyway, his figure illuminated just enough to give him away.
The Ripper.
You couldn’t make out his face due to the dark alley, but it was clear he was looking at you.
Your heart almost leapt out of your throat when he waved at you.
What the fuck?
Locked in a trance, you couldn’t move from the window. You know you should’ve ducked, should’ve moved out of sight but it was like you knew if you looked away, if you so much as blinked he’d-
“Y/N!”
You’re yanked away from the window, face colliding into Benjamin’s chest. “There’s a fire! We need to leave!” You looked back towards the window.
He’s gone.
“Come on!” Ben dragged you out the door by your arm and that’s when you were hit in the face by the intense heat.
The once fancy club was now set aflame. Flames licked their way up the walls, devouring the silken tapestries and velvet curtains. The air was now thick with smoke. People were screaming and trampling all over each other to get out, their masks discarded as their faces were painted with horror. Your heart dropped at the panic of it all.
You’re lucky Ben was there, because while you were frozen up, he took charge and pulled you out of the club, pushing through the doors as people poured out on to the freezing London streets.
Ben was putting his coat around your shoulders when you looked back at the club, the once luxurious facade now consumed by fire as screams echoed against to haunting night.
And then, there was loud explosion on the upper floor, more specifically, from Henry’s office where you stood only moments ago, destroying everything in its vicinity.
He did this. Without a shadow of doubt, you knew he did this.
By the time you returned home, a bouquet of roses was waiting for you on your bed, a note attached with it.
You knew who it was from before you even opened it.
In the same elegant handwriting, it read-
“Do I have your attention now, darling?
I do not appreciate being ignored by you, love.”
(Ignoring being that you haven’t responded to his letters by writing articles about him the past few weeks.)
“I don’t understand why you pretend not to see me, when you know I’m here. The way your body tenses, the way you look over your shoulder when I’m near. You know I’m here. You always have.
I do not take being ignored lightly. I have tolerated your silence, your dismissiveness, your feigned ignorance. But there are limits to my restraint, and you are dangerously close to testing them. I wonder—do you truly believe you can pretend I do not exist forever? That if you avert your gaze, I will simply disappear?
You should know better.
This is not a game. I have seen things, learned things—collected things—that you would not want in the wrong hands. And if I were you, I would think very carefully about whether continued defiance is worth the consequences.
You will acknowledge me. One way or another.
See you soon, sweetheart.
JTR.”
-
It had been only a few days since the club burned down. As expected, it was the front page headline on every major newspaper.
Except for one, very new publishing company, who published this headline that made everyone buy their paper only:
“FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND FOUND AT THE DEVIANTS DEN WHERE THE RIPPER MADE A SURPRISE APPEARANCE!”
Representatives from the monarchy came to the London Post everyday, and later by the estate to demand that you take down the scandalous article.
“No.” You state, fixing your sunglasses. You were getting ready to go somewhere, and as much as fun it was to get payback, it was starting to get boring when these representatives came over everyday.
“But the royal family-”
“Is not my family. Is not Silas’s family because as I recall, no one from the royal family sent a condolence message, much less attend Lady Sarah’s funeral, and when I came to ask you to help find my husband, you refused. So gentlemen, I frankly don’t give a shit.”
“You will regret this.” You stopped at his words, turning around. The man with the thick moustache glared at you. “Those who do not fall in line, fall out. This is your last warning.”
“Yeah? Well, you can shove that warning up your ass.”
You got into your carriage, pondering over his words. Does the monarchy want to kill me?
You scoffed.
They’re gonna have to get in the fucking line.
You stopped by the London Post first, giving them orders to write more articles on prince Edward and the sighting of the notorious killer in the same place. Colin came to your office and handed you a folder, and when you read its contents, you smiled.
“When should we publish it?” Colin asked.
“Not yet.” You close the folder and stand up. “You have made a copy of this, right?” He nodded. “Good. Hide it in a safe place.”
He furrowed his brows. “Hide it? Why?”
“Because I don’t want it to be leaked before time.” You replied, grabbing your coat and leaving before he could ask for more.
Sighing, Colin pulled out his flask and looked around before taking a big gulp.
Your carriage stopped next at the cemetery. Grabbing the flowers, you walked out of the carriage and entered the cemetery. It was midday on a Monday, so there weren’t a lot of people here. Walking past a man who was digging up a grave, you realised you didn’t know where you were supposed to go.
So you asked the man. “Ah. It’s just up the hill, next to the tree.” You thanked him before looking down at the cradle he was preparing. Flashbacks of Qasim’s burial came to mind and your heart wrenched.
Following your gaze, the man shook his head. “Rich folks these days… they’re getting odder. They just don’t know how to spend their money, so off they go buying their burial plots, just in case they suddenly drop dead.”
You laughed lightly before going up the hill to your destination.
“Sarah Fairbrother-FitzGeorge” the tombstone read.
“Hi, Sarah.” You cleared your throat, resting the boquet of flowers next to the stone. “I know I should’ve visited earlier, but um… heh, I was preoccupied with some things. All Silas’s fault.” You joke, before patting the folder Colin gave you. “I think- I think I’ve found a way to find Silas. I don’t know if it’ll work, because well- he is being held captive by a psychopath whose identity remains unknown even in the future, but at the very least, I’d still be pissing off a lot of people and these days, that brings me joy.” You chuckle, before nodding. Offering a small prayer for her, you turn on your heel and leave.
As you walk away, your eyes fall on the burial site the man was preparing earlier, though he was no longer there. Instead, he was walking with another man, who towered over him. They were talking and you saw the taller one hand him a wad of cash.
You got in your carriage and told the driver to take you home.
As the carriage began moving, your mind wandered back to the night at the club. Of course, you haven’t forgotten the most important discovery that night-
The Time Machine.
And even though you weren’t able to see Henry again since because he was busy with police or his business, you already knew your Time Machine was destroyed for sure this time.
Which begs the question- who did this?
You were brought out of your thoughts as the carriage came to a sudden halt and there was a commotion outside. You heard your driver arguing with someone and as you opened the door to see, a man suddenly pushed you back in. You looked at his face that was covered with a bandana, his eyes glaring at you. He jumped into the carriage and you jumped back to the other door, only for another man with similar getup, entered from that side, trapping you in.
And in that split second, you knew if you didn’t fight now, there’s no chance anyone will find you.
You kicked the man in front of you, trying to push him out the door as the carriage began moving. The man behind you grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back, but you twisted your arm and elbowed him in the gut, making him lose his grip on you. But then the man in front of you lunged at you and grabbed a hold of your neck, pulling you up and then smashing your head back on the wooden floor of the carriage, knocking the air out of you.
Your hands began to claw at his when he began squeezing your neck, your eyes bulging out as he increased the pressure. You couldn’t even say a word as he strangled you. Tears formed in your eyes as you looked at the man behind you, silently begging him for mercy.
But he simply tilted his head at you, his eyes crinkling as if he was smiling.
“You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in places it didn’t belong, woman.” He sneered.
You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in places it didn’t belong, woman.
Really, if I had just minded my own business, I wouldn’t be here. If I had never bothered with finding out the infamous killer, if I had never bothered with finding out everyone’s secrets, if I had just never gotten in the damn machine, I would’ve avoided this fate.
Black spots began to cloud your vision and your grip on the hands around your neck began to loosen, ready to accept the fate when the carriage came to a halt, followed by a scream and a thud.
The men seemed startled and the man behind you pulled out a knife, silently waiting for an attack.
But he was taken by a surprise when the other door opened and the man strangling you was ripped off you and out of the carriage.
He leaped out to help him, leaving you inside. Collecting your breath, you got out of the carriage to run, when you saw the decapitated body of your strangler lying outside the door.
“Please! Don’t-!” You looked up just in time to see a tall figure holding the second attacker in a chokehold and then-
He slit his throat.
Your eyes widened as blood spurted out of his neck and he fell to the ground. The dark figure breathed heavily and slowly, he turned his head to look at you.
For a moment, you thought he’d come for you next. But he simply turned around and left.
It was only when his back was facing you that you realised who it was. Tall figure, broad shoulders and the top hat-
Jack the Ripper.
And if that wasn’t enough confirmation, the bouquet of white roses on your bed certainly were, and a note that read-
“Next time, look away.”
Was this an apology? Or a warning?
-
You were sitting inside the white drawing room at Buckingham Palace. No, you were not summoned. And no, they did not throw you out like last time. In fact, they sat you inside for a meeting with the royal directly once you told them that you’d take down everything from before if they met you just once.
You fixed your dress, then adjusted your seat. You’d come here the day after you’d been ambushed and after speaking to the authorities, you came here.
The door opened and you stood up, throat going dry at the thought of meeting her. The Queen.
Instead, a tall man walked inside. A familiar tall man with steely eyes.
Prince Albert.
You courtesy as he made his way towards you, arms behind his back.
“Your majesty.”
“Lady FitzGeorge.” He looked you from top to bottom, sizing you up. He motioned for you sit, taking his seat on the sofa across you. “How may I help you?”
“You’re not who I was expecting but… I suppose you should be the one to deal with this.” You pulled out the brown folder and passed it to him.
“What? Is a prince not good enough for you?” He retorted, amusement in his eyes that died as he opened the file. “What is this?”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t published it yet but I will tomorrow.” You smiled, watching his jaw tick.
“There’s no merit to this.” He flipped through the pages. “No one would ever believe this.”
“And yet you read.” You sigh. “There is merit to this, your majesty. I was there that night at the club and I saw your son.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “So? That qualifies you to link the royal family to being mentally insane?”
“No, but perhaps your son being in a relationship with a cross dressing, gay man would.” You clasp your hands. “Now, you could argue that just because Prince Edward did something like that, it doesn’t mean that the entire royal family is insane. And that’s when I’ll bring up how completely insane it was for Prince George to marry his mistress, Sarah Fairbrother. And then how his son jumped off a ship and died when his wife was murdered. Not to mention Daisy, Silas’s late sister, who was admitted in a mental institution where she died. And now you’ll say- “that just insinuates that the FitzGeorge line is insane!” Well, that’s when I’ll bring up the all the diseases that run in your family.”
“There are no diseases-”
“Your sons have a tendency to bleed for a prolonged time when they’re hurt.” You watched his eyes widen slightly. “Even small bruises and cuts take too long to heal. Sometimes they don’t.”
They didn’t just call Hemophilia “the Royal Disease” for nothing.
“And as for mental health, well, respectfully, Her Majesty isn’t doing so well, is she?”
He stood up angrily. “Victoria is not sick-!”
“No, but she is pregnant. A lot.” You stand up slowly. “Everyone she gives birth, her majesty becomes someone else, doesn’t she? She doesn’t hold the baby, she despises her heir, she grows gloomy and introverted and by now, any normal man of today’s era would’ve sent his wife to a mental asylum. But not you. No, you love her. And the royal status, of course, which you’d lose if she’s gone. So what do you do? You keep your wife pregnant, so that’s she’s unable to take part in her duties, where you step in, playing the monarch while letting the government excuse your wife and her behaviour for being with child.” It was a shot in the dark, but you always theorised that the queen relied very heavily on her husband because well-
She was constantly suffering from postpartum depression. From one pregnancy to the next. She didn’t have much time to recover from it.
Prince Albert flared his nostrils. “You have some nerve to make bold accusations-“
“Not just accusations. I am willing to go above and beyond for my husband.” You exhale. “In the past few months, since Silas has gone missing, I have given up on being courteous and forgiving. I have asked for help, I have begged for it everywhere, only to be turned down, insulted and threatened. I will no longer be allowed to be mistreated. You and the queen had once claimed Silas as your family, and now that he’s no longer of use, you discard him? If not that he’s blood, could you not care about him as a human? As a citizen of your kingdom?”
Albert remained silent as you talked.
“I had come here before, asking for help.” You shake your head. “I’m not asking anymore. You have until 8 am tomorrow to find Silas, or I’m publishing this article.”
“How-” “You have abundant money and resources, eyes and ears everywhere, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
“You can’t-“ “I assure you, I can and I will. I will burn this kingdom to the ground and watch from the front row. Why should I be the only to suffer, when I can make everyone else hurt as well?” You walk past him.
“And what makes you think I can’t stop you right now?” His voice stopped you.
You turned to look at him, raising a brow.
“And what makes you think that I didn’t come here without an exit strategy?” You sigh, as if tired of explaining everything. “Do you believe that the file is the only copy?”
After you’d left the palace, you were going to return home, but you spotted Benjamin on the street. He was walking in a rush, pushing past the crowd to go somewhere.
You followed him on foot, blending in with the public to remain undetected. Finally, after 20 minutes or so, you saw him stop outside a run-down building. It was on the opposite end of town, near the slums of London.
After a few minutes, Benjamin left the building, slamming the door on his way out. He stormed down the street and you lost sight of him. You focused back on the building. What was in there? What happened to make Benjamin lose his cool?
After a little bit of contemplation, you decided to investigate.
Crossing the street, you made your way to the alley besides the building. You spotted a window but it was a little high up, so you backed up a bit and then used the dumpster to jump up high enough for your hand to grab onto the window ledge.
Pulling yourself up, you peeked inside. It was normal sitting room, though a bit fancier than exterior of the building. You inched your fingers towards the glass and opened it slowly. Hearing no one, you attempted to lift yourself inside, but suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside.
You fell face first on the carpeted floor.
“You just like to get yourself in trouble, don’t you?” Lady Scarlet smiled down at you. She was wearing a wine red silk robe, hair as red and luscious as ever.
Shocked, you stared as she gazed out the window to see if anyone else was there, a drink in her hand as she closed the window shut. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to snoop around?”
You get off the floor and glare at him. “Didn’t your mother teach you to be a man?”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “What are you doing here?”
“Following Benjamin. What are you doing here?”
“I’m sure you know my last home was burned down.” “You call that place home- nevermind.” He rolled his eyes at your insults. He walked out of the parlour and you followed him. “What did Benjamin want from you? Why did he look so mad?”
“What do you care?” He sighed exasperated, entering the study.
“He’s my friend.” You stated firmly as he sprawled himself over the chair across the mahogany desk.
“I’m starting to think he’s more than a friend.” He looked at you through the crystal glass he drank from.
“And if he is? What’s it to you?” You crossed your arms and you watched something flicker across his eyes. Disdain? Resentment? Jealousy?
“Screw him for all I care.” He looked away from you, sipping his drink. “Thanks, not that I was looking for permission.” You sigh, looking around the room. There seemed to be something familiar about this place.
“If you won’t tell me about Benjamin, at least tell me where Henry is?”
“He’s left London.” Scarlet stood up and made his way to the corner table to pour himself another drink. “And before you ask- no, he’s not on the run. He has business to deal with.” He looked at his glass and then at you. “I don’t suppose youd drink this.”
“No, but I’d be leaving soon anyways.” You turn around. “Without this?” You looked over your shoulder as you heard him open a drawer, and your breath hitched at what he’d pulled out.
The Time Machine.
“How did you-“
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you hiding under the desk in the club that night? I spotted the moment you’d entered, hanging off Henry’s arm.”
“I was hiding under-“
“I saw your stubby ankles sticking out from the side of the desk.” He played with the Time Machine, popping it in the air and catching it, your heart dropping for the exact amount of time it was in the air.
What if it broke?!
“I don’t know what this is, but I do know that this is important to you.” He looked at the machine. “When the fire broke out in the club, I returned to the study to grab some of Henry’s important documents and that’s when I grabbed it. I’ve had it for weeks now, and I still don’t know what it is.”
“It’s a clock.” You nod at the numbers written on it. “It shows the date and time simultaneously. I invented it.” The lie slipped though your teeth with ease. “I’m supposed to patent it and sell it, hopefully make a fortune out of it.”
“Impressive. But you don’t need a fortune now, do you?” He was referring to Silas’s money you’d inherited.
“Still. It’s something I created. It’s mine.” You insisted.
He smirked. “Well, then that means it’s invaluable.” You scowled at his tone. “What do you want for it? Money?”
“No, that’d be too easy.” He hummed. “I want you to give me something that would… torment you for a long time.” And then suddenly, his eyes shone bright, as if he got an idea.
“I want a kiss.”
“What?”
“Kiss me.” He walked up to you. “Kiss me, the cross-dresser pervert you hate so much, and you can have your little clock.”
“I don’t have time for jokes.”
“Clearly. I still have your clock.” He waved the machine in front of you, irking you.
Glaring daggers at him, you cross your arms across your chest. “You think I won’t do it because what? I’m a Muslim?”
He smirks. “You’re all bark and no bite, darling.”
You suddenly grab his collar and yank him close. “You want a kiss? Fine.” His eyes widened for a second before turning lustful, landing on your lips.
“Go ahead. Take the lead.” He smiled, looking into your eyes.
Exhaling inaudibly, you keep a firm a grip on his collar as you lean in, to stop him if he tries anything.
Just get it over with.
Time slowed down as you zeroed in on his lips. They were stained from the wine. He had a slight stubble, just beginning to grow. The rest of his skin was smooth, even with the makeup.
Stop stalling. Get it over with.
You gulp and just as you’re about to close the distance, the door suddenly bashes open as 3 masked men barge in.
Scarlett pulls away from you, both of you stepping back as the men begin stalk towards you.
Scarlett squared his shoulders. “Gentlemen, I suggest you walk away right now unless you want to be seriously hurt.”
That sentence alone was all it took for the masked men to lunge. You sidestepped as one jumped towards you while the other two men attacked Scarlett. Grabbing the crystal bottle from the corner, you bashed it against the man’s head, making him stumble. It gave you enough time to run, but as you ran down the hall towards the main door, it opened to reveal 2 more masked men. You twisted on your heel and ran through the door on your right, the parlour. You dashed towards the window and opened it, jumping out of it just as a hand grabbed your wrist, but your sleeve ripped and you slipped, falling down to the ground on your knees, scraping them.
Instead of your knees, you looked at the Time Machine in your hand. Yes, you’d swiped it the moment those men barged in. You didn’t have time to celebrate as you heard footsteps. Getting back on your feet, you ran towards the opposite end of the alley. You turned the corned and noticed the streets were way less busy than usual, which meant you couldn’t lose these attackers in the crowd.
Still, you screamed at the bystanders to help.
“Help! Those men are chasing me!”
Of course, they’d only looked on in shock. Someone even went back inside their house.
You ran towards a carriage at the end of the street, hoping to get in and use your machine to get out of this era, but two more masked men rounded the corner, making you change your step and dash towards the other side of the road and round that corner.
Looking over your shoulder for a second, you spotted four- no, five men hot on your heels. There’s no way you’ll be able to beat them on your own.
I need to get somewhere dark, somehwere isolated to use the damn machine without having one of these men grab onto me and travel with me to another time!
As you ran down the street, you looked over your shoulder one more time, only to crash into someone.
Strong hands grabbed onto you and you don’t think you’d ever been this glad to see a man.
“Y/n-?”
“BEN! THOSE MEN ARE CHASING ME!” You pointed at the masked men, who slowed down, strolling towards you two now.
Benjamin’s face hardened and he pushed you behind him. “There’s a cemetery down the road. Hide there. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”
You breathed heavily and then ran, spotting the cemetery. It was dark and considering how late it was now, you doubted there’d be any visitors.
It’s the perfect spot for you to use the machine.
Running into the cemetery, you immediately recognised it as the one where Sarah was buried. You jogged further in to find a hiding spot, lest any of the attackers manages to slip by Benjamin.
It was dark in the graveyard, only the moon illuminating the place. Just enough for you to find the trail that lead up to Sarah’s grave. On your way up the trail, you spotted the grave from the other day. The one that was dug up in advance but didn’t have a coffin.
It was filled now, mud piled over it messily.
You gulped, walking up to Sarah’s tombstone and resting against the tree, trying to catch your breath. As much you’d like to go help Benjamin, well truthfully, you couldn’t. It was clear the men were sent by Prince Albert to get rid of you, just like the other day.
Pulling out your machine, you began setting in the time.
Time to go home-
“Leaving without a goodbye?” You jumped back, startled. And if you weren’t scared before, the shadow of the tall man in the long coat and the top hat certainly was enough for your soul to leave your body.
The Ripper.
His face, still concealed by the dark night.
“Please- don’t-“ you backed away. He titled his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just came to bid you farewell.”
You were too mortified to express your confusion.
He sighs. “I had hoped you’d stay long enough to play the game with me, especially now that you were so close to winning.” Game? Winning?
He looked away from you and towards the grave, the fresh one.
“But I suppose the reward is just not good enough. Oh well. At least, I don’t have to clean up after this one.”
You followed his gaze to the grave and then looked back at him, then back again at him. The horrifying realisation slapped you in the face.
“SILAS!” You dashed towards the grave, stopping in disbelief but one look at the man on the trail had you falling to your knees as you began digging through the dirt, the machine discarded.
The mud was still wet, which meant that he had been buried today, possibly a few hours ago.
Was he dead? Or was he buried alive? You didn’t know which answer petrified you more.
You were breathing fast, hyperventilating as your hands shoveled the dirt for god knows how long.
This is an unmarked grave. It doesn’t even have a tombstone. No one would’ve found him if you’d left-
Your hands felt something hard and you knew you were close to finding the coffin. Moments later you’d finally been able to shove dirt off to reveal a pale wooden coffin. But no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t budge open, it was like it was nailed shut.
That didn’t stop you from starting to bang your fists in. The wood was off poor quality, not solid wood but you doubt it was going to stop you from breaking it open.
You just needed to see him, needed to see his face.
Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you punched over and over until your knuckles began bleeding, but you didn’t let it deter you. No. You didn’t stop punching until the wood began to splinter and finally a hole formed as the wood gave out.
With a grunt, you ripped the wood from crevice and saw him.
“SILAS!” He was lying there, going in and out of consciousness. He was alive! “Silas! Get up! We need to get out of here- SILAS!”
You attempted to pull him out but that was much harder when he was a dead weight and he slipped out of your grasp and back into the coffin. He was drowsy, probably either drugged or from the lack of oxygen when he was inside the coffin. But you needed him to get a grip.
So you slapped him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!” Silas only stared at you, in disbelief? In shock? He didn’t say a word, but he was more conscious, though still weak as you helped him up.
You climbed out of the grave and then pulled him up, but as soon as he was out, he was suddenly struck by a metal rod, making him fall. “Silas!” You dove towards him and shoved the man away from him, making him appear into the moonlight and revealing himself to be-
William? Silas’s uncle?
“No!” You shielded Silas with your arms as he struck again, hitting you. “Stop! You’ll kill him!”
“Good! I’ll get rid of you two together and get my damn money at once.” You jumped over Silas to shield him, as his uncle began raining down strike after strike, not stopping as you screamed in pain.
You blacked out and it was Silas who had to witness from the corner of his eyes as a figure came up behind his uncle and grabbed him by the throat. The metal rod fell to the ground with a clang and one second, his uncle was being choked and in the next, his throat was slashed.
The tall figure turned towards you two and slowly made his way to Y/n, looking directly at Silas as he knelt down and picked you up.
“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want,
What you want becomes the sacrifice.” He said, looking down at you as he caressed your cheek.
He looked back at Silas.
“You’ll never see her again.” He said, turning around and leaving.
Silas tried to move, but he couldn’t. Pain and exhaustion overtook him, with only one thought haunting him.
The Ripper had taken you.

Thoughts?
#time traveller au#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere x you#yandere baldwin#baldwin iv#yandere silas#Silas FitzGeorge#yandere x#jack the ripper
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one thing about steve harrington is that he sucks at doing nothing. like he has to be doing something with himself lest the guy waste away. this has led to him being very good at fucking around with things especially when its something relatively quiet. the loudest steve will let himself keep his hands busy while stuck idle is tossing whatever's in his hand to himself and catching it, which usually bodes well for sports practice after coach learned that just because he was moving didnt mean he wasnt paying attention(usually the opposite).
he learned how to flip a pencil around his thumb in middle school and seeing someone in one of the meetings he sat in on doing it. he'll twirl anything he can around in his hand, especially while he was working in the mall. the scoopers were perfect for it. and any way youve seen a drummer/percussionist fiddle with a drumstick, steve knew he had to replicate it.
but even with all this movement and the fact the guy was barely ever not moving, it seemed like no one noticed it ever. a fact that nearly drove eddie insane when they were in high school together. because he did have the reputation of being restless, and in a constant state of movement. and he probably fucked around with random shit less, so how did steve "the hair" harrington not end up with the same reputation? the answer was just that he was way more quiet("and sneaky" -eddie) about it. and if the teacher hated when their students fiddled and futzed he'd be sure to try and keep the movement below his desk.
but it not that he only has to keep his hands busy. no no no, if bored or stuck waiting, and that won't suffice, steve harrington will pick up anything with words just to read it. anything. outdated newspapers, ingredients lists, magazines of any topic. he just mindlessly grabs for whatever and starts fucking reading. Robin could swear under oath to a court that her best friend has read the back of every vhs in family video. hell, she's seen him reading drugstore novels, like the fucking grandma smut and books with cover art of nicely dressed ladies running from a castle. and its her jock best friend reading it, instead of some repressed suburban woman who hates her husband. yes, this information is the bane of robin buckley's exsistance because its not like anyone would believe her.
idk just give me steve being restless but doing it quietly enough that no one really picks up on it.
#listen we've all seen the gifs of steve messing around with the scooper in s3 or him doing the same thing with a flashlight in s2#and i was like ok what if i added to that? and what if when hes waiting hes reaches blindly for something to read?#and steve reading drugstore bodice ripper novels is something i can't unsee and i needed to share it#steve harrington#stranger things#robin buckley#platonic stobin#she's so done with his shit(affectionate).#eddie munson#steddie#not exactly. but like eddie being pissed off about steve existing is kinda just shorthand for a crush atp#the party will bust into family video and steve is just reading the back of a bag of an m&ms#am i projecting? a little but we've seen this in canon so extrapolation cant hurt.#if you want real projecting ask me about my headcanon about steve and manga#headcannons
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RoR Incorrect quotes#164 Our Dadam
Adam*Smiles as his ADULT children cling to him as he hugs them*Now,Repeat after me~..."I'm Big"
Human Fighters, Cain & Abel + Y/n*Sniffling as you look at him* I'M BIG!
Adam*Humming proudly*"I'm Brave"
Human Fighters, Cain & Abel + Y/n*With breaking voices nodding*"I-I'm brave"!
Adam*One by one he lays a fatherly peck on your foreheads*..."I'm BEAUTIFUL"
Human Fighters, Cain & Abel + Y/n*Trembling lips and sniffles as you cling to his arms, legs, and waist...any place to hug him as you all cry out*"I'M BEAUTIFUL"!!!
Adam*Opens his arms wider to hug each of you closer to him smiling tenderly*There there~Gimme huggies~
Gods/Goddesses:...
#record of ragnarok#shuumatsu no valkyrie#ror#snv#record of ragnarok x reader#shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader#ror adam#snv adam#ror lu bu#snv lu bu#ror kojiro sasaki#snv kojiro sasaki#ror jack the ripper#snv jack the ripper#ror nikola tesla#snv nikola tesla#ror raiden tameemon#snv raiden#ror qin shi huang#snv qin shi huang#ror buddha#snv buddha#ror leonidas#snv leonidas#ror soji okita#snv soki okita#ror fluff#snv fluff#ror incorrect quotes#snv incorrect quotes
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His goofy ass in that plastic suit... he keeps getting away with everything
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Why does posting for a new fandom feel like walking into a bar and having everyone just stare at you. Like I'm sorry I'm new here pls don't hurt me
#scp foundation#the magnus archives#the raven cycle#the shadowhuter chronicles#the secret history#all for the game#stalking jack the ripper#welcome to night vale#trc#aftg#tsc#tsh#six of crows#posting for the scp foundation like: am i allowed to be here???#grishaverse#pjo hoo toa#percy jackson#the dreamer trilogy#musicals#if we were villains#re: dracula#good omens#scp fandom#book fandom#tma
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been in a metal gear mood...
#metal gear solid#metal gear solid 2#metal gear rising#metal gear rising revengeance#raiden#jack the ripper#mgs#mgs2#nickelcrackart
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Me, Jealous?
pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: jealous hannibal lecter, reader is amused, not hannibal (nbc) canon,
A date at the opera was hardly what you would call romantic. The venue itself might’ve been grand—old, world architecture with gilded flourishes on the ceiling and plush velvet seats arranged in perfect rows—but everything about it felt like a stage set for egos. Brighter-than-necessary overhead lighting illuminated acres of expensive fabrics—lustrous silk gowns and tailored tuxedos that cost more than what most people made in a month—and you could all but taste the arrogance in the air.
It wasn’t your ideal location for a date by any stretch, but your husband had turned on his rare brand of doe-eyed pleading, sweetly murmuring “Please?” in that honeyed timbre that usually meant he had something up his sleeve. You should have guessed there was more to his insistence. In fact, you’d sensed an undercurrent of excitement radiating off of him from the moment you’d left your shared home. It became painfully obvious why he was so eager once you arrived and found him being whisked away by a woman whose understanding of personal boundaries seemed nonexistent.
You didn’t recognize her, and maybe she truly had no idea Hannibal was spoken for—or maybe she was fully aware and enjoying the attention anyway. Possessively, she clung to Hannibal’s arm, her manicured nails splayed like a decorative cuff on his impeccable suit sleeve. Her laughter at his every remark was irritatingly saccharine, the type that left you rolling your eyes behind the rim of your champagne flute.
Hannibal, naturally, glanced your way every so often. He had a certain glint in his eye—like a cat playing with its prey—anticipating your jealousy. A lesser spouse might have felt their heart clench, might have shot daggers at the other woman or stormed over to reclaim their partner. But you’d been through these small tests before. This was Hannibal’s game, and he loved to provoke a reaction just to study it, to taste it the way he might taste a fine wine. But you knew better than to give him exactly what he wanted without having him ask sweetly.
Leaning against a marble column, you let your gaze skim over the crowd. Most of the attendees were too busy boasting about their knowledge of obscure operas or discussing the perfect brand of caviar to notice you, but you still felt a few curious stares. Being Dr. Lecter’s husband was a precarious sort of prestige—people either hovered like anxious sycophants hoping to impress you, or they observed you from a distance with feline curiosity. Tonight, though, you simply had no patience for idle chit-chat. If Hannibal wanted to play, let him. It wouldn't cause a rift in your relationship like others might believe. Because that was the unspoken truth: no matter how many admirers clung to his arm, Hannibal’s nights were solely yours. It was you he felt anything akin to love.
Your eyes continued to roam the opulent hall: heavy drapes fell from high windows, shimmering under the bright chandeliers. The murmur of voices rose like tidal swells, and snippets of classical music drifted in from the stage where the orchestra had tuned mere moments ago. It was then that you caught sight of someone else—a man with neatly combed dark hair and a tailored suit that fit him so flawlessly it seemed hand-stitched. You recognized him vaguely; he’d been polite when you first entered, a quick hello exchanged in passing while the audience was still finding their seats.
Now, he stepped away from a small group he’d been conversing with and headed in your direction. Despite the chatter around you, his voice was pitched low when he finally spoke, creating a sense of intimacy amid the bustle. “Good evening,” he greeted. “I see we meet again.”
You inclined your head politely. “We do. Enjoying the performance?”
“I’ll be honest—I’m not much of an opera fan. But I make appearances when necessary.” He motioned around him, lips curving in a self-aware smirk. “Comes with the territory, I suppose.”
You let out a laugh—short, genuine, and surprising even to yourself. “I can relate.” You took a sip of champagne, feeling its effervescence linger on your tongue, and cast a glance across the hall to find Hannibal watching you. He stood a few paces away from his clingy companion, but his gaze was entirely fixed on you. You could practically feel the heat of his scrutiny.
The newcomer followed your line of sight. “Husband?”
You nodded. “That’s him,” you confirmed, swirling the champagne in your glass to give your hands something to do. “He’s…quite sociable tonight.”
“Lucky man,” the stranger said, his brown eyes gleaming with sincere admiration. He leaned in just enough to keep his words between the two of you. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I’d much rather chat with you than half the people here. You seem—” he paused, searching for a precise term—“less rehearsed.”
Your lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
And honestly, it was. In a sea of plastic smiles and pretentious laughter, Adam was a breath of fresh air. He asked about you in a way that felt genuine—inquiring politely about the arts, about your tastes, about what you liked doing in your free time. The conversation flowed so effortlessly that you didn’t notice the time slipping by.
For nearly an hour, you and Adam talked, a soft bubble of quiet warmth in the midst of the bustling foyer. Eventually, the bell sounded to signal the final act was about to start. Adam extracted a slim black business card from his wallet and handed it to you, smiling. “Let me know if you ever want a less formal chat. I’d like that.”
You looked down at the card and then back at him, feeling amusement dance along your features. “I’ll consider it,” you said, inclining your head in gratitude.
He nodded his goodbye, rejoining the flow of people returning to their seats. Suddenly aware of how your heart beat just a bit faster, you turned and found Hannibal already at your side, the tension emanating from him as palpable as the hush that once again fell over the audience. He offered you a measured smile—overly polite. The humor never touched his eyes, and his hand came to rest protectively (or possessively, depending on perspective) around your waist.
As the two of you made your way back into the darkened auditorium, Hannibal’s grip did not loosen. It was as though he wanted the entire opera house to see exactly to whom you belonged. His free hand brushed down the front of his suit in an almost nervous gesture—though he’d label it a mere habit. The moment you settled into your plush seats, you could feel his gaze flicker to the business card in your hand. There was a storm in that glance, a controlled fury that might have burst into a full hurricane if not for the need to maintain civility in public.
Slyly, you slid the card into your pocket without breaking eye contact, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. You could imagine the wheels in Hannibal’s mind spinning: envy, curiosity, possessiveness, all swirling like a tempest. And you? You were calm—steady. His petty pageantry in parading around with another woman felt all the more transparent now that he watched you with such thinly-veiled anger.
Yes, Hannibal Lecter was a possessive man, a petty, petulant prince if ever there was one. But you knew just how to handle him. Smoothing the lapel of your own jacket, you let the lights dim around you. The orchestra swelled, the final act beginning, and Hannibal’s hand tightened over your own. You felt a rush of satisfaction that cut through the boredom of the night, a sense of triumph in how quickly the tables had turned.
By the time you and Hannibal exit the opera house, the swell of applause still echoing behind you, the tension between you is palpable. You trail after him through the opulent lobby—your pace unhurried despite the stony silence radiating off his shoulders. Outside, the Bentley gleams under the streetlights, and Hannibal unlocks it with a snap of his wrist that betrays his simmering mood.
He slides behind the wheel, and you settle in the passenger seat. There was no music playing, not even the subdued hum of classical radio that Hannibal often preferred. He eases the car away from the curb with smooth precision, but his knuckles stand out white on the steering wheel, his maroon eyes fixed ahead. In the hush of the Bentley’s interior, you can almost feel his anger swirl like a tangible thing. Where others might quake at that quiet fury, you find yourself quietly amused. You’ve seen the beast’s temper before; this is just another piece on the chessboard.
The drive home feels longer than usual, the only sound the rhythmic hum of the tires and the low purr of the engine. You steal a glance his way every so often, noting how his jaw tightens, how his lips press into a line. He’s stewing. But you allow the silence to remain unbroken, letting him feel the full brunt of his own jealousy. If Hannibal truly wanted this result—wanted to provoke or be provoked—he can drown in it for a while. A small, satisfied smirk forms at the corner of your mouth before you quickly wipe it away.
When the Bentley glides up the winding driveway to your home, Hannibal parks with more force than necessary. The headlights cut off abruptly, and for a moment, neither of you moves. You can sense him hesitating, perhaps wrestling with the possibility of speaking first. Then he sets his jaw and steps out, slamming the door behind him with quiet aggression.
Inside the house, the familiar warmth of low lamps and the faint aroma of polished wood greet you. You shrug off your coat and hang it neatly by the door. Hannibal’s own coat is flung onto a nearby chair with none of his usual precision. He’s already stalking through the foyer, shoulders rigid, making a pointed show of ignoring you. That’s how you know he’s furious: Hannibal never leaves his clothing in disarray without intending it as a message.
You follow him into the sitting room, where he has paused in front of the fireplace, one hand curled at his side. “Was it fun?” he asks without turning around. His voice is taut, every syllable thick with petty jealousy.
“Surprisingly, yes,” you reply, taking measured steps toward him. “Given the circumstances.”
He swivels to face you, maroon eyes narrowing. “I suppose I should be pleased you enjoyed yourself.” There is no pleasure in his tone—only an accusation, a reminder that his own orchestrations haven’t played out the way he intended.
You hold his gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’m not the one who spent half the evening being clung to by someone who didn’t know how to keep her hands to herself.”
Hannibal’s lips twitch, and for a moment, you think he might admit to his mischief. Instead, he inhales slowly, as though collecting himself. His voice drops. “I want to see that business card.”
A short laugh escapes you. He’s come straight to the point, then—jealousy still raw. “What business card?” you ask innocently, already knowing he saw the whole exchange.
“Don’t pretend with me,” he snaps, more sharply than usual. “This—this Adam, or whatever he calls himself. Why would you need to keep his details if you have no intention of—?”
You step closer, crossing the room until you’re mere inches away, resting a hand lightly on his lapel. “I assure you—I merely think he could be a good friend,” you say, your tone calm, soothing. “And please don’t pretend it doesn’t suit you to have me cultivate connections. You’ve pushed me into social circles all this time; was it only acceptable when you pulled the strings?”
Hannibal’s eyes flick to your hand on his jacket, and in that micro-moment, you sense the conflict in him: the desire to shake you off versus his need to feel your touch. When he speaks again, his voice is clipped. “You don’t need a friend like him. I know his sort.”
You arch an eyebrow. “Considering you barely spoke to him, that’s quite an assumption.”
His expression darkens. “I’m not asking for your opinion. I’m telling you. Give me the card, and forget about him.” He’s trying to reassert control—like a child demanding a toy be taken away so nobody else can play with it. You let the silence stretch, your fingers sliding up to smooth the lapel of his suit. You’re not trying to antagonize him, not exactly. But neither are you in the habit of rolling over for his demands.
“Hannibal, you know that I love you. But no, you can’t have the card.”
His nostrils flare; he’s on the precipice between fury and something else—hurt, maybe. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, an unspoken assurance that all his insecurities don’t need to exist. He’s still yours, and you are his. “I’m not keeping it from you to be cruel,” you murmur. “But I do enjoy his company. Don't kill him just because you felt threatened."
His response is a quick, sneering exhale. “Threatened,” he repeats incredulously, as if the concept is beneath him. But the tension around his eyes says otherwise. You guide him backward until his legs meet the edge of the armchair, urging him to sit. He settles, still bristling. Standing before him, you slide one hand through his hair, letting him feel your affectionate calm.
“I don’t want to fight,” you say quietly, “especially not about something so small.”
“There wouldn’t be a fight if you would just—”
“—hand it over?” you finish for him, smiling ruefully. “Let it be, Hannibal. If you want to grill me about Adam, do so tomorrow. Right now, we’ve both had a long day.”
He looks up at you, and for a moment, the flash in his maroon eyes reminds you of a predator debating whether to lunge or retreat. But then his gaze softens, ever so slightly, and he exhales. You recognize this as a truce—a temporary surrender in a war of wits and possessiveness that defines your relationship.
Slowly, you lean down, capturing his lips in a quiet kiss meant to soothe. After a second’s hesitation, he kisses you back, and you feel the rigid line of his shoulders relax beneath your touch. The two of you remain that way for a breath or two—locked in a silent détente—until he finally pulls back. The storm in his expression still lingers, but there’s the promise of a calmer tomorrow.
You trace your thumb along his jaw. “Come to bed,” you suggest gently. “We can talk in the morning if you still feel so strongly.”
Hannibal nods once, gaze flickering with unresolved emotions. He stands, tugging you closer by the waist in a gesture that speaks of both affection and ownership. “Just remember,” he murmurs, voice low and controlled, “you belong to me.”
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