#that make you lust over the ugliest man imaginable

[babblingeccentric]

Marco NSFW ABC headcanons

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's attentive and sweet about cleaning you up but he really isn't a fan of pillow talk. He wants to sit quietly in the peace of post orgasm and stare out the window maybe have a rare smoke. He'll cuddle you if you ask and are quiet about it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his legs. And his chest. And his wings.

He'll lie and say he's a tits man but what he really likes is his partner's face.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It's vaguely sweet since he eats a lot of fruit and he likes coming on your thighs and stomach

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Doesn't really have any. He's private about his sex life compared to a lot of other guys because he doesn't brag but he doesn't really feel shame about his sexual desires. I do think he'd be a little ashamed of having a partner much younger than him in a relationship. He doesn't want people to think he's taking advantage of you, even if he does find your ingenue vibe very attractive

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced but you don't know it until you get him into bed. He doesn't like to brag. His previous conquests will do that for him

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes it when you're on your back on the bed or the desk or the counter and hes standing up

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Slightly more to the goofy side, simply as a way to defuse the tension. He likes to make his partner feel comfortable. He also just doesn't take stuff too seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't have a lot of body hair and his bush kinda matches his head hair and looks like an upside down palm tree. Don't laugh at it he'll get cranky

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He tends to have more casual sex than actual relationships, and he's not really a super romantic guy either. I think his love language is quality time. Anyway I think he's a good lover he's just not very intimate or romantic about it usually. I think the intimacy is more something that evolves naturally from when he keeps coming back if I'm making sense

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Usually does it in the shower because it's the most reliable time and place that he gets left alone. Somebody's always asking him to reattach their pinky or look at their weird rash on this ship

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Brat tamer. He likes a little challenge to his authority. And an excuse to punish.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom is a classic but due to aforementioned vying for his time anywhere with a lock on the door is his preference. Some people on this ship don't know how to knock.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He really likes it when you get dressed up all nice for him. He likes a little insubordination too.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's not into any serious edgeplay where he has to be super careful about managing your safety- breathplay, suspension, knife or gunplay, cutting or whipping, stuff like that. He also hates if you do something just cause it gets him off. It's important to him that you're just as into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Eats pussy absolutely spectacularly and enjoys it, it's an open secret among the nurses who absolutely take advantage. Can appreciate a good blowjob as a quick and easy way to get off but he doesn't like to suck dick very much himself.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

Tends toward hard and steady but a little on the slow side. He likes to take his time with good things in life.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said he likes to take his time, so he's not huge into quickies. But if a partner initiates one he's not going to say no.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn't like super risky kink where he genuinely has to worry about harming you. However he does like making you struggle to be quiet so you don't get caught. He's pretty game to experiment otherwise though.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Can last a good while but he's too old cum more than once an hour these days.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He's got one or two, a Fleshlight and maybe a vibrator or dildo. He usually uses them on himself but if a partner shows interest he'll use them on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Definitely a bit of a tease. He likes taking his time and making a partner beg for it before finally giving it to them. But he can also be pretty giving and indulgent it honestly depends on his mood.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's a pretty quiet guy naturally. He'll grunt and moan softly and swear a little. But he's not usually very loud or talkative.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Generally a top, and was pretty strict about it when he was younger but he loosened up a bit as he got older. Now he'll bottom very occasionally if he's in the mood for it and it's pretty spectacular.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's got chicken legs despite them being his strongest body part. He shaves his chest hair so his tattoo is visible. Respectably average dick. Uncircumcised. Used to have a tan line from his stupid anklet. Still has a sandals tan.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty average. It's not high but it'll keep you satisfied.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

One of those weird guys who doesn't get sleepy after sex. He likes to just sit quietly and stare out the window. He prefers a partner that falls asleep immediately because then he gets his peace and quiet. And he likes to watch his partner sleep because he thinks it's cute.

[thecallthatchangemydestiny]

DOMINIC LUCA ONE-SHOT

-I don’t think this is a good idea- said Jessica Cortez to her friend

-it’s our only chance- said Maya - plus… I like dancing- Jessica sighted, indeed it was the only way to take down the Russian gang down. The plan was simple, Maya going to the strip club, making the boss ask for a private dance and making him talk.

-Okay, you’re going tomorrow-

-everything is going to be fine- said Maya with a big smile-well I’m going to set everything, see you tomorrow- Maya leave the place while Jessica called her SWAT team.

-Hondo, Luca you’re staying with her as the “bodyguards” if she says bring me the wine is the safe word to attack.-Luca an Hondo hesitated, Maya has never been in action before so they feel nervous about this whole operation. -Deac, Tan, Chris and Street are going to stay outside waiting for your signal to enter Hondo.-

-Okay, let’s get ready- said Hondo watching Luca, and everybody left the room.

•The next day•

-I’m ready- said Maya entering the room with a beautiful (and short) gold dress, her beautiful long hair was loose and her makeup was just sparkling… all of her looked like gold. All the eyes where on her but she didn’t even notice, all her focus was on the operation.

-Okay remember Maya- said Hondo in his bodyguard disguise -you’re Ramona, the star of the strip club and you hire Rooster and Gene as your bodyguards- Maya said yes with your head, she notice how Luca was silent looking at her, he seemed nervous but she couldn’t get why, he was always excited and ready for a mission.

-Yes Gene, don’t worry- Maya winked her eye at both of them- let’s get going, my show is about to start!-

-I’ll be fine- said maya behind the stage with her mic on so Luca and Hondo could hear-I got you guys taking care of me, nothing could go wrong.- with that said Luca smiled.

-And now the star of our show…- began to said the owner of the club

-Okay he’s in the first row- began to said Luca to the mic -white as a ghost, red suit and the ugliest face I’ve ever seen- Maya laughed, she feel relived now that Luca was more calm.

-RAMONA- and with that said, Maya enter the stage dancing, she could feel the lust eyes of Sergej, the Russian, all over her body.

-Hey Luca, when I said eyes on her all the time I don’t meant like THAT- Hondo laughed while looking at Luca, who couldn’t care less about what Hondo was saying, he was only looking at her. But the ones out the strip waiting for Hondo signal where laughing imagining the scene.

-Excuse me, are you Ramona’s bodyguard?- said a guy approaching Luca, who returned to his reality

-Yes, me and my friend Gene over there- said Luca in a serious tone pointing at Hondo who was across the room.

-Good, my boss would like a private time with her- Luca had mixed feelings, happy because everything was going as planned but angry and nervous of that man being too close to Maya.

-Absolutely, do you have the money to pay her private time?

-Of course with do- said that man with a funny tone, making fun of that question.

-Come with us- said Luca and he took the man and Sergej to the room where Maya was.

-You’re absolutely beautiful- said Sergej with a really strong Russian accent and an evil smile -and you’re dance was spectacular!- Maya give a fake smile, but yet, a nice one so Sergej didn’t even notice it wasn’t sincere.

-thank you sir.- Maya begin to say with a flirty tone of voice -you’re too kind.- the Russian bodyguard was near Luca and Hondo who were in front of the door watching the whole interaction, but Luca was more focus on her.

-I want you to be my partner, my girlfriend- said the Russian man to her, she was surprised, she wasn’t expecting that preposition - You’re beautiful and I’m going to give you everything you want, you can leave thin place forever.- Luca and Hondo looked at Maya, who was analyzing what to say

-do you know how many man have told me that they’re going to take me out of here?- said Maya getting closer to Sergej -How can I know you’re telling the truth?-

-Tell your bodyguards to leave- said the Russian pointing Hondo and Luca -and I’ll tell you- Luca was worried, and very angry ¿why he wanted them to leave? ¿What if he does something to her?

-Fine- said Maya looking at Luca -but tell also your man to leave- and with that said, Sergej said something in Russian and his man got out the room. -Rooster, Gene- continue Maya -please also leave- Hondo leave but Luca stay a little bit longer, looking at her, promising to himself to always take care of her. And just then, he left the room.-

A few minutes had passed but from outside the room nothing could be heard.

-stop going around so many times, you’re going to make me dizzy- said Hondo looking how Luca was nervously going around

-Sorry man, I’m just nervous- said Luca standing in front of him -I don’t like the silence-

-I know, but everything is going fine, so don’t worry- Luca smiled a little bit

-Rooster, Gene- shouted Maya -Can you bring the wine, please?- Luca and Hondo looked at each other, that was the sign.

-Bring the wine to the star- said Hondo to the mic, for Deac and the other squad to hear. -Let’s go- and with that said, Hondo run to room and shouted -LAPD EVERYBODY TO THE GROUND- the Russian man take out the gun and began to shoot Luca and Hondo, while Sergej punched Maya and took her pointing a gun to her head. Hondo took down the Russian, and Luca looked at Maya.

-Let her go- said Luca furious pointing with his gun at Sergej -NOW- Maya stomped her foot hard with her heel, making the other man shout with pain while Luca shoot him in the shoulder and taking Maya into his arms.

-Hey Rooster- said Maya getting closer to Luca, she was in the doctor the whole night because of the injuries Sergej left to Maya after the hit he gave her, Luca stayed at the hospital waiting for her.

-Hey! Maya- Luca hugged her, he was worried about her -how are you feeling?-

-better, we got him, that’s all that matters- and she have him a huge and beautiful smile.

-I was worried about you.-

-I know-

-how do you know that?- said Luca funny

-You’ve got your mic on this whole time- and then his smile disappeared, she could hear how he admitted to Chris and Street his mad crush on her, how Hondo make fun of him and how obvious he was… his whole face got red while Maya laughed with tenderness.

-Maya… I’m so sorry, I didn’t…- and than she interrupted him with a kiss.-

-I had a big mad crush on you too-

[venturesofviolentviolet]

Sad girlz are the prettiest aren’t they?

Romanticize my slit my throat era

The blankest stare

Words won’t even slip out

Can never say what I want to say

Cause we all have anxiety

But not everyone’s lying to you just me

But truth sounds different to you and me

So what is there to say

You’re bipolar when you want to be

But when I’m bipolar it’s just me

Cause for someone who says they know

You don’t seem to get it at all

If it’s convenient for you

I’ll say nothing at all

——————

I don’t want you to look at me when we’re alone

Cause when we’re not it feels like you’re looking everywhere else

and whether or not it’s on purpose

Or happening at all

Nothing I say could make me feel better

Because nothing you say will convince me

Cause no matter how many stories you tell

I watched your eyes

And if I tell you where your eyes go

You will tell me they never moved at all

Even if you have to say they were closed

Which they weren’t

But I get closer and closer to being convinced

That I’m going crazy

And I don’t know what eyes even are

And suddenly I’m not thinking about eyes at all

I’d rather sit here with my throat for a moment

Because I don’t know what’s real

So I’ll focus on the one thing I know

Which is that I can feel my throat

And my chest hurts

And my eyes are sore from

Crying

But don’t look at me now

You’ll throw off my whole balance

I’ll unnaturally stretch

And avoid eye contact

And I’m stretching my calves

With my mind having no where to go

Because I have nothing to say

And I can’t even pretend to be your friend

Because my head is fucked up

And talking and not talking makes it worse

And I’m slowly slipping back under

And no matter how many times or how many ways I say it

It never stops it from happening

And you should be the one person I want to talk to about it

But when we’re together I just feel alone

Cause if I said what I was thinking

You’d freak out

There’d be a fight

And nothing would be resolved

I’d still be anxious

And you’d still be completely innocent while saying I’m sorry

And you’d ask me for the millionth time what will help this

And I’ll say how if I knew I’d be doing it

And I’ll feel bad for being depressed

Which only makes it worse

And we’ll go round in circles

And maybe things will change

But probably they’ll just stay the same

And I’m not sure how much more numb I can be

Because I’ve exhausted most of my mind

And there’s no where else to go

But I’m not getting better

And no amount of reassurance from you could change my mind

When my mind has already declared you an enemy

And I know I love you

And I know I don’t love being alive

And I know I don’t know what love is

But if I do it might hurt more than I can bear

But being alone is a gnawing hunger

And love is more like a deep abyss

I’m more comfortable in one of those

But it’s not about being alone

It’s about if I’ll ever be happy

And I worry if you’ll be happy too

But when I feel like this

I wonder if you’re the reason I’m unhappy

Or if I’m just latching all my anxiety onto you

————-

I feel like the ugliest girl alive

And when I see your eyes follow them

It doesn’t confirm it

It just confirms how little you care

If you can so flippantly look at another girl’s body

Like the movies we watch

Girls delivered to your eyes in perfect shapes and colors

For you to stare and fantasize and lie about

Because the truth makes you uncomfortable

That you have no control over your hunger

Cause sexuality was made to benefit men

And they seldom question it

And have no reason to

Cause they haven’t experienced our side

And wouldn’t want to

Imagine if women devoured images of men in the same way

Having to hide their eyes away from where they would look if not being looked at

Because even if the most beautiful man, completely naked, walked past me

I wouldn’t stare

Or have reason to

But lust for women is unnatural

Men can’t look away

And they are ashamed

But not ashamed enough to stop

And you can blame hormones

Or social media

Or brain development

But it’s happening

And I see it

And I am deeply uncomfortable

Because the way men stare

Makes me never want to be stared at again

Because your eyes tracing my body parts feels like disrespect, and dirty, uncontrolled thoughts

Not a compliment to my figure

Because if it was a compliment

You wouldn’t have to look away when caught

And it wouldn’t make us uncomfortable

But men don’t care about our comfort

As long as their eyes get to endlessly look wherever they want

Because it is comfortable to them

To constantly demean us by treating us like cattle on the auctioning block

Pulling at our lips to see our teeth

And greedily laughing at the sick joke

Every woman bent over is a natural target

Anyone in tight clothing

A small waist

A pretty face

Just something

To stare at

Because blood is more valuable to the penis than brain these days

Unless the algorithm is wrong

What would I know

Just a girl forced into the trade

Who sells ass and face as my most prizeworthy possessions

Because as soon as my period started

A man told me so

Even when it was illegal

And even when I said no

So why am I so quiet?

Because no one listens

So what’s the point

And to the men who say

What about us?

We’re victims too

When the comics of buff men were made

You drew them

And even though girls talk about dick sizes

You won’t catch us looking

Or trying not to by looking away

Or subconsciously or consciously looking more than we should

Are we who we are or who we chose to be or who men told us to be?

Would this ever cross my mind if women wrote the history books?

Maybe I’d have a man just as self conscious as me

And maybe it would be my turn to tell them their anxieties are not real, and not my problem

And I’d laugh extra hard at the hot man’s jokes at work

And watch movies written by women, for women to drool over men’s bodies endlessly

And if a man complained, I’d say I wouldn’t know

Cause I wouldn’t know

[kpop---scenarios]

Torn Between Two

Part One! 

Demon! Kris Wu x Demon! Kim Jongin x Reader 

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 3.4k 

A/N: Hope you enjoy! @uwu-yifan​

Do you ever get the feeling there are eyes on you, but no one is around? You hear whispers in the wind but tell yourself you’re hearing things? Do you ever dream about two handsome strangers that you’ve never seen before? You didn’t always, but in the last few months, you’ve dreamt of the same two insanely attractive men. The two men with black eyes, one with white hair and one with grey hair. Everyday that you woke up, you felt the urge to know them more and more. You wanted to meet them, touch them and know they’re real and not just something you conjured up in dreamland. Most of the time by noon, you’d already forgotten about the men in your dreams and focused on your day and the man you had been seeing, Chanyeol. Chanyeol was nice, tall, funny, polite and not to mention the muscles. He was a little nicer than you usually went for but you decided to give him a chance after he begged you to give him one and you had to admit you were glad you did. You were having a lot of fun with him but you weren’t planning on having anything really serious with him. And because you weren’t serious with him, you didn’t tell him about your dreams, or your lust for two men you didn’t know, or the fact that you fantasized about both of them while Chanyeol was fucking you. Did you feel bad? Of course. Were you going to stop? Absolutely not. The way they touched you in your dreams, the way they made you moan, the way they could make you cum, woke you up, panting and agonizing for more. That’s part of the reason you said yes to Chanyeol as well.. when you woke up in the middle of the night, horny as all hell, you were able to call him to come help you out, which was better than doing it yourself. After you and Chanyeol were finished, he usually left because you had to get up for work, even though he tried to stay over a few times but you refused. You didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, even though you’d told him before that you didn’t want anything serious, he was adamant on changing your mind which wasn’t going to work. ** On Friday Chanyeol had called you to ask you if you wanted to go to a concert with him that night, you didn’t have anything else to do so you agreed. After work, you went home to shower and get ready for your outing with Chanyeol. He was taking you to see Jay Park, who was one of your favorite rappers. You had decided to wear tight black ripped jeans, along with a white crop top, your hair down and your make up dark and smokey. Chanyeol picked you up at 8pm, on the dot. He was never late to pick you up, being punctual was something he was very proud of. ** Arriving at the venue, the two of you managed to get a spot near the centre of the stage. After Chanyeol had made sure that you were okay, he left to get you two  few drinks. He returned just seconds before the show started, with three drinks for you and one for him, since he wasn’t much of a partier anyways, but he knew you liked to have fun. A few hours into the concert you yell to Chanyeol that you’re going to attempt to find a bathroom, he nodded as you turned around. Your eyes scanned over the crowd, but landed on two very familiar faces. Your eyes went wide as you see the two men you had been dreaming about for months. You thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest. You see one whispering in the others ear before they both turn to look at you, their faces straight. You close your eyes and shake your head before opening your eyes again in hopes that it was all your imagination, but it wasn’t. The two men still stood there, now smirking at you. The taller one with grey hair licked his lips as he looked your body up and down. The one with white hair gave you a sly wink along with his smirk. Both of them soaking your panties immediately. Chanyeol turns his head seeing you still standing there and asks you what you’re doing. You look at him quickly to answer but you turn your head back to look at the men who had now vanished. You stood there for a moment, wondering if what you had seen was all in your head or if they had actually been there? “Are you going to the bathroom?” Chanyeol asks. “Oh, uh yeah. I’ll be right back" you say, shaking your head before moving through the tight crowd of people. After you finish, you stand in front of the mirror, thinking about the two men you saw. You were sure that they had been there, but if they really were, how did they vanish so quickly. You drop your head down, giving it another small shake before you sigh. “What the fuck is wrong with me" you groan. “I think you’re absolutely perfect” you hear a man's voice purr. Your head shoots up, looking into the corner of the bathroom, there stands one of the men, the one with white hair. “just breathtaking” he smirks, walking towards you. “You" you whisper. “Me" he chuckles. “Kai" he says, introducing himself. “and you’re Y/N. The absolutely ravishing woman that has caught mine and my brothers attention" he says, standing before you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You can’t say anything, it’s as if your entire body is frozen in his presence. “Kai" you hear another man growl. “You weren’t supposed to approach her alone" he says, his voice deep and dark, like Kai's. “Ah my dear brother Kris seems to be a bit jealous" Kai chuckles, turning away from you to face his brother. As soon as Kai stepped away from you, you felt like you could move and breathe again, until his brother stepped in front of you. You were frozen again, your eyes looking into his black eyes that were void of emotion. “Such a pretty little thing you are" Kris whispers, stroking your face much like Kai. “She really is" Kai agrees. “Quite naughty too, as we’ve seen" Kris slyly whispers, the comment going unnoticed to you. “Y/N? Are you okay in there?” you hear Chanyeol banging on the door. Kris steps away from you, allowing you to breathe and speak again. “Uh, yeah I’m okay. I’ll be out in a second.” You shout. “Ahh, your little boyfriend.” Kris sighs. “We’ll be seeing you soon, baby girl" he winks. “Tonight in your dreams" Kai smiles, and like nothing happened, they’re both gone. With shaky hands you open the door to see a worried Chanyeol on the other side. “What happened?” he asks. “I ran into an old friend and lost track of time. I’m sorry" you say. “Can you take me home please?” you ask. Chanyeol nods his head and guides you from the venue to his car. On the way he asks you again, if he could stay over tonight. You couldn’t really come up with a reason to say no, since you didn’t work tomorrow, and you couldn’t really say ‘there are two sexy men coming to visit me in my dreams' so you reluctantly agreed. You wondered though, how were they able to come to you in your dreams? It actually terrified you a little bit, made you think the worst of what they could be. Ghosts? That’s a possibility. You couldn’t imagine vampires or werewolves could he real.. or could they? Maybe they were warlocks? Your mind was spinning with the amount of possibilities of what they could be. So much so, you hadn’t heard a word that Chanyeol had said to you on the entire ride home. When you finally came too, you heard the last part of what he was talking about before starting to talk about something else you’ve explicitly told him wasn’t happening. “.. say that when you meet my mom.” He laughs. “Then when you quit your job, you’re able to stay home in the new house we get together” he says. Before you can say anything, he pulls into the parking garage of your apartment complex, you dreaded agreeing to allow him to stay over, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him to go home, so you just went with it. The moment you unlocked your front door, you took your shoes off and made your way to the kitchen. Taking a bottle of water from the fridge you gulped it down almost as quickly as you opened it, and Chanyeol stood there shocked, yet impressed. “Wow" he laughed. “Impressive.” “Ha, yeah. I’m not really feeling the greatest” you tell him, hoping he’ll offer to leave. Unfortunately you’re not that lucky. “It’s okay, let’s go to bed and you can get some sleep.” He smiled. You forced a natural smile back at him before dragging your feet to your bedroom. You wanted to go to sleep, you had so many questions for Kai and Kris, but you didn’t want to be sleeping next to Chanyeol when they came. Clearly you didn’t have a choice, since you looked back at Chanyeol who was undressing, leaving himself in his boxers before climbing into your bed with a smile. He patted the side of the bed next to him, wanting you to come over and get in with him. You went in your closet to put on your ugliest pair of pajamas before hopping into your bed, with your back turned to Chanyeol. He snickered as he scooted himself closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair. You automatically rolled your eyes without even trying. Chanyeol fell asleep rather quickly, while you laid awake, unable to sleep with the heat radiating from his large body and the dead weight of his arm practically crushing your ribs. You decided to attempt to wiggle your way from his grasp, trying to not wake him up. You managed to squirm your way out of his death grip and slide your body off the bed like a worm. You sat on the floor for a second to catch the breath you were holding. Finally you stand up, creeping your way to the kitchen, needing some water to still quench your thirst from earlier. Glancing at the clock, it reads 2:48am and you sigh. You were tired, but you couldn’t sleep. The anticipation of seeing them again made your body flutter with excitement, but also with fear. As you turn to leave the kitchen, you bump into a hard chest of a man. Your first thought was that it was Chanyeol, but then you remembered he was shirtless and you could still hear his snoring from the other room. “Mhm, your boyfriend is here?” he growls. Looking up you see the black eyes and unimpressed face of Kris. “He’s never stayed here before" he says, his eyes staring straight across the kitchen to your bedroom. “He wouldn’t stop pestering me to stay over. And he’s not my boyfriend." you whisper. “You should have told him to fuck off" You hear from behind you. Turning your head you see Kai standing almost against your back with Kris standing in front of you. You feel so small between the two of them. “You’re not serious about him, are you now baby?” Kris asks, his black eyes now on you. “N-no. I told him I don’t want anything serious with him but he keeps pushing" you whisper. “Pushing how?” Kris asks, cocking his head to the side. “Just doing things a boyfriend would do that I don’t want from him.” You say. “He keeps trying to bring up meeting families, moving in together, trying to get me to quit my job. It’s making me start to feel uncomfortable.” You admit, the truth flowing from your mouth like word vomit. “Would you like us to take care of him?” Kai breathes. “Yes" you huff, before you were even able to process what he asked. “Wait? Get rid of him or like kill him?” you ask. “He hasn’t technically done anything for us to murder him. We could get in trouble for that since it isn’t his time." Kai says. “..although we’d like too" Kris murmurs under his breath. “Unless you’d like us to murder him..?” Kai asks. “No, no murdering please.” You say. Kai pouts for a second before he and Kris develop evil grins on their faces, as if they know what each other is thinking. “I like it. Good idea.” Kai tells Kris with a sinister look on his face. “What idea? Neither of you said anything? I’m so confused.” you huff. “No worries baby, we’re just going to take care of the love sick puppy in there. It’s going to be slow, but in about a week you won’t have an issue with him anymore" Kris tells you. “What are you?” you ask, stepping out from in between the two. “Do you want to know?” Kai asks. Did you want to know? Would you regret it? “Yes" you admit. “We’re demons.” Kai says. “Demons? Like from hell?” you asks, not really sure how to feel   “Correct.” Kris answers. “So what do you want from me?” you ask. “Why do you even know me? Why is any of this happening to me?” “Do you want to take this one? Or should I?” Kai asks Kris. “I’ll do it" Kris chuckles. “You remember that party you were at a few months ago, at your friend Jisoo's house?” “Yeah..” you say, thinking back to the party that was almost six months ago. “You said, and I quote ‘I’d sell my soul for some bomb ass dick'" Kris tells you. Instantly the memory hits you like a ton of bricks. You did say that. “Okay?” You say. “That's us. We’re the bomb ass dick you’ve been seeking, we just need your soul" Kai smiles. “I don’t want to give my soul up" you whisper, feeling more scared now then you have been. “We don’t want it now.” Kris says, glaring at Kai. “Originally we did, but the more we watched you and kept tabs on you, the more we just wanted to find out more about you.” “You’re quite captivating, you know?” Kai smirks. “What do you want from me?” you ask. “There’s nothing we want from you. We just want you.” Kris tells you. “Want me? Like want to take me? Want to hurt me? What?” you ask. Kai chuckles. “No love. We want to be with you” “Both?” Kris nods his head. “At like the same time?” “No. We figure the best way is to each date you and then in the end it will ultimately be your decision who you want to be with.” Kris says. “What if I choose neither of you?” “Then you don’t choose us.” Kai shrugs. “Obviously we hope you will choose one of us but we can’t force you, as much as we’d like too" Was this real? Or were you dreaming? Did you actually have two extremely sexy men wanting you? Wanting to prove to you that they would be the best fit for you? You had to pinch yourself to believe it. “Ow" you hiss, knowing full well that you’re definitely awake. “Just had to make sure I was awake" you say to the two man staring at you, concerned. “Y/N?” you hear a groggy voice from the bedroom. “Ugh”. You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll take care of him. See you soon" Kris winks before they both disappear. A groggy Chanyeol comes shuffling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing?” he yawns. “Its like 4am" “Yeah I can’t sleep" you say, turning to go towards your bedroom. “I can help with that" he chuckles. “I’m okay. Stomach still hurts" you say crawling into your bed. Chanyeol crawls next to you, snuggling against you. This time, you fall asleep, having pleasant dreams about Kris and Kai. Whereas Chanyeol, began to have nightmares. He tossed and turned in his sleep as what he could only describe as demons, chased him relentlessly through the crowded streets. Chanyeol continuously turned his head, seeing if they were still following him and no matter where he turned, there they were. “Hey buddy" one of them yelled, eyes glued to Chanyeol. “Stop" Chanyeol halted, feeling as if his feet were glued to the pavement. “W-what do you want?” Chanyeol stutters. “Stay the fuck away from Y/N" Kai snaps. “You don’t want to see what will happen to you if you don’t listen.” Kris growls, his eyes turning black. Chanyeol bolts up in bed, his body soaked in sweat. He looks over at your peaceful sleeping body before getting out of bed quietly and getting dressed. Chanyeol takes one last glance at you before quickly but quietly bolting for the door. A few hours later, Kris sneakily pops himself into your room, his cock hard, needing to get off. He laid on your bed in between your legs in your dream, his tongue licking a long strip up your pussy. "Mhm, tasting as good as I imagined." He smirks. Kris wraps his lips around your clit, harshly sucking. Your hands grip the bed sheets as your back arches. He places a hand on your stomach, pressing you back down into the mattress without any effort. Before you have a chance to cum, Kris removes his head from in between your legs, licking his lips as he looks at you. "It's going to be quick baby, I gotta get back." He smiles, unbuckling his belt. You watch intensely as he pulls his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free. It's bigger than you imagined, thicker too. You can see his precum leaking from his tip. You lick your lips, wanting to taste him but you know you'll have to save it for another day. Kris lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside you, stretching you out completely. "Fuck" you hiss, your eyes already rolling into the back of your head. "That's right baby, take my cock" he growls, pulling out of you before slamming himself back inside. You can't help but moan loudly, practically screaming as Kris continues to fuck you. "You take it so well." He growls, placing his finger in between your lips to rub your clit. "Cum quick baby." You clench yourself around him, his cock and fingers working like magic as your orgasm builds extremely quick. "Fuck" you cry out as pleasure shoots through your body, your orgasm completely taking over. "That's right baby." Kris grunts, yearning for his own release. "Shit.." He cries, cumming inside of you, his warm liquid coating your walls. Kris pulls out of you, as you chest heaves, attempting to catch your breath. He walks to the bathroom, getting a warm cloth to clean you up. When he finishes, you fall asleep almost immediately to the sound of him humming to you. ** Waking up in the morning, you're relieved to feel the spot next to you is empty, and your apartment is quiet, meaning Chanyeol must have taken off extremely early. You smile as you stretch out in your bed, only to feel the side next to you now weighed down. Turning your head you carefully peel one eye open, to be met with the face of a smiling Kai laying beside you. "Morning" he says in a low voice. "Busy night?" He asks. "I can smell Kris' scent on you baby, and you know what that means, I need to replace his smell with my own." He smirks.

[dannineedsfriends]

Parrlyn - A Favour - Pt 3

So there's definitely a lotta typos in here- and there's some kissing/making out at the end that some people may be made uncomfortable by. Other than that, enjoy the last part!!

When the tears came, they never seemed to stop. Wrapped in all of the blankets she owned, never washing, never checking her phone. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of herself, her hair is matted across her head, bags under her eyes stretching like fields of bruises and slumming sunken sockets slouching back into her skull. 

Who was there a purpose to exist for, if not Anne? 

She thinks of the lips that she kissed, pulling her closer and waking up in her arms. All she could ever lust for is more- more contact- more time. Had she lost her appeal that quickly? Was her kissing bad? At the time, she had been too involved to even consider if Anne was happy, or even enjoying it. Was she to blame? 

Cathy rolls over once more, watching light filter through the curtains as another sleepless night washed over her face, depleting her energy to live and what felt like nineteen years of her life-expectancy. She pulls the covers over her head, grumbling something along the lines of: why did you turn up the brightness of the sun?

Slowly, she drags herself to sit up, looking around her room in a daze. It really had shaken her up, she realised. Who has the right to knock down the Catherine Parr? The strong one. The smart one. The independent one. No one- not even Anne. 

She stares herself in the face, having found herself sat in front of her mirror, sighing and rubbing her face. It was time to step up, and step away from her feelings. 

That's exactly what she does. 

Catherine Parr regains her confidence, covering herself in lotions of plenty, moisturising and replenishing all that she had lost in a matter of days. Almost Christmas, her spirits are finally up, reaching for the stars. That was when she finally decided to peak at her phone, surprised by the flood of notifications. 

Annie 🦠:

"Cathy please"

"Please answer me I just want to talk to you."

"I miss you."

"Call me when you can please"

"I need to explain myself"

"I cant tell you over text pls"

"Cath pls"

"No one can get in contact with you"

"They're worried"

"Please just answer"

"Cathy IM really worried"

"I wanted to come to your house but I cant remember your address"

"Just call me back okay?"

She lets out a deep sigh, rubbing her eyebrows as one thumb hovers over the call button. Does she dare? Her gut drops, stomach heavy, the imagine of Anne with her lips against another man's imprinting onto her mind.  Anne. Anne. Anne. Not her Anne. Just Anne.

And the phone rings. 

"Cathy?? Cathy is that you??" Anne cries through the phone. "Oh thank God I'm so happy that you called me back- I- i need to explain myself."

 "Yeah. That's a bit of an understatement." Cathy mumbles begrudgingly, holding the phone to her ear and sighing impatiently. 

"Look- just- please. All I want to do is talk. Meet me at the coffee shop in 10, okay?" 

"Fine.." she says, shaking her head. "I'll be there." 

She wouldn't admit it but she was desperate to see Anne, desperate to feel her hand in hers once more, desperate for her. Maybe that was why she practically ran there, specifically to be waiting for her. She ordered her black coffee in a to go cup, sitting in the seat by the window, staring out and looking across the streets for her.

Everytime the door opens, she shivers, the iced winds swallowing her limbs in its malicious embrace. Where was she? She winces: she was once again obsessed with the thought of her, the pure concept of Anne gracing her with the presence. This temptress of a woman had her wrapped around her little finger; the addiction happened so fast, too fast, even, if she were not foolish, Cathy would believe that Anne, indeed, a witch, and she, entranced in her spells. 

That was when she slid into the seat opposite her. 

Her eyes are sad, no longer glistening with her playful countenance, lips down-turned. Cheeks glowing a rosy red and rubbing her hands to deriddle herself of cold. "Thank you.."

Catherine nods, blowing out a soft breath and shaking her head, pushing a poof of hair behind her ear, fiddling with studs in her ears. Her leg bounces anxiously beneath the table, finger tapping a delayed rhythm on the table. Anne must have picked up on her anxious body language, the slouched posture, because she starts talking. 

"Cathy..- I really don't know where to start with this. My parents found out that I liked girls." She swallows, hard, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut, clearly struggling. "And… I almost didn't have a house anymore. I wanted to put a photo of you on my wall- and all that happened is they asked who you were and- I can't lie for shit.

"I had to tell them that you were the girl I was seeing. They didn't see it as fondly as I did. They yelled at me and told me that I was wrong- and- and-" her voice cracks, and she pauses to take a trembling breath. "And told me that I was wrong- and disgusting- and a disgrace and a disappointment." 

"Anne..- I-"

"Please. Just let me finish." Anne pushes her hair out of her face, rubbing her eyes gingerly. "And- if I could find a man to being home- they would accept me again and I could continue living with them- pretending that nothing happened." 

She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head in disbelief of it all. "So I did. And I regret every second I spent with that man. That swine. All because of my dumbass parents dictating my life again! So what if I'm a fucking lesbian? What does it have to do with them?"

She purses her lips and looks away from the table, taking in two sharp breaths and breathing heavily as to hold back the sobs, unable to stop her tears from welling up. Every second that past, Catherine could see the layers of facade crumbling to the ground, revealing the truest, ugliest innards of Anne that she could fathom. She watches as a tear glints as it dances over the curve of her cheek. 

Parr opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out, stunted by the onslaught of tears thrashed away by Anne's hands. She stands, shaking her head herself as her eyes begin to well, walking to stand in front of Anne before pulling her to her chest, still sat down. 

"Annie…" she whispers, her own voice quivering as her hand finds her hair. Cathy shushes her softly, swaying her ever so slightly. "Annie- I'm so sorry..-"

"I thought you were gonna leave..- just then, I mean..-" she cries into her chest, pleading as she wraps her arms around her torso. "Cathy- please don't leave- please- please-"

She shakes her head, speaking as calmly as humanely possible. "I would never- I promise. I'm not leaving- or going anywhere- I'm staying right here and I'm gonna hug you and give you cuddles until you stop crying, okay? Or until I stop crying. Maybe both."

Parr feels Anne laugh against her, looking up at her through her eyelashes, shaking her head. "We're just crying over here, y'know- don't mind us, normal people. Just a puddle of gay in the corner."

"We're not in the corn-"

"Shh.. I'm crying- let me have this one." Anne grins into her chest, burying her face again and letting the sobs ease to hiccups, and when the hiccups finally deplete, she takes a long and deep breath. "I.. I just wanted you to know since you saw me and..-"

"I know..  I know.. it's okay…" Cathy says, hand finding the stray hairs in Anne face that had sprung back into position and holding them back, leaning down to kiss her head, leaving her lips to linger for a few seconds before taking her hand. "Do you want to come back to my house..? Where Anna isn't watching us from across the shop?"

"She's doing what?? Where??"

"I can see her in the reflection of the window."  She turns around, moving out of Anne's line of sight, not letting go of her and. 

"Oh yeah. Creep." She nods, looking to Cathy again and standing up, brushing imaginary dust off of her clothes. "I'll just expose her the next time I see all the girls together. See how she likes it then."

"That's a bit mean Anne-"

"'That's a bit mean Anne-'" she mocks, putting her hands on her hips and pulling a face at her.

"I do not sound like that!" Cathy defends, eyebrows pulling together in disapproval. 

"'I do no-'" 

Parr cuts her off, taking her hand. "Okay- that's it. You're walking home with me and you're holding my hand, no ifs and buts!" 

Anne grins. "Like I was going to let the opportunity pass me by."

--

They walk back to Catherine's house, slowly, enjoying the cold as they swing their arms between them. Anne eventually forfeits her hand and wraps her arm around her torso, hooking her hand just above her waist. 

"I'm so cold." She complains, mumbling and staring at her feet, that she was dragging like a stropping child. Anne feels her crush's eyes on her, stripping her of her skin and eyeing her bullshit skeptically. 

"Are you cold, or do you just want to wear my jacket, Anne?" Cathy clarifies, unzipping her coat, part way. 

"No-!! Don't take it off- you'll be cold and you might catch something." She says, shaking her head furiously and looking at her, hurriedly stopping her to zip the jacket back up before continuing forward, but snuggling into the side of her. As Cathy moves to slide her hand into her pocket, she reaches for the hand, making sure she got to at least have one warm hand. 

Silence hangs between them comfortably, bundling them up in a robe of fulfillment and long-awaited contact, swaddling them close to one another, not daring them to shift position, other than the steady, synced movement of their feet. 

"Annie..? I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have ran off- I shouldn't have stayed in bed and slept for so long..- I shouldn't have ignored you.." Catherine admits quietly, shaking her head at herself. 

"Hey..- don't beat yourself up- I would've done that too if I had seen you with someone else." Anne shivers, nodding mercifully, still clinging onto her, even as they approach the front of the house, and walked up the steps. Cathy practically had to pry Anne off of her so that she could take off her coat and shoes, before turning back to her. "Aren't your parents home?"

She shakes her head, and shrugging. "They're never here if anything, I'm pretty sure that they have a penthouse somewhere in Florida and left me here on my own." 

"Why so specific?" Anne questions, taking her own initiative and walking up the stairs, which were right in front of the door. 

"They always talked about it when I was a kid: flying out to the US and renting somewhere that they couldn't pay for. I always joke that they might have left without me- but hey. I have no idea where they are, and that's the crack, I guess." She shrugs, following the brunette, clearly ardent for her destination

Anne pushes the door to her room open, running and practically leaping onto her bed, limbs spreading across the bed and Cathy stays at the door, musing and taking in the image of her dearest, before joining her on the bed, being invited into her embrace. 

She crawls willingly into her arms, cheek resting on her chest, eyes fluttering shut and the room a state of tranquility. This was all she had wanted, had needed, she realised, before looking up at Anne, to whom she had caught staring at her. 

Her face is lit up with the most heart-warming smile as Cathy raises her head to press her lips to hers. "Hey, Gorgeous?"

"Mhm?" Catherine hums. 

"Do you mind if I get a shower really quick? As much as I'm enjoying cuddling you- I'm really cold and want more heat." She admits, still holding her close, hand tracing from her waist to her hip, lingering and then back again. 

She nods. "Of course! Do you want some spare clothes..-?"

"If you don't mind- I'd also offer you to join me but I don't think it'd go down to well." She winks and presses a quick kiss to her lips before scampering out to, no doubt, spend 30 minutes trying to work the shower (or find the bathroom) and then coming back in to Parr looking rather discouraged. 

But to her surprise, the shower started running only 15 minutes after, and with only one scream of frustration- or her burning herself. Thus it was decided: Anne was the one she wanted. The loud, flailing idiot. Perfect. 

Cathy sits on the bed, listening to the hammering of the shower and the occasional bang, and distressed call of "I'm okay!" that always followed shortly after. It makes her smile, and she has to cover her face to hide it, denying it to herself that anything she did was, quite possibly, the most adorable thing Parr had ever witnessed.

One her day dreaming had started (of Anne in the shower), she couldn't stop it, staring aimlessly into space as her fingers squeeze the blankets, all until she sauntered through the door wrapped in a towel, bra straps, while and embroidered with florals, hang over her shoulders. 

All is dandy until she drops the towel to the floor, revealing Anne. Anne- everywhere. It's all Anne. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Cathy feels her cheeks heat up as her eyes widen, looking away from her half-naked body and to the walls; ah- lovely painted walls. Her eyes are staring steadily at the walls before she catches the glimpse of Anne staring her down, cheeky grin slathered over her lips. Almost immediately, her vision glides down her figure, establishing each and every curve, to which she had never once seen. 

"Ohhhh my God-" she eventually trails her eyes back to Anne's, looking as if she'd just been scarred with unorthodox and inappropriate material, which is inherently inaccurate. Upon seeing her reaction, Anne begins to walk towards her, to the side of the bed Cathy was closest to before leaning her arm over her shoulders with a grin, throwing her other leg over to the side of her, so that she was straddling her. 

"Awwwwhhhhhh~ Little wittle baby Cathy's scared of me?~" she sings, teasingly rolling her shoulders back and her wet her falling down her back, dripping onto the sheets. 

"Anne- Anne you have no clothes on-" 

"Pfft- like we weren't going to take them off later anyway." 

Cathy had to admit, she had a point. "Still- you're sat with your- your -  breasts - in my face- and I don't know how to feel about it."

Anne slides her forearms to rest on her shoulders, fingers knotting into Cathy's curls, face leaning closer to hers. She could feel her hot breath on her lips, and they touch, encaptured in each other, pulling one another closer.

Cathy's hands find her hips, squeezing and pushing so softly, touching the skin and taking it in for what it was worth, fingers trailing to the small of her back before their lips break. With a sigh Anne moves to press her lips to  her neck, pushing her shirt out of the way to get at the base before nipping at the skin, sucking to leave a mark, not hard, just gradually marking Catherine as her own work. At some point, her hand even tugged at the hem of her shirt and soon, that was thrown across the bed, allowing Anne to freely cup her lover's breast. 

Once satisfied, she breaks away from her looking into her eyes with furrowed brows. Cathy noticed that her lips were pinker than before, slightly swollen, perhaps. 

"Are you my girlfriend now?"

"That's the most stupid question you could ever have asked." She mumbles, shaking her head and kissing her once more. The rest is history, and perhaps, just a favour. 

Boom h o w s that for you

[arcqna-hoe]

hunchback of notre dame au

note: this is based off of the musical version. due to this, some things from both the original book AND disney movie have been altered. the musical is the HUGEST bop, and arguably better than the original movie, the message being more poignant and the songs absolutely soul-touching. listen HERE.

warning: spoilers for the hunchback of notre dame musical, and subsequently, parts of the movie and novel.

Asra is Esmeralda, the beautiful and free-spirited gypsy who possesses the strong sense of justice and morality that Lucio lacks. Compassionate, he frees Muriel from the frenzied mob at the Feast of Fools and, against his better judgment, falls for the cocky Julian. An amazing, seductive dancer and “King” of the tambourine.

“God help the outcasts, poor and downtrod...I thought we all were children of God?”

Muriel is Quasimodo, the deformed bell-ringer of Notre Dame and Lucio’s charge. Lonely and staunchly obedient to Lucio, he possesses a vivid imagination that brings to life the bells and gargoyles of the cathedral. Despite his shyness and uncertainty, he quickly befriends Asra. Big-hearted, and brave when need be.

“What makes a monster and what makes a man?...What I’d give, what I’d dare, to spend one day out there!”

Lucio is Claude Frollo, the Archdeacon of Notre Dame Cathedral and the most powerful cleric in Paris. He is the reluctant caretaker of Muriel. He will do whatever it takes to rid the city of the gypsy “vermin,” even as he lusts after Asra. Calculating, manipulative, and obsessive.

“The wicked shall not go unpunished!... Then tell me, Maria, why I see him dancing there...why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul?

Julian is Phoebus, returning to Paris after serving in the war. He takes up his new position as Captain of the Cathedral Guard. Overconfident yet charming, this handsome, strong soldier makes the ladies swoon, yet his moral compass is also strong, and he openly defies the corrupted Lucio when he falls for the beautiful Asra.

“What have I done for Asra? Why did I hear his voice inside my head? And still I think of Asra...”

Nadia is Clopin, the clever and charismatic Queen of the Gypsies. An air of mystery surrounds Nadia, who often leaves the scene in a puff of smoke. As the master of ceremonies for the Feast of Fools, she is witty and playful, but she boasts a darker, serious nature when not performing for the crowd.

“My apologies, gentlemen, for your imminent demise. Any last words?...I thought not!”

Portia is Madam, owner of a brothel that harbors Asra after he is hunted down by a mob for witchcraft.

expanded plot, songs, and pictures from the show under the cut!

The Plot: 

lucio is the caretaker of muriel, the deformed bell ringer of notre dame (and technically his nephew!)

notre dame is the cathedral and is located in paris

all muriel wants to do is spend one day among the common folk of paris and not be shunned for his appearance, but lucio has forbidden him to leave the top of the cathedral. 

against the wishes of his master, muriel visits the streets one day to go to the festival of fools, a festival hosted by the gypsies of the city to have mischievous fun and turn everything “topsy turvy”. the leader of this is nadia, the cunning “queen of the gypsies”

lucio also attends the feast of fools, his only purpose to ostracize the gypsies there, thinking them sinful and ungodly. there, he meets julian, the new captain of the guard working under him at notre dame. julian is handsome and flirtatious, only wanting to relax after returning from war, but lucio tells him they together must rid the city of “scum”, i.e the gypsies.

suddenly, nadia introduces asra, the beautiful gypsy dancer, who begins to perform a routine with his tambourine. muriel, julian, and lucio all see him and are instantly captivated by him. julian thinks he’s seductive and gorgeous, muriel think’s he’s purely beautiful, and lucio....lucio thinks he has the devil inside of him. despite this, lucio is disgusted to find himself attracted to asra and leaves.

following asra’s dance, muriel is attacked by the crowd after joining what is basically “the ugliest person in paris” contest. asra pulls him out and is compassionate, unaffected by the way he looks. still, muriel is forced to promise lucio that he will never leave the bell tower again, for the world is cruel, and follows him into notre dame.

asra tries to enter the cathedral to go after muriel, who has fled the scene, but is stopped by lucio who asserts that gypsies aren’t allowed in the tower. after lucio conducts mass, asra enters and prays for the outcasts as other church-goers ask the saints for selfish wishes.

asra heads up to the bell tower and shares a moment with muriel, thanking him for “giving him a moment at the top of the world”. after he leaves, muriel is sure he’s found his first real friend.

meanwhile, lucio grows conflicted over his lustful feelings for asra. after wandering the alleys of paris one night, he witnesses asra and julian sharing a kiss in a tavern. going back to the cathedral, he prays to the virgin mary (lmao) and makes a fatal decision:

he will have asra, or asra will burn in hell.

lucio then gets permission from the king to hunt down asra, claiming he is a witch and a threat to the holiness of paris. a witchhunt for asra ensues, and after refusing a direct order from lucio to burn portia’s brothel, which is suspected of harboring asra, julian becomes an outlaw as well. 

julian flees the brothel, and, with the help of muriel and a map he gave him, finds asra hiding in the gyspy court. nadia attempts to kill them as intruders, but asra stops her. 

nadia then overhears that lucio will attack at dawn and orders the rest of the gypsies to pack up and flee. julian asks asra to join him, confessing his love, and muriel, seeing them embrace, gives up on his hope that asra will ever love him.

unfortunately, lucio interrupts this moment and captures the three. he locks muriel back in the bell tower and throws julian and asra in prison in separate cells.

lucio secretly visits asra’s cell and proposes a deal: if asra will love him, he will stop his execution. asra, disgusted, refuses and calls lucio a demon and condemns himself to death (despite encouragement from julian to take the bargain, who only wants to save asra)

in the tower, the statues try to encourage muriel to save asra, but the bell-ringer grows angry and says he will remain stoic until the day he dies.

the next day, asra is tied to a pyre and convicted for the crime of witchcraft. lucio gives him one last chance to take the deal, but asra spits in his face.

then, lucio drops the torch into the pyre and asra is burned at the stake.

just before the flames touch him, though, muriel swings down from the tower on a rope, rescues asra, and carries him into the cathedral. above the city and clutching asra in his arms, muriel cries out for “sanctuary!”

sanctuary refers to the idea that it is immoral and unlawful to make arrests in a house of god

after regaining consciousness, asra thanks muriel for being a good friend, and in turn muriel asks him if they can stay in the bell tower together forever. asra smiles and says it would be nice....

and then he dies of smoke inhalation.

lucio enters and, after confirming asra’s death, tells muriel that they are finally free of the gypsies. overcome with anger and a newfound hatred for lucio, muriel throws him off of the tower and to his death.

julian arrives and is devastated to find asra dead, and attempts to carry him. after being unable to, he lets muriel carry his body to the top of the tower.

years later, two skeletons are found in the cathedral. one with a crooked spine, and one with a beautiful band of gold around it’s neck (asra), the former embracing the latter. when the discoverers of the skeletons try to separate the two, they crumble to dust.

finally, one last question is posed.

“what makes a monster, and what makes a man?”

....and after that depressing ending, it’s picture and song time!

best bops from the musical (LINKS): the prologue, asra is a gift to the world, the one where asra kisses julian, lucio is a horny archdeacon, asra and julian and muriel sad romantic harmony, asra’s witchhunt, and finally, the longest and saddest song in the whole goddamn thing

listen to the whole thing HERE.

well, that’s all folks! this took me forever to put together, so i hope you enjoyed! look out for pictures of the show below :)

muriel and the gargoyles/saints.

julian and asra.

asra and lucio.

[the-desolated-quill]

Amy’s Choice - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Simon Nye. Now there’s someone I never thought I’d see writing for Doctor Who. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he did. I just didn’t think this would be his thing.

For those of you who don’t know, Simon Nye is most well known for writing sitcoms. Most notably Men Behaving Badly, Is It Legal?, Hardware, and the criminally underrated Beast. Recently he’s received critical acclaim for The Durrells, a comedy drama series based on Gerald Durrell’s Corfu Trilogy and starring Keeley Hawes. So I was a bit surprised at the time to see his name pop up in the opening credits of Amy’s Choice. This couldn’t be the same Simon Nye, surely. And then I heard this line:

Dream Lord: (to the Doctor)“If you had any more tawdry quirks you could open up a tawdry quirk shop. The madcap vehicle, the cockamamie hair, the clothes designed by a first year fashion student…I’m surprised you don’t have a little purple space dog, just to ram home what an intergalactic wag you are.”

Yep. This is definitely a Simon Nye script.

As a result, Amy’s Choice has got to be the funniest episode so far this series. It’s absolutely jam packed with zingers and one liners. Too many to count. A few of my favourites include the Doctor reacting to Amy’s pregnancy (”You’ve swallowed a planet!”), the Dream Lord bluntly telling Rory what happens if they die in reality (”You die, stupid. That’s why it’s called ‘reality’”), and Rory’s reaction to an old man throwing him across a field (”He used to slip me the odd free toffee... Did I not say thank you?!”).

But of course there’s more to a story than just being funny, and thankfully Nye brings a lot to the table.

The Doctor, Amy and Rory encounter the Dream Lord, played wonderfully by Toby Jones, who has trapped the protagonists in two versions of reality. One in the TARDIS and one back in Leadworth where Amy is pregnant and she and Rory have long since stopped travelling with the Doctor. In each reality there’s a deadly danger, except one is real and the other is fake, and they have to decide which is the dream and which is the real world. An interesting premise, but it’s undermined sadly because the Leadworth reality is so obviously the dream. The constant references to how peaceful and tranquil it is, plus the fact that the entire world seems to cater to the things Rory wants in life were all a bit of a giveaway. So it’s a bit hard to be invested in this so called difficult choice they’ve got to make because to an intelligent audience it’s a no-brainer surely. It also ruins the emotional impact of Rory’s death because any lingering doubts you may have had about which is real are instantly evaporated because you know Rory can’t possibly be dead. I didn’t however consider the possibility that both worlds were fake. I thought that was a good twist. In the heat of the moment, you forget that if the Dream Lord has no physical form, he can’t possibly manipulate the real world, so how is the TARDIS in danger? Also it’s a clever bit of misdirection. Cold stars being fake seems really obvious in hindsight because we know that physics doesn’t actually work like that, but because Doctor Who has a bit of a reputation for twisting the rules of science around for the purposes of entertainment, we’re actually prepared to buy into it. For all we know, there could be such things as stars that burn cold in the Whoniverse.

Some people have criticised this episode because the monsters aren’t very scary. And yeah. Aliens disguised as old people aren’t remotely scary. It’s actually quite daft. The sight of old people shambling across a field like zombies and attacking Amy and Rory’s house with gardening tools has got to be one of the most surreal images I’ve ever seen in Doctor Who. It’s like Night Of The Living Dead. Or Nearly Dead in this case. (If I said that I found the scene where Rory hits an old lady on the head with a plank of wood hysterically funny, does that make me a bad person?). But if you’re only criteria for what makes a good Doctor Who episode is whether or not the monsters are scary, you must live a pretty sad life frankly. With a series as flexible as Doctor Who’s, do we have to keep going back to the same boring old monster of the week format? That’s why I love Amy’s Choice so much. It’s something different. It uses imaginative sci-fi concepts to explore the characters in greater depth.

At the end it’s revealed that the Dream Lord is actually the dark side of the Doctor’s psyche manifested, which completely changes your perspective of the episode in repeat viewings. Toby Jones does an impressive job with this darkly comic material, taunting Amy and Rory and spitting barbs at the Doctor, but once you realise who the Dream Lord really is, it all becomes clear what Jones and Nye are trying to achieve. The Dream Lord highlights all of the flaws in the Doctor’s character. The self loathing is evident, but we also see other, unsavoury traits highlighted by the Dream Lord’s costume changes. We see him dressed as an upper class aristocrat, which of course is to do with the Doctor being a Time Lord, but also to highlight the Doctor’s arrogance. We see him dressed as a doctor, which is obviously to display his intellect and his desire to help others, but this is where the Dream Lord explains the rules of his game, so it could also symbolise the Doctor’s power and influence over human life. Later we see the Dream Lord dressed as a butcher, which represents the Doctor’s capacity for violence and warmongering. He also mentions the Doctor’s brief stint as a vegetarian during the classic series, which could hint at the Doctor’s inability to commit. We see him dressed in a silk dressing gown and bare chested to represent the Doctor’s lust and attraction toward Amy (we’ll come back to that later). Finally we see the Dream Lord dressed as a racing driver, which represents the Doctor’s spirit of adventure, but can also represent a desire to recapture one’s youth. This is supported by the Doctor’s current incarnation as a young man (the youngest man ever to play the role in fact) and the Doctor’s tendency to pick attractive, young women as his companions.

Dream Lord: “An old man prefers the company of the young, does he not?”

The two worlds are also an extension of the Doctor’s personality and representative of his fears and desires. The TARDIS seems much more tantalising because that’s the life the Doctor enjoys. New discoveries, imminent danger and only one man to save the day. Leadworth, on the other hand, represents everything the Doctor hates and fears. Everything is slow. Peaceful. Boring. Even the aliens disguised as old people play into this. You could argue that they represent the Doctor’s fear of staying in one place, growing old and becoming irrelevant. Also they’re ancient alien refugees whose homeworld was destroyed and they leave death and destruction in their wake. Sound familiar?

But as interesting as all of this is, this episode isn’t really about the Doctor. It’s about Amy. But before I go into that, I have just one minor complaint to make:

Rory: “You ran away with another man on the night before our wedding.”

Amy: “Not in that way.”

Er... YES in the way! Absolutely in that way! I’m sorry, are we just going to ignore the ending to Flesh And Stone?! (I know it’s tempting, but...). Hello! Earth to Moffat! Trying to have sex with another man on the night before your wedding is not what normal people do in a healthy relationship! It’s kind of a big deal!

In the end, it all comes down to Amy’s choice. But she’s not just having to choose between dream and reality. She’s having to choose between two lives. Adventures with the Doctor or married life with Rory. And this is where we see the Doctor at his ugliest.

The two realities are not just manifestations of the Doctor’s fears and desires. They’re also meant to skew the odds in his favour when Amy makes the choice. It’s been hinted at previously, but the Dream Lord makes it crystal clear. The Doctor cannot understand how Amy could possibly be attracted to someone as unimpressive as Rory, and so the Dream Lord tries to entice her. He can tell Amy finds the Doctor attractive, and the scene where he’s in the silk dressing gown implies the feeling is mutual. But it’s not as simple as that. As much as the Dream Lord wants to entice her, there’s a hint of cruelty in there too. As much as the Doctor is possibly attracted to Amy, the Dream Lord makes it incredibly clear that she’s not his equal and will always be beneath him. Up until now, Amy has borderline hero worshipped the Doctor, and while the Doctor will never admit it, the Dream Lord shows that he does actually enjoy this feeling of superiority over her. So at this point the choice becomes either living a life with a mundane man that will love her and respect her or living a life with an exciting adventurer who will never fully trust her or treat her as an equal.

Ultimately Amy chooses Rory. Not just because she realises what a jerk she’s been to him all this time, but also because she finally realises that the Doctor is not the perfect hero she imagined him to be. And while Rory may be more mundane compared to him, he’s a better man than the Doctor.

I have to say Karen Gillan really shines in this episode. I’m not sure if I’d go as far to say that I like Amy now, but at least we’re addressing these issues and I really like the emotional journey she goes on. And after his wooden performance in The Vampires of Venice, Arthur Darvill has improved dramatically. The scene where he’s carried Amy up into the baby’s room and is looking at the cot and silently worrying about his wife’s safety was incredibly powerful. Matt Smith was good too of course, but it’s Gillan and Darvill who are the stars of this episode I feel.

Amy’s Choice is, in my opinion, the strongest episode of the series so far, using an imaginative premise to show us the Doctor’s more sinister side and explore how his companions react to this. It’s intelligent, entertaining and creative in equal measure, and I really hope Simon Nye will get the chance to write another Doctor Who episode in the future.

[ericsecond-blog]

What Dream May Come (story-time, made up).

I was new to the city so I hadn't met many people. And after hours in my apartment unpacking, I was starting to suffer from cabin fever. Desperate for fresh air I grabbed my phone to browse the local faire. I found a cafe just few blocks away. It catered mainly to LGBT customers, so that was a plus. And since coffee is always an option in my book I decided to make my way there.

A few blocks my ass! Uphill as well. By the time I arrived I was dripping in sweat and panting like an old hound dog in the summer sun. Not my best look, but it couldn't be helped.

So with an iced coffee in hand I chose a shady spot outside. Because a sweaty shirt does not mix well with a blaring AC unit.

I was still in awe and wonder at where I was. Me! Alone and on my own in a place like this. The sights, the sounds, the city. Masses of people shuffling to and fro down the sidewalk. Busses, taxis, all manner of vehicles bumper to bumper. Street vendors with hotdog stands, taco trucks, and vegan options galore. I took in all I could between every blink. Time seemed to shift speeds here and there as I sat watching the world in motion. An hour passed by without me noticing. Then HE spoke, and reality snapped back into focus.

"This seat taken?"

I looked up, and there stood the man of my dreams in all his glory. Towering over me was this 6'4" giant beamed a gentle smile down. His honey colored eyes glistening in the afternoon sun.

"No, please. Sit." I replied.

He was wearing khaki style business casual. Which left nothing to the imagination. With a bulge that appeared to contain a considerable amount of his overall body weight. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't help stealing a glance or two. Okay, 10 or 12. His button down shirt was the ugliest shade of faded powder blue. Which seemed a size too small for his physique. Which was my favorite combination of muscle meets well fed. If he flexed his biceps the seams of his sleeves might of ripped to shreds. And his ass was round and bubbly. I could almost make out the line of his briefs.

We sat there in silence for several minutes. He scrolled through what I assumed was facebook. And I tried not to gawk at him like a creepy loon.

He exuded masculinity. From his large hands and his broad shoulder. Down to his unconventional choice of laceless work boot. Everything except his face. He had to have been pushing 38, but only looked 25. He had a soft round "baby faced" complexion, with the slightest bit of meticulously groomed scruff. It was LUST at first sight.

"Where you from?" His voice had a familiar drawl to it. Deep, but with a jovial inclination. The very epitome of southern charm.

We began to regale each other with our life stories. Old flames, weird relatives, high school shenanigans. The hours flew by. And that initial lust started burning away into what seemed like real attraction. Not just physical, but emotional. And he appeared to be experiences the same. His eyes never left mine as we talked and talked. All the way till the suns light was barely visible beyond the horizon. And then, out of nowhere he leaned over an kissed me.

I followed in suite as our tongues met. His hands softly pressed against my cheek. I was in shock. He was kissing me. Me? This guy who could of snagged anyone, seemed to want to snag me. Why?

I opened my eyes. His eyes were staring back into mine. His gentle smile wider then before. His mouth opened and I eagerly anticipated his words.

ERRR ERRR ERRR ERRR ERRR!

It was all just a dream. I was back in the real world. Living in a small town in the south. Dead end job, alone. Wondering to myself. Could that be a reality for me? Could he exist? Was he waking up this very moment, wondering if I exist? Hoping for the opportunity, the serendipity, the slightest chance. Of one day finding me, as I hope to one day find him?

[blisserial]

Ten

By the time summer rolled to an end we were rich as newly made lords. I had gold in my pockets and in my pack, and jewels on my fingers and rich, well cut fabrics to keep me in the highest fashion. We had more invitations to perform than we knew what to do with. We made a game out of it, selecting a date to play in the muddiest town or the farthest reaches of the Seat’s shadow or for the ugliest politician or the most bitert priest.

But as the season ebbed we began to count the days until Ross decided it was time to trudge back over the river back into our own country, to familiar places and faces and food. I cannot say I was reluctant to leave Southern oddities behind, but I also cannot say I was eager to return to a life of poverty. I determined I would guard carefully whatever wealth I did not first give to Granda.

Ross had finally begun to make noises about packing up for home when we received the most unexpected and frightening invitation of all.

The embossed piece of linen paper was delivered by courier on a cool afternoon to the tavern we had been frequenting most often in our last days. The courier, a dusty and weathered lass with the Seat's emblem emblazoned on her leather jerkin, seemed to have no trouble picking Ross from the tangle of loud patrons.

She marched straight across the brick floor to our table and set the linen paper beside Ross's fat goblet of red wine. Then she stood carefully to one side, at attention, waiting.

I remember noting that she had pierced her ears with gold wire and wondering if that was the way of the Seat's army.  She had a pistol at her belt. I thought she looked as though she would not hesitate to use it.

"Imagine that," Ross murmured, fingering the embossed paper. I couldn't make out the runes scrawled along the edges, but I recall thinking the deep purple ink was unusual. "Horrid butcher me and Fox take the remains, in all my years I've never…" Then he paused and shot the waiting soldier a hooded look.

Will, who had been passing the time playing kanoodles under the table with my bare feet, reached a tattooed hand across the boards and snatched the paper.

"What is it?" Amy, the new dog girl, a tiny Southern wench, pressed against Will's other side, trying to see.

"An invitation to play at the Capitol." Will marveled in a near whisper. "During festival at High Temple."

"High Temple," Amy, devout to annoyance, touched her brow in quick respect. "It must be for Gallows Day. Tis only a fortnight away."

I had absolutely no interest in Southern festivals other than our place as entertainment, but I did find Ross's face a curiosity in itself. He looked as though he had swallowed a hunk of sour cheese.

"They say the Seat himself attends Gallows Day," Amy continued. She seized the invitation Will had dropped back onto the boards and ran a finger along the inked runes. "They say he sometimes pronounces blessing on those in attendance."

"Don't be stupid, girl." Ross snatched the invitation back, then passed it to Maurice. Maurice, without so much as a glance at the runes, made the piece of paper disappear. "Even us Northern mud grubbers know your Seat doesn't mingle with the common folk."

"Gallows Day is different," Amy argued, breathless and avid. "Why, my uncle would have given his last leg for an invitation to Gallows, and gods know he was a master at the craft."

"He was a small time tumbler." Ross snapped, "Why do you think he sold you to me?" He finished his wine in one gulp before glaring with muzzy fury at the messenger.

"No," he said. "We're busy."

Amy gasped. The grizzled soldier bowed and departed without a word.

"Ross," Amy complained. "It would surely bring us honor -"

"Honor is a landed man's concept," Ross interrupted. He grabbed Amy's arm, hauling her up from the benches. He was recently insatiable where the sprightly girl was concerned, as he was whenever a new lass joined our family.

Amy did not seem to mind his lust. Whatever further protest she might have made was smothered by Ross's mocking laugh. The two climbed the tavern stairs and then I could hear their staggering footsteps across the floor overhead.

Will wrapped an arm about my shoulders. Maurice lit one of his everpresent cigarettes. One of the dancing dogs, curled beneath the table at my feet, sighed in its sleep.

The next evening a second invitation arrived and this time the wording was more precise. Ross blanched when he examined the purple ink and then nodded sharply at the courier. That day she had a ruby in one ear and a sapphire in the other.

The next morning we packed quickly, rented five horses to join our mule and stallion, and, striking west, turned their noses to the Capitol and the honor of Gallows Day.

                                                            *****

Shaara tailed Bliss for an entire morning. He did not usually tempt fate so readily, especially where his mistress was concerned. Bliss could be a heavy hand and she had no patience with her people, and as a mere apprentice he was worth less than nothing. Or he might have been, if their troop had not dwindled down to a paltry three.

He'd followed her once before, years past, as a near babe only three days under her protection. He'd wanted to see where this fierce woman spent her days. He'd needed some indication that he could trust her.

That particular day she had spent the day drinking in a smoky tavern and then wasted a night sitting in the cold beneath an alder tree, singing drunken Northern love songs to the stars. He'd not seen any strong indication that she was worthy of his fragile trust until she'd fed the majority of her untouched supper to the cobbler's cat. That small kindness convinced Shaara that Bliss was worth a try so the next morning he had stayed on, instead of running off with the back alley urchins as he’d originally planned .

He was grown now and he knew beyond a doubt that Bliss would protect him with her life, even if that life was battered almost beyond repair and hardly worth more than the dirty clothes on her back. But lately Shaara had begun to think again about running. This time it wasn't a babe's dream of romance in the streets but a man's need to tend to his own future.

He rather thought that Emman City was as good a place to make a new life as any. Shaara gave no thought to returning north. Like as not if he did he would end up a conscript in the king's service, digging trenches and fighting the endless war. He'd rather take his chances in warmer weather. In Emman, Shaara knew, he would have a friend, for it was obvious Moire remembered him fondly. Perhaps she could even find him a job that did not involve singing for his supper.

Not that he regretted his training, as such. But what man did not want more than circus wages? Besides, life with Bliss was fluid and of late Shaara wanted to put down roots.

He followed her through the white streets because he intended to take her aside and tell her his plans, firmly and kindly, but he could not quite find the courage to make his approach.

He could see she was in the midst of a frothing temper. Shaara understood. Bliss would rather lay with a snake than walk with a priest . Still, they all knew it was Bliss who had run and she could hardly have expected an easy welcome. They were lucky Moire hadn't tossed them in the brig for breaking and entering. But Moire had always been a fair commander, just so long as she could see the sense in a thing.

Bliss didn't head straight for the bars as Shaara expected and instead wandered the streets without any purpose he could determine. Shaara thought maybe she was looking for trouble and she did indeed pick a fight with a particularly belligerent tulip merchant. Bliss resisted punching the man in the eye but she did knock the dirty fedora from his grizzled head before she stomped on.

Shaara paused to pick the hat up, dust it off, and return it to its furious owner.

"They say that one was always a whirlwind," the man huffed, looking after Bliss. "We should expect bad days. Still, it's lucky you guard her. Things are not the same as they once were.”

Shaara smiled and hurried on. He wondered if every person in the city remembered Bliss's face. It seemed unbelievable, but then, she had hardly been invisible when Emman had been her home.

He nearly lost Bliss when he paused to admire a lass swathed in white veils. He found again in a cul-de-sac, eyeing the sugary treats through the window of a confectionaire's shop. Shaara hadn't expected the dead end. Bliss, apparently, had.

"Stop skulking about," she growled without turning from the window. "You're no sneak thief, boy."

"You've Fox's own ears," Shaara returned, disgruntled. He trudged across cobblestones to her side. "Hungry?" The elaborate pastries on display reminded Shaara of the temple at the center of the city; too bright, too rich, too sugary.

"No," Bliss replied, but at that moment the proprietor stuck his head around the door with cries of welcome.

"Come in, come in," the man caroled. "For you I have my very own special, sweet enough to make the Seat himself weep - rhubarb and custard!"

Bliss shook her head in refusal but Shaara was suddenly ravenous so he pushed past Bliss and the proprietor into the small shop. Three heartbeats later he found himself perched on a spindly white stool, Bliss scowling at him across a matching table, fruit and cream towering in the shopkeeper's very best bowl.

"Eat," Shaara urged Bliss, scooping up the confection. "You can't starve yourself to death just because Moire doesn't want you back in her bed."

Bliss's scowl creased to rage. "Who said she didn't?"

"She knows how you feel about braids and robes. Would she wear them if she wanted you back?" Shaar knew he was treading on thin ice. Yet he couldn't keep his mouth from flapping.

"It's not that simple." Bliss protested. She turned her frown on the pile of rhubarb and custard. The tower did not whither beneath her displeasure. But just in case, Shaara took a hasty bite. "It can't be that simple."

"Well," Shaara allowed through a mouthful of confection. "She did send you the shawl. So perhaps it's not all bad. Maybe…ah…" Shaara wrinkled his brow and thought of the pretty girl in her white veils. "…a gift of flowers or…ah…pastries?"

Bliss's look of disgust should have turned the cream to curd in Shaara's mouth. Defensive, he shrugged. "Well. You always said it was the presentation caught the marks, yeah?"

"She didn't send the shawl."

"No?" Shaara glanced up and saw that Bliss's lips had gone pinched and white.

"She didn't send it,” Bliss repeated.

Shaara scrambled for some bit of wisdom that might save his skin. He wished he had decided to go with Maurice to the temple instead. Today was not the day to seek Bliss's understanding.

His mistress's stern glare focused. Shaara was immediatly certain she knew could see the the thought circling in his head. He opened his mouth to fend off her rage and found unlikely rescue in the shop's proprietor.

"Captain." The man smelled of bitter chocolate. Sweat glistened on his upper lip. "There are visitors."

Bliss's black brows went up. She turned her head slightly. Shaara shoved another spoonful of rhubarb into his mouth before swiveling on his stool, curious. Surprised by what he saw, he swallowed too hastily and nearly choked.

Northerners were not rare on the edge of the Seat's shadow, but they were unusual. Merchants and traders found ways across the river, as did a riffraff of mercenaries and arms runners. The king's infantry had, for many long years, passed in an endless stream across the bridge until an uneasy truce had been purchased at Green Hill and the bridge gates locked tight.

It was rarer than rare to catch glimpse of king's soldiers in a Southern city. They were no longer murdered upon sight, not now, but they were about as welcome as three-day old fish.

The men standing in the confectionaire's doorway were without a doubt Northern soldiers. They wore the king's insignia openly.

They were all a strong,  muscled sort and for a split instant Shaara wondered if they would get caught in the doorway like cattle in a herder's funnel. Then they shifted and twisted and popped free into the shop, bringing with them the reek of oil and leather. Shaara noted the mud drying on their boots and along the edges of their capes. He deduced they were very new to the city, only hours in.

"Welcome," the proprietor said, resorting to the smooth smile of his kind. "Can I be of service? Chocolates, perhaps, or strawberries dipped in molasses….?"

"No." The foremost of the group was clean shaven and young. The delicately fashioned silver chrysanthemum pinned to his collar spoke of the king's favor. "Thank you. We're here to speak to the captain."

Shaara knew the shopkeep had sensed trouble from the very beginning but the man was a Southerner and therefore gifted with more hubris than the god Trout himself.

"She is in the middle of dessert," he protested with a sniff. "A very fine dessert, if I may say so. Perhaps you would like to sit and wait -"

Shaara didn't see the officer move but some signal must have passed because one of his fellows grabbed the poor man about the throat and dragged him without ceremony out of the shop and into the sunlit street. The three wavered on the other side of the window, a tableau of weakening struggles past the display of fruit and pastry, before the the soldier hauled the limp confectionaire out of sight.

"You won't kill him, I hope." Bliss said, entirely without inflection. "His desserts are delicious. And if I recall, the Seat prefers his subjects alive."

"So long as they are obedient, yes." Chrysanthemum stripped off his soiled gloves. He tucked them into his belt, hooked one booted foot about the leg of an empty stool, and scraped it across the floor to Shaara's side. Then he sat with a sigh, audibly weary.

"Unlike the Seat, we don't require mindless servitude. Jorge won't kill the man, no. But there's no reason to tempt a fellow. Even a prosperous shopkeeper will sell gossip to the temple. What I have to say is for Northern ears only."

Shaara set down his spoon. Chrysanthemum snagged it and tucked into cream and rhubarb, obviously starving. His remaining men arranged themselves about the shop.

"What do you want?" Bliss asked, wrinkling her nose in dramatic disgust as she eyed the officer's simpleminded greed.

Chrysanthemum looked up from rapidly diminishing cream, narrowed his eyes, and laughed. "Don't look so offended, Captain. It's a six day's ride from king to Emman. We ruined two horses. Lived on jerky and warm ale. Besides, I haven't had rhubarb since I was a lad. You're right," he added, scrubbing a hand across his mouth, "the man's a genius with a dessert."

"What do you want?" Bliss repeated, cold. Shaara caught her quick, nearly invisible glance about the room and saw she was tatting up odds.

"Tamner's dead. Hung from the gates two days ago, by royal decree."

Shaara flinched. Whatever he'd expected, it was not this. Bliss appeared unsurprised.

"Pity," she rocked her stool backward and forward, easily balancing on two legs, a tumbler's trick. "His wife?"

"Tripped over her little cat and fell down the scullery stairs a day after." Chrysanthemum scraped the bowl clean then slouched comfortably on his own stool. "Broke her neck. Still alive when we left,, but in a bad way."

"Imagine that," Bliss replied. "What has it to do with us?"

"I hear tell your troop performed for His Lordship, not long past."

"We’re not a troop," Bliss corrected, calm. "We're but three and we did our job and left without fuss." She paused. "Why was Tamner executed?"

Chrysanthemum shrugged. "Not for the likes of me to wonder. But if you ask Jorge, he'll tell you any man keeps a Southern wife is asking for trouble. The place was ripe with Southern fripperies and temple perfume."

"Stank worse than a sow's arse," Bliss agreed. "I ask again; what has it to do with us?"

It was Chrysanthemum's turn to consider. Then he shrugged. "Cut to the chase then, aye? When you left Cliffhouse, Captain, you left with more than a fat purse of gold coin."

Shaara's gut flipped. He'd known, from the very start, that Tamner's odd tastes would bring trouble. And if trouble had come after them all the way across the River Ann it had turned to danger.