#when your husband gets murdered at your wedding and youre being framed for killing him 😔✌️

[dapperrokyuu]

Little pet peeve of calling something a horror game when its not.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Despite Everything

Alastor x GN! Reader

A/n: I’ve been seeing too many angst prompts on tiktok- ANYWAYS I WORKED ON THIS BETWEEN REQUESTS SO ENJOY

TW: Angst, Flashback to when you were alive, drinking, talk of murder, secret marriage.

Part 2: It's Still You

Alastor sent a glare towards Mimzy as she sat at the bar. Why was she telling all his dirty secrets but what made him let out a growl was she mentioned something that shocked everyone into silence around her. One of his best kept secrets is now out in the open. He wanted to kill her right there but he couldn’t, he was stuck where he stood staring her down as loud static echoed around everyone in the hotel. Even Husk had quickly made an exit.

“Oh yeah! I saw your little songbird wanderin’ around Cannibal Town, Alastor.” She hummed ignoring his glare as his smile threatened to fall, ears flickering in annoyance. “Songbird?” Angel asked unfazed from Alastor’s angry sulking, “Oh Alastor don’t tell me you haven’t told them about your spouse!” She hummed out taking a sip from whatever Husk had given her. Everyone abrupt into questions at that, only falling silent when Alastor sent them a glare. His cane tapped on the ground in annoyance before he stormed out of the hotel, feet automatically taking him towards Cannibal Town he needed to find out if what Mimzy was saying was true or was she just trying to get under his skin. They shouldn’t be down here- they should be up in Heaven, especially after what he had done.

~~

Your hands gripped the ceramic sink as you glared at your reflection in the mirror. You were tired, so tired from constantly being around people that it drained you before you could even get onto the stage and sing your heart out. Was this what fame felt like? Even if it wasn’t the finer Hollywood fame people have talked about, but the fame that came with being a known singer around where you lived. 

A knock on the door made you jump out of your skin before you let out a soft sigh walking towards the door, “Mr. Deverick give me a few more moments-” You stopped mid sentence as you gazed upon the famous radio host standing in front of you, a soft smile on his lips as he held out your favorite flowers. “Now I’m not Mr. Deverick but I will generously give you a moment alone if needed.” He hummed stepping inside your personal room after you had let him in, the flowers still in his hand. Closing the door you let a small smile grace your lips, seeing your husband fix his suit in the vanity that was located in the corner of the room.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Alastor?” You asked as you also fixed your clothes making sure to hide the wedding ring under your favorite pair of gloves, you’ve had to hide your marriage with Alastor for years, why was it bothering you now? “Well I wanted to come see you, Dear! Especially before your show.” He hummed out watching as you turned your back towards him to fix some things up, watching as the smile you wore turned into a frown. He walked over to you carefully placing his chin on your shoulder, “You should smile more, Dear.” He whispered, watching as you nodded and glanced at the wall, your mind was somewhere else. 

But before he could comment on it, the faraway look in your eyes disappeared and you smiled at him. Leaning your head against his and he hummed before allowing a lulling silence to captivate you both. A comfortable silence. Everything he did, it was for you. Only you.

~~~

He walked into Rosie’s Emporium, his eyes snapping onto her tall frame as she was talking to someone.  Which had made him stop in his tracks. It..It was you. You looked as beautiful as the day he married you and then the day he..he had killed you in a blind rage. You were no longer under that horrid man’s thumb.

You were here down in hell..why were you in hell? Why weren’t you in Heaven enjoying your afterlife carefree? He was snapped out of his trance as Rosie finally noticed him standing in the doorway. But he couldn’t hear her as he stared at you, seeing how you looked at him- his own spouse was scared. His songbird was terrified of him. He deserved it after all, he was the one who ripped you from the life you were living.

But deep down despite everything he had done to end up down here. He knew it was still you. You were his driving force, he did everything for you. His little Songbird.

[saintbarou]

𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐇𝚬 𝐆𝚶𝐓 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘…

…𝐓𝐀𝐊𝚬 𝐇𝚬𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝚶𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝚬𝐀𝐕𝚬 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝚶𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

author’s note: set in the yandere blade universe! part of a more significant piece in mind willing to answer questions about it. reader, the daughter of a cloud knight general was in an arranged marriage with blade before he became a criminal and took on the mantle blade - we aren’t aware of what his name used to/was so he is referred to as blade continuously. the reader is a social pariah and is married to a second husband. while we do not know exactly what blade and dan heng did together, we assume it was a creation of sorts, so that is implied. please keep in mind there is kidnapping in this piece but when this is out in it's bigger state there will be more heavy dc within the story!!

tags: +18 minors dni! dc content within, fem reader! arrange marriages, implied cheating/unfaithfulness, jealousy, angst, kidnapping, crying, mentioning of murder- let me know what i missed !

synopsis: a ghost shows his face - the past never dies, especially here in the xianzhou luofu.

You were frightened - it’s what you say to yourself as you grip the pillow beneath you, trembling in your inner clothes. It was like seeing a ghost, an apparition of your shameful past as red eyes leered at you from above, framed by long blue-black strands of his hair. Tilting his head you can hear the ornaments of his clothing and his earring clink quietly, paired with your trembling breaths; it’s all that can be heard in the room you share with your second husband. The man in front of you is like a cursed statue, unflinching, unmoving and unbreathing.

Still and present - like a stain you can’t get out, the past that will never die. He will lick his wounds and even if he were to lose a limb, his memories or his mind, the man known as Blade will always appear before you like a dog that doesn’t know any better. His eyes never leave you, even as you choke out the words and clutch the thin jade necklace he gave you as a wedding gift you still wear.

“Are you here to kill me?” Your words are punctuated by the cold sweat that runs down your cheek that he eyes with hunger.

“No. Of five people, three must pay a price…you are not one of them. Destiny has decreed that we will be together again.” His words turn your fear to anger. Fear, anger, betrayal - you think of your marriages. Though you grew to love the man he was once, your love had always been for the highest bidder. Blade’s former self’s talent was unmatched and your current lecherous husband’s money were the reasons for you being promised to these men. Love was never in the cards for you and even the man you did love had caused you so much strife because he couldn’t stay away from what intrigued him. Despite your counsel, your pleading, your begging - your life turned to ash in your mouth.

“Destiny? That is why you are here before me - because of the ramblings of a mad man?” You ask, tone impudent and harsh. If this was anyone else you’d be embarrassed, you were raised better than that but you just can’t help yourself at this moment. You didn’t even realize that you had tears stinging your eyes until he had drawn closer, knees to the bed and a gloved hand reached to cup your cheek. You couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to, once you were a proud warrior, the apple of your father’s eye and strong.

But after the incident you were stripped of it all - your weapon, your strength and even your father’s love.

You are weak and alone, a frightened woman with tears in her eyes at the mercy of the man she once loved. How pathetic you are, still the same from when you lost everything crying before all at the gravity of your loss.

“I made you cry.” He speaks finally, the artificial moon making his eyes glow like a crow’s in your room. His thumb rubs at your cheek and the affection is haunting as he would do this when his name was familiar to your tongue. You haven’t been touched so gently in a time, depraved of it for so long you don’t have it in you to smack his hand away. You’ve heard him say those words before - the memory makes you flush.

“You’ve always made me cry.” You say, tone warbling as you look at him with red eyes that almost match his. Blade makes a sound, confused but wanting and you look away to bring forth memories from when your lives were intertwined.

“Throughout our arrangement you didn’t say a word when we first met, I cried because I thought you found me repulsive. And you only gave me swords as gifts in the beginning, I thought it was because you didn’t find me womanly.” You laugh a little at that one, teary and soft because at the time you were driven mad about what to do but now you can’t help but find it humorous. The man before you was your blue spring of youth, and the winter of your death all the same.

 “Were we arranged?’ He murmurs, confused as his eyes scrunch in the same way they did when he would begin to craft some new tool for the artisans. You nod, letting small drops of salt water drip down your face.

“Yes. My father thought you were brilliant. He wanted to sponsor your talent, and through our marriage, you received financial help for your crafts.” You explained, feeling your cheeks turn tacky at the talk of finances. He nods, and again there’s a fog in his eye - a glaze that dulls his warrior sense as he begins to reach back into his mind for his ghosts of the past.

“That’s how me and Dan Fen-”

“Don't mention that man’s name to me.” You cut him coldly and it makes him laugh. Despite what you may think he does have some memories of you - your smile and the gentle way you would hold out your hand for finches to rest in your palm. It’s humorous to see you so harsh, like a lion cub growling.  

“Don’t worry, I plan to kill him when the time comes.” He says and it shames you to admit but that promise does soothe you some.

“I don’t care, I hate him. I hate you.” You say and Blade huffs an amused sound. Condescending and almost patronizing, you are aware that you sound like a petulant child.

“You’ve let me get rather close, for a man you hate.” He tries to tease but his voice is too monotone and you only grow more annoyed as you narrow your eyes and hiss at him.

“That’s because for as much as I hate you, I still love you. You were my first love, how could I possibly let you go?” You mutter the last bit but he still catches it and something smug grows in his chest at your admittance.

“Only love.” Blade says and you look at him bewildered.

“I am your only love. Unless you’ve fallen for the pig that is your current husband.” You blink and a new emotion glitters between your lashes and he wonders if he has made you cry again.

“Only love…yes…that’s right. A curse I must bear.” You say and he says nothing, as he supposed he must be like a stain on your life.

“Are you happy here?” Blade asks suddenly and it makes you glance at him from under your lashes that are still dewy with saltwater. It's a redundant question, the answer hangs in the space between the two of you - the liminal space that can be seen between the sun and the moon. Your voice cracks, and you answer him with a voice so bitter it makes Blade grin.

“No. No I’m not.”

“Would you like to leave?”

“Yes.”

Red eyes close to let his grin widen, a sight that before made you smile back then when he was younger and an awkward young man. Now all it does is drive a chill down your back, cold sweat like icicles down the fabric of your inner clothes as dread fills you up to your head. His head comes closer, you drown in a sea of banners and wine, your breath stutters and you don’t even see it - the tranquilizer in his hand that he is quick to inject you with. He is the last thing you see, and the last thing you feel is the ghost of his lips brushing against yours.

He laughs - a dark and cool sound that makes you whine like a frightened dog.

“Come with me then, just like it used to be - back then, now again.”

The celestial boat continues its journey, the artificial night sky filled with the stars it imitates but the only thing, when you wake up in a bed that is most unfamiliar next to a man who is both past and present you finally see the true stars for the very first time.

[aliciameade]

Darkness at Dawn - Ch. 1

Title: Darkness at Dawn Author: aliciameade Rating: M/E Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: Even Bonnie & Clyde met their fate eventually.

Set five years after "Baby."

Also on AO3

“Smooch, honey, can you get the door?”

“Bro, stop calling me that!”

“Letting him answer the door unsupervised? What if it’s a stranger here to abduct him?” Emily whispers in her ear conspiratorially. She pitches her voice toward the living room where their messy-haired pre-teen sons have been playing Fortnite for the past hour. “Connor, she’ll stop calling you ‘Smooch’ if you stop calling us ‘bro’!”

They’re making dinner—well, Stephanie is making dinner; Emily is observing over a shared martini. “He’s twelve and we know everyone in this village. It’s probably just Helen dropping off tomatoes from her garden. She mentioned she’d be stopping by soon.”

Her response surprises even herself. She’s spent the better part of the past six years working on her anxiety and propensity to helicopter-parent her children. Life is slow in Santorini. Stephanie—Alyson Reid, as the town knows her—is the proud owner of the bakery she began working part-time after she got a new identity and flew halfway around the world from Connecticut to start a new life in Greece.

After she killed her wife’s troubled, secret twin sister and set up Emily’s then-husband Sean for the murder of his wife. It had been surprisingly easy—the framing, not the killing. She’d sown a few seeds of suspicion with the detective working the case. Emily confided that he had been cheating. Emily asked for a divorce. Sean had a dark side, and Emily was afraid of him. So afraid that Emily had signed over her assets to her best friend Stephanie Smothers to ensure her son Nicky would be taken care of should anything ever happen to her. A pillar of Warfield, Stephanie’s testimony at Sean’s trial was the final nail in their old lives’ coffins.

She and Emily just celebrated their third wedding anniversary a few weeks ago. They’d gotten married on the coast of the island of Lesbos, an idea Emily had come up with over a second bottle of wine that had made herself laugh so much that Stephanie had no choice but to agree. They’d sailed there as a family, something they were both proud of being able to do on their own. They took their vows at sunset, the only guests were their sons and two people Emily had bribed with a hundred Euros each to be their witnesses, and they’d found the officiant by asking around.

After their honeymoon in Portugal, Stephanie changed the name on her passport for the third time in her life: first from her maiden name to Stephanie Smothers, to Alyson Barrett, and finally to Alyson Reid, Dillon Reid’s new wife. Dillon Reid, formerly known as Emily Nelson, formerly known as Claudia, formerly known as Hope McLanden. Brothers Connor and Devon Reid, formerly known as Miles Smothers and Nicky Townsend.

They’ve lived a dozen lives.

The boys don’t remember much about their past, and they’ve forgotten their old names. Stephanie still calls her son ‘Smooch’ because that’s never had to change. She didn’t have to abandon Smooch.

She and Emily tend to stick to pet names most of the time as well; it’s easier that way. More natural, at least when they’re around other people.

Behind closed doors, in the privacy of their home, away from even their children, an old name might slip out now and then, especially during a thoughtless moment brought on by passion.

Though Emily’s rarely called her anything more than ‘Baby’ since the day they met.

“Proud of you for taking off the training wheels.” She feels Emily’s hand catch her chin and turn her face to kiss her soundly despite Stephanie actively chopping a zucchini.

She smiles into the kiss and it makes the part of her still a bit tender from their morning start to ache. “What time’s your game tomorrow?” she asks when they part.

Dillon Reid is the head coach of the secondary school’s boys’ soccer—football—team. She’s always been good at getting men of all ages to do what she says. 

“9:30, so I’ll probably be gone before you’re awake. Warm-up’s at 8:00.”

Tomorrow is Saturday and Stephanie’s only day off from the bakery. Thankfully, as the boss, she doesn’t have to be there before dawn like her employees need to be to bake off the day’s inventory, but she makes a point to be on-site almost every day. She loves her team and she loves her customers, and she’s gotten pretty darn good at speaking Greek with the immersion in the culture.

“Okay, we’ll meet you there. Wanna go to Apollo’s afterward for lunch?”

Emily groans. “That place is such a tourist trap. I don’t know why you love it so much.”

“Because it’s the only place on this island that knows how to make an American cheeseburger. Pleeeeease?” she pouts, knowing she’ll get her way.

“Fine,” Emily says with an eye roll. “I’m getting onion rings.”

“Uh, Mom?” Connor’s voice is strained as it floats through the living room to the kitchen and Stephanie drops the knife onto the cutting board. “Mom!”

“What? What is it?” she says, rushing into the other room. She hears Emily follow and before she’s finished processing the two men wearing dark suits standing in their doorway, her son looking back at her, eyes wide, Emily’s stepped in front of her.

“Emily Nelson?” the man asks.

Emily doesn’t respond. The arm she’s wrapped around Stephanie in a reverse embrace tightens.

“Stephanie Smothers?”

“Bro, what?” Devon says from the floor where he is still playing their video game. “You got the wrong house.”

“Devon,” Emily admonishes.

Stephanie’s heart is in her throat. She feels she might pass out and leans into Emily’s strong frame, wrapping her arms around her waist. She breathes in her perfume. She thinks about the game they’re going to miss tomorrow. About Emily and their sons proposing to her in the very spot they’re standing now asking her to be a family. How they thought they had been so careful.

“Boys, I need you to go upstairs, please,” she says urgently, hoping the fear she’s feeling isn’t as evident in her voice as it sounds to herself. She hears Devon pause the video game and the shuffling of the boys grabbing their phones and chargers and has an even worse realization than she’d already had.

She steps out from behind Emily just in time for Connor—forever her little curly-haired Miles—to pass and she wraps him in a hug that makes him groan and protest until he seems to understand something serious is going on and he hugs her back. He’s as tall as she is now. “Listen to me, sweetheart,” she whispers in his ear. “You know the safe in my closet?” She feels him nod. “The combination is your birthday. There’s a red envelope inside. Call Helen. Ask her to come over. Give her the envelope. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain when I can. Everything I did, I did so we could be happy. Remember that I love you.” She kisses his forehead and chokes back a sob before he can notice the tears in her eyes. “Upstairs.”

She can hear Emily whispering to Devon as well and then the boys stop and switch to hug their other mother, and they disappear upstairs.

She and Emily are now alone in their living room, two men at the open door, each holding a thick packet of folded paperwork.

“I’m Detective Inspector William Gareau. This is Sergeant Mark Gibson. We are agents of INTERPOL. Do you know why we’re here?”

Emily’s hand intertwines with Stephanie’s. Neither responds.

The men step forward, crossing the threshold into their home, their sanctuary, and that’s when Stephanie realizes it’s not just two men—half a dozen black-uniformed officers follow, flooding into the house and flanking them, surrounding them. Nowhere to go.

The Detective Inspector unfolds the papers in his hand. The officers in the room move. She’s pulled away from Emily, fingers slipping out of her grip as her hands are pulled behind her back. As cold steel clicks around her wrists.

“Stephanie Ann Smothers and Emily Claudia Nelson: I'm arresting you for the murder of Faith Margaret McLanden, having taken place in the State of Connecticut, the country of the United States of America, insurance fraud, money laundering, kidnapping, conspiracy, perjury, and false identification. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”

She’s not sure she’s able to speak. She’s dizzy. The room is spinning.

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” is the last thing she hears before her ears start ringing and her world goes dark.

[the-missann]

Ideas I'm never going to make

So, I have a lot of ideas I am never going to write because they're not my style. So, instead of never talking about them, I'll leave them here to maybe give some inspiration to others. Most of these ideas are 1-5 years old with a handful being over ten years old and I would love to see them written, I just have no drive to write them.

Don't know how often I'll do this, but don't worry I get a ton of ideas that never go anywhere, so I'm sure there will be more!

Onto the ideas:

A dystopia where only two people actually exist, like actually. The planet and everything on it is destroyed and by the end, it's revealed the other party caused this to happen so they could be alone with the other survivor (romantic or platonic).

A passionate romance where the two parties are dangerously obsessed with each other. It starts where only one party seems dangerous, but is revealed later on they both are. Knowing this is bad, they decide to embrace those feelings for a short time to hopefully get it out of their system.

Two enemies end up stranded together. The injured party is cautious when the healthy is trying to help them. It's revealed later that their bosses were conspiring together to kill the pair.

A mature magical girl. It's still your normal Sailor Moon, but the MC is an adult with children. Specific to what I outlined, her husband was kidnapped because of his research and she gains magical powers to go and save him.

The origin story of a pirate girl. She starts off apart of a fairly kind crew, but she wants to make a name for herself and leaves only to find a mythical being of some kind and be cursed to travel with them. In my case, it was a grim reaper.

A vampire and a vampire hunter who end up on bad (putting it lightly) terms after the hunter assumes the vampire killed their newborn child. Plot twist for me was it was actually the hunter's father and the vampire had to find a way to prove it.

A detective agency that is the center of mysterious murders. Their agency is accused of killing their detainees as anyone who goes in never comes out. Is the killer one of the detectives or is the killer just trying to frame them? The setting for me ended up where the whole group was trapped in the police department like Resident Evil 2 almost.

This one is about to be ten years old and has more detail than the others. Two kids (in about the Gothic Era) go to a toy maker's shop. This is to pick up a toy before their families embark on a long trip somewhere. The toy maker is a mysterious man, but one of his toys end up cursing the children to age backwards. In this reality, objects hold memories so they're told by the toy maker to find objects that have sentimental value as that will maintain their age until they can rid of the curse.

The tale of a sun deity and moon deity creating the sun and moon cycle. The moon was a shy anxious child and the sun was a bright cheerful child for me.

An unassuming tale of a newly wed prince and princess where the story begins as "normal" until night falls and the prince is unable to stay awake. His princess then undergoes her own form of unconsciousness where her daytime "Princess Peach" version is switched for a warrior "Biscuit Krueger" version. Who is duty bound to protect her sleeping beauty. This transformation is similar to Greed and Ling from FMA:B where there's two souls inhabiting one body.

I actually had way more than I thought, so I'm gonna cap it at ten -_-;

Thanks for reading and here's to hoping one day I can read these ideas in their entirety~ 🍂

[daenystheedreamer]

I just read your Omeagorverse post and I hope you know I am turning it over in my brain and I am obsessed with the aegon -aerion- Helena stuff going on as well as all the blood magica

I would like to very politely ask for lesbian Maris infor

under da cut ^_^ dont click if u have respect for me cos youll lose it when u see my devianart ocs

ok so maris is ceryse' niece, grew up in the hightower. her mother's a peake cos lol lmao and i wanted the peakes in the targ bloodline 😈 there's a historical character called patrice hightower who was maybe a witch and maybe poisoned the high septon. and as a kid maris was great aunt patrice's shadow who followed her everywhere asking about glass candles and such. after viserys, maegor reached an agreement with the faith that targs can have one westerosi bride, one valyrian bride (for him it's ceryse and viserys). so jae was betrothed to both maris hightower and aerea (daughter of rhaena) on the wedding day maris is 13, jae is 14 and aerea is 16. bit before the wedding though, viserra and aerea do One Last Gal Pal Hang and fly on balerion to valyria and aerea comes back all fucked up so jae and maris marry alone

maris does nawt like aerea because aerea is totally detached from court etc and maris is still in writhing tentacle mass of feudalism. combo of jealousy and a little crush on the cool older butch. she also thinks the polygamy thing is offensive and that she is being slighted (she is) so when aerea dies she's like. well im 13 so im just not gonna unpack that whatsoever and be glad im gonna be sole queen.

i gave her seven girlfriends based on the seven gods cos thats fun to me. first gf is her childhood girlfriend, her cousin patricia (The Father gf). brought to court as her lady-in-waiting but she got bored of patricia trying to scheme and dominate her so she arranged a marriage to a lannister cousin. patricia ends up adopting viserra's lannister kids after viserra gets kicked out of casterly rock. she ends up being the Dad Who Stepped Up to them :)

The Mother gf is desmera webber a distant cousin on the peake side of the family married to a mullendore knight. desmera is a social climber who maris thinks is funny she thinks the attempts at sabotage and subterfuge are cute entertainment. desmera's husband dies and and maris realises desmera killed him so she could find a better richer husband and when desmera tries to seduce jae she's like ight ok thats enough Its Not Funneh Enymore (british accent). then its a fun cat and mouse game where maris marries her off a couple times and each time desmera kills him cos she wants to marry a better guy. maris ends up killing her and framing it as a suicide cos desmera tries blackmailing her with the lesbian thing +targ secrets.

Warrior gf is a lady knight :) she's bethany brune The She-Bear from crackclaw point :) kind of like jonquil darke/alysanne. dies protecting maris rip

Smith gf is a lowborn blacksmith wife :) after aerion murdered the high septon maris went kinda cuckoo and ran off to harrenhal cos she hated jae so much. then viserra is just too crazy for her so maris says fuck it and dresses like a peasant and lives in lord harroway's town for a while where she meets sexy big milf butch tansy and lives her marie antoinette peasant milkmaid fantasy for a while before she gets bored and misses her kids and fancy clothes so she and tansy break up mutually nicely :) only normal relationship she ever has. ends up raising harroway's town to the status of a city :)

Maiden gf is elinor cafferen her lady in waiting when she's in her 40s. elinor has a crush on maris and maris thinks its cute. elinor also has a crush on helaena which makes maris jealous (insane woman)

Craziest one is. Crone gf. her name is rhea upcliffe nee lynderly the witch of snake isle. she becomes the mistress of whispers after maegor kills tyanna and stays in power for decades. she's like 80 by the end of her life but looks 40 and she wears a green ribbon around her neck at all times 😈 maris and rhea have an on/off relationship since maris was like 17. anyway rhea starts convincing maris that elinor is a spy for aerion whos there to seduce helaena and helped kidnap her to essos etcetc and maris goes a little nutso (her daughter DID get kidnapped by her exile son sooo) and confronts elinor but elinor is like wahhhh what tf is going on😭 rhea hates me bcos i found out she's a necromancer and probably undead😭 and maris begs forgiveness and then rhea shoots a crossbow into elinor's skull lol. so maris kills rhea :3 whether elinor was a spy or if rhea was undead is unclear. maybe it didnt even happen and maris was just going crazy lol who knows...

the stranger is jaehaerys 😈 maris and jaehaerys have a tense relationship very bad from the outset. jaehaerys loved aerea and after aerea died he became the Stoic Man that maegor kept trying to beat him into. he's obsessed with recreating valyria in westeros because he wants a real home. aerea's name is forbidden or itll cause a screaming fight. jae wanted to name his heir aerion after her but maris was like LMAO over my fuckin dead body. but he was like well fucking one of them will be. so the younger twin he named aerion and maris never forgave him for the slight. she thinks he's a weird creep about viserys(his mother-father) and after viserys dies and jae starts collecting boy youths that look like him she fully loses any respect for him she thinks he's the most disgusting man ever. doesnt like the way he treats viserys(their son). viserys ends up favouring a young hightower cousin of maris which is the last straw and she snaps and does a murder-suicide RIP babygirl

this is incoherent as is my usual :3 tried to keep it in a coherent timeline but im bad at that. MWAH ily<3

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

So the idea of being married to Will prior to the start of the show, like imagine when the main team finds out will graham has a wife? Jack Crawford knew obviously, and maybe Alana, but everyone else is just

“He has a wife? He can handle people enough to have a wife?”

And oh god Freddie lounds finding the one and only wedding photo you put on Facebook or Instagram solely for your parents who live out of state to see, like it’s you and will outside the wolf trap house, the doggos all around you guys minus Winston, and yes the good girls and boys have little bows on their collars. And blasts that will graham the ‘crime gimp’ is married like most psychopaths keeps an air of normality to keep word off their true nature.

Like you visit will at school to just listen to him talk and teach cause it’s just so interesting.

He tells Hannibal about you, and your hobbies and how you tried once to show him how to crochet or knit and it ended with him somehow cutting his fingers with the needle or hook.

He has a photo of you and the dogs in his wallet, a new one cause gotta have Winston in the photo.

Def shows Hannibal when he talks about you.

He seems to almost get lost in talking about you, gets that’s far off look he gets when he goes into full empath mode, but it’s softer, more dreamy, more happy then when he’s in his moments of seeing the killer murdering someone.

Hannibal is both curious and a bit jealous that someone other then him is able to break through the walls Will has up.

He def wants to meet you, so he, does, he finds out where you work and just so happens to visit and since Will showed him a photo he just casually, as casually as Hannibal lector can, comes up and just

“You wouldn’t happen to be Mrs. Graham, would you?”

Shock? Yes. Surprise? Yes.

“That’s me. Um are you a colleague of wills?” And Hannibal smells will on you, that aftershave, and your own perfume. And it’s a pleasant mix that he quite enjoys.

Has a plan to kill you in place should he ever need it. Has a full mapped out sketch of what he would make you into. From, the position of your body, to the flowers and spices he would put around you, and what dish he would serve you to Will as.

Yes Hannibal would kill and then feed parts of you to Will.

But like you end up coming to Hannibal on your own for therapy because you need someone who understands your husbands mind to talk to.

Hannibal now is just ‘oh….yeah I want them both’

He sees your softness, rough edges, but he sees why Will would be so drawn to you.

Invites you for dinner alone,

You tell Will, who finds it weird your therapist wants to take you to dinner. But tells you to be safe and to call on the way there and home.

Did I mention you didn’t really tell Will Hannibal is your therapist? Whoops.

Dinner is wonderful and oh yeah Hannibal wants you, and will, like it’s weird he is obsessed as Bedelia says. To Hannibal, he’s never had people more interesting to play with.

Actively tries to make you push Will in ways he knows will work in his benefit.

Will accidentally storms in on a session after a case and…

Well it was a couples therapy session.

When wills in jail, you tend to lean way on Hannibal and yes he uses that to his advantage.

Kisses you in his office after a session.

Will is very, not hurt just

“You throw me in jail, frame me for your crimes…and after all of that, you kiss my wife, I’m impressed at the amount of ego you have.”

You are in wills mind palace, his stream, with you sat on the grass, reading while he fishes, it’s all that keeps him, slightly more sane then if he didn’t have his imagination.

Hannibal stabs you in front of Will after slitting Abigail’s throat, he mostly yanks you up, kisses you, and in that stabs you. Just he aims to fully kill you, like he aimed to keep Will alive, but you he needed to hurt Will with you, so he goes full on but, that love for you, he just he aims to kill but ends up with you still alive.

Will wakes up before you. Then spends like every minute he can by your bed.

Def kisses the scar when you guys go back home.

Becomes a routine.

“We match, though he went for different sides. Forever together”

“Never one without the other”

[crankynewt]

Life Could Be a Dream - Chapter 2

Live in Living Colour Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) slowly begins to remember their life with “Pietro” before WestView as they move through the decades, but sometimes knowledge is a curse rather than a blessing.

Pairing: Pietro (Peter) Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: WandaVision Episode 6 spoilers! Read at your own risk!

Author’s Note: Here’s the highly requested second part to Be Okay! You don’t have to read it to understand this story, but it does fill in the gap during the 80s episode and give a little more context into the reader’s mind. Also, the reader’s powers and Halloween costume are highly based off of Starlight from the boys even though I did my best to make it gender neutral, but that’s what I kinda envisioned!

(Not My Gif!)

Your hips swayed as you danced around the kitchen, the sound of The Chords’ “Life Could Be a Dream” filled the room from the record player in the corner your beloved vinyl was spinning on. Chopping pineapple for the jell-o in the bundt mold beside you, you hummed along to the familiar tune as your feet shuffled back and forth on the checkered floor.

A whooshing sound and light breeze behind you tore your attention away from the task at hand. Turning around quickly, you were met with the smiling face of your loving boyfriend, relaxing in a chair with his feet propped up against the kitchen table. His dark jeans were complimented by a letterman jacket adorning his shoulders, his shades of grey complimenting your own and those surrounding the both of you.

“My partner and their impeccable taste in music.” He smirked, arms crossed behind his head.

“My boyfriend and his faster-than-a-bullet superspeed.” You retorted, shuffling over to your man and giving him a playful smack on the leg. “Feet off the table! We’ve gotta eat here in a few hours!”

Pietro whooshed once again, this time with one hand in your waist while the other held yours, finally slowing down enough to gently rock you to the music. Life really could be a dream, and you were experiencing it first-hand.

“What is happening? Where did this come from?!” Agent Woo asked, watching the dancing couple sway as a hexagon framed the image and the words ‘Pietro(Y/N)’ shone across the screen.

“I don’t know! When Wanda recast Pietro an extra broadcast started from inside the hex and this is what the channel’s playing.” Darcy explained, taking a sip of her long awaited coffee as the end credits began to roll. “She must have somehow created another storyline for them.”

“But, wait… Didn’t somebody say that (Y/L/N) went missing before the blip?” Monica commented, pointing at your smiling face on the screen.

“Last I heard was that they got beamed up on that spaceship in New York with Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, but nobody’s seen them since.” Jimmy added, crossing his arms with a furrowed brow.

“Well wherever they were, they’re back in action.”

You woke up with a gasp, shooting straight up as a cold sweat adorned your body. Your nightmare had been something that you couldn’t believe your mind had imagined, it was so real, so dark… 

You had been on a strange planet surrounded by shades or orange and red, weirdly dressed people fighting all around you. At the centre of it all was this purple giant, a metallic glove adorning his hand as he fought the group of you away. 

Before you knew what you were doing you were rushing towards him, hand raised as a tingling feeling ran down your arm while golden light formed around your hand. But your attack was to no avail as with a clench of his fist the giant had opened a red hole in front of you and you began free falling.

“What? What is it?” Pietro grumbled, slowly waking up at your sudden outburst. He sat up as well, rubbing his hand on your lower back soothingly. 

“It was just a dream, babe.” You brushed it off, turning to face Pietro and leaning closer towards him. His eyes still held worry and a bit of disbelief as you played it off, but rather than argue, he just held you close as the two of you laid back down until sleep took it’s hold once more. 

“How much longer ‘till he calls?” Darcy whined, spinning in her chair as the boredom of watching reruns overtook her. You and Peter had just finished your ‘80s episode, meaning that the two of you had just reunited with Wanda and Vision.

“Don’t worry, he’ll call.” Monica replied, and as if on cue the name ‘Jimmy Woo’ was flashing upon her phone screen. She was quick to answer and eagerly pressed the device to her ear. “Woo? What’d your guy say?”

“Scott said that (Y/N) hasn’t been seen since they were on a planet called Titan fighting Thanos. Stark apparently told him that they got tossed in some hole he opened and they couldn’t get them back.” Jimmy explained, the sound of a car moving filling the background as he was already on his way back from talking to Lang.

“You don’t think that he sent her to wherever this new Pietro came from, do you?” Monica responded, Darcy shrugging her shoulders in response.

“I mean, it’s well within the realm of possibilities?” 

“What are you boys doing?” You called from the bottom of the stairs to where Pietro and the twins were playing some video game on the tv, laughing and shouting as they shot at each other. “Piet, why aren’t you in your costume?”

Your boyfriend finally turned to face you and your Halloween costume had his jaw quite literally dropping. You adorned a white costume with a golden star and accents on the front, meanwhile your cape was white with countless smaller stars decorating it’s entirety.

“Wow! Babe, you look… Wow!” He ogled, speeding over to you as his eyes took in your costumed appearance. He ignored your question, Wanda having to bug her brother once more for him to drag Tommy with him to make their matching Quicksilver costumes, their hair slicked up on the sides in an odd way.

Before you knew it the five of you were making your way down the street bustling with costumed kids. Pietro and Wanda were a couple steps ahead of you with the twins, you making the decision to take a minute to appreciate your domestic life while the siblings caught up.

“Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Pietro yelled as the twins went running off to fill their buckets with candy. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, however you weren’t very far behind them and neither twin was making any effort to speak quietly.

“Do you remember when we were at the orphanage when mom and dad died?” She asked, the duo stopping to talk to each other in the middle of the busy road. While you didn’t intend to stop yourself, the sudden confusion that struck your mind left you no other choice.

Orphanage? Why would Peter have ever been in an orphanage when both his parents were still alive?  Wait, Peter? Where was all this coming from?

Suddenly your life was quite literally flashing before your eyes. Getting your powers, joining the Avengers, falling through the portal to another reality, meeting the X-Men… Oh, and Peter. Your relationship with Peter came back in moments, from your first meeting to the day he kissed you after you almost died on a mission. And how could you ever have forgotten your wedding day?! 

“Peter?” You asked out loud. Whether you were calling out to the man who you now remember to be your husband or questioning the memories that you had just regained you weren’t sure.

Your sudden comment caused Peter/Pietro to scoff in disbelief and furrow his brows, meanwhile Wanda’s expression darkened as her eyes glared daggers into your head. 

“Did you just call me Peter?” He asked incredulously, but his face quickly softened as he saw the fear in your eyes. You were utterly dumbfounded, How did you get back here? Last thing you remembered was being at the school, then all of a sudden you were living in some sit-com town.

“Why doesn’t he remember me? Wanda, what have you done?” Your voice wavered, your gaze shifting from Peter to Wanda, who would have already murdered you if looks could kill.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Her eyes flashed red, meanwhile Peter was standing there as if everything around him was completely normal.

“I think you do. Don’t make me do this, Wanda.” Your eyes began glowing as well. There was no way this would be ending well.

[abduct-me-helen]

r/legaladvice

Posted by u/ebouchard 2 months ago

My husband has embarrassed me at the annual institute holiday party for the last time. I want another divorce.

My husband, soon to be ex-husband if all goes as planned, was leering at an archival assistant the other day. He also had a bit too much to drink, and started talking about various…personal activities that I would’ve preferred be undisclosed. Now, I’ve divorced him before, but this time he seems fit to antagonize me and not sign the papers. Not just that, but he’s also disappeared, which isn’t uncommon but is still frustrating when I’m trying to divorce him. He always gets in a hissy fit when I divorce him, but this time he’s just being petty.

Is there a way to divorce him without needing to track him down in order to have him sign the papers? He’s the captain of a ship and when he gets…petulant, he often sails for a few months before returning to his moorhouse. During these times, it’s notoriously hard to contact him, much less find him.

tl;dr: my husband ran away in an attempt to be petty and now I can’t divorce him. What do I do?

Edit: Please stop making remarks on the healthiness of our relationship. It’s none of your business, and we are perfectly fine.

Edit: We got divorced again since I made the first post.

Edit: We are now remarried again.

 crawbed008 3.1k points · 2 weeks ago

    | He always gets in a hissy fit when I divorce him, but this time he’s just being petty.

wait, what do you mean by “always”??

     ebouchard 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

             whenever I try to divorce him, he acts petulant.

                  sisenore_k 675 points · 2 weeks ago

                          do you divorce him often lmao???

                                    ebouchard 1.2k points · 2 weeks ago

                                        yes.

                          [expand]

getsome_69 352 points · 1 week ago

            op how many times have you two gotten divorced so far

                 ebouchard 2.1k points · 2 weeks ago

                       six, though there were a few we didn’t go through on legally.

                              kokobura2 126 points · 2 weeks ago

                                        SIX??? good god op why do you even keep remarrying

                                              ebouchard 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

                                                      money.

                                           stonks 782 points · 2 weeks ago

i know op in rl and the real reason is that they’re the    

only people willing to put up with each other

                                                                                   [expand]

r/relationship_advice

Posted by u/bigboyman 1 month ago

I (48M) feel like my husband is very clingy and I’m a person who needs solitude to survive. What should I do?

My husband is always talking to me. I just want to be left alone, but he just keeps on scheming. He’s always ranting about hiding tapes and the watcher’s crown and it is getting tedious having to listen to his, well, words in general.

How should I ask for more space?

 poorandtiredbutyolo 2.2k points · 2 weeks ago

I have a clingy partner too, and what I do is set clear boundaries. I also make sure to set time towards my partner outside of those times when I’m alone, like having dinner every night and having movie/games night once a week.

      bigboyman 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

           I interact with him far less already then I would if I did that.

                   asunachan3 203 points · 2 weeks ago

                        how much do you talk to him?                                   

                                     bigboyman 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

                                               at least once every three months

asunachan3 203 points · 2 weeks ago

                                                                   and you’re MARRIED?!???

                                                                            bigboyman 1.2k points · 2 weeks ago

I know, it’s a lot. You see why I can’t stand him being so clingy?

[expand]

 tania9 421 points · 2 weeks ago

    from reading the replies, I can only assume you hate your husband.

                bigboyman 1k points · 2 weeks ago

                                despise, actually.

 [expand]

Pastasauceandspagett 608 points · 1 month ago

      I don’t know how OP could possibly salvage this relationship if they hate each other and only talk every three months.

bigboyman 4.2k points · 1 week ago

                                The wedding is in four days.

 Allicecarter2002 4.2k points · 1 week ago

                               I thought you were already married??

                                                                      bigboyman 4.2k points · 1 week ago

oh, we got divorced about a week after I made the post and then he proposed again a week after that.

                                                                                                 [expand]

 r/pettyrevenge

Posted by u/notjonnydville 3 weeks ago

I had my archival assistants spit in his tea.

My boss is a huge bastard. He is just, awful. He always looks like you’re amusing him but in that kind of way where he’s looking like you like a meal. He is just a horrible human being. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed someone. That’s the kind of person he is.

Anyway, I usually try to keep a professional relationship with my assistants but a few nights ago they invited me to go out for drinks with them and my friend blackmailed me into it. We got hammered. It was a truly…special experience. Ever since then, I’ve been on better terms with them. We even have a groupchat.

The situation goes like this: he’s been ranting to me for the last hour about things I ALREADY KNOW in that pompous, annoying voice of his. Anyway, I texted one of my assistants, I’ll call him M, and M comes in mid rant. I very sternly ask “why haven’t you made [our boss’s name, I’ll refer to him as E] tea yet?”

I kind of put him on the spot and he just stayed there with his jaw dropped. I told him to go make E a cup of tea, so he scurries out.

I wait about 30 seconds and then discretely text the groupchat: “spit in his tea M.”

Anyway, they go absolutely *ballistic* and T, another one of my assistants, sprints halfway across the building (I hear he even knocked into our secretary), just to spit in E’s tea too. My last assistant is a bit wearier but she does it too.

M comes back with the tea and hands it to E before quickly leaving. A few minutes pass and E still hasn’t touched his tea.

So I remind him that M makes very good tea and he’d be disappointed if E didn’t drink it.

There is a quiet battle of wills.

Now, I don’t know how to put this without sounding insane, but our boss…he just *knows* things. He’s psychic, or something like that. There is absolutely NO way he didn’t know the tea was messed with. He knows, he knows I know, and we silently stare at each other without moving.

Finally, *finally*, still making direct eye contact with me, he takes a sip of his tea and purses his lips. I ask him if he isn’t thirsty.

He says he isn’t, and leaves the room. I never did find out what happened to that tea.

tl;dr: I got my archival assistants to spit in my asshole bosses’ tea. It was glorious.

leavemealone 2k points · 2 weeks ago

    holy *shit*, OP, did you ever get in trouble????

           notjonnydville 2.1k points · 2 weeks ago

                   he didn’t have any evidence, so no.

maya_herse331 782 points · 1 week

    did he ever try to get revenge?

           notjonnydville 7.1k points · 2 weeks ago

                   he framed me for murder, but I’m still not sure if that was directly related.

                  [expand]

[thebluelemontree]

Hi! Don’t you think Myranda is aware of who Sansa is? She asked her some very pointed questions (I think she was sent up to investigate Lysa’s suspicious murder) and Sansa practically gave herself away when she blurted out Jon’s name. Myranda and her father had their eye on the Eyrie before LF came into play. Lysa turned Nestor down and Harry rejected Myranda. Nestor especially may not be so content with the Gates. There are just so many Checkhov’s guns lying around.

Also what do you think of the theory that the bread riots were arranged by LF to kidnap Sansa? Mandon Moore was her assigned guard (who was probably paid off by LF to assassinate Tyrion) and he totally abandoned her. LF is also asking for wards from the Vale lords...maybe he kidnapped Tyrek for his claim?

Lots of stuff here.

Yes, Myranda knows who Alayne really is. She all but confirmed it; however, I think there is decent evidence to suggest Myranda is not really in cahoots with her father, Nestor Royce. He is knowingly taking bribes from Littlefinger in exchange for his support against Yohn Royce, who is/was only second to House Arryn in political power in the Vale. Mainly, Littlefinger warns Sansa not to trust Myranda because he is wary of her. "Soon or late you must meet Myranda Royce," Petyr had warned her. "When you do, be careful. She likes to play the merry fool, but underneath she's shrewder than her father. Guard your tongue around her." -- Alayne II, AFFC.

She is not her father. She is way more skeptical and discerning. That's why LF finds her dangerous and doesn't want Sansa to slip up in front of her. Some of LF's reputation for being a "master manipulator" is quite overblown. It's not that hard to manipulate people who already desperately want to buy what you're selling. It's much harder to get your hooks in people that want nothing from you.

Nestor's weakness is that he has an inferiority complex with his cousin Yohn and he has ambitions for his son, Albar, to rise higher than a steward. Covering up Lysa's murder and rubberstamping the official story that framed Marillion was the golden opportunity to gain a lordship and a castle seat that Albar can inherit. If Nestor was ever upset that LF ended up marrying Lysa instead of him, this bribe just reward for loyal service was the soothing balm to bind up that wound. And now Nestor is LF's staunchest ally and the generous gifts just keep flowing his way. This next part is key: Nestor's lordship and claim to the Gates are contingent on LF staying alive and in power because the legal documents were all signed by the Lord Protector, NOT Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie. If LF is removed, the grant will likely be considered null and void. Nestor has every reason to back the legitimacy of Marillion's conviction for Lysa's murder. So if Myranda is on her father's side, why is she poking around into anything that could upset the relationship with their benefactor or undo their arrangement if the truth comes out? It only makes sense if she's not actually down for any of this bullshit at all. We also have a hint that Myranda may have been threatened by Nestor for her opposition or meddling: "Of course not. Walk faster, my new suitors may be following." Myranda made a face. "Ossifer Lipps is the dullest knight in the Vale, but Uther Shett aspires to his laurels. I am praying they fight a duel for my hand, and kill each other."

Alayne giggled. "Surely Lord Nestor would not seriously entertain a suit from such men."

"Oh, he might. My lord father is annoyed with me for killing my last husband and putting him to all this trouble." -- Alayne I, TWOW.

Myranda is an excellent catch on paper for her prestigious lineage. Nestor is an ambitious man, so it makes no sense he would consider a marriage contract with these repulsive scrubs who can offer him nothing. I don't buy the reason is that Myranda's late husband died in their marriage bed or that Lady Anya previously turned down his offer to wed Myranda to Harry (more on that later). The only problem with Myranda's first marriage was that the older man died too quickly before conceiving an heir. It was actually a pretty decent deal for her. If she had been pregnant, Myranda would have retained widow's rights, ruled as her child's regent, and could have lived independently in her late husband's estate for the rest of her life. His death probably occurred so shortly after the wedding (no widow's rights) that she was sent back to Nestor once everyone was sure she had not conceived. They may have kept her dowry, which could be a problem for making a new match since the Vale lords are known to be mostly cash-poor; however, Nestor's new bestie could surely provide him a nice fat dowry and broker an auspicious match for his daughter? Maybe not Harry, but this is still a win-win all around. Myranda's prospects would seem to be better than ever, and a big incentive for her to play ball with Littlefinger, if that's what she wanted to do. So why is Nestor still "annoyed" and apparently willing to just offload her on Shett or Lipps? It only makes sense if Myranda is not willing to play ball, if she's raised objections, or made threats of her own to expose this corruption. If so, then she can't just give the real reason to Alayne. Her late husband's bum ticker is a convenient excuse.  It is true that Nestor did approach Lady Anya Waynwood, Harry's foster mother, about a match between Myranda and Harry. Keep in mind this all happened long before LF had arrived in the Vale. Lady Anya was the one that rejected the offer, not Harry directly. A meager or lack of dowry after her first marriage could’ve been a factor since we know Lady Anya is deep in debt; however, I think the most likely reason Myranda was turned down is that Lady Anya knows her ward is intensely fatphobic from having to clean up the scandal involving one of her maids, Cissy, who was Harry’s first paramour. Harry was repulsed by her gaining too much weight while carrying his bastard. I’m not going to go into it here, but I explain a lot of my thoughts on Myranda's perspective and the rejected betrothal in this post. For a more in-depth analysis of the whole situation, check out my essay on Harrold Hardyng for Pawn to Player.  We should keep in mind that Myranda has very good reason to not immediately trust or be more forthcoming with Alayne/Sansa, even if she knows who she really is. Especially since Sansa was a witness that testified she saw Marillion kill Lysa, her own aunt. That whole story is a load of hogwash to anyone with a brain, so the question then becomes: if she���s Sansa Stark, already wanted for kingslaying, what the heck is she doing with LF? Is she LF’s pawn and being forced to do his bidding? Or is she a willing accomplice and possibly his lover? Myranda can’t know if Sansa is a friend or foe unless she gets close enough to suss out her motives. And I do think by TWOW, she’s probably satisfied Sansa is a decent person who is caught up a situation she can’t get out of.   As for Mandon Moore, the bread riots, and Tyrek, see this post and this post. Littlefinger doesn’t have anything to do with any of that and Tyrek, a Lannister of the westerlands, has nothing to do with the plot in the Vale. His fate is a mystery, we’ve all got some degree of waiting-for-twow brain worms, and people just want to stick him in storylines/places he doesn’t belong because [insert Varys/Littlefinger/Faceless Men].  

[bitcher-of-blaviken]

The Death of a Bard

Rating: T Warnings: None WC: 1,783 Tags: Modern AU, family shenanigans, Geralt is a good dad, fluff, nobody is dead i swear

Geralt sniffed and subtly wiped a tear from his eye as Yennefer stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. Eskel stood on Geralt’s other side, a box of tissues clasped in his large hands. In front of them, Jaskier laid in the long makeshift coffin, his hands clasped over his stomach with flowers tucked under them. They were just wildflowers that Ciri found out in the backyard where they were all standing, but it’s how Jaskier would have wanted his funeral to be like. Off the cuff, nothing grand, a cheap cardboard box instead of a grand and beautiful coffin of mahogany and a plush velvet interior. Geralt knew that this was what the humble musician would have always truly wanted.

Lambert stood on the other side of the box. “Dearly beloved and hated, we are here to celebrate the death of Jaskier—“

“It’s to celebrate the life, Lambert,” Geralt interrupted. He cleared his throat and sniffled again. “He had a good life. He deserves to be celebrated.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Lambert retorted with a scoff. He fumbled with the wrinkled paper in his hands. He was dressed in his nicest outfit, which was his work uniform for the post office. It was sufficient. “We are here to celebrate the life of Jaskier, who died from a fatal gunshot wound in the stomach. He bled out slowly and painfully, murdered in cold blood.”

“Who would do such a horrible thing?” Eskel lamented, his voice watery. “He was so young. He had so many more years ahead of him, so much more music to make, so much— I’m running out of words.” He choked out a sob and took a tissue out from his box to blow his nose into it, comically loud.

“Nobody move,” Ciri called out, walking out with an oversized fedora on. It was nearly falling over her eyes as she stomped out, her chest puffed out despite the large trenchcoat she wore trailing half behind her on the ground. “We have reason to believe the murderer is among this group. Nobody gets in or out.”

Gasps came from all of them.

“Oh come on lady, all of us loved the guy. Some more than others,” Lambert said with a pointed look at Geralt, who flushed. “None of us would kill him. We don’t even have guns.”

“Is that so?” Ciri asked, showing them all a plastic ziploc bag. Inside was a tiny, bright pink water gun. “I’m Detective Cirilla. We found this on the crime scene.”

More gasps from all of them, though there was barely suppressed snickers from Lambert.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Ciri asked as she strode over to Lambert. “There is a man dead in front of us and you think to laugh? Sounds like something the murderer would do.”

“No I’m laughing because it’s a fuckin’ pink water gun,” Lambert interjected with a grin.

“Language,” Yennefer chided.

“No, it is the murder weapon and you better start giving an alibi or you’re going to jail for some interrogation,” Ciri insisted with a shake of the ziploc bag. The harmless water gun rattled around inside of it.

Lambert cleared his throat and put his hands up at the equally hard stares from everyone else at the funeral. “Fine,” he relented. “I was in the kitchen, getting dinner ready.”

“What were you cooking?” Ciri asked, her tone and glare so serious that Geralt even saw Yennefer have to bring a hand up to suppress a smile.

“Pancakes,” Lambert replied equally as seriously. He even crossed his arms and leaned down to meet Ciri’s glare, their noses nearly touching.

“Hm. A likely story,” Ciri relented with a huff. She marched over to Eskel and pointed a tiny finger up at him. Geralt had to hand it to him, he still managed to look convincingly frightened even with an eight year-old in a too big hat and far too big trenchcoat pouting up at him. “And what about you? What were you doing at the time of the murder?”

“I was just— reading with Kitty curled up on my lap. I wasn’t able to move, much less murder someone. I’ve never seen that gun in my life,” Eskel defended, his hands up. “I swear detective, I would have never!”

“I see, and you?” Ciri asked as she whirled around to point at Geralt.

“You think I would have murdered him?” Geralt asked, his tone coming out more flat than it probably should have. He wasn’t good at the theatrics like Eskel and Lambert were. “We just married last week, we were supposed to go on our honeymoon. You were there detective.” It was true, Ciri had married him and Jaskier last week.

“I see,” Ciri said, rubbing her chin as she thought. “But what about his will?”

“What about it?” Geralt asked.

“I have it here,” Lambert said as he cleared his throat. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

“Well? Don’t tarry on man, read it!” Ciri demanded. Geralt bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. At least she was learning a wide range of vocabulary.

“Yeah yeah, it says ‘If I die, I leave all of my earthly possessions to my newly wedded husband Geralt, including…” Lambert gave a loud gasp.

“What does it say? Including what?!” Ciri asked.

“It says ‘Including my super duper big family inheritance that I have stored away in the coast of Belize’. He was loaded!” Lambert exclaimed.

“Let me see that,” Ciri said as she snatched the paper out of Lambert’s hands. She hummed as she looked over the paper, which really just had the will written out in crayon with multiple words misspelled, including Geralt’s name, but nobody commented on that. She gasped and waved the paper. “This will is forged! I knew it!”

Everyone else gasped as well.

“Forged?” Yennefer asked.

“Yes! His signature was faked,” Ciri decided as she showed the paper to Yennefer.

A loud snore from the “coffin” interrupted them, and Geralt kicked the cardboard box. Jaskier gave a yelp from the jostling.

“Corpses don’t snore,” Geralt chided.

“Sorry, sorry, I was just comfy, and you all were droning on, it faded into background noise,” Jaskier mumbled. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he settled back in the cardboard box. He reached up with one hand, gesturing in a small circle. “Continue.”

“Thank you sir,” Ciri said with a nod. “Sorry about your death.”

“Thank you for your condolences detective,” Jaskier said. “I shall now go back to being dead now. Blargh.”

Geralt huffed a laugh as Jaskier put his hands back on his stomach and clasped them over the flowers again.

“Now! Who would gain from such a forgering, if not Geralt!” Ciri declared as she rounded back on Geralt. “You murdered your new husband in cold blood, to take his secret fortune for yourself!”

“I wouldn’t,” Geralt protested with another sniffle. “I— loved him. A lot. I was really looking forward to the honeymoon. We even had our entire trip planned.” He produced the two strips of green construction paper from his jacket pocket, with the words “Honeymoon tickets” written on them in crayon with a lot of little red hearts around the words.

“I see,” Ciri said, taking the tickets from him to inspect them carefully. “But then why forge the will?”

“I was framed,” Geralt sighed. “Someone must have wanted me to be out of the way. Someone who would have gotten the fortune instead.”

“Someone like..his long lost sister?!” Ciri asked as she pointed an accusatory finger at Yennefer.

“How did you know detective?” Yennefer gasped, a hand on her chest.

“In the victim’s bedroom, I found the actual will stuffed under the mattress!” Ciri said as she whipped out another piece of paper. Everyone gasped again. “But this one says the exact same thing as the forged one! Everything is to be left to Geralt, including his super duper huge family fortune! So why would Geralt have forged a will if he was going to get Jaskier’s family fortune anyways?” She waved the paper at Yennefer. “So I looked around, and found a chain of letters between you two! He wanted to reconnect with his lost sister, and told you about the fortune he inherited from your parents that he was going to share with Geralt!”

“It should have stayed in the family!” Yennefer cried.

“Exactly! And if the forged will was deemed trash and I hadn’t found the true will, then it would have gone to you!” Ciri said with a proud grin. She mirrored Yennefer’s pose, her hands on her hips as she puffed her chest out. “Case closed!”

“Argh, I was so close to getting away with it,” Yennefer said as she offered her hands for Ciri to clasp the toy handcuffs on her.

“Close only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and— um.” Ciri paused, trying to remember.

“Certain nuclear weapons,” Lambert reminded her with a snicker.

“Yeah!” Ciri said with a grin. “Just like my Uncle Lambert always says!” She bounced and grabbed one of Yennefer’s hands. “The judge has already decided your sentence. It’s a thousand years in jail! We’re locking you away for a long time.”

“That seems fair for a murder,” Yennefer relented as she let Ciri tug her back into the house.

Geralt smiled as he watched them disappear inside, and he turned to help Jaskier stand up out of the box. Jaskier winced and rubbed his backside.

“Ah, that was cold,” he said.

“I told you,” Lambert snickered. “Not so funny when it’s your turn to be dead, now is it?”

“I think I liked it better when Ciri was marrying us to each other,” Eskel muttered. “Are you sure she should be watching those crime shows?”

“Can’t really stop her,” Geralt said with a shrug. “It teaches her big words, and at least that way we don’t have to try to explain to her what incest is and why it’s bad.”

“I was having the time of my life,” Lambert teased with a snicker. “I rocked that wedding dress.”

“Geralt wore it better,” Jaskier fired back with a grin.

“Dead people don’t get opinions,” Lambert said as he led the way to the house again. “Come on, let’s get inside before the detective eats all of the carrots.”

Jaskier slipped his hand into Geralt’s and kissed his cheek. “I absolutely would leave you my super duper big family fortune that I stashed on the coast of Belize if I had it,” he cooed.

“I know,” Geralt chuckled.

“Do you think she even knows where Belize is?”

“Probably not.”

[what-i-call-men]

I Hope That You Burn

James x fem! Reader

Angst

Prompt: James’ wife had no idea about his killing and when the cops come to arrest him, she’s the one who finds his body.

To say you were angry at James would be an understatement. To start off, the two of you had met while he was in university. He had proposed to you shortly before building the hotel and put any talk of a wedding on the shelf while he built his hotel. He became distant, but you tried to visit him every so often when you could. The majority of your communication was through letters or you seeing the papers of him on the cover in front of his hotel.

You had finally made it out to the hotel, just in time for it’s opening ceremony, your presence being a surprise for James. It was for the best that you didn’t tell him because you were late anyway, barely sprinting upstairs to see him holding another woman in his arms as she stood beside an open window. The two of them seemed very close, almost closer than you were with your own fiance.

He held her hand as he helped her away from the window, kissing her hand gently as he stared up into her eyes. You felt the anger festering in your chest as they exchanged quiet words, drowned out by the sound of the party inside the room between you and them. You weren’t quite sure what to do, to yell or interrupt or just leave, but luckily that choice was made for you.

Elizabeth glanced back towards the party and caught a glance of you. She saw the anger in your eyes, and the ring that sat on your finger. You were the woman who he had a photo framed of in the room the party was placed in. You were the woman who was pictured with James in the newspapers, the one holding his hand and kissing his cheek… his fiance.

“James…” You stated, just barely loud enough for him to hear. His head turned to you from where it was staring at Elizabeth. “Darling, I was just helping miss…” He gestured to Elizabeth who’s name he didn’t even know. “Elizabeth.” She said and he nodded. “Miss Elizabeth was shocked by the news of Valentino’s death. I was helping her calm down, but if you could cool her off that would help tremendously.” He said and he pushed her gently towards you.

It wasn’t the infatuation with Elizabeth, or even the fact that when you two did tie the knot, his maid looked as if she had seen a terribly sad motion picture. Although those did get on your nerves, you could stand it as long as he was loyal to you in every other aspect, which he was. You had fallen pregnant shortly after the wedding, and started to take your spot in his life as a wife, picking up where Miss. Evers couldn’t.

As you were making a stew for dinner, currently about 6 months along in your pregnancy, you heard a commotion outside your door, what sounded like many pairs of footsteps heading towards your husband’s office down the hallway from you. Turning off the heat to the stove, you walked out of your room and towards the commotion. “Can I help you gentlemen?” You asked as you wiped your hands on your apron, watching as about 8 police officers stood outside your husband's office.

“Mrs. March, we have a warrant here for your husband’s arrest.” The head of the group spoke as he held out the warrant to you. “For what charges?” You asked and took the paper from his hands. “Multiple charges of first degree murder, more than enough to put him in the chair.” Your face went cold as you heard the charges, gently resting your hand on your bump. “That couldn’t be him… My husband never leaves his office. He hunts every once and a while but that’s not out of the ordinary or illegal. I don’t even think he keeps his hunting guns on premises.” You stated and it just happened to be perfect timing that a gunshot went off on the other side of the door.

Your eyes widened and you grasped for the key to his office that was hidden above the door. The officers took out their weapons as you unlocked the door, knocking on it gently, but not hearing a response. Pushing the door open, your entire body froze. There was Miss Evers’ body with a bullet through her forehead, the gun in your husband’s hand, a knife in his other as his blood rushed from his neck into a tub where there was a horrid stench of acid and a corpse with it’s flesh basically melting off.

It barely all clicked in your head before your head hit the ground and you passed out. You always were squeamish at the sight of blood and seeing it flow like Niagara falls out of your husband's throat was a mixture for nightmares. The policemen got you back to your room and questioned you for hours, your makeup staining your cheeks and the stew on the stove getting cold.

When you were finally left to your own devices, you sat on your bed and held the handkerchief with your husband's initials embroidered which was now stained with black of your makeup. You sighed and stood up, walking over to his office, now cleared of the bodies, but the air felt cold and unwelcoming. You walked to his desk and opened the drawers, looking through his things, just blueprints, contracts, a note with his code to his safe, even your marriage certificate.

You took the note with his code on it, putting it into the safe that sat in the wall behind his desk. It cracked open and you almost threw up at what you saw, it looked like a chamber with his guns, knives, as you glanced around your foot touched the body of a corpse on the ground, rotting from the lack of anyone being able to access the chamber. You stepped around it and shakily took in the room, placing your apron over your hand as you opened a chute which led straight down.

Walking away from the room, you sat at his desk and saw something else peeking from the bottom of his drawer, all your letters to him, and the ones you hand brought with you when you moved in. Picking them up, you felt the fire ignite in your chest, the anger of everything your husband had done to you now boiling to the surface. You grabbed all the letters and walked to the fireplace that sat against the wall. Igniting it, you sat before the fire, reading through the papers.

“Why’d you have to be a damn Icarus. You had so much ambition and chose to put it in the wrong places. James, you could’ve had a perfect family. Me, the wonderful child growing that we made. You bastard, you left me here alone.” Your tears started to shed again as you threw the notes into the flames. “If it weren’t for this child growing in me, I'd throw this damn marriage certificate into the flames as well. At least with this our child can live here comfortably. I hope you burn in hell.” You muttered the last part as you stared at the certificate, a photograph from your wedding paperclipped to the corner.

You stared into the fire, tears pricking in your eyes as you felt your baby kick. You caressed your stomach, feeling the air around you get cold quickly, and hearing a clap of metal and a dragging sound. Feeling your chest shake as you stood again, walking towards the sound in the chamber, the body now disappeared and what looked like your husband standing in the room.

“James?” You asked softly and the figure faced you. It looked just like him but it felt nothing like him. He reached out and took your hand gently, it most definitely didn’t feel like him, he felt colder. “You bastard.” Was the only thing you spit out and stared at him daringly. “You’re a fucking murderer and you didn’t tell me? You fucking killed yourself and I just got questioned for 5 hours by the police who think I had something to do with it.” You spit out at him and threw his hand off of you.

“Dearest, I didn’t want you wrapped up in my… hobby. I knew you’d disapprove and I didn’t want to put stress on you or the baby.” He said and gently caressed your stomach. “I don't know...what you are but whatever it is I don't want you anywhere near me or this child. Especially with those people’s blood on your hands. How do I know you won’t hurt our child?” you spat at him and walked towards the door of his office.

“Darling-” “James, leave me alone. I need time to think this over.” You said and walked out the door, leaving the ghost of your husband to stand in his office as you cradled your stomach, now crying again as you walked back to your room, locking the door behind you.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

relationship dynamics

because i felt like it

Birdflash:��Their relationship dynamic is like the cutest thing ever. “I’ve noticed that we’ve slowly begun to phase the ‘B’ out of our bromance.” Have done the spiderman kiss and will continue to do the spiderman kiss. SO. MANY. PUNS. They’re CONSTANTLY in a pun war. In a drive thru: “Hey can you tell the guy in the car behind me that he’s cute and I’ll pay for his drink?” “Um….okay sir.” “Your total is $10.59. Also the guy in front of you said, um, he said to tell you that he thinks you’re cute and he’ll pay for your drink.” “*rolls eyes with a fond smile* that’s my husband, he thinks he’s romantic,” but the best part is that it works for either one of them. Birdflash Culture is the word “babe.” If you don’t think they had a bubble machine at their wedding then you’re lying to yourself. Eating junk food whenever and wherever they want,. “Oh my god just get in the fucking blanket fort already.” Where you go, I go. SO MUCH FOOD OH MY GOD ALL THE FOOD SO MUCH FRIGGIN FOOD. Police/crime lab aesthetic bc I have a headcanon that they’ both work with the police department (Dick’s a detective, Wally’s the lead CSI). Photo booth strips. Them being impressed by each other all the time. F R E C K L E S. Stopping halfway through the middle of sex because they just realized something about Star Trek season 3 episode 8 and they really need to pull it up on the tv to make sure they’re right. Re-enacting fight scenes from martial arts movies in the living room of a tiny apartment. Have i mentioned the babe thing because they toss around the word babe all the friggin time, not baby that’s gross, just plain babe along with bro and dude those three are interchangeable. “I called shotgun infinity when I was twelve.” The glass is always half full. Them playing video games at home eating pizza counts as a “date” but also they’ve been doing the same thing for years.

Jayroy: “don’t worry I know what I’m doing” “not even god knows what you’re doing.” Sharing cigarettes. Desperate messy kisses. Constant fast paced insult war that you can’t keep up with if you’re not quick witted enough. “My family had to put up with me but you? You’re the idiot who chose me as a best friend.” pet names galore but like edgy ones not gross sweet ones (my personal favorite is jaybird bc it’s awesome and also canon), very very kinky sex, will murder rapists and drug lords in the most painful way possible without giving a solitary fuck but will go to a nursing home the next morning and be as respectful as possible to the elderly. Tattooossss. Baseball hats. Say “fuck you” as “I love you.” Hair ties everywhere. m u s c l e s.

Timkon:  Classic love story. Like, switch one of their genders and you’ve got a old school romance movie in the making. Photo shoots with a pride flag and merch. Pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks. Tim wearing Kon’s clothes to the point where practically his entire wardrobe except for his fancy clothes and red robin suit consists solely of Kon’s stuff. The Neighborhood vibes. Holding hands on a date at the carnival. Pride bracelets and pins. 90s vibes. Kind of the type of Destiel feeling where you can’t really have Destiel without also having Sam being the overenthusiastic shipper/supportive brother? That but with the rest of the Core Four. Polaroid pictures. Gay and Tired. Flannel + Leather + Denim. they go on dates with other people (before they realize they’re in love) and spend the entire time talking about their other half. Skateboards. A high school romance.

Damijon (aged up obviously):  constant constant constant bickering and arguing, like we’re surpassing married couple status here. “I’m older” “I’m taller” starts out as a biting insult, falls into teasing joke, then becomes something they say with a mischievous fondness and an inside-joke smile. Country + Pop Taylor swift songs. Wandering together through the city. "Be kind to animals or I’ll kill you.” Sitting on the roof together. Kryptonite blades that Jon trusts no one except Damian to wield. “I hate you” “happy to hear it” turning into another inside joke. Sleepovers. Never growing up. “I trust you with my life unconditionally but I do not trust you to get my order right remember the time you betrayed me and everything I ever stood for?” “Oh my god dami I forgot the sauce onCE.” Don’t lie to yourself, habibi is totally a thing. Damian wearing Jon’s varsity football jacket over dark colored/black turtleneck shirts. Damian sketching Jon either late at night in the light of the moon or early in the morning by the light of the sun. Classic dark vs Light. Running down the street tugging the other behind you while holding hands. Red converse + Combat boots. TEAMWORK. “Clark, your son is annoying, loud, clumsy, entirely too tall, hopelessly optimistic, and way too naive. I trust him with every cell in my body.”

[starry-sky-stuff]

Historical Romance Recommendations

I've been talking with @missbrunettebarbie about different historical romance novels and I thought, since I've read a lot recently, that it would be fun to make some recommendations. Here it goes.

Marriage of Convenience:

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas: Sebastian needs to marry an heiress to save him from financial ruin. Evie needs to marry to escape her abusive family, so she offers Sebastian a marriage of convenience.

The Duchess Deal by Tessa Dare: After his fiancee leaves him because of his scars, the Duke of Ashford is intent on finding a new bride and getting an heir. Fortunately for him, seamstress Emma Gladstone turns up on his doorstep in a wedding dress and his problems are solved when she agrees to his offer of a marriage of convenience.

Lovers That Start Off Antagonistic:

To Love and to Loathe by Martha Walters: Diana and Jeremy have spent most of their shared moments bickering. So, when Jeremy’s latest mistress critiques his skills in the bedroom, he knows just where to turn to for some honest feedback.

It Happened One Autumn by Lisa Kleypas: Westcliffe is a stodgy, stuffy earl. Lillian is a forthright, opinionated American heiress. Its dislike, and attraction, on sight.

No Good Duke Goes Unpunished by Sarah Maclean: Eight years prior, Mara kind of accidentally framed Temple for her murder and disappeared. Needless to say, when she returns to clear his name in exchange for forgiving her brother’s debts, they don’t exactly get along.

Childhood Friends:

A Rogue By Any Other Name by Sarah Maclean: Penelope and Bourne were childhood friends until his financial ruin broke them apart. When Penelope’s father attaches Bourne’s ancestral estate to her dowry, he returns to marry her, regain the estate, and ruin the man who ruined him.

A Rogue of One’s Own by Evie Dunmore: Lucie has known Tristan since childhood and always regarded him as a dissolute rake. Tristan has been equally entranced by Lucie. When he buys half the shares in the publishing company she’s purchased to publish a suffragette report, he offers to sell her his shares in exchange for a night with him.

Friends to Lovers:

My Fake Rake by Eva Leigh: Grace and Sebastian have been friends for years, both having feelings for the other unbeknownst to them. Grace has pined over another man for years and to get his attention she plans to turn Sebastian into a rake to fake date.

The Duke Who Loved Me by Jane Ashford: When James Cantrell inherits an estate from his hoarder uncle, he plans to marry Cecelia, his childhood friend and the daughter of the man named trustee of his estate. Cecelia, who’s had feelings for James for years, doesn’t take well to his offer of a marriage of convenience. After being rejected, James decides to court Cecelia for real.

Second Chance Romance:

The Day of the Duchess by Sarah MacLean: Malcolm and Seraphina’s marriage has been shrouded in heartbreak and betrayal, but when Seraphina returns to get a divorce Malcolm is determined to win her back.

Female Leads That Are Widows:

When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn: Francesca Bridgerton was happily married to John Stirling when he tragically died. Michael, his cousin and best friend and certified rake, was in love with Francesca and fled after John’s death. Years later, Francesca has decided to have a baby and needs a man to do it.

Waiting for a Scot Like You by Eva Leigh: Beatrice is a widow intent on enjoying her freedom…by attending an orgy at a country estate, unbeknownst to her escort Duncan McCameron. Obviously, hijinks ensue. This one is interesting because Beatrice is older than Duncan and they’re happy ending doesn’t include marriage.

Books Where the Lead Has a Job:

Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh: Eleanor Hawke owns a gossip rag and the Earl of Ashford is one of her favourite subjects. So, when the Earl marches into her office angered by the reports of his whereabouts they reach an agreement that she will shadow him during his illicit activities to get an accurate report and so he can keep her from discovering his real objective of searching for his best friend.

Scandal Takes the Stage by Eva Leigh: Maggie Delamere is a one of Cameron, Viscount Marwood’s favourite playwrights and completely uninterested in noblemen because of her past experiences. Plagued by writer’s block, Maggie reluctantly takes up Cam’s offer to use his country’s estate as a writer’s retreat.

Temptations of a Wallflower by Eva Leigh: Lady Sarah Frampton is known in society as the Watching Wallflower, but for years she’s been secretly writing erotic fiction under the pseudonym The Lady of Dubious Quality. Jeremy Cleland, a clergyman, is tasked with unmasking the author by his domineering father. Unbeknownst to him, the women he’s growing closer to is the person he’s trying to unmask.

The Rules of Scoundrels series by Sarah MacLean centres of the owners of a gambling den, so they're all employed

Books That Involve a Mystery:

The Duke Dynasty by Sabrina Jeffries: This series of four books centres on the family of Dowager Duchess of Armitage, who was married to three Dukes, all of whom died in mysterious circumstances. The central mystery of the series is finding out who killed the husbands and why.

Do You Want to Start a Scandal by Tessa Dare: Charlotte and Piers were caught together alone in the library, then accused of having a scandalous tryst. To avoid being forced to marry, they must discover who the real culprits are.

A Lady’s Guide to Mischief and Mayhem by Manda Collins: Lady Katherine Bascomb is a newspaper columnist reporting on crime when someone gets murdered at the house party she’s attending. Andrew Eversham is the detective on the case, whose career was damaged by Bascomb's reporting.

Series Centred on Female Friendship:

The Wallflowers series by Lisa Kleypas

A League of Extraordinary Women series by Evie Dunmore

Girls Who Dare series by Emma V Leech

Books Where the Female Lead Isn’t a Virgin:

Bringing Down a Duke by Evie Dunmore

Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh

The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt

When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt

Never Judge a Lady By Her Cover by Sarah MacLean

Rake Romances:

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas

To Love and to Loathe by Martha Walters

A Rogue of One’s Own by Evie Dunmore

When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn

Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas

Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh

Scandal Takes the Stage by Eva Leigh

Say Yes to the Marquess by Tessa Dare

Non-Rake Romances:

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt

My Fake Rake by Eva Leigh

Temptations of a Wallflower by Eva Leigh

Lord of Darkness by Elizabeth Hoyt

If you want any other book recs, feel free to ask

[unbloomingmoonflower]

undead.

The betrayal of the heart is the most wicked thing. 

That was the moral of the story when many whispered of the betrayed, murdered bride. 

No one knew the origins of the deceased bride, except that her beauty known throughout the small towns. It was said that a stranger arrived in her hometown and they had crossed paths. Her heart was stolen by this mysterious man, and he whispered sweet nothings to further lull her deeply into love.

The story goes that the bride went to meet her beloved deep into the woods for them to run away together--only for her to never return.

What else was there to assume, but that she was killed in cold blood?

 The story was whispered and told to any young bride-to-be to be wary of whom they were to marry. Some grooms were wolves in sheep’s clothing. Many brides-to-be have been fortunate with their grooms. Yet there was always a bride who would be wary of her husband-to-be, fearing that he may indeed be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

This young bride ventured into the selfsame forest where the rumored murdered bride lay still, her corpse decomposing to the earth. Her eyes darted around nervously, the fog dense in the forest. The trees were withered as though it were a perpetual winter in this forest, the sounds of crows and other animals ringing hauntingly in the air. 

After what seemed to be an eternity did the young bride find herself before the rumored tree that the bride was murdered beneath, large and ominous, its branches hanging dangerously low to the earth. She knelt before the tree, clasping her hands in a vain prayer. 

After all, her gods have abandoned her in her time of need.

“Please,” she whispered, “I fear that my groom simply wants my family’s money. I fear he may dispose of me once we are wed. I beseech thee...I have no one else to turn to.”

The air was still, no noise to be heard. The bride feared that maybe her pleas were in vain after all. This marriage will happen, will bind her to the wolf she feared. No one was going to rescue her from her fate. 

She bowed her head, aiming to rise to her feet, before a voice called out. “Your gods have not heeded your please, so you turn to me?”

The bride lifted her head, a gasp leaving her lips as her eyes widened at the sight before her. 

Mismatched eyes spilling streaks of blood fixated on the bride, lips pressed into a thin line with her face of stone. Long, white hair, matted with dirt, framed a delicately structured face. The dress, once a pristine white, was tattered and greyed, blood stains and decay evident on her skin. Save for her horrific appearance, the corpse bride looked as radiant as when she was to be flee with her intended. 

Before he murdered her. 

The corpse bride’s countenance was cold, unforgiving, as she beheld the living bride. The living woman’s face was full of wonder and fear, as was to be expected when one sees an undead. “You fear your groom. You have retained your wits, unlike I when I once lived,” she rasped, lifting a hand to point at the bride-to-be. “You suspect your groom to take your life once you bind yourself to him in marriage. What do you expect me to do about it, young bride?”

The bride trembled while trying to stand tall. “I wish to be freed from my fate. I fear I may befall...” she trailed off, her voice but a whisper. 

The winds suddenly began to howl, the crows sounding their dark song anew, and before the living bride could blink, the undead one was close to her, face-to-face, to lift a decayed hand to caress a pale cheek. 

“Before you befall my fate. And a tragedy it would be, would it not?” the corpse breathed and the living bride tried not to wince at the rancid stench of rotting flesh. The corpse bride’s eyes were devoid of any emotion, as though what made her human had died when she did. “You want me to free you? What would you give me in exchange?”

The living bride could hardly breath with the close proximity of the undead. Yet she was the one who summoned the being, who brought her from her grave. What did she expect? For the corpse bride to free her on a whim?

With shaking breath did the living bride make her offer. “A chance at vengeance. Even if it not to the one who wronged you, surely it would appease you?”

The corpse tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her lifeless eyes for the first time. She withdrew, throwing her head back with a wild laugh. “Vengeance, is it? You’ve more wit than I give credit for. Very well, then.”

The living bride scarcely could let out another breath, could blink, before the corpse bride vanished, seemingly into thin air. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The storm was beginning to brew and his wife-to-be has not returned. 

The man paced impatiently. The day of their marriage could not come soon enough. He had suspected his bride-to-be was becoming wise to his plan to get his hands on her fortune, to put her to rest from a “tragic accident” once his goal was accomplished. 

Yet this marriage was arranged. There was no way she could escape it. No way he would give up his plans. 

Thunder boomed and lightning crackled when he turned, only to jolt at the silhouette near the threshold of the room’s door. He pressed a hand to his chest in an attempt to imitate his surprise. “Ah, my dear. Wherever have you been?” he asked in mock concern. 

His bride was silent, obscured by the shadows. Something felt amiss. Why ever would she remain silent? Why would she lurk in the shadows?

The man approached his bride, stretching his hand out. “Come, my dear. Why hide in the shadows as you are? Let me behold you,” he murmured, false sweetness like honey practiced in his tone. 

There was only a few heartbeats of silence before his bride stretched her own hand out to clasp his--only for the man to let out a shout of disgust at the rotting hand that grasped his own. The grip was tight, to the point where it could shatter the very bones, refusing to relinquish his hand. 

“So...how ironic that we meet again like this.” 

The raspy voice, devoid of emotion, was still familiar. His eyes widened as the woman came into view, her features unobstructed by the shadows. “Shuri?” he gasped in genuine shock. 

A wicked smile curved the woman’s lips, her grip finally shattering his hand and wrenching a scream from the man and she watched him crumple to his knees. “I was simply another of your victims. You have not changed, marrying this maiden for the same reason as I,” she snarled. “Did you run out of my money so soon? The jewels I’ve brought for you? The gold? So soon after you took my life?” 

“I’ve left you!” the man howled, gripping his wrist with his remaining unbroken hand. “I’ve left you!”

The corpse bride leaned close to the face of her murderer, kneeling herself, the wicked smile still on her lips. “For dead.”

The undead bride closed the distance, her lips against her murderer’s before his vision went black. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The young bride-to-be returned to find her fiancee laying upon the floor, his eyes wide and expression petrified. His countenance was pallid, his broken hand at such an odd angle, his lips blue. 

The corpse bride stood over the body, a self-satisfied smile on her lips before she turned to look at the newly-freed bride. “Your offer was fortuitous. Your betrothed...was my murderer,” she hummed, stepping over the dead body of the man who stole her life, who would have stolen another’s. 

“Enjoy your freedom, freed bride. The hells know, I will not have that chance.”

[azure-bliss]

shinran oneshot

Fandom: DC

Pairing: Shinran

Excerpt: 

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips met his, and then, “Arigato.”

A/N: I swear that this was supposed to be fluffy but brain said nope, angst-infused it is. Also, I’m no expert in medicine nor the Japanese police system, even criminology for that matter. Spare me. Enjoy!

Day 9

“I should write a book.”

Shinichi’s first instinct was to snort, as he was reminded of Kogoro-ojisan’s—who he should really be calling otousan nowadays—intention of becoming a mystery novelist, much like his actual father. Kudo Yusaku had made millions writing his thrillers, and today, years after the older Kudo patriarch decided to publish his final novel, he was still adding money to the Kudo fortune.

Perhaps his mother playing the titular character in one of Night Baron’s spinoff adaptations, Lady Baron, played a huge factor too. His parents were weird that way, almost like a tag-team, because the moment Kudo Yusaku announced his writing retirement, Kudo Yukiko came out of hers.

It was as if they thought that the world could not handle more than three (he was pretty sure his popularity was on par with his parents, despite his lack of big screen appearances) famous Kudos at a time.

“Finally jumping on the full Kudo experience?” he teased, adjusting himself on the hospital bed where his wife sat, left arm wrapped around her whole frame, right palm covering hers.

Eyes focused on the little bundle in her arms, she hummed before answering, “A best-seller for sure.”

As if on cue, their newborn squirmed before revealing twin orbs that matched his mother’s, unfocused eyes looking up to the woman who went through hell and back prior to his birth.

“Anata,” she called, her tired voice laced with a hint of excitement. “He’s beautiful.”

 Day 1

He stood in an abandoned room of an equally abandoned motel located just 50 km on the outskirts of Tokyo, the very location that had him and nearly the whole Tokyo Metropolitan Police Taskforce wrecking their brains and exhausting their resources to find. The identified suspect was one Seisaku Miyazaki, a serial rapist and killer with a tendency for flairs. The 27 crime scenes he left always had distinct blood splatter to them, resulting from either gunshot wounds straight to the temple, or intraoral ones.

Shinichi had never seen a crime scene so gruesome in his life.

As soon as Shinichi stepped into the room, the first thing he should have registered was the blood-spattered left wall and Seisaku’s limp and lifeless body on a chair in the same left corner, his riffle trapped in between his legs.

Instead, Shinichi’s frantic eyes zeroed on the figure on the bed in the middle of the room, merely 10 feet away from Seisaku’s body. The woman had her back against the headboard with an ungodly amount of blood running down her bottom half, arms cocooning a small bundle wrapped with a violet-colored cardigan—the same one she was last saw wearing before her disappearance.

She had her eyes on her baby, as if the newborn was the only person who mattered, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unfolding before her. It took the lead detective a full five seconds to notice that the newborn—oh God, their newborn—was not crying.

He was beside her in her flash, holding her tighter than he should. His wife was again, unbothered, but he noticed that she closed their baby more to her semi-naked chest. The cuts and bruises on her face and torso did not go unnoticed by him. All of Seisaku’s victims had the same markings, but unlike those women who bled from their heads, she was bleeding from bottom down.

Kudo Shinichi screamed for the medic.

It was only then did he hear a soft cry, and he released a breath he did not know he was holding.

“Anata,” she called, finally removing her gaze from their son to look at him “He’s beautiful.”

Her face was pale and hollow, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes and the gentleness of her smile.

His heart both bloomed and broke for her.

“Ran,” he choked out the name he’d been desperately calling for the past few hours. “You’re going to be okay.”

When the medic team finally appeared, his wife first handed the closest medic the baby, “Take care of him, onegai,” she requested, sounding too much like a plea. “He’s a good boy.”

Releasing her son’s warmth, the brunette fell back onto her husband, who caught her naked shoulders, throwing her full weight onto his.

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips meet his, and then, “Arigato.”

With a sigh of relief, she shut her eyes, and rolled limp further into her husband’s embrace.

Shinichi’s world stood still, the only things registering in his mind were his wife’s cold body, and their newborn’s loud cries in the distant.

 Day 8

She was in pure fight mode, forcing her body to function and conscious to stay awake. Once she knew that her child was safe, all the injuries and agony finally caught up to her, and she welcomed the numbing darkness.

The last thing Ran remembered was Shinichi’s rapid heartbeat drumming her ears.

The new mother woke up a week later, on an unfamiliar bed, to the familiar but tormented eyes of her husband.

“Baby,” she mustered breathily, and her husband’s eyes all but softened.

She knew that they were safe.

   Day 10

It was another two whole days before she was deemed fit enough to hold her newborn.

“Anata,” she beams, “He’s beautiful.”

“He is,” the Heisei-Reiwa Holmes agreed. “The brat gave the doctors and nurses a fright with his fever, would not stop crying too.”

If his wife was worried, she did not show it. “Is that true?” she cooed, “But you’re okay now, aren’t you sweetheart? Your Papa found us after all.”

Day 0

Kudo Ran did not fit Seisaku Miyazaki’s victim profiles by the slightest. The females he preyed on were usually late teens to early twenties, lived alone, physically petite, and had questionable practices in their private lives.

Or, in the words of Seisaku himself, whores.

Catching the serial killer had been the detective’s top priority, with the death count at 27 and the most recent killings at the heart of Tokyo, it was one of the most challenging cases for him to date.

With half of the murders in Tokyo and the other half in Osaka, it was a no brainer for both Detective of the East and West to join hands, special taskforces from Tokyo and Osaka rallying under their (unofficial) command. The investigation had been ongoing for more than four months before special unit finally made a definite progress, being able to identify a potential victim, shadowing her day and night, coming in to save her just in time from being abducted, and arresting Seisaku’s paid minion.

Genzo Okubo was no Seisaku, the two detectives figured. The latter was confident, methodical, a true psychopathic mastermind, yet the man they caught fumbled with his words, sweated profusely, and most importantly, had little loyalty as he quickly confessed to everything.

The unit rejoiced, but Shinichi and Heiji knew that it was too simple, as if Seisaku wanted Gento to be caught.

By the time they were finished with the guy, it was already 2 a.m.

The lack of miscalls from him wife caught him off guard.

He tried not to panic, reasoning to himself that Ran was probably at her parents’, fell asleep, and his in-laws forgot to inform him. After all, it would not be the first time this had happened. If anything, the Mouris had not stopped fussing over their daughter, and with this case constantly on his mind, Shinichi had not really been the doting husband and father-to-be that he ought to be. Their six-year-old twins were away with his parents somewhere in New York, the elder Kudo couple wanting to give the once-again new parents space to get ready for the youngest Kudo’s arrival.

Halfway through dialing Eri’s number (because his mother-in-law was a light sleeper), Heiji burst into the break room with a suspicious package in his hands.

“Kudo,” the dark-skinned detective panted, as if he just ran up flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator, “that bastard’s got Nee-chan.”

Inside the package were two things: a picture of a very pregnant Kudo Ran, blindfolded and gagged, and a lone platinum wedding band.

  Day 10

“He panicked.”

“Hmm?”

“Seisaku-san, he panicked.” His wife stated, the name of her kidnapper rolling of her tongue like she was mentioning a student of hers. “I started having contractions, started bleeding too. He mumbled something about ‘not following his plan’.”

Shinichi rose his brows, puzzled by Ran’s statement, but he let her continue.

“I think,” she paused, readjusting her hold on their son when they boy started to writhe, “that he was halfway out when Seisaku-san decided to shoot himself.”

Her voice was cool, too indifferent, and deep down, Shinichi knew that his wife may be scarred for life.

“Three sounds,” she gulped then snickered. “Me screaming during the final push, the baby’s cries, and the riffle going off.”

Shinichi held her tighter.

“His blood was everywhere, Shinichi. On the walls, the carpet, the bed, my face,” There are now cracks in her voice, the memories flooding her overwhelmed mind as she remembers it all again, “On our baby boy.”

“Ran…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. His wife and son were alive, but the trauma she went through was something he wished on no one, not even Seisaku himself.

“I didn’t want him to get cold, so I wrapped him with my cardigan. Not the most hygienic, I know, but I didn’t exactly have many choices,” a chuckle. “He locked the door, so I couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t exactly kick the door open, my energy was spent on giving birth. So, I started breastfeeding the baby, burping him…making sure he was alive long enough for you to find us.”

Something in him shattered even more.

Ran averted her eyes away from their son to look at her husband, their faces only a few centimeters apart.  There were no tears in their eyes, the pain and regret that remained in their hearts too crushing to be expressed by mere crying. “I’m safe, our boy is safe, because you found us. None of this is your fault, so please, Anata,” she kisses him before continuing, “don’t blame yourself.”

Shinichi could not imagine what life would be without her. She was his wife, partner, lover, best friend, soulmate, the mother of his children, his world, his everything.

“Okay,” he promised simply, capturing her lips for a second time before kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

He felt her smiling into his neck, and at that moment, nothing was wrong; they were whole.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, savoring the peaceful yet short time they had with their baby boy before one of the nurses took him away for the night.

    Day 11

 “Your book,” Shinichi remembered far into the night. “What are you going to write about?”

A mischievous look twinkled in Ran’s eyes, and the man knows that his wife will heal just fine. “Kidnapped 101.”

- end

A/N: Nope, not their firstborn. And I also imagine that Ran has had her fair share of getting kidnapped so might as well write a book on it lmao.