#ladies of exquisite taste who knows a true lady must have a husband and a wife

[sea-owl]

Isekai!Lucy: *gestures to her Bridgerton husband and Featherington wife* I would call this polyamory but really, it's just me being a whore.

Isekai!Violet: *gestures to her own Bridgerton husband and Featherington wife* Oh, same darling.

#violet 🤝 lucy #why choose when you can have both #ladies of exquisite taste who knows a true lady must have a husband and a wife #gregory x lucy x felicity #edmund/violet/portia #bridgerton #isekai and yanderes #what if villainess isekai au #what if edmund lived isekai au #violet bridgerton #lucy abernathy

[ikeromantic]

Making A Tragedie

An Ikevamp Leonardo story - Shakespeare’s POV chapter. This scene occurs in Chapter 17 of Leonardo’s main route. Approx. 1900 words.

First: That First Night

Previous: Good Times

Will looked up at the bright-lit mansion. Soft music floated on the cool breeze, and the murmur of laughter and conversation. It was like a scene from one of his plays. The calm before a storm. He could not help but imagine the turns such a scene might take. A vengeful murder spree. A lovers’ tryst interrupted by a betrayed husband. Or perhaps, a fateful moment when two eyes meet across a crowded room and the spark of love bursts into flame. 

Parties like these could begin and end dynasties. Perfect fodder for his plays. Shakespeare went in. 

The city’s elite were gathered here. Will saw Felix Faure having a quiet talk with Comte to one side. Zola and Cezanne drinking wine, and Loie Fuller dancing with some fortunate soul. And more. Anyone who was Tout-Paris would be somewhere on this estate tonight. Not that Shakespeare cared much about the weight a name carried. He knew the servants had dramas as exquisite as the wealthiest patron. Sometimes moreso, for desperation added a seasoning the affluent did not know.

Will wasn’t here for any of them tonight though. He had the players in this spectacle determined. His mismatched gaze swept the room. After a moment, he found them. The ordinary girl and the legend. They were waltzing, eyes locked on each other, brimming with unspoken intimacy. They looked like a painting in motion. True Love would be the title, Will thought. And laughed. 

To capture Leonardo so completely, the girl couldn’t simply be mundane. There had to be more to her, even if she was no artist or great mind. 

She was, Shakespeare decided, quite lovely. The composition of her face, the softness of her hair, the rising swell of her bosom and the gentle curve of her hips. The makings of a leading lady, but it took more than beauty to be a star. 

He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing servant, and let himself observe. After watching them dance and chat, he realized at a distance he could not divine her esoteric qualities. He would need to get closer. Much closer.

Will’s chance came when Leonardo stepped away. The artist was quickly surrounded by interested party-goers and the girl was all alone.

“Pardon?” Will gave her a polite notice of his approach. It wouldn’t do to frighten her.

The girl turned to face him. She was more beautiful up close, he thought. And she smelled sweet - a fragrance that made him suddenly thirsty. 

“What man leaves a beautiful flower to bloom alone by the wall? A gentleman in name only?” Shakespeare smiled at her and gave a slight bow. “Or perhaps the Fates have blinded all eyes so that I would be given this chance to speak with you alone. I pray thee, what does my lady think?”

She studied his face a moment and then frowned. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Monsieur . . .” 

“Indeed, the folly was mine own! Allow me to remedy my rudeness by introducing myself.” He put a hand to his heart and smiled. “My name is Shakespeare. William Shakespeare.” He could not help but wait expectantly for her reaction. Comte was quite clear that even in the far flung future, his writings were well-known. Would this girl know his name? His plays?

He was not disappointed. Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. “You. You’re - you’re William Shakespeare? THE William Shakespeare?” Despite her surprise, the question was asked in a quiet voice - one that would not travel to the ears of other guests easily. She looked caught in a battle with herself, struggling between curiosity and disbelief.

Will suppressed a chuckle. He leaned forward, closing the polite distance between them to one reserved for lovers and conspirators. “Though it is a private matter,” he said softly, “I’m another who bears life’s twice-given gift, after accepting le Comte de Saint-Germain’s conditions.”

She did not step away, but looked almost as if she wanted to poke him to make sure he was no phantasm. “So. You really are THAT Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet? Hamlet? A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” 

“I see you are familiar with my work.”

She nodded. “But, le Comte never mentioned you- and, and you don’t have a room in the mansion.” Her brows lowered in confusion.

“I expect the good Comte didn’t wish to mention my name, lest he confuse you more. Your arrival in this time and place must have been most disconcerting without the addition of more . . . notable personages.”

She nodded again. Her eyes were so wide. Her cheeks were flush from dancing and laughter. And there was an energy to her that Will could feel from this distance, as if she were a storm hidden behind a lovely face. 

He was beginning to see her appeal to Comte and his friend. There was something in her - a passion most uncommon. It drew one in. As moths to a flame, some might say. He took her elbow in a friendly gesture and guided her toward one of the colonnades where they might be away from so many prying eyes. 

“Yes, It was my choice to leave the mansion. I needed more privacy than could be had with so many roommates.” Will smiled at her as if they shared this secret. “So, now I reside on the outskirts of Paris.”

They stopped beside one of the narrow columns, still within sight of the besieged Italian. 

“Master Shakespeare, how did you know I was familiar with le Comte’s secrets?” She pulled her arm away from him and fussed with the skirt of her dress. Clearly, the girl was nervous. And by all rights, of course. There was little about Will that was reassuring.

He allowed himself a long look at the girl, letting his eyes travel over her. She blushed quite deeply, and would not meet his red and amber gaze when he arrived back at her face. “Truly, one look at you, the moment you arrived in the mansion - and my heart was much beguiled by your beauty. I have been watching closely ever since.”

“P-pardon?”

Will laughed softly. So easy to discomfit. “A jest, Mademoiselle. You are, perhaps, a more recently bloomed flower than I anticipated.” She didn’t seem to pickup on his subtext, or if she did, she was quite good at dissembling. He decided to aim another comment, a truthful one. 

“Verily, I received a summons to attend last month’s banquet, the night you arrived. I caught sight of you with the other residents of Comte’s mansion as I approached the door.” He paused, considering how much to say. That he’d been unsure of le Comte’s goal in bringing her to the mansion? Suspicious? No. Will shrugged. “I would have greatly enjoyed dining in thy company but unfortunately, matters of such great urgency came to my notice that I had need to depart in unseemly haste.”

His lengthy response seemed to calm her nerves. She held out her hand to him. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to meet you before this. Please - allow me to introduce myself.” She gave him her name with a smile.

Shakespeare took her hand in his own cool fingers, and placed a kiss on her wrist. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse under his lips. The softness of her skin. “Your name is as lovely and pure as you are. It is no wonder Leonardo holds you dear.” He let her hand go reluctantly.

“I’m not certain what you mean.” Her tone went cold again, nerves covered by a veil of polite distance.

“I saw the two of you dancing.” Will raised an eyebrow as if to question what he knew. 

She didn’t reply, so he continued.

“Leonardo looked upon you as one would admire his priceless treasure.” His lips turned up at the edges in a narrow smile. “As a fellow man and a dramatist, I can say in confidence - it is you that holds the highest favor in Leonardo’s heart of hearts. Love, dear beauty. Love such as the stars would burn for.”

This time the girl did step back from him. “L-leonardo? In love with me?” She shook her head. “No. No - I’m the one in love with him!” 

The words escaped her lips and she was so aghast at the slip that she put her hands over them as if to prevent herself from saying anything else. Will found this gesture precious. Passion burned brightly in her. Even she could not gainsay her heart. 

He laughed and patted her arm. “There is naught to hide, beauty. Yours would prove a most fascinating union.” Will felt her stiffen and pull away from his touch but this did not deter him. Her discomfort only sweetened the anticipation he felt at his final reveal. “What end,” he asked quietly, “would come to the love of she, a mere mortal, and he -” Shakespeare gestured toward Leonardo. “Who has never tasted the fruit of fragile mortality?”

“Mortality?” Her lips thinned with displeasure. “You’re referring to the fact that he’s a vampire? Leonardo may be one now but that doesn’t erase the life he lived as a human before he was turned.”

And there it was. Fodder for a drama that would bring even a heart of stone to tears. Will let his own eyes go wide, his voice thready with disbelief. “You don’t know?” 

Her hands went to her hips, a display of irritation as endearing as her previous gestures. “What are you implying exactly?”

Will made a calming motion to her, enjoying his role in this scene more than he ought. “Lend no room in your heart for such alarm, beauty! If you’ll allow me to explain . . .” He took a step closer to her again, voice pitched low. “Leonardo isn’t like the rest of us. Leonardo is -”

And as if on cue, the very subject of their whispered conversation appeared. “Get away from her.” Leo pulled Shakespeare back by his coat.

“Leonardo?” The girl looked at her compagno with surprise. Will hoped it was also with a touch of chagrin, but he couldn’t tell with the hulking Italian blocking his view.

Will wriggled out of Leo’s grasped and smoothed his jacket as he greeted the artist. “Leonardo! It’s been too long ere last we spoke. It pleases me to see you well.”

This did little to mollify Leonardo. In fact, Shakespeare’s politeness only seemed to irritate him further. “You heard me. Get away from her.”

It was difficult to ignore the demands of a pure blood vampire. Especially when their golden eyes took on that special shine. Still, it would not be the first time Will defied one, nor the last he hoped. “So fierce a face ill suits thy pleasant countenance.” He gave them both a saucy grin. “With such a storied cast at the tip of my pen, you can’t expect me to not show an interest in their ends, surely?”

Leonardo snorted. “If you want to write plays, then do it. You can even use me as inspiration if you wish. But you will leave her out of it. Do not involved anyone else.”

“Involve . . . anyone else? When you’re the one that has taken her into your story and yet withheld pertinent details?” William made sure to catch her eye as he said this. He saw there the sprouting seeds of uncertainty, and the glimmer of fear. 

Should nothing else be accomplished this night, he’d done what he came to do and more. The girl’s measure was his and he’d ensured the passion betwixt the two would come soon to a boil. He wished he could say how this piece might end, but the unflappable da Vinci was unpredictable as well. There was nothing now for the evening but to enjoy himself. It was with glee that Shakespeare pursued his taunts until le Comte arrived to pour water on the fire.

Next: Good Advice

#Ikemen Vampire #ikevamp leonardo #IkeVamp Leo #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp william #ikevamp will #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic)

This chapter is rated M due to graphic depictions of violence.

Chapter Five

Dinner is absolutely delicious, you begrudgingly give them that. After months of being on a starship with limited supplies, it’s so nice to get real, extravagant food again. The wine is light and crisp, the meat juicy and tender, even the bread is perfect and flakey. You briefly contemplate sneaking some back to your room for later, or perhaps home to Hux. But it would be stale by the time it gets to him and the rich herb butter would probably send his taste buds into overdrive. As if reading your thoughts, the lady of the estate; Colonel Paru’s wife, asks about your husband.

“Oh he’s just fine Karin. I spoke to him early today. He’s hard at work as ever and apologizes again for having to miss this. But I’m sure there will be more times in the future. Goodness knows I’d come back for the food alone. I’m tempted to steal your chefs right from under you.” You tease with a pleasant smile. You note absently that this is the first time she’s asked about you. You’ve been at the estate two days already and this is the first time she’s talked about anything other than herself. That was very rude. It’s clear that while these more decorated officers may wish they were royalty, they certainly are not.

Everyone at the table has a good laugh and the talk turns to business. Admiral Ersawit spears a piece of meat, pointing it at you.

“I imagine your husband is hard at work setting up the new base. He doesn’t have time to lounge around like us old banthas.” He says with a rueful chuckle.

“Oh nonsense, you’re quite spry Admiral. Why, I could see you dancing about at 200 years old!” You grin, perhaps too sharply for response, before flushing from the joke. Colonel Paru laughs as well and drains his glass.

“Just remind your husband, when he reaches our age, to focus on the finer things in life. A man feels no stress when he’s surrounded by good food and good art.” He adds, gesturing to the beautiful paintings that surround you in the dining room. He wasn’t wrong, the art was good, but the rest of the estate’s decor left something to be desired. It seemed that Colonel Paru and his wife thought that having money meant you had to buy the most expensive things available and show them off in every way. So they had beautiful art and sculptures lining their hallways, but they had too many. The wallpaper was loud and garish and the molding was gilded, and caused glares if you walked past when sunlight came through the open windows. Each trip from room to room caused a headache and you were surprised to realize how much you missed the simple gray and black of the Finalizer. 

“You do have some stunning pieces Colonel. It’s quite the collection. I’m amazed at some of the rarer paintings you have.” You agree, adjusting the napkin on your lap. Your dress was mostly white and you’d hate to stain it.

“Thank you my Lady. It takes years to acquire this kind of collection but it’s well worth it, in the end. As for the rarer pieces”, here his voice dropped and everyone subconsciously leaned in, “if you know who to talk to, you can skip some of the lengthier processes. You’d be surprised what a few extra credits will get you.”

You wag your finger and tsk playfully at him, while his wife hits his forearm with little force and a tittering laugh. You were no expert on art but you knew Old Republic Nabooian folk paintings when you saw them. The cost of an original was worth far more than a Colonel made, even one that had been a Colonel for as long as he had. Not to mention, Naboo had made a conscious effort after the destruction of the Empire to get all their art back and placed in a historical museum. This proved your husband’s claim that certain members of the Council were skimming off the top. That’s the only way he could afford such singular pieces while avoiding any legal troubles. Stealing art may not have been corrupt but preventing the people of Naboo from having a fair chance to recieve their own work was just contemptible.

You look down at your lap to avoid giving away your anger. Your fists clench in the cloth napkin while your eyes switch back and forth from one side of your gown to the other. You hadn’t questioned why you chose the dress you did, but now it felt serendipitous. Your gown was mostly white and cream with simple long sleeves and little adornment. But there was one side that was pitch black, a dark splash normally unseen on you. It wasn’t that you disliked black but you often found yourself straying away from darker colors. For some reason, you felt like they didn’t belong to you yet. Considering what you were planning to do tonight, maybe it was fate to have chosen a dress like this. 

The sound of clinking glassware brings you back to the moment as droids bring out dessert. The cake was rich and chocolatey with a fine layer of cream and fruit. Oh, you were definitely finding their chef and bringing them to your home when this was all over. 

“I’m glad you’ve taken such an interest in the art we have here, Lady Hux. It’s so refreshing to speak to someone cultured. Present company included,” Karin says and the other women give smug chuckles, “Perhaps if you’re good, I’ll send you a piece for your anniversary to the General. Though I can’t imagine where you’d put fine art on a starship. They’re all so dull and grey. You have my pity being surrounded by such coldness.”

“Not at all Karin, I find the aesthetics of a starship to be quite striking in their simpleness. True, most things are various shades of silver or black, but it all looks so streamlined and impressive that way. The fact that I stand out beautifully while wearing my more colorful gowns is just a coincidence.” You mention with a casual air that the other women see through quickly, as you intended. 

“Well of course! Your wardrobe is known throughout the galaxy. You have such exquisite pieces.” A dark skinned woman says, her hair braiding into an odd series of loops on top of her head. She gave you her name, as did the other men and women at the table, but they were not important so you forgot them. You cover your cheeks with your hands in a fake display of bashful modesty and the conversation spins again.

When droids finally clear away all the plates, Colonel Paru stands and announces to the various other people at the table that he has after-dinner drinks prepared in his study.  Your small party follows him there, chatting about the newest designers to hit Coruscant and some Captain who did remarkably well during a training exercise. As you walk you take note of any outward signs of security; cameras in the corners, panels on the walls, unusual patches of paint or suspiciously placed statues. Overall, it seems that the estate is moderately protected. There is, and will be, footage of you walking to and from your room, but that’s what you want.

The study is a circular room with high ceilings and ornate wooden bookshelves that go all the way to the top. They are filled with ancient texts and newer manuals, interspersed with knick-knacks and anthropological finds. You let your fingers dance across the spines, curving over a skull and pushing away dust from a plaque. A droid starts to prepare cocktails while the Colonel gives the other men cigars. Soon the room was full of smoke and good humor, though you desperately wish the grand fireplace was a window, as it was getting ridiculously stuffy. Still, you produce a cigarra from your purse and join everyone in smoking and drinking.

“Just a splash, I’m not as young as I used to be and I’d like to make it to my room before I fall asleep.” Admiral Ersawit says to the droid while the other men toss him knowing glances and laughter. He sips his cordial with a wink and he quickly sends a message on his data pad. You give a look of confusion to Karin but she doesn’t answer.

A minute or so pass as the group debates something trivial. Your mind is wandering so you aren’t sure. You’re thinking about your plan, going over it in your mind. It’s a good thing Kylo Ren is not here or you’d surely be caught. But as far as you know, he and his knights are the only Force users on your side of the war. You let your mind wander around Kylo Ren and his height and breadth, wonder about what his face looks like. Then it swims to your husband, stark and divine, and you imagine them on the bridge together; they must make an intimidating pair and you wish desperately to see it someday.

Then the door to the study opens and you startle back to the present. A helmeted guard enters with a truly shocking gift. Walking into the room, he leads a naked woman on a leash towards the Admiral. The old man smiles down at her and pets her head, as if she’s a simple dog. Then he lifts his feet and she shuffles on her knees to become his footrest. You are sure your face is one of horror. This is not only a show of extreme wealth but also one of power.

“I don’t blame you for wanting just a bit, what a beautiful specimen.” One of the other officers says, eyeing the kneeling woman like a luscious piece of fruit. Ersawit preens and fists the leash, accidentally choking his slave momentarily. She makes a strange gurgling noise and but otherwise says nothing. Then you notice the long scar across her neck and your meal threatens to come back up. Schooling your face, you take a long drag of your cigarra.

“Admiral, I hope you’ll forgive my ignorance, but how is it that you own a pleasure slave? The Empire dismantled most of the Hutt markets years ago. The First Order doesn’t align itself with that practice.” You say, keeping your voice unsure and confused, as opposed to righteously angry. All of the men, and a few of the women, give you pitying looks.

“Quite right Lady Hux, the Empire and Order has banned slavery throughout the galaxy. Not completely removed it, just banned it. The Hutt markets still exist if one knows where to look. I’ve served a very long time in this military and I figure I deserve a nice reward for all my hard work. Laws and morals be damned.” He explains without a hint of remorse. You tilt your head as if in concession.

“My, how clever you are. Quite right too! Why shouldn’t you enjoy all the pleasures of the galaxy? You’ve been such a monumental figure within the Empire and First Order, you deserve a sweet little thing to take care of you at night.” You say, raising your glass in a toast. Everyone joins you with hearty agreement and your hate for them makes the brandy in your hand taste sour. After a few more minutes of this you down your drink and stand, announcing you’re tired and leaving the study. All you want to do is talk to your husband and go to sleep.

Stars, but you hate them all, hate their arrogance and greed. Hate their condescension and hubris. They thought they were above everyone, above you, above your husband. They were foolish and lazy. They couldn’t see the true brilliance Hux had, the passion you had for his success. They all had so much power and they just lounged around in their ugly houses with their expensive art and mistreated servants, wasting it. You detest waste and it was about time that you clean up.

You nod at your Stormtrooper guards as you come up to your room. You enter the little antechamber; the pleasant smile you wore all through dinner dropping. Kicking off your heels, you collapse onto the luxurious bed in your gown. While you didn’t like much in this ridiculous house, the mattress under you was amazing. The mattress you had on the Finalizer was a standard one, perfectly average in every way. But your husband often complained of his back hurting, so maybe it was time you coaxed him into something new. He was the General of the fleet, he deserved a better night’s sleep.

It’s then that your datapad beeps, your husband calling you. Speak of the devil, indeed. Sitting up against a large pillow, you smooth down your hair and open the holo call, Hux’s face suddenly in front of you. The last vestige of nervous tension leaves you at the sight of his tired, but beautiful face. He’s sitting in what appears to be his office chair and based on the time difference, you’re both unsurprised and angry that he is still working.

“Hello darling. How are you?” You ask, taking in his bitten lips and dark circles. He looks annoyed and exhausted, which is pretty much his normal state of being, but you still worry.

“I’m alright my dear. Work is stressful as ever, but getting everything in place for the new base is proving more of a headache than I thought. I don’t remember Starkiller having this much red tape. Then again, I spent that time running on too much caf and stims, so perhaps there was. I also didn’t have to deal with Kylo Ren breathing down my neck the last time. He was on a mission during most of Starkiller’s construction but for some reason he’s taken to contributing now. It would be almost endearing if he weren’t so annoying. I haven’t been sleeping well either but that’s nothing to do with you.” He says, rubbing at his eyes in a rare show of weakness. It’s very touching.

“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s not because I’m not that to kiss you goodnight?” You tease, feeling your heart pound in an unusual way. You’re teasing him for his neediness while ignoring the line of pillows you’ve set up against your side to mimic his body. You don’t acknowledge the hypocrisy or the underlying affection. You and Hux may have come to a pleasant understanding but you still enjoyed spending time apart more than spending time together. That was the story you were sticking with.

Hux gives you a weak glare before a sound catches his attention and he looks away from you. He leans out of frame and returns holding Millie. Her flat face looks at you in interest, her fluffy tail swishing in front of your husband’s nose.

“Hello sweetheart. I miss you. Have you been behaving while I’m gone?” You ask your tooka, completely unapologetic in your excitement. Hux pets at a spot behind her ear and the purring is very audible. Despite Millie being a gift from him, you had been worried they wouldn’t get along. You’re relieved to see that in your absence they’ve become fast friends.

“She’s doing just well. I think she misses you too. Instead of sleeping on the couch or at the foot of the bed like she always does, she’s taken to sleeping on your side. As for her behavior; I had to send Messy in for repairs. She chased him into a wall the other day.” He explains with chagrin. As much as you feel bad for your mouse droid, you can’t help but laugh at the image that represents.

“Hopefully you punished her and she learns her lesson,” You say seriously, your lips fighting back a smile, “Try not to let Lord Ren bother you darling, I think it’s a good thing that he wants to be involved. I’m sure he has some valuable insight, in some capacity. I know you scoff at the Force, but you can’t deny that he wields power. Plus if you’re relaxed, I doubt you’ll be as annoyed by him.” Your husband nods and Millie jumps off his lap. You stretch out the kinks in your neck while he gives you a calculating stare. The mood changes and a shiver goes down your spine. 

“It’s late (Y/N), you should get ready for bed. Why don’t you tell me your evening plans?” He murmurs, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers against his lips. Your husband’s gaze has always been intense and tonight is no different. It lights a fire within you and you quietly breathe out in anticipation.

“Yes, it is late. I should probably get into my sleep clothes.” You say slowly, carefully getting off the bed and placing the datapad upright to face you. The line between you was private and encrypted but you might as well insure that anyone who could possibly be watching will turn the feed off out of modesty.

You take off your jewelry with careful hands, placing it in a dish on the vanity. His eyes track your movement and you feel a rush of heady power. Your hands reach for your silver belt and you finally speak; the poison of your plans infecting the air around you. As you remove each item of clothing, you explain your thoughts to your husband so far away. Normally you’d undress perfunctorily, but right now, for him, you put on a show. Each layer discarded is another layer of your cruelty and by the end you are naked and he is palming himself through his trousers.

You’re about to get back on the bed and join him, when a knock sounds at the outer door. You curse and grab a large towel, your husband continuing his movements lazily. You glide out of your bedroom into the small anteroom and open the door to your hostess.

“Karin, hello! You caught me just as I was about to get into the shower.” You say breathlessly, your face probably still pink. She smiles and shakes her head.

“No worries, I just wanted to say goodnight and make sure you had everything you needed before turning in. I’ll be getting into bed soon too. Jhon is still entertaining in his study but he always comes to bed after me. Don’t be alarmed if you hear rowdiness later, that’s probably him and the others.” She says with an exasperated grin. You smile in return but your eyes are bright with interest. How thoughtful of Colonel Paru to provide the perfect spot for his demise.

“I’m fine Karin, the room is lovely and as of right now, there’s nothing I need. I’ll see you in the morning. If breakfast is as delicious as dinner, I know I’ll be up early.” You joke, before Karin waves goodbye and you shut the door. Returning back to your bedroom, Hux sits poised and ready on the other side of his screen. You give him a wicked grin and get on the bed to finish what you started. 

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

Time passes in the liquid way it always does after an orgasm and it’s only when the chronometer chimes that you get out of bed.

You grab the special garment bag from your suitcase and quickly get dressed. The black jumpsuit and boots are slightly too big but that will only aid in your story. The suit has an attached hip pack and you make sure the blaster inside is charged before zipping it up. You put your hair up and grab the small black helmet. Then you turn on the shower in the refresher, steam quickly filling the small room. Heading over the windows, you open them slowly, careful not to make a sound. You can’t hear much over the shower since you left the door open, but better safe than sorry.

It had rained earlier in the day and there was a patch of mud under your window. There was also an old fashioned trellis covered in vines. Holding your breath and praying that the thin wood could hold your weight, you descend down the side. It is dark all around you, no lights or cameras pointing towards your window.

You step down into the mud, making sure your feet are facing the right way. You need this to look like someone approached your window. Then with a sigh, you climb back up the trellis, making sure to scrape mud on a few of the gaps you stick your feet into. As you climb, you think of your husband and all the work he does. All the slights he faces and the disapproval that follows him. He could be great, he could change the galaxy for the better, and you were going to make that happen.

You climb back in and carefully walk out of your room and into the antechamber. The Troopers outside your door are quiet and you feel a little bad for what you’re going to do. But part of their duty was to give their life in service of the First Order. You were just taking it more literal as you remove the blaster from your hip pack and flick the safety off. It’s heavy in your hand as you open the door out into the hallway. The troopers turn to face you, clearly expecting to see their Lady in a nightgown. What they see is a figure in black, face obscured. You shoot them both in quick succession, one of them managing to get a shot out but it hits the wall next to you. You were a hypocrite for wasting good soldiers like this, but if you can get away with this, they will not have died in vain.

Keeping your blaster up, you sneak down the hallway as quickly and quietly as you can. You pass no droids or guards but you don’t relax, you can’t relax. More shots will be taken tonight but they can’t be at you.

There is a light spilling out from under the Colonel’s study door and you smile at the small crack left open by someone. The Colonel’s study is close to other bedrooms so you holster your blaster. You still have more to do after this and you can’t alert anyone to your presence. The open door could be seen as a sign of favor but you still hold your breath as you squeeze through the space. The colonel is in a lowbacked armchair, facing towards the fireplace and away from you. It seems he hasn’t moved since you left the study earlier. Out of your hip pack, you pull out a thick coil of rope. Colonel Paru continues to drink his wine.

You approach him slowly, your heartbeat steady and loud in your ears. For him, for me, for us, for him, for me, for us, the beats seem to say. The colonel takes another sip and lowers his drink, his other hand resting on the armrest of the chair. Quick as a viper, you loop the rope over his head and pull it tight against his neck. The effect is instantaneous. His hands come to grab at the rope and claw at your arms but you hold tight. Using your elbow, you hit a button on the side of your helmet to raise the blast shield hiding your face. It won’t make much difference but you want him to know who his murderer is.

“Just relax Colonel, this will be over soon. Your time ruling the galaxy is done. I think we’ve had enough of your lies and corruption. You will be remembered, but not for your victories. No, you will be recorded in history for your follies and inaction but don’t fret, the First Order will rise from your ashes. General Hux sends his regards.” You whisper into his ear. With the recognition of who his attacker was, he struggles anew but it does little for him. The weathered skin of his face is turning purple and he’s making gurgling, panicked noises, his grip against your wrists getting weaker and weaker. While he’s stronger than you, your position and height over him is your advantage.

He slumps finally and you hold tight a few more moments to make sure he isn’t faking. You slowly take the rope away, shaking out your fingers. Your grip had been so tight, they were shaking and sore from the exerted energy. Briefly contemplating cutting his throat to make sure he’s dead, you decide against it. The harsh red line on his neck is proof enough. His glass has fallen to the ground, cracking into pieces and spilling scotch on the carpet below.

Giving yourself a second to collect yourself, you glance around the study. Now that it was quiet, you’d love to really explore the room but you can’t dawdle. Still, a sliver of moonlight catches on an unopened bottle of Dantooine rum. It was a very old vintage; a rare and coveted bottle that was worth quite a few credits.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking this. My darling would love it and I doubt you’ll be drinking it anytime soon. Thank you Colonel, for your service.” You remark to his still body, putting the bottle into your hip pack, before switching out the rope for your blaster and exiting the room.

You’re running on adrenaline now and you can’t stop to pause. If you do, you’ll be forced to think about the blood you’re spilling in your quest for power. While you think you’re justified in your actions, the haunting sound of Colonel Paru’s last breath is better left for a different time. Or to be more specific, the lack of feeling his dying breaths gave you.

You sneak around the estate, searching for Admiral Ersawit’s room. You’re afraid you’re going to pass right by or spend the whole night wandering when you hear a groan on the left. It’s followed by a higher pitched squeaking and you grimace behind your helmet. A few more grunts and sighs, and the people inside the room finish whatever it is they were doing. You try not to picture it. Leaning up carefully against the door, you can make out the sound of the admiral’s voice. There’s the sound of shuffling sheets and the swish of something closing. Probably the refresher if his room is anything like yours.

You’re suddenly faced with a conundrum as you step back from the door. It’s locked and the control panel is coded to fingerprints. You bite back a curse and look wildly around the hallway for something to do. You can’t just stand here; a droid or Karin may find the Troopers or her husband. Turning quickly in a circle, you try not to panic at what to do next. What would Hux do? Hux would probably do something clever, or not have to deal with this at all, the jerk. You look at the panel again. You could try to hack it, but you have no tools to unscrew the panel and you don’t have the knowledge to breach the security system. You could end up setting off an alarm.

Taking a breath, you shrug and shoot at the panel, forcing it to break and open the door amid a shower of sparks. You walk through the smoke to see Admiral Ersawit lying in his bed, looking utterly surprised and reaching for the night table. He just manages to get his hand on the blaster there when you shoot twice, getting him in the head and chest. Blood is spattered against the headboard and it looks almost artistic in the pattern it takes. How anticlimactic though; he could have at least put up a fight. Silence follows and you turn towards the refresher door which is still closed. 

“Come out honey, he’s dead. You’ve got nothing to fear. I won’t hurt you.” You announce through the distortion of the helmet. A moment of hesitation and then she opens the door, looking terrified. You smile at her through the helmet though she doesn’t see it. Then you shoot her too, her emaciated frame collapsing onto the floor. The more horrible you make your actions now, the more it will serve you. Besides, what kind of life could she have led, half starved and traumatized with her vocal cords ripped out? You were doing her a kindness and that’s what you were sticking to.

The sounds the door made when you forced it open were louder than you anticipated and you know that the shots of the blaster weren’t quiet. You shove the gun back into the hip pack and race back to your room, almost leaping with the speed you’re reaching. Thankfully you don’t get lost on your way back. You skid in front of your room, barely taking the time to breathe.

The Stormtroopers are still dead on the ground outside your room and you stop yourself right before you slam the door behind you. Closing it with a near silent click, you head towards the open window. You go down the trellis again, making sure to snag your suit on the edge before placing your boots in the mud the opposite way. Then you groan and climb back up. Next time you murdered someone, Hux could do the set up.

Entering the room, you carefully remove the boots before stepping down. The shower is still running and you tug your suitcase from the closet to hide the boots, helmet, and suit. You’ll bring them back to the Finalizer to be destroyed since they can’t be left here. You can put them in the incinerator and hope the fibers under the Colonel’s nails will be enough to help identify the killer.

Then you step into the refresher and jump under the spray, cleaning yourself efficiently. Your hair gets damp but not soaking which will hopefully match the time you started the shower if anyone comes to your room now. You climb into bed, body vibrating from the stress of what you just did.

You do feel bad, guilty about the necessary but innocent lives you had to take for your plan, but the feeling doesn’t linger as much as it should. Perhaps you should be more concerned that you barely feel any remorse for what you’ve done, but the universe was in chaos and sacrifices had to be made. You want to call Hux, tell him of your triumph but you hold back. It can wait until you’re alone with him in the privacy of your rooms. 

The last thing you do before you fall into a pleasant and deep sleep is laugh.

Chapter Six Coming Soon...

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @renaissance-mama, @girl-next-door-writes​, @peqchynero​, @niniita-ah, @the-temple-pythoness​, @cupofmoonlighttea​, @sincerely-cronch​, @potato-ren​, @brujademente​, @ah-callie​, @rosirinoa​, @lwtficrecs​, @theold-ultraviolence​, @mad-hatters-teapot​, @firstordermariposa

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! You can also find the fic on AO3 here!

#note the ratings change! #there's some murder here y'all #general hux #general hux x reader #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #general hux x you #star wars fanfiction #potential #not beta'd #also some references to pleasure slaves so be aware #My writing #fanfiction

[ladylillianrose]

Extraordinarily Star-Crossed a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

A/N: As always a huge thank you to everyone reading and commenting on this fic! @clarkemanotp​ and I really love hearing from you all! And for those of you speculating about the time period, you will just have to wait and see!

Chosenandloved and @jacquiebethelina44​ we hope you guys enjoy your cameos!

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 2

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 1

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 6

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 5

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 4

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 3

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 2

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 1

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 6

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 5

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 4

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 3

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 2

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 1

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 6

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 5

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 4

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 3

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 2

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 1

April 13, 1912

Cordelia sighed happily, leaning against Andrew's arm as they walked along the promenade. She had to keep reminding herself that this was real, that she and her husband were sailing away from their families and towards their future.

"Happy, my love?" Andrew asked, placing a soft kiss to her temple.

"I'm so happy that I keep thinking this must be a dream!" Cordelia admitted.

He chuckled, "I must confess, I feel the same way."

Cordelia turned to reply when a young woman bumped into her.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, ma'am," the young lady apologized. "I don't quite seem to have my sea legs yet."

Cordelia smiled, "No harm done. Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, I'm alright now," the young lady replied, steadying herself against the railing. "Though, I do appear to be a bit lost. Do you happen to know which way the dining room is?"

"Of course, we would be happy to show you the way," Cordelia replied. "I'm Cordelia Haughey and this is my husband Andrew."

"There you are, I've been looking all over for you! Don't disappear like that!" a voice scolded.

"I'm Erin McKenzie and that would be my twin sister Jacqueline," the young woman introduced herself.

"I'm Erin McKenzie and that would be my twin sister Jacqueline," the young woman introduced herself.

"Call me Jackie, please," her twin insisted. “Jacqueline is what my mother calls me when I’m in trouble.”

"We have an aunt there who requested one of us to be her companion. When Erin said she was going, well I couldn't let her have all the fun now could I?" Jackie winked at the couple, while Erin rolled her eyes.

"And what awaits you in New York?" Erin asked Cordelia.

Cordelia grinned up at Andrew, "A world full of possibilities!"

"Spoken like true newlyweds," Jackie grinned, as Cordelia blushed.

"How did you know we were newlyweds?" Cordelia asked blushingly.

The twins exchanged a look and chuckled. "Let's call it a hunch," Erin replied.

Andrew chuckled and placed a kiss on Cordelia's hand, "Our secret is out dearest. We were wed just before we boarded the ship," he explained to the twins. 

"Well, then it sounds like a celebration is in order!" Jackie exclaimed.

"We were just about to head to the dining room for dinner if you would care to join us. We can toast to your future together," Erin offered.

Pleased at the prospect of having made new friends aboard, Cordelia nodded eagerly.

"Splendid!" Jackie exclaimed, looping her arm through Cordelia's and steering her towards the dining room. "Now, I want to hear every detail of how you two met! I'm sure it's quite the story!"

Andrew chuckled as he offered Erin his arm and they followed the pair.

The four sat companionably enjoying their dinner when a fashionably dressed passenger caught Erin's eye.

"Jackie, is that who I think it is?" she asked, nudging her twin.

Jackie glanced over discreetly, before nodding. "I do believe it is. Should we invite them to join us?"

Erin glanced at Andrew and Cordelia, "If there is no objection. We've spotted a friend of ours, we had no idea that they were also on board."

"By all means, the more the merrier," Andrew replied.

Erin stood and made her way over to the other table. After a few words were exchanged the pair returned to the table.

"Andrew, Cordelia, this is the wonderfully talented Alexis Howard, an old friend of our family," Erin explained, as she made the introductions.

"Not that old, mind you!" Alexis teased.

"Andrew and Cordelia are newlyweds and on their honeymoon," Jackie explained to Alexis.

"Honeymoon? How lovely! You two are well suited, I can see it in your eyes," Alexis sent the couple a knowing wink.

"Please, join us," Cordelia said smiling. "I must say your dress is quite exquisite!"

Alexis grinned, sitting down next to Cordelia, "A woman with good taste in fashion and men? I see we shall become excellent companions then."

Andrew blushed slightly at Alexis' frank admiration, but Cordelia laughed along with the twins.

"Alexis, how did we not know you were going to New York?" Jackie asked.

"It was all very last minute. I received an invitation to perform there, so I threw everything in my suitcase and booked the next passage out of there!"

"You're a performer?" Cordelia asked, curiously.

"Oh, Alexis has an amazing voice, and is incredible on the stage," Erin praised. 

"Then we look forward to seeing you showcase those talents in New York," Andrew smiled, raising his water glass in a toast.

Alexis smiled, "I'll be sure to reserve you all the best seats In the house!"

The hour grew late and the new friends reluctantly parted ways, agreeing to meet up in the morning.

"Well, I must say that I enjoy our new friends immensely," Cordelia said grinning at Andrew in the mirror as she got ready for bed.

Andrew returned the smile, "I do, too." He wrapped his arms around her, dropping a kiss to her hair. "And now you have people to spend time with when you tire of my company," he teased.

"It is far more likely that you will tire of me before I tire of you," she replied cheekily.

"I could never grow tired of you, Delia," he turned her around to face him. "You are my everything."

Cordelia could see the love in his eyes. "And you are mine," she replied, kissing him sweetly.

#clarkeman #clarkeman fanfiction #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #max richman #zoey clarke #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zoeysplaylist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #zoeysplaylist #zoeys playlist fanfiction #fanfiction #Extraordinarily Star Crossed

[46ten]

“Reflections on Courtship and Marriage,” part 2

(Part 1 here) One of the best things about this pamphlet is that it shows romantic ideals about conjugal love and companionship, commonly associated with the 19th century, being presented in 1746 in Colonial America. There are a handful of Hamilton biographies and papers that make the assumption that the marriage of AH and ES must have been a sort of business/political contract, as the authors believe was common in that society/period. 

Reading this pamphlet (and other newspaper columns that I will post in the future) shows that AH was familiar with the standards of the day when it came to marriage. It was something he seemed to have thought carefully about - the qualities he wanted in a life partner, how his marriage would operate - and he may have framed his own thoughts about marriage through guides that were likely similar to this one, in addition to personal experience. One thing that stands out in AH’s letters to ES, even compared to this pamphlet, is his repeated emphasis on, and needing assurance of, her affection and tenderness for him, as though her qualities and their relationship could satisfy several common criteria, but she also needed to really really love him.  

To the pamphlet: 

Do not marry for money: 

The real felicity of marriage does undoubtedly consist in a union of minds, and a sympathy of affections; in a mutual esteem and friendship for each other in the highest degree possible. But in that alliance, where interest and fortune only is considered, those refined and tender sentiments are neither felt nor known. ...And what are the consequences to the parties themselves? Why, at best, a cold, flat, and insipid intercourse; void of the exquisite relish of a sincere esteem, and the divine pleasures of a reasonable and honourable friendship. [8-9]

Be clear with your partner about your financial situation and needs:

How much, or how little a fortune will content us, depends chiefly on our own way of thinking. Be this as it will, it should seem very proper before all marriages, for both parties to know truly and fairly what they have to expect on this head; and seriously to consider with themselves whether it will be sufficient so far to answer their desires, as to prevent future murmurings and anxieties, and prudently allow them to enjoy life as they intend. All deceit herein should be carefully avoided; we may otherwise impose on ourselves, and ruin all our future felicity. [11]  This sounds a lot like the Aug1780 letter from AH to ES.

Do not marry solely for passion: 

What has been observed, seems to point out, that a blind, a sudden and intoxicating passion, has a natural tendency, under its own direction, to ocasion unhappy marriages, and produce scenes of grief and repentance. Let us, on the contrary, proceed with deliberation and circumspection. Let reason and thought be summoned before we engage in the courtship of a lady; endeavour as much as possible to stifle all those passionate and amorous emotions that would cloud and bribe our judgments. Let us seriously reflect, that engagements of this kind are of the greatest moment to our future happiness in life; that courtship brings on marriage, and that makes all the peace and welfare of our lives dependent on the behavior and dispositions of another; a matter of the utmost consequence, and of which we cannot well think too long or too much. Let not therefore our eyes or passions previal with us, to barter away all that is truly valuable in our existence for their gratification. Some women have infinite art, being early bred to disguise and dissemble; yet by a skilful attention calmness, and impartiality, we may form a judgment of their characters in the main: Which we should endeavour to do, and compare them fairly with our own; see how they will correspond; be rationally convinced of a similitude in our ways of thinking, a harmony in our minds and tempers, before we venture to change the name of mistress into that of wife. [13-14] 

Having now driven the mercenary herd to their native mines, and made evident their unfitness for breathing the pure and generous air of matrimonial felicity; left the inamoratoes to float in their fool's paradise with novels and romances; let us endeavour to fix ourselves on the true basis of conjugal happiness, and see if we can hit upon the path wherein an agreeable companion, a steady friend, and a good wife, may be found. [14] 

Do not hide who you really are: 

[During courtship] In our addresses, let our conduct be sincere, our tempers undisguised; let us use no artifices to cover or conceal our natural frailties and imperfections, but be outwardly what we really are within, and appear such as we design steadfastly to continue. ...Love and friendship are of so nice and delicate a texture that disingenuity in the smallest matters should be avoided.  [15-16]

[Don't conceal your appearance!] It is really amazing how people can be so preposteriously wicked, in a correspondence of the most sacred and tender kind, in the consequences of which all the future happiness of their lives may depend. How stupid thus to study our own ruin, by the infamous deception of one we choose for the partner of our joys and our cares, the companion of our days and our nights! How shocking to set out with fraud, and proceed with deceit, in such solemn engagements! How shallow is the cunning of such inconsiderate minds! Must not all the pleasures of marriage be unanimous and inseparable? Do they not flow from real and unaffected loveliness? Can we think the cheat will lie long concealed in a society so intimate! When time and experience unmasks our assumed appearances, throws us in our native colours, and exposes that reality we have so industriously laboured to cover; we can expect love and esteem from any one whom we have so shamefully over-reached and insnared? Surely no. On the contrary, we shall entail on ourselves certain indignation, and lasting contempt. [17]

Do not flatter too much: 

It was an objection, you may remember, made against matrimony, That the education of young ladies gave such a trifling turn to their tempers, and manner of thinking, as rendered them unfit for the rational pleasures of society and conversation. Allowing this to be true, and in general but too true it really is, how prejudicial and fatal must flattery be to such? And how completely must that foppish rant called Gallantry poison their understandings, and tend to destroy the possibility of inspiring them with sentiments or reason and good sense? [18]

[Endeavour, by every probable method, to inspire her with the sentiments of a rational esteem, a generous and steadfast friendship for us.] By reasonably introducing into conversation useful subjects on human life and characters, by making solid and practical reflections thereon, and engaging the attention by a polite, an easy, and lively manner; we shall correct and strengthen the judgment, enlarge the faculties of the mind, and raise the soul to a free and generous way of thinking; drive out and extirpate that childish, that little narrow spirited way of thinking, that mean and injudicious distrust, those low and pitiful artifices, and that lurking fort of cunning, which is too much the characteristics of many women, is the detestation of every great mind, and the abhorrence of all ingenuous spirits. There is no friendship or confidence to be had with such dirty, tricking, low minds. They are an uttter privation to all social happiness; and when carried into a married life, and insuperable obstacles to its welfare. Many opportunities may likewise be found for recommending the perusal of elegant and improving books; which, by a good choice, and a judicious taste, will have a beneficial effect on the mind and understanding. [20-21]

What fermentations and heats often arise from breaking of china, disordering a room, dinner not being ready at a precise hour, and a thousand other such impertinent bagatelles? ...The reproving each other before company, and sparing as it were together, is mighty wrong, and very unpolite. It irritates themselves, and makes their company very uneasy. ..follow Mr. Pope's advise on another subject: "At every trifle scorn to take offense; It always shows great price, or little sense ("Essay on Criticism") [34-35]

Other odds and ends from this pamphlet: 

A section on "housewifery" (managing the household) starts on page 45.

A letter to a very young letter on her marriage by Dr. Swift [pg 55] “I must therefore desire you, in the first place, to be very slow in changing the modest behaviour of a virgin. It is usual in young wives, before they have been many weeks married, to assume a bold forward look, and manner of talking; as if they intended to signify in all companies, that they were no longer girls; and consequently that their whole demeanor before they got a husband, was all but a countenance and constraint upon their nature....“

#18th century marriage #18th century courtship

[blorangeweirdo7]

Nanowrimo Prep Day 9

I guess I’m writing the origin stories of all my D&D characters, so...

Myriem was alone in the carriage with her thoughts and the bitter taste of failure. Her uncle and chaperone had not said a word to her throughout the entire drive. He had silently handed her up into the carriage and then sat next to the driver outside. She knew that as much as he may regret it, he would not leave out any detail when he talked to her father.

The visit had started off well enough. They had stopped the carriage outside Duke Horasin’s manor so she could freshen up from the four-hour ride, wiping the dust off her dress and face, smoothing creases, fluffing petticoats, and adding emergency pins to the mass of elegantly arranged hair. Myriem knew her appearance was faultless.

It had clearly made an impact on the Duke’s son, Seran. Although he was well practiced at hiding his reactions, his eyes did widen and his lips parted slightly. He bowed low and offered his arm as they walked in.

Myriem’s mother’s words had echoed in her mind. “This may be the last chance. You must take it seriously. Speak as little as possible. Let him see your strengths. Try to sound worth of him. I know you can show your best side. If you can just focus when it counts for once…” Her mother pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“I will try, Lady Renden,” she said quietly.

“You must not try. You must do it,” said her mother firmly.

So Myriem had focused on her elegant posture and her sweet voice. She had listened attentively to Sir Seran on politics and economics, nodding at the appropriate times. She had walked in the garden with his chattering sister. (The art of meaningless conversation was her specialty.) She had displayed just enough skill at cards to please without winning. Her uncle had almost relaxed.

Her uncle almost never gave her that disappointed look she was used to from everyone. As he sat in the carriage with her, he had attempted to calm her nerves. “Lady Myriem, you are sweet and kind and understanding. You are talented and beautiful and will make a great wife that your husband’s whole house can be proud of. You must give him the chance to see you for who you are.” He gently touched her hair. “No matter what anyone may say, always know you are not stupid.”

Myriem knew she wasn’t stupid. She had memorized all 375 items in the Lords and Ladies Code of Etiquette. She knew eighteen different dances and was the fastest to pick up a new one. Embroidery patterns came naturally to her. She memorized music and even improvised work at the piano, although she was not permitted to play it. She helped the cook and the stable master take inventory, calling out counts and measures to them.

It was when she looked at the ledger herself that things went wrong. Suddenly the numbers that she knew looked like a different language. Even when the answers to math figures were given her, she forgot them almost immediately.

Reading was even worse. She understood just fine when someone read to her, but it got all mixed up when she tried to read herself.

It frustrated her, the unpredictability of her shortcomings. She loved to paint but the figure sketching her mother had taught her came out like she had spilled ink on the paper. She memorized all the kings, queens, and noble houses in the history of the country but could not remember the dates they had reigned, and trying to diagram her family tree was like walking a maze blindfolded. She chatted fluently in the hill folks’ argot with the kitchen maid but clammed up when asked to recite Old High Kinterin.

Her parents called her lazy and her tutor called her stupid. She didn’t think either was true but didn’t dare argue. Her parents terrified her. Lord Renden called her into his study last month. She stood rigid in taut anxiety while he finished a letter, then looked up at her.

“It comes to this,” he said without preamble. “Fifteen lords in our province have turned me down. Despite the ties of friends and family, I cannot prevail on anyone who knows us to take you. They know you too well.”

He looked down from her stricken face and busied himself with folding the letter. “I have written to Duke Hosarin. He is above our class, but I believe your beauty will impress him. You are the loveliest girl in the province, after all. He also does not have many ties in our side of the province, and I believe I can convince him our connection would be advantageous. As long as you do your job and impress him.” He looked hard at Myriem.

“I understand, Lord Renden,” said Myriem. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes slightly. “My Lord?”

“Speak, Myriem.”

“Must we— I mean, couldn’t I—Does it have to be someone I must impress? There are people who like— who like me for me. Truly, I would be happy no matter his status. The Danterns are landed, and—”

Lord Renden stood. “I will not have a daughter of mine marrying a titleless nobody, much less one of my own grasping, ambitious subjects. I would die of shame. I’d rather see you die an old maid than married to the kind of people who like you. Now, go.” He snorted and muttered, “As well have you marry a hill folk.”

So she had tried. Her etiquette at dinner had been impeccable, her conversation charming. She had danced exquisitely with Sir Seran. He had smiled at her and even lingered over letting go of her hand. Then he played a song while she sang along, one of her favorites.

Then it all went wrong. Sir Seran turned to a new page at the piano. “Do you know this one?” he asked.

Her heart beat faster. “I’m—not sure.”

“It’s set to the tune of ‘The Fir Tree,’ but new lyrics. I’d love to hear you sing it. I’ll play for you.” Without a chance for her to object, he began playing.

Myriem took a deep breath and swallowed, willing herself to relax. One line at a time. The first word…the first word was “You.” Wait, now it looked like “How.” She swallowed again, feeling faint. Sir Seran stopped and looked up at her curiously. “That was the introduction. I’ll start again.”

“I’m—I’m sorry, my voice is tired.” She coughed.

“Forgive me, my lady. Aren’t the words beautiful, though?” He turned more pages. “Would you like to sit and play one? Have you heard this one before?”

It didn’t look familiar. “No, I haven’t.”

He urged her to the seat. “Please, look at the music and find one you’d like.”

Myriem flipped through the music, praying she’d recognize one of them enough to play it from memory. Her eyes felt fuzzy and confused. The room was becoming uncomfortably quiet.

The duke stood and approached. “Surely a lady as accomplished as yourself is able to at least attempt one of these pieces?”

Myriem dropped her hands to her lap and looked down.

The duke whirled to face her uncle. “Are the rumors true?”

“Can you read?” asked Sir Seran softly.

Myriem didn’t care to remember the rest of the visit. They were walked out with the utmost of politeness, but it was clear they were not welcome to spend the night. Even as they were heading for the carriage, Sir Seran was arguing with his father, but it didn’t change anything.

Myriem wished they could be done with the whole humiliating endeavor. She would be alone forever, and that was that. Her brother would support her; she would find a way to be useful to him. She wished that her father had thought to negotiate her marriage along with his five years ago. He was everything a lord should be. Handsome, charismatic, intelligent, talented. And somehow, he still approved of her.

Myriem sighed and suddenly realized she could hear raised voices. The carriage stopped and it sounded like her uncle and the driver were arguing. Myriem moved closer to the front and strained to hear.

The door to the carriage was flung open and her uncle stood there, looking grim. “Stay in the carriage. I’ll be right back.”

“What’s going on?” He didn’t answer and shut the carriage door.

Myriem squirmed in her seat. She heard more raised voices. The carriage shaft creaked and the carriage moved slightly. Then she heard the pounding of hooves quickly receding. She had no idea where they were, but guessed they must be nearly there. It was dark outside. She fidgeted for a few minutes and didn’t hear anything else. Then she just slid a curtain aside to peek outside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from the lamplight inside. She saw a farmhouse quite close by. Wait—she recognized this farm! They were no more than ten leagues away from home. In fact, from this hill, they should be able to see the manor!

She scrambled out of the carriage and ran to the crest of the hill. The driver stood up in his seat. “Lady Myriem, wait!”

She stopped at the top of the hill, unable to process the fiery orange glow on the plain below.

[darkhymns-fic]

Murder with a Side of Lies (Ch. 5)

This showstopper of a case will be absolutely beautiful! Be sure to buy your *tickets in advance and order your favorite Glamburger and sequin shake! No one delivers true justice like MTT™!

*Refunds non-negotiable.

Fandom: Undertale Characters: Papyrus, Undyne, Catty, Mettaton, Sans Rating: PG Chapters: 5/8 Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: The sequel to Kidnappings in the Early Evening by Sky. A fusion of detective noir fiction and courtroom drama! All stories, art, etc., related to this main story will be under the tag #undertale noir. (chrono)

Suggested courtroom music!

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Mettaton Mettaton Mettaton!!

“Wow, you guys are, like, totally owning in there!” Catty said, pawing at the air playfully. Her handcuffs jingled. “I’m, like, SUPER surprised! I totally thought you guys were, like, HUGE losers!” She laughed cheerfully to herself.

“THANK YOU!” I posed, feeling proud. “IT’S OUR JOB, AFTER ALL!” Undyne frowned at the sweet compliment. She must have been embarrassed! How cute!

Since we had a bit more time in our recess, and a lot less spaghetti and bones to clean up, we figured this would be the perfect opportunity to get a bit more information out of our witness! The lobby was packed once again. I couldn’t help but notice that the audience’s tone had been shifting into a strange place more and more as the case went on.

“I’m so excited for the next act!” a bunny girl hopped, talking to her friend.

“Yes, it’s quite interesting. I actually thought this was a real court case for a while at the start.”

“Mettaton’s acting is sooo good! That skeleton and fish lady could use some lessons though, but whatever! Mettaton’s carrying the show!”

Ah, well, there’s no time for eavesdropping, though. I can’t say I understood what they were talking about, but that’s a mystery for another day!

“Catty, clear something up for us.” Undyne looked quite serious as she conversed with our client. More than a foot taller than the cat monster, she angled her head down, her red hair falling over her shoulder. “You knew Burgerpants well enough. Has he ever told you he had any enemies of the sort? Someone who wanted him dead?”

“GOOD QUESTION, UNDYNE,” I praised. “I SUPPOSE THESE ARE THE KIND OF QUESTIONS WE SHOULD HAVE ASKED HER BEFORE WE WENT THROUGH THIS TRIAL.”

“Ya, like, no kidding!” Catty said, pawing at Undyne’s hair.

“Okay! Yeah, I know! Look, anyway! Just… you got anything for us, Catty?” Undyne shifted her head from Catty’s paws as she spoke. “Even a rumor about Burgerpants might help us out.”

“I mean, like, I guess Burgerpants might have had a few people not like him…” She shook her head. “He didn’t have any enemies or friends either. He was, like, kinda weird! But he was also kinda cute! Like, ya know?”

“LIKE, DO WE KNOW, UNDYNE?”

“No.” Undyne sighed, gritting her teeth as she did so. “Do you got anything else for us? We’re trying to save you from being convicted.”

“Hmmm, oh! He did say something about wanting to be a star like Mettaton or something like that. Like, the guy was super weird about Mettaton, too! Can you believe he didn’t even have a poster of him? Soooo weird!”

Undyne blinked. “Wait, back up a second. He didn’t like Mettaton? He told you that?”

“Uhhhh, he told, like, everybody!” Catty scoffed. “Anybody who’s anybody gets a glamburger and another of his life stories.”

“IS THAT THE STANDARD FARE WITH A GLAMBURGER PURCHASE?”

“No duh!”

Now, to be fair, I wasn’t sure how this would help our case in any way! Burgerpants not having any kind of social life was totally irrelevant! And the fact that he was badmouthing Mettaton didn’t paint our client in the nicest light! But I am sure he was a swell guy.

“Court is back in session! ;)” winked a voice from the courtroom’s double-doors.

“Damn, that was barely a half hour.” Undyne tugged at her collar, seething at every monster passerby. I should cheer her up!

“DON’T WORRY, UNDYNE! I’M SURE WE WILL COME UP WITH SOMETHING AT THE VERY LAST MINUTE TO TURN THIS CASE UPSIDE DOWN AND DO A FULL 360! I BELIEVE IN THE BOTH OF US!”

“Heh, yeah, you’re right.” There was that familiar, predatory, kinda scary grin from Undyne! “Although it’d have to be something crazy though…”

“Now, my dear darlings and gentledarlings! If this isn’t truly conclusive evidence, then I don’t know what is!”

Back in the crowded courtroom, I was reminded of the new evidence about our client. The pink nail was sparkling within the palm of Mettaton’s hand, almost accusing in its very existence.

“so, uh, what’s so conclusive about it?” Sans asked rather sensibly, then ruined it as he shrugged and said, “cuz i ain’t able to draw any conclusions from it.”

Instead of being rightfully offended, Mettaton explained his reasoning, which I suppose was part of his job. “While I must say Catty has some impeccable taste regarding her manicures – no tearing, an even file, and such a fine coat of nail polish with three layers, very good – this all but points to her as the true culprit to this crime! Even more so than it already has!”

The court gallery oohed and awed at Mettaton’s speech, me included! I felt Undyne jab me in the ribs.

“Papyrus, come on!”

“IT IS A VERY EXQUISITE LOOKING NAIL THOUGH.”

“That’s hardly important.”

“While it may not seem like it is important, this speaks of the impeccable taste of customers who frequently visit the esteemed MTT Nail and Salon Studio! Just the nail varnish alone tells us of its beauty!”

“Objection!” Undyne shouted, planting a boot against the counter. “How do we even know that’s from MTT?”

“Why, darling, it’s trademarked right here.”

I squinted my eye sockets quite vigorously and there! The trademarked symbol was wedged into the very corner of the nail.

Sans wasn’t even looking in the nail’s direction, but was nodding his skull listlessly. “checks out then.”

This, I soon began to realize, did not bode well for our case. And it had looked bad enough already!

“The true killer had these nails on while they decided to commit their nefarious deed. It was found just inches away from Burgerpants’ dust. And so, as they say in show business, that’s a wrap, beauties and gentlebeauties!”

Wow! This really wasn’t good at all!

“CATTY,” I inquired of our client. “DO YOU GO TO MTT SALON A LOT?”

“Well, duh! I go there like, all the time!” She pawed at her black hair, keeping it down.

“BUT, DON’T YOU, LIKE, HAVE NO MONEY?”

“Ya, but my MTT husband always lets me in, right?”

The robot celebrity answered with robotic grace. “Oh honey, darling, we welcome all customers from every path of life… and with that being said, unless you pay off your previous beauty sessions, we can no longer accept your patronage.”

I could see Undyne frowning quite heavily but also… confused? She was gnawing at a sharp nail of hers, her fangs giving her a manicure of their own! So that was the secret to her talons of justice!

Still, I had to pay attention to the case at hand. “CATTY, WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU DO AT THIS SALON?”

“I get, like, the best coats around! Like, I even use that same shade right here!” Catty held up her paw to be scrutinized. Pink claws topped it off, all lavishly painted with the trademarked MTT logo. Could this really mean that-

“Paps, wait a minute.” Undyne gripped my arm, eye narrowed. “Isn’t it kinda weird though?”

“HM?” I swiveled my skull to her. “I AM NOT SURE WHAT YOU MEAN.”

“Mettaton had investigated the area before and found Burgerpants’ dust. But why didn’t the dogi come across the nail the first time around?”

I pondered on this dilemma. “PERHAPS THEY JUST MISSED IT?”

“Possible, but it’s only been less than an hour since they left to go back. And just like that, they find some new evidence that Sans wanted.” Undyne narrowed her eye, her voice low. “That’s really convenient, isn’t it?”

That did seem a bit suspicious. And Mettaton, fabulous entertainer that he was, didn’t seem like he would want to waste his resources... unless he knew he’d get something in return. As if he predicted how this case would go! Could he have been holding onto this informati-

Wait a minute! I took another look at her claws.

“OF COURSE. HER CLAWS!”

“so you got something to say about her claws?” Sans interrupted. Oh, I must have spoken out loud again.

I straightened my tie and grinned wide. It was my most intimidating pose, one that was sure to have the prosecution on its knees! (Metaphorically speaking).

“THERE IS A CONTRADICTION IN THE PROSECUTION’S STATEMENT. THE EVIDENCE PRESENTED TO US ARE THE NAILS FROM MTT SALON, AND THE VERY FACT THAT THEY WERE AT THE CRIME SCENE PROVES-” Here I pointed most assuredly at Mettaton. “THAT THE CULPRIT WHO WORE SUCH NAILS HAD TAKEN PART IN SUCH A CRIME.”

Everyone hushed at the sheer power of my speech! I was a really good lawyer!

“Yes, darling, that is exactly what I just said a moment ago.” Mettaton shook his finger at me, chuckling as he did so. “Although I am quite glad that you have ceded your defeat to me and my irrefutable evidence!”

Yes! I nodded with Mettaton’s statement, until I felt another jab from Undyne. Wait, no!

I pointed at him once more, the sheer force of it enough to blow away all lies and deception! Mettaton was still standing, but he was made of metal, so that was to be expected. “BUT THE FACT REMAINS THAT CATTY HAS CLAWS AND NOT NAILS! AND IF THE PROSECUTION RELIES ON THAT EVIDENCE, THEN THAT MEANS THAT CATTY, BY THAT LOGIC, IS IRREFUTABLY INNOCENT!”

I heard the crowd gasp at such amazing logic. And what’s more, Mettaton was speechless?! He made no attempt to counter my argument.

“Nice going, Paps.” Undyne grinned, then faced the robot. “What? Nothing left to say, punk?”

It was quite strange, actually. Mettaton had his hands placed together, as if deep in thought. The lights of his chassis blinked intermittently. His face was completely unreadable – well, more unreadable than it was before.

“Very well done, my darlings. Very well done.” Mettaton clapped slowly. “To think that you have deduced such a fact in so little time speaks volumes of how you may not be so completely inept after all!”

“WOWIE! THANK YOU!”

His lights blinked again. “That wasn’t a compli- you know what, forget it.”

“Papryus!” Another jab in my side. Undyne could really just tap my shoulder if she wanted my attention. “Take another good look at that nail.”

I did so, seeing it displayed on the evidence table in the middle of the courtroom. The ceiling lights made the brilliant shade of pink sparkle. It was quite a beautiful color! One could not expect less from the MTT Brand! But that’s beside the point. Undyne was being very adamant that I look at it closely.

“YES, UNDYNE. IT IS, INDEED, A NAIL. I THOUGHT WE CLEARED THAT UP EARLIER.”

“Not that. Look, Paps. Do you know of any monster who actually has nails?”

Well. Hm. It indeed was quite hard to recall any of my friends as having nails, instead of claws, appendages, tentacles, and other horrible forms of nature. And I have many friends!

“They’re human-type nails,” Undyne told me helpfully.

“OH? DO YOU MEAN THE CULPRIT WAS A HUMAN?”

“No, because the thing is, the nail is coated in magic, too. And no humans today use magic, least not like us.”

Wowie! This was a lot to ponder! I scrunched my skull in thought, but no answer was forthcoming! “SO IT MUST STILL BE A MONSTER THEN? BUT IF NO MONSTER HAS NAILS, THEN JUST WHO COULD IT EVEN BE?”

“Easy.” And then Undyne grinned so triumphantly, it revealed more fangs of hers than I thought possible. “What other monster has human-like hands?”

Instantly, I turned away from her to look over at this courtroom’s prosecutor. Specifically, at the hands he kept folded before his face/body.

Gasp!! Of course! “OBJECTION!”

Sans stared from his podium. “uh, no one was saying anything.”

“EXCUSE ME! I WAS OBJECTING TO THE FABULOUS PROSECUTOR FOR STANDING THERE MENACINGLY!”

“Now, darling, no need to be so discriminatory.” Mettaton gave a fabulous twirl on his wheel, sparkles flying from him in exquisite grace. “This is just how I stand.”

“EXCUSE ME! I WAS OBJECTING TO THE PROSECUTOR’S FABULOUS HANDS!”

“They truly are quite fabulous, I agree.” Mettaton deigned to show off his gloved hands to the crowd, who oohed and aahed at such a sight. I was impressed too!

But that wasn’t the point! “I WANT TO GO FURTHER IN MY DEDUCTIONS OVER THE NAIL THAT THE PROSECUTOR BROUGHT TO THIS COURTROOM.”

“Do you now?” Mettaton placed those hands against each other again, each fingertip in perfect symmetry to its twin.

“NO MONSTER WOULD HAVE SUCH NAILS, AS WE MUST ALL KNOW. NO MONSTER – EXCEPT ONE THAT WE ALL KNOW FAIRLY WELL.” I pointed once more at the celebrity robot. “YOU, METTATON, HAVE THE MEANS TO ACCESS SUCH NAILS AT ANY TIME, DO YOU NOT?”

Mettaton was acting surprisingly calm about all this. He didn’t even try to deny what my question implied. “Why, of course. As lead creative director and visionary for the MTT Brand, I keep track of all my subsidies and business ventures. Always finding new and innovative ways to keep MTT the #1 brand in the world!”

“AND WITH YOUR CLOSE RELATIONSHIP WITH THE VICTIM, TOO, YOU ALSO HAD MOTIVE, DID YOU NOT?”

“Nothing of the sort! My job for him was basically charity, after all!” Mettaton laughed uproariously. “Even if employing him did cost our company some money with his constant mistakes, I cared for Burgerpants as if he were one of my own!”

I prepared myself to ask him another question, but Undyne took over, slamming a fist onto the desk.

“Ngaah! This is taking too long! Mettaton! It was you who killed Burgerpants, wasn’t it?”

The crowd talked and shouted frantically at the accusation. I wished Undyne had waited for me. I was getting to that part after the build-up I was creating!

“hey, you guys.” Sans said from his bench, his tone more serious then I usually heard from him. “that’s a uh, pretty serious accusation you got there. got any evidence to back that up?”

“We will very soon.” Undyne turned from Sans to Mettaton. “You know, Mettaton, if your hands are so fabulous, why don’t you ever show it off, huh?” She placed her boot on the desk again, nearly splintering it. “Come on, take off the gloves!”

“YEAH!” I joined in excitedly. “TAKE IT ALL OFF!”

Mettaton fanned himself with those hands. “Oh my.” He turned around on his single wheel, facing my brother. “Do you hear this, Your Honor? They are so desperate that they have now resorted to pinning me, the prosecution, as the killer! Must this farce go on?”

Sans stared at all of us for a moment, which I would be generous in saying that he was deep in thought and had not fallen asleep once again. With his sharp grin aimed at Mettaton, he shrugged. “i mean, i guess they have evidence and motive or whatever.

“…I’m sorry, you guess?” Mettaton’s voice crackled ever so slightly.

“yeah.” Sans leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. “you gonna do something about it?”

“Actually…” Mettaton slowly turned back to us, his wheel doing a perfect half-circumference. He stood in the middle of the courtroom, the spotlights focused on him and him only. “I think I will.”

Then, with astounding grace and in an extremely loud voice that even matched my own, Mettaton posed, suddenly bringing out a microphone as the letters MTT glowed above him from dazzling lights. Wowie! This courtroom really pulls out all the stops!

“OHH YESS! Time to give the audience what they’ve been waiting for!” The center spotlight shut off. Smoke seeped out from the fog machines that were suddenly there, giving the whole courtroom a truly suspenseful feel to it. “Are you ready, beauties and gentlebeauties? Because now…”

The center spotlight turned on again, and the box-shaped Mettaton was replaced by a truly remarkable specimen! Incredible! I could barely contain myself! It would be impossible to truly describe the grandeur that was Mettaton’s beauty, but I must at least try!

Long legs were placed on the floor, topped with a metal human torso. Mettaton’s face was now a wonderful visage, with hair even! Smooth and supple metal skin! Beautiful bishoujo eyes that I have always wanted but could never have! Mettaton EX always brought in the crowds with his limitless talent and far-off sexiness! Incredible! Amazing!!

“Papyrus, why are you sweating so much?” Undyne asked me.

“METTATON IS SO COOL, UNDYNE.”

“Please.”

With a lustrous sigh, Mettaton stood within the center of the courtroom, gesturing to the crowd with pure benevolence. “Well, I am now here, ready to take on these filthy, debased, absolutely horrible accusations you have flung upon me!”

He placed the back of his gloved hand against his forehead. The crowd simply went wild – and so was our client, who was trying to paw at him from a distance of twenty feet away. “But rest assured, my fellow attorneys, I’ll be sure to make the last dying breaths of your pathetic careers…”

Hands out, face upturned to the spotlight, glitter all over his curvaceous body, he truly became a fabulous star just then! “Absolutely beautiful!”

“Papyrus, don’t you dare clap.”

I felt hurt at Undyne’s tone. “BUT SUCH SHOWMANSHIP MUST BE APPRECIATED, UNDYNE.”

“That’s not important right now!”

A snore erupted from the judge’s podium. Sans looked around blearily, eye sockets focused on the new and improved Mettaton. “oh,  what’d i miss?”

“No more stalling!” Undyne held out a spear, its turquoise glow radiating from it, shining on Mettaton’s face. “I already asked you before. Take off the gloves! Show us that you’re really innocent!”

Ah, that’s right! The star I had looked up to might just be a cold-blooded killer! Or a no-blooded killer, to be more accurate. “PLEASE TELL US THE TRUTH, METTATON. DID YOU COMMIT THIS CRIME?”

Mettaton turned his head, revealing his Greek god-like features to the masses. The crowd cheered ecstatically! Cameras were flashing everywhere! And me without my makeup!

“Again, such ridiculous slander! These lies will do horrors to my complexion! And yours!” His arms extended, one finger from each hand poking at both mine and Undyne’s faces. I was going crazy! Mettaton touched me!! Undyne didn’t look too happy about it, and tried to bite off Mettaton’s fingers. Please, Undyne! Not in front of my possibly murderous hero!

“Even if I wore the nails, why should that matter? I loved Burgerpants with all my soul, giving him a job when no one else would at our fabulous MTT Emporium, with low, low prices for the best fast food around! Right now with a sale of buy one Glamburger, get another one free! Don’t dawdle and get your share, my beauties!”

“hey, uh, is advertising allowed in here?” Sans asked his baliff.

Aaron peered through a book titled ‘COURTROOM TIPZ MADE EASY.’ “Checks out, judge. ;)”

“ok.” Sans leaned back, glad to have that settled apparently.

“And still, why would I ever hurt my darling Burgerpants? Such a model…” Mettaton paused, tapping a finger against those exquisite cheeks. “Well, he was an employee. And he was my employee. I could never dust away such a fabulous monster.”

“Why would you hurt him? Probably for the same reason he’s called Burgerpants to begin with!” Undyne was on a roll! She practically glowed with justice! “You killed what’s-his-face because of company merchandise he kept stealing from you! Your MTT burgers!”

At that, Mettaton did not have a ready answer. He placed a finger against his metal-fashioned lips, humming his robotic tune. “Well, I cannot deny that. Burgerpants was always quite a grabby cat.” He shrugged, bringing a wave of even more entrancing sparkles. “Still, that does not dissuade my fondness for him, may his soul rest in peace.”

“You know what? Fine then.” Undyne shrugged in turn. What could this mean? “Maybe you truly cared about Burgerpants… but did Burgerpants care about you?”

Mettaton’s face twitched. It was really hard to miss. “And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Well, according to my client here, everybody knows!” Undyne laughed, slapping her knee as she did so. “Anybody who went to MTT Emporium knows how much Burgerpants hated your metal guts!”

“OH YEAH!” I joined her. “APPARENTLY, AFTER YOU BUY A GLAMBURGER, HE’S QUITE SUSCEPTIBLE TO QUESTIONS.”

“Yeah, he was a real pushover. And nobody pushed him over more than Mettaton!”

The fabulous Mettaton crossed his arms, face upturned. “Surely this goes against court conduct, to insult such a distinguished prosecutor! Strike their comments from the court record this instant!”

“No!” Undyne asserted herself even more. “This is important. It was common knowledge that Burgerpants detested Mettaton, wanting to be a star on his own, but his boss kept getting in the way.” She turned to the court gallery, at all the monsters seated there. “Right? Have any of you heard him groan about something every day?!”

“Yeah, he kept telling me his burger story…” one flame girl said softly, seated near the front rows.

“He told me he didn’t get why people liked Mettaton so much…” spoken by a cute little mouse monster, leaning over the upper balconies.

“Like, bro was totally majorly bummed out by Mettaton…” spoke a bunny monster, heavily decked out in a pinstripe suit and hat as he stood by the courtroom doors in a suspicious manner.

“ye, and he totally skimped out on the salt for my fries.”

“Your Honor?!” Mettaton turned to Sans, shock on his beautiful face. “…He served you your food wrong?”

Sans shrugged, looking half-asleep as he always did. “uh huh. no big deal though. they still tasted-”

“The nerve of that Burgerpants!” Mettaton clenched his hands, electricity sparking all over his body. “I’m glad then! I’m ecstatic! I should have gotten rid of him earlier!”

Silence choked the entire courtroom, shock written plainly on every face.

Wowie. I didn’t think we’d get him so quickly. Also he’s guilty! This made me quite depressed.

“So you admit it then?” Undyne placed both hands on the table, slapping them down. “You killed Burgerpants! And you tried to pin the crime on Catty!”

Mettaton faced her, his eyes shining dangerously. “Maybe I did! Or maybe I didn’t! Who cares? When people slander you, must that go unpunished? Must the world be so unfair and cruel!? Sometimes things must be done! So what if a few people have to die!?” He spread out his arms, the electricity sparking even more than before. “That’s show business, baby!”

The light was blinding. Even for me! And I don’t even have eyes! Everyone had to turn away, waiting for the light to finally dim. When we all turned back to center floor, Mettaton was still there – but even more fabulous than before.

I’m sorry, notepad, I had to take a minute to regain my bearings. But! Mettaton! Let me try to describe the vivid image before me!

Wings of pure light and energy stuck out of his back. His right arm ended in a cannon, his body glowed with magical energy. He was tall, godly, and sensational! His left eye shimmered with a hidden power that threatened to overwhelm everyone’s existence! Here was the famed Mettaton NEO! I had only heard it spoken of in legend!

Pointed boots stomped the floor, cracking it under the pressure. “Yes! It was me! I killed the doomed Burgerpants! I orchestrated this whole courtroom debacle to further promote my brand! I am the star of this show! And the villain!”

“SO IT’S TRUE!” I could not believe it. That my own hero was capable of such a bad guy act! “YOU KILLED BURGERPANTS AND TRIED TO PIN YOUR CRIME ON AN INNOCENT.”

Mettaton laughed – a truly villainous laugh that spoke of all evil. “That’s right, darling. And you’ve seen through my nefarious plan! I couldn’t suffer through Burgerpants’ bad-mouthing anymore! So with my new manicure, I set out to exterminate him myself!”

The crowd went wild again! They were cheering and chanting Mettaton’s name, which I don’t really think is what you’re supposed to do for a murderer. But, perhaps this is just a new trend these days.

“My fabulous nails speak for themselves!” He held out the hand that wasn’t a gun, continually laughing. “You may convict me now, but you’ll never destroy the legend, the wonder, that is me! Trademarked by the MTT Brand-”

“WAIT A MOMENT.” I held up my hand. Something… something didn’t seem quite right about this. “ABOUT YOUR HAND. MAY YOU SHOW IT US?”

“You’re looking at it, darling!”

“NO. WITHOUT THE GLOVE.” I nodded. “THEN WE CAN FINALLY GET THIS SETTLED.”

“Oh.” Mettaton looked at his left hand, then back at me. Then back at his hand. “Um, right. Of course!”

We all waited, but he didn’t move a muscle. Undyne tapped her foot impatiently.

“No need to rush beauty, dear!” Still Mettaton looked at his hand, seeming to be annoyed. I thought I heard him say something close to cursing, but surely my skeletal ears deceive me!

“Hurry up!”

“Well, I can’t!” Mettaton NEO yelled back, losing his composure for once. “My gloves are part of my body! I can’t take it off!”

Undyne blinked her lone eye, then narrowed. “What.”

“If you haven’t noticed, darling, I’m a robot. And robots don’t exactly have nails either! And none of my forms give me nails, though I would certainly love some!” He sighed theatrically. “I could then experience the wonders of my salons for myself.”

“Wait, if this isn’t your nail….” Undyne gestured at him. “Then whose is it?”

“No, it’s still mine, darling. Just a sample from my special nail line, specially fitted for the human side of the market.” Mettaton flipped his hair as he spoke, or tried to since it was also metal. “But I had to rev up the promotion for this product, and what better way to than to showcase it for a murder trial? The first monster murder trial of its kind?!”

“…Plenty of other ways really,” Undyne deadpanned.

“Well, I’m not hearing any ideas.”

“Okay, well there’s magazine advertising-”

A spark fizzed at Mettaton NEO’s shoulder, making him sputter. “T-that is one of the most unexciting-”

“A television infomercial – just put in an hour slot and you’re ready to sell anything by then.”

Another spark. His wings faltered, and dimmed.

“Heck, you could even take out a flyer and just mail it to people! People would see it plenty-”

“That’s. Incredibly.” Mettaton NEO raised his head to the spotlight. “CHEAP!”

The light glowed bright again. I tried not to turn away this time, but it was too much! I even started to cry at the tragedy of it all! So much beauty now snuffed out like a flame!

In NEO’s place, box-shaped Mettaton stood, a little worse for wear, but still upright. He had a microphone in his hand again, and faced Undyne down. “Well, that was quite a show. I’d give an encore, but I’ve pushed myself to the limit this time!”

“Wait, hold on! What about the crime scene?” Undyne yelled. “And your confession! And the evidence!”

Mettaton waved away her questions with little care. “Oh, I just planted that nail there! I had hoped your investigation would have picked it up, but of course being such amateur lawyers that you are, I had to order a re-scan of the crime scene myself.” He sighed. “To pick up where my co-stars slacked off in, this is not how it should be done!”

“You planted fake evidence?!” Undyne looked livid.

“Yes, and I do dearly apologize.” Mettaton nodded, sighing so loud and dramatic that his voicebox whirred with the emotion. “But this court trial needed a little spice. No real harm done.”

“Isn’t that illegal!?”

Looking from Undyne to Sans, I asked, “IS IT?”

“uh, yeah, kinda.” Sans then addressed Mettaton. “you uh, probably don’t wanna do that again.”

“Truly, I understand that. Truly I do! But what kind of dramatic trial would this be without such a shocker twist? Already the ratings are going off the charts!” Mettaton pointed to his right, where a giant television screen was propped on the wall. When did that get there??? But indeed, the ratings were skyrocketing right off the charts, the bright red lines leaving the television to crash through the roof of the courtroom.

Sans blinked lazily at the property damage happening before him. “huh, can’t argue with that. that plot point really brought the house down.” Tiles kept falling all around him, missing his skull by mere inches. My brother was quite lucky he didn’t get hurt!

“Not only does this bring more attention to the glamorous MTT brand, but to your own court system, Your Honor!” Mettaton held up a book to my brother’s face, just… shoving it up to his eyesockets. “As you can see, the monster judicial system, along with this courthouse, is already proving to be a hit among today’s youth. Why, with a little more sprucing up the -ahem- decorum around here, and a few well-placed snack bars around the lobbies, this trial can raise up your profits like never before!”

Sans, still with the book in his face, gave a thumbs-up. “cool.”

“Fabulous! With your confirmation, I will now set up the promotional material to the courthouse. First, we definitely should change the dreadful logo to something with much more sparkle to it-”

“Hey!” Undyne flipped over the already half-cracked table, upsetting both paper and bones all over the place. (I had set them up on that table so neatly too!) “Aren’t you forgetting something, lead-brain? We still have a trial going on!”

Mettaton wagged a finger at Undyne. “Tsk, of course I didn’t forget, darling. In fact, this changes nothing as Catty is still as guilty as day! After much work, I ask our judge to deliver a verdict as soon as possible! Surely we all want to go home and go back to our fabulous lives!”

Sans had his face laying on one hand. Each moment, his skull threatened to slip off his bony palm and hit the table. “well, if there’s nothing else, might as well get this over with.”

“Wait a second!” Undyne pounded her boot against the ground, sending rolling tremors through the courtroom. “We can’t- we can’t let it end here!”

“so you got some objections?”

“Yeah!”

“okay, let’s hear it.”

Now, I believed that my best friend could help prolong this situation more than anyone! But I could also see that my brother was asking for something here… something that I don’t think Undyne would be able to see.  He wanted a specific answer! After looking at our client and my fuming partner, I decided I had to step in! I really hope Undyne won’t be too mad about it!

“YOUR MAJESTY!” I boomed out the best lawyerly voice one ever heard! I even made Undyne start at the sound! I must really sound impressive! “ALL PRESENTED EVIDENCE BEFORE US IS CIRCUMSTANTIAL, AND THE PROSECUTION’S STUNTS FOR FAME AND GLORY HAS DE-RAILED THIS TRIAL MORE THAN NECESSARY. THE DEFENSE REQUESTS AN ADDITIONAL DAY FOR FURTHER QUESTIONING AND INVESTIGATION.”

Sans stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. “hey, sounds reasonable. what do ya think, metts?”

Mettaton didn’t get angry at the announcement, surprisingly. He only tsked tsked some more, wheeling away from the room. “Anyone and everyone can see how the defense is trying to stall for more time. But! This will give me the space I need to give this courtroom the makeover it deserves! So yes, the prosecution has no objections to this request.”

“alright, cool.” Sans faced the whole of the courtroom again, which was paying attention more to the leaving Mettaton than anything else. “we’ll come back tomorrow to ride this baby out. same time, same place, heh.” He banged his gavel, or…(I have to legitimately sigh here, excuse me) farted his gavel, so to speak. “court on hold and whatever.”

I let out a deep breath I did not know I was holding. Or that I could even do so in the first place! I felt Undyne clap against my back, dangerously close to breaking my spine but that was okay! “Quick thinking there, Paps!”

“OF COURSE. THE GREAT LAWYER PAPYRUS WILL ALWAYS BE THERE TO PROLONG THE CASE MORE THAN IT NEEDS TO BE. NYEH-HEH-HEH!” But, it was hard to stay focused on the moment. I watched as Mettaton went through his crowd of adoring fans in the gallery, blowing robotic kisses and signing autographs even! I realized suddenly! This was my one chance!

“Papyrus, are you really going to ask him for his autograph after the hell he put us through?”

“BUT UNDYNE. THIS IS A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY. I MAY NEVER GET THIS CHANCE AGAIN.”

“We literally just saw him last week. We know where he works. We could actually get it anytime-”

“NYEEEEEHHHH!”

“Okay, fine! Geez! Just go!”

The courtroom emptied as if it was one long breath. Monsters shoved their way to the front doors, dropping their valuables in a frantic attempt to grasp Mettaton’s shiny and sparkling hands. Sans looked at it all through drowsy eyes, snoring softly, despite the fact that he wasn’t actually asleep.

Heh, that bro of his could read him like a book sometimes. Good thing, too.

And hey, speaking of books…

His baliff was already gone as well, leaving Sans truly alone with the caved in roof and the glitter that speckled the walls. But he paid no attention to that, instead his gaze drawn to a certain item on the cracked marble floors.

It was a notepad. His bro’s notepad, actually.

Suddenly the notepad was placed before his judge’s podium. Its cover was decorated with many buff pictures of Papyrus in his detective hat – and his lawyer suit. Some good drawings there, Sans could learn or thing or two from him.

His bro would really miss this thing. Or would he? He had plenty of other notepads with him, all of them shoved up in his coat sleeves, along with aces and extra bones. Just one shouldn’t make such a big difference.

“oh well,” Sans said, leaning against his chair as he held up the notepad, feet propped on the desk before him. “finders keepers.”

#undertale #mettaton #papyrus #undyne #sans #catty #fanfiction #undertale noir #multi chapter #sky's fics

[kittensjonsa]

Alayne

For @jonxsansafanfiction Valentine’s Day Feb 4: Confessions

This is an emotional piece, so do note for emotional triggers e.g family deaths, stalking, bad life choices etc and some strong language. I’m not sure if I got the trope right but oh well.. This might be painful to read because it’s a little emotionally messed up or painful to read coz it’s just crap.. Anyway thanks for reading! xx ******************

Sansa smoothed the satin skirt she had worn specially for tonight. It was a deep red, a colour Sansa thought always brought out her vixen side and paired it with her organza blouse and snakeskin heels. Perfect, she thought. A few sips of Pinot calmed her nerves, even after two years yet whenever the text or call came, she felt her stomach do somersaults.

She had been fortunate enough to have had mostly gentlemen during those years and most of them just enjoyed an evening of companionship and nothing more. Some of them were her regulars, they went to the same restaurant, sit at the same bar and usually would order the same drinks and chat about the same things. It was almost routine, Sansa had her diary planned out for them. Sometimes she would have someone new for the night. And those nights, were the toughest on Sansa. Sansa didn’t know who to feel more sorry for, these men who were starved for attention or herself, enabling them.

But at least she didn’t need to worry about student loans anymore. It was just Bran’s medical bills and groceries she had to worry about. They hadn’t always gotten along, but it was to Sansa’s great relief when Arya’s scholarship came at the most needed time. Being the sole breadwinner of the family was a tough role she had to play for quite some time now. The guilt that plagued her in the beginning slowly gave way to expensive physiotherapy sessions and costly school textbooks. She wasn’t proud of the choice she made but it was a choice nevertheless, that helped her tragedy stricken family carry on with their lives. Or whatever that was left of it. A sacrifice she was willing to pay for if it meant keeping her family together, all three of them.

Sansa smiled graciously as she was greeted by the door man. The W was always her regular meeting place for first timers. She liked the bar which had a terrace that overlooked the city. And she had made friends with the bartender who was a kind and fatherly type that reminded her of her own.

Sansa looked at the text on her phone again to check the time.

“Well, if isn’t my favourite lady,” a familiar voice greeted her as she approached the bar.

“Hi George. How are you? Any of that Malbec you have from the other night?” Sansa beamed at the stout bearded man. She had learned so much about wines, choosing and tasting countless bottles, from George whom Sansa was convinced secretly owned the hotel bar he worked in.

“Oh yes, it was a good one eh? Coming right up. Just you tonight?”

“Oh no, I’m on a date. So I’m hoping he’ll turn up. If not it’ll just be me and that fantastic vintage right here.”

Sansa had been to the hotel bar with friends, dates, clients and sometimes by herself on many occasions. It was the one place where she could hide behind the facade of a typical young female living her carefree perfect little life. Little did they know.

“Ah, lucky guy.”

Sansa sipped from her glass and glanced at the phone. It was five minutes past eight. He was late.

As Sansa watched George chat with the other patrons seated at the bar, she noticed a dark suit at the corner of her eye walking towards her direction. Sansa discreetly turned, wondering if it was him. A lanky blonde haired man was indeed walking towards her and he looked quite handsome. Young but very handsome. Sansa gave him a small smile.

“Hi excuse me, Miss? Alayne?”

“Yes, I am. You must be Cal.”

Sansa put on her best posture and most confident smile. His toothy grin smiled back. Very handsome, she thought gratefully.

“Well, apologies Miss but no I’m not. I’m Alex from the concierge. I was asked to give you this. From Mr Cal.”

Sansa took the small white envelope written with the name Alayne on it. She smiled as he wished her a good evening. Sansa opened the envelope and read the note that was inside of it.

‘Dear Miss Alayne, I didn’t want to waste one second of our time together since it is our first meeting. I hope you wouldn’t mind that I’ve arranged for our meeting to be in our room instead. The key card is enclosed and I hope to see you soon. Yours, C. Penthouse Suite 5115

Sansa looked at the key card. She held it tightly in her hand, knowing that this was going to be one of those tough nights again. Sansa read the note again. It was handwritten legibly but something stood out to her. It seemed familiar, as if she had seen this writing before. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet and she hoped to God it wasn’t one of her professors. Nonetheless, the rules were, meet and greet first. If there were any red flags, any danger, there was a number on speed and voice dial she would call. Sansa steeled herself and took a deep breath. She sipped the remaining of her wine and waited for George to settle her bill.

“Is he coming?” Sansa almost giggled at the choice of words. Sansa shook her head.

“No he just texted me that he’ll meet me somewhere else so yeah, calling it a night then.” George shook his head in disapproval.

“He’s an idiot. Stay safe and have a good one.”

“I will and you too George.”

Sansa waved her goodbye and stepped out of the bar. Lying was becoming second nature to her, it was almost effortless. It seemed that the mundane worked with most people. The dullest of reasons to ensure the matter won’t ever be spoken of again. Too boring to bring up. Sansa sighed as she pressed the lift button. She tapped the key card on the reader as she entered it and noticed the penthouse suites were on the 50th floor. She had never graced the hotel hallways of the W hotel. Her clients usually had their own preferred sanctuary. The bar was hers.

The lift opened to a spacious private lobby. Sansa knocked lightly. It was polite to do so. She took another deep breath as she slid in the card and opened the door.

Sansa’s jaw went slack as she stepped in and saw what was the most exquisite view of the city. The room had its own private terrace and the fireplace was lit. Sansa looked around and noticed that she was alone. Perhaps he wanted her to get ready for him. Sansa’s eyes found on a small envelope on the table. Another note, she thought.

'Dear Alayne,

I hope the room is to your liking, I wanted to make sure that everything is perfect for our first night together. If you step into the bedroom, there will be everything you need to make yourself comfortable and I do want you to be as comfortable as possible. Will see you soon.

Yours, C.

Sansa walked to the bedroom and fell in love with its elegant and stunning decor. He’s a big spender, she thought. The bed was a jumbo king sized one and laying on it was a silk robe. Sansa’s hand caressed the silk robe, it was fine and just the colour she would have picked. Sansa picked it up and noticed a lace chemise peeking out from underneath.

He adores the female body, another thought drifted in as Sansa held the chemise against her body. If he was coming up soon, she had better ready herself for him. That was the request. That he wanted her to wear something of his choice as he requested. Sansa stepped into the bathroom which was just as big as the bedroom.

The marble tub was large enough to accommodate a couple and Sansa wondered if the evening would end up in a naughty bubble bath. Sansa took off her clothes and put on the silk chemise and robe. She left her silk stockings and garter belt on as well as her heels. They usually like it on anyway, she mused. Sansa tied up her hair in a ponytail she thought would look great with what she was asked to wear. She knew from experience that neck kisses were one way to avert French ones. Sansa stepped out of the bathroom and draped her own clothes on the armchair. She might as well enjoy it, when would she ever have the chance to lay in a bed of a $3000 a night penthouse suite.

Sansa was good at making the best out of things. It was the only way she could ever keep her sanity. Sansa wandered around the large room and came across another envelope on the nightstand. This time, it was just cold hard cash. No handwritten note. Sansa counted the bills, there was an extra thousand in it. That usually counted as a tip but tips usually meant something more. Sansa shut her eyes and tried to calm her nerves. She liked surprises but in this job, surprises weren’t usually welcomed. Sansa placed the envelope in her clutch and decided she would have another drink.

The whiskey felt like fire down her throat but it would be a good anaesthetic to what she had to face in a few moments. Sansa stood against the open glass doors and looked out at the view. She tried to imagine herself waiting for a husband to come home. She would greet him in her sexy nightie, in her slut heels, hand him a drink and gently massage his shoulders as he sits on the plush sofa, kissing away the pain tenderly and lovingly. That was what a wife would do, wouldn’t it? Or the kind most men hoped to have.

Sansa eyes fluttered open as she heard a click behind her. The door was shut by someone entering. Her client was here. Sansa didn’t quite want to turn to face him yet. She wasn’t really ready for him. In fact she could never be ready when she had evenings like these.

She breathed in deeply in order to stop her pulse from racing. And sweat would stain the lovely silk that adorned her body. Sansa pursed her lips and prepared to put on her sexiest smile to greet her husband for the night.

“So it’s true. It IS you.” Sansa’s eyes widened in horror as she heard a familiar raspy voice greeting from behind her.

“I didn’t want to believe it when I heard about you.. I wanted to see it for myself. Sansa… This is.. Sansa look at me,” the voice carried on and demanded. The tinge of disappointment was apparent. Sansa’s heart raced as she slowly turned around. His dark eyes and dark curls were unmistakable.

“Jon? Why..”

“I heard things Sansa. I beat up the mouths of those who said those things. But I can’t believe it… I can’t believe it’s really you.” Sansa pulled at her robe to cover her shame and anger. He had the audacity. He had the balls to tell it to her face about 'things’ he heard about her doing what she was doing. How dare he, judge her when he was the one paying for all this? Sansa felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks and stepped away when Jon inched closer.

“No! Fuck you Jon! Why the fuck are you here? Don’t you fucking dare step any closer! What you couldn’t look up Facebook or the bloody telephone book for that? You had to do this? And see me like this? Where were you when we needed you? When Robb died, when everybody fucking died! You think I enjoy doing this? You fucker, one more step and I’m calling the police!”

Sansa’s rage was unleashed, years of grief and trouble, years of trying to stay strong when left alone to deal with Robb’s death shortly after Mother’s. Jon was gone, no word since he left for college. Jon stopped and stood where he was. His eyes were still on her, albeit softer this time. There was unresolved guilt in them. She knew how that looked like. She faced it everyday in the mirror.

Sansa felt her legs go from under her and swayed over to the couch. Shame, guilt, embarrassment, anger and hate were in the huge mixed bag of emotions that was all stirred up in her. Sansa felt like she wanted to scream.

“Sansa.. Please. I’m sorry for all this, the call and all of that, but I tried, honest to God I did! I couldn’t find Arya on Facebook, or Rickon or Bran or you even! I went to the old house but you guys aren’t living there anymore. Sansa I did, I looked for all of you. I wanted to find you.”

Sansa turned to glare at him with her teary eyes. She didn’t care if her make up was ruined or even if her mascara ran.

“Rickon’s dead.”

Sansa saw Jon eyes stare back at her in disbelief and hung his head down. He started to cry. Good, Sansa thought, I’ve cried for so long, Jon.

“I’m sorry Sansa..”

“Sorry you weren’t around or sorry you just got the news?” Sansa didn’t hold back. Jon had asked for it.

“Arya’s in college now and Bran.. Well Bran is alive. He’s still paralysed from the waist down but he’s alive. In case you needed an update.” Sansa calmed herself down and stood up. She felt strong enough to get dressed and leave when a firm arm grip stopped her.

“Sansa, please don’t. This was just wrong, I know it, Please don’t go. I’m an ass, I know that. Just please don’t go. I’m so alone, I need you here right now, please,” Jon pleaded through his tears and quaking voice. He let go of her arm. Sansa had never seen her cousin cry before. She wished for Jon to come back to the Stark family after Robb had passed. Jon and Robb were as close as brothers. How different it would be if Jon was there for her and Arya and Bran, or even Rickon. But it all changed after her father’s death. And Sansa never knew what she was in for since then. Alone was a feeling that kept her up at night. Every night since.

“Why did you call? Who told you about this? I never used my real name so how did you know about this?”

Jon kept silent. He didn’t want to tell the whole actual truth. Though he had smashed the face of one Meryn Trant, an associate of the Lannisters, who boasted of his disdain for red heads and who thought he came across an escort at a 'gentleman’s club’ event that looked just like his cousin Sansa. Joffrey Lannister with his big mouth and his even bigger ego, fragile as it was, had a talent in shaming his exes. It took Jon a while to track down Joffrey and the trail led him to the one name, he knew, that could only associate Sansa with. Alayne. When he asked a few dozen agencies for a date with a 5 foot 9 leggy, blue eyed red haired lass named Alayne, he thought he was going insane. Sansa wouldn’t be doing this. She was a lady in every way, raised well as one, Jon couldn’t imagine, even the darker side of him, Sansa as an escort.

Up until he stumbled upon one that matched his description perfectly. As skeptical as he was, Jon knew he had to try. Part of him didn’t want to but part of him wouldn’t forgive himself for not trying to track down the only family he had. He had wished and hoped it wasn’t Sansa who walked through the door of the hotel. His heart broke the moment he watched from afar as Alex handed the envelope to her.

Jon had never cried so hard before as he sat back and bawled in his car. He couldn’t leave her there as much as he didn’t want to face the truth. What has his family become? There was only one person to blame and it was him. If only he had been there when Robb died. If only he wasn’t the coward who left not wanting to deal with his beloved Uncle Ned’s death. There were so many reasons for him to leave Sansa and the Stark family behind but yet there was only one reason that made him come up to the suite. Sansa.

“Alayne. I know that name.”

Sansa stared at him. Alayne was a name that only she knew. A name that as a girl she kept in her diary.

“It was the name of your favourite doll. That I broke when you were eight. It had red hair and blue eyes just like you. You said that if one day if you had a daughter, she would look just like Alayne.” Jon’s eyes slowly met with hers as he said it. It was true and Sansa couldn’t stand the sight of him since the incident.

“But how could you know that? I sure as hell didn’t tell you that when were kids, Jon,” Sansa shook her head at the memories flooding back to her. There were happy times in her childhood she thought would help her withstand the pain of loss but the pain was too great to bear. Trying to deal with real life helped get her back on track. She had to, there was only herself she could depend on.

“I know. I read it in your diary. I wanted to know why you hated me so much. And yeah, I’m sorry for that,” Jon confessed apologetically.

The evening was becoming exhausting and one that exposed raw nerves and reopened old wounds that never really healed properly. Sansa realised the more she sat and talk the more tired she would be. She felt a calm and peace now, perhaps from knowing that Jon was here with her, alive and well. But the shame was still there.

“No one can know about this, Jon. I have bills to pay and Bran to look after. This was the only thing that would do both. Nobody knows I do this.”

Jon held out his hand and waited for Sansa to reach out. Sansa sighed and held it in hers. Jon pulled her in for an embrace, one she didn’t think she would ever experience.

“I promise you, no one will. You have my word. You don’t have to this if you don’t want to. We’ll figure it out together. I just want you back, and Arya and Bran. I’ll look after you, I’ll help out I promise. Whenever you need me, for whatever, you’ll have me there right by your side. Sansa, I won’t ever leave you.” Jon promised her as he peppered her head with kisses, her fiery red hair smelling of lavender and lemon, a smell that made him warm and fuzzy inside.

Sansa sniffed to stifle a sob and nodded her head. She believed him. She wanted him with her. She wanted him back and around her. She was so tired of being strong. And sacrificing herself, her body, her soul, her dignity and her conscience.

Perhaps, she had to confess, that it was a long time coming, that she didn’t want to do this anymore.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jon x sansa #jon x sansa fanfiction #emotional #dysfunctional family #triggers #read with caution

[thaitealeaf]

Every time I miss her, I read this and remind myself how much she truly wanted it to all end... and then I’m back to myself again.

The lad frowned. "I don't like that explanation, Harry," he rejoined, "but I am glad you don't think I am heartless. I am nothing of the kind. I know I am not. And yet I must admit that this thing that has happened does not affect me as it should. It seems to me to be simply like a wonderful ending to a wonderful play. It has all the terrible beauty of a Greek tragedy, a tragedy in which I took a great part, but by which I have not been wounded."

"It is an interesting question," said Lord Henry, who found an exquisite pleasure in playing on the lad's unconscious egotism, "an extremely interesting question. I fancy that the true explanation is this: It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style. They affect us just as vulgarity affects us. They give us an impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. Suddenly we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle enthralls us. In the present case, what is it that has really happened? Some one has killed herself for love of you. I wish that I had ever had such an experience. It would have made me in love with love for the rest of my life. The people who have adored me — there have not been very many, but there have been some — have always insisted on living on, long after I had ceased to care for them, or they to care for me. They have become stout and tedious, and when I meet them, they go in at once for reminiscences. That awful memory of woman! What a fearful thing it is! And what an utter intellectual stagnation it reveals! One should absorb the colour of life, but one should never remember its details. Details are always vulgar."

"I must sow poppies in my garden," sighed Dorian.

"There is no necessity," rejoined his companion. "Life has always poppies in her hands. Of course, now and then things linger. I once wore nothing but violets all through one season, as a form of artistic mourning for a romance that would not die. Ultimately, however, it did die. I forget what killed it. I think it was her proposing to sacrifice the whole world for me. That is always a dreadful moment. It fills one with the terror of eternity. Well — would you believe it? — a week ago, at Lady Hampshire's, I found myself seated at dinner next the lady in question, and she insisted on going over the whole thing again, and digging up the past, and raking up the future. I had buried my romance in a bed of asphodel. She dragged it out again and assured me that I had spoiled her life. I am bound to state that she ate an enormous dinner, so I did not feel any anxiety. But what a lack of taste she showed! The one charm of the past is that it is the past. But women never know when the curtain has fallen. They always want a sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, they propose to continue it. If they were allowed their own way, every comedy would have a tragic ending, and every tragedy would culminate in a farce. They are charmingly artificial, but they have no sense of art. You are more fortunate than I am. I assure you, Dorian, that not one of the women I have known would have done for me what Sibyl Vane did for you. Ordinary women always console themselves. Some of them do it by going in for sentimental colours. Never trust a woman who wears mauve, whatever her age may be, or a woman over thirty-five who is fond of pink ribbons. It always means that they have a history. Others find a great consolation in suddenly discovering the good qualities of their husbands. They flaunt their conjugal felicity in one's face, as if it were the most fascinating of sins. Religion consoles some. Its mysteries have all the charm of a flirtation, a woman once told me, and I can quite understand it. Besides, nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner. Conscience makes egotists of us all. Yes; there is really no end to the consolations that women find in modern life. Indeed, I have not mentioned the most important one.”

"What is that, Harry?" said the lad listlessly.

"Oh, the obvious consolation. Taking some one else's admirer when one loses one's own. In good society that always whitewashes a woman. But really, Dorian, how different Sibyl Vane must have been from all the women one meets! There is something to me quite beautiful about her death. I am glad I am living in a century when such wonders happen. They make one believe in the reality of the things we all play with, such as romance, passion, and love."

"I was terribly cruel to her. You forget that."

"I am afraid that women appreciate cruelty, downright cruelty, more than anything else. They have wonderfully primitive instincts. We have emancipated them, but they remain slaves looking for their masters, all the same. They love being dominated. I am sure you were splendid. I have never seen you really and absolutely angry, but I can fancy how delightful you looked. And, after all, you said something to me the day before yesterday that seemed to me at the time to be merely fanciful, but that I see now was absolutely true, and it holds the key to everything."

"What was that, Harry?"

"You said to me that Sibyl Vane represented to you all the heroines of romance — that she was Desdemona one night, and Ophelia the other; that if she died as Juliet, she came to life as Imogen."

"She will never come to life again now," muttered the lad, burying his face in his hands.

"No, she will never come to life. She has played her last part. But you must think of that lonely death in the tawdry dressing-room simply as a strange lurid fragment from some Jacobean tragedy, as a wonderful scene from Webster, or Ford, or Cyril Tourneur. The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died. To you at least she was always a dream, a phantom that flitted through Shakespeare's plays and left them lovelier for its presence, a reed through which Shakespeare's music sounded richer and more full of joy. The moment she touched actual life, she marred it, and it marred her, and so she passed away. Mourn for Ophelia, if you like. Put ashes on your head because Cordelia was strangled. Cry out against Heaven because the daughter of Brabantio died. But don't waste your tears over Sibyl Vane. She was less real than they are."

There was a silence. The evening darkened in the room. Noiselessly, and with silver feet, the shadows crept in from the garden. The colours faded wearily out of things.

After some time Dorian Gray looked up. "You have explained me to myself, Harry," he murmured with something of a sigh of relief. "I felt all that you have said, but somehow I was afraid of it, and I could not express it to myself. How well you know me! But we will not talk again of what has happened. It has been a marvellous experience. That is all. I wonder if life has still in store for me anything as marvellous."

"Life has everything in store for you, Dorian. There is nothing that you, with your extraordinary good looks, will not be able to do."

"But suppose, Harry, I became haggard, and old, and wrinkled? What then?"

"Ah, then," said Lord Henry, rising to go, "then, my dear Dorian, you would have to fight for your victories. As it is, they are brought to you. No, you must keep your good looks. We live in an age that reads too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful. We cannot spare you. And now you had better dress and drive down to the club. We are rather late, as it is."

[atticusblog2016-blog]

New Post has been published on Atticusblog

New Post has been published on https://atticusblog.com/why-shonda-rhimes-wants-you-to-create-your-own-definition-of-beauty/

Why Shonda Rhimes Wants You To Create Your Own Definition Of Beauty

Shonda Rhimes, the maker of all matters TV, is currently on a challenge to help women create their personal definition of beauty even as concurrently increasing the meaning of what it method to be stunning. She’s doing this with the assist of Dove Real Beauty Productions and an all-lady film group. (So badass, right?)

Throughout this great collaboration, Rhimes and Dove will paintings collectively to tell the memories of actual ladies and how they define splendor. Because, as we all know, this definition ought to use little paintings.

“I suppose, for lots of people, there are numerous who’re secure with wider definitions of beauty and who frankly already assume they’re wonderful and delightful,” Rhimes tells Bustle. “And there are a number of human beings who have been trapped by way of what they see in magazines or on TV.” That’s why she needs women to realize it’s no longer up to everybody else. “Beauty is the way you outline yourself. Not how you allow anybody else outline you.”

For the primary Real Beauty Productions film, Rhimes chose to awareness on a girl who’s completely changing the sport. Her name is Cathleen Meredith and she’s the creator of Fat Girls Dance. In the unique YouTube video underneath, Meredith says she started her dance group as “a thorough act of fearlessness” despite the fact that she believes it “shouldn’t be that radical.” When Rhimes first heard of Fat Girls Dance, she idea it turned into a bold flow. She quick realized, but, that Meredith’s institution is not a lot about the “radical act” of plus sized girls dancing, but approximately something tons more. “There’s something about it that I located so inspiring for myself,” Rhimes tells me. “Like I closed the door to my office and I danced a bit, too. I simply thought [Meredith] turned into splendid and I idea the ladies that had been together with her had been incredible.”

After I Finally Moved On, My Husband Wants Me Back – Now What?

It may be the super irony of a marriage this is falling aside. Once you begin to loosen your grip and ultimately wrap your mind around the idea of shifting on, unexpectedly your husband makes a decision that he would possibly have changed his mind and want you are to lower back. That’s why I frequently recommend ladies looking to keep their marriages or get their husband lower back to ensure that it appears they may be coping, taking care of themselves, and embracing lifestyles. Because regularly, after you provide the illusion which you have no preference but to of move on (although it’s clear that you are reluctant to accomplish that,) that is often going to arouse your husband’s curiosity and turn the tables a piece. It’s commonly around this time that husband determines they want you again.

Such was the case with current correspondence I obtained. The spouse had spent months looking to convince the husband to save the marriage and to work matters out. He becomes resistant irrespective of what the spouse tried. Very reluctantly and with a damaged coronary heart, the wife picked up the pieces of her lifestyles and started out to transport on. She commenced seeing buddies, doing matters she loved and attempted to begin again.

A few months after this, her husband referred to as and requested to meet for dinner. During that dinner, he very immediately told her that he had a change of coronary heart and suspected that he simply may want her back. This becomes bittersweet for the wife. Three months in the past, she could’ve killed to hear these phrases. She would’ve fallen into his hands with complete alleviation. But now, she wasn’t so positive a way to proceed.

Because there was a little resentment at how tons he had rejected her inside the months before. And she couldn’t understand what had modified so dramatically that her husband would do an unexpected about-face. Plus, she knew that the problems that divided them had been still gifting. So, she was guarded because she failed to want to get harm once more and feature to pull herself up all over again while any try at reconciliation failed.

Why Do Husbands Change Their Minds And Suddenly Want You Back?: This turned into an essential question for the spouse. She needed to recognize the answer to this question before she could also be open to considering going again to her marriage and giving it another strive.

There are many reasons that men exchange their mind approximately finishing the marriage, divorcing, or isolating. Often, time and distance away can do wonders because it offers human beings the objectivity and clarity that just doesn’t come while you’re too close to or emotionally pressured approximately a scenario. Things and emotions will frequently grow to be more clear while you’re not engaging with each different each day and fueling the heart.

I often hear from guys who’ve changed their minds about trying their better halves or girlfriends again and that they say such things as: “It wasn’t until it come to be clear that she was going to move on and I become sincerely going to lose her that I began to understand that living without her was now not what I desired. It simply hit me that I could not and should not let her move without doing everything that I ought to keep the wedding. And, as soon as I had a little little bit of time to reflect consideration of it on my own, I found out that our troubles had been no longer insurmountable.”

Definition of VPN Authentication and Encryption

The basics of creating a VPN are Authentication, strong Encryption and a technique of at ease Key Exchange. Authenticate the users, securely change keys for encryption then encrypt the facts the use of the generated keys.

Authentication is used to validate a customer’s identification the usage of one or more of some of the techniques:

Something you have – can be a key card, a security pass, drivers license, a passport or comparable. The possession of one of the above gadgets is generally enough to verify the identification of the holder. The hassle with this is that the tool may be lost or stolen, and once in a while utilized by different folks.

Something you realize – a password, password or a few other acknowledged information that may be used to calculate feature from a secret message.

Something you’re – A physical function of your frame along with your fingerprint, the retina print of your eye or your DNA.

Encryption is a means of taking a few plain readable textual content into a cipher text utilizing some shape of algorithmic mapping. The meant receiver of this type of cipher textual content must have the manner to opposite the method via knowing the same set of rules, but an attacker can’t realize the procedure.Symmetric encryption certainly makes use of an identical key for encryption of the apparent text and decryption of the cipher text. And decryption at both ends.

Beauty in Imperfection

According to some people, splendor is the fabricated from a pleasant look and top taste, and by the dimensions of all of the elements being duly proportioned to every different. However, we failed to understand that girls who stay true to themselves are always extra exciting and exquisite.

Aside from that, man or woman contributes to beauty. A mode of conduct, a popular of braveness, field, fortitude, and integrity can do an extremely good deal to make a girl beautiful. Beauty will come of its own accord if we think what’s useful and now not what’s lovely.

Moreover, we do not need to examine ourselves to other humans for the reason that beauty isn’t enough, there have to be something extra. Having internal beauty as an instance is something we want to expand on our personal.

It’s a pity that others discover beauty very vital. It is even frightening to have such perception due to the fact physical beauty in most effective temporary. We do no longer even realize that every so often humans build their lives primarily based on the concepts of splendor notwithstanding the instances of distress. What a shallow-minded character this is!

We need to like ourselves. It is crucial for us to stay fine because beauty comes from the inside out not depend on what our outer look is. Beauty is simplest a method of self-confirmation, a real indicator of persona and confidence.

In reality, a witty female is a treasure even without bodily glamor. Intellect alone could make a lady stunning due to the fact bodily splendor is best temporary not like the thoughts that could last a lifetime.

Looking stunning is not just about what we apply on our face. It’s the little matters we do this depend. It isn’t always pretty much what we do at the out of doors but additionally what we put into the inside. This empowers us to find splendor in places wherein others have not dared to appearance, along with interior ourselves. This is what makes us extraordinary and specific.

I constantly trust that if we experience correctly approximately ourselves and look satisfied, we are continually going to be lovely. In reality, it is our aura and how we understand lifestyles as it’s miles makes us more appealing and appealing.

[surrealitykrp-blog]

hello listeners —

today we’ve received a notice about song nari, the 20 year old college student and pt radio bang employee. you might have seen her around riverside when she’s not being a photographer for uprising! the podcast. if you haven’t, fear not and stay tuned for the briefing.

                                       and as always, welcome to iri

—  and now, the profile

faceclaim: stephanie lee oc name: song nari age: 20 positive traits: clever, creative, resourceful neutral traits: stubborn, meticulous, ambitious negative traits: sardonic, volatile, insensitive occupation: college student and pt radio bang employee housing: riverside affiliation: photographer for uprising! the podcast

— and now, the development

THE MYSTERY OF IRI:

unfeeling is how they see her – at this point is must be a fact,  unfeeling is how they see her. it must be – no, it’s definitely something in that cold gaze of hers, that unwavering expression of disinterest and disconnect, how her body language seems to say just please, anywhere but here. song nari is unapproachable, a notion that many seen to accept. unwelcoming is the feeling she gives, an unsettling sensation that settles in the pit of your stomach and grips your heart in a cold grasp. do not cross lest you wish to die; put in much simpler words, song nari is a total bitch.

and maybe they’re right. she’s not once made any attempt to stop them. they’re all dunces for the most part, but sometimes a particularly courageous one would step forward, only to be met with silence. but silence means yes, doesn’t it? so maybe the lack of response means that she agrees with them, that she herself believes that she truly is unfeeling, genuinely as cold as they believe her to be.

and maybe it’s when she gently takes hold of mr. choi’s shoulders and pushes him back in his seat, his most recent email still on full display in front of her now dead professor. SEND TO FIVE OF YOUR CLOSEST FRIENDS OR DIE A BRUTAL DEATH, it reads. something like dread weighs upon her chest like lead – fear, perhaps? or maybe that’s just how someone would feel, sitting next to a corpse and all.

she gathers her things, wondering if she should delete the essay mr. choi had just assigned them that day. it almost disturbs her how she worries more about the deadline than her professor’s dead body, but oh well. there’s not much she can do in a situation like this.

she greets the librarian on her way out, but makes no mention of professor choi.

they’ll find his body sooner or later.

(later that day, a cacophony of police sirens can be heard throughout east iri. all lee ilsook college students receive a message explaining the “unfortunate” situation, and are asked to dress in mourning-appropriate clothes the next day.)

THE DUALITY OF MANKIND:

ambitious. everyone knows that she is, the disgraced will always be vengeful to some extent. but is it vengeance, or simply character? who knows. but it can’t be helped, not when the taste of dirt slowly becomes familiar and they can no longer make ends meet. han seulgi didn’t teach her to be like this, never allowed her to settle like this – so she works and she does. these days all she knows is the endless climb to the top and the thirst for more, more, more. and it’s all good, it’s all perfectly good, but she can see the way her father looks at her, can hear him praying to whoever might bother listening to please, help my girl, she’s losing herself and i’m afraid she’ll end up like her so please, help her – it leaves her restless, eyes burning, heart aching and she supposes that, maybe, this is what disappointment feels like.

— and now, the biography

SEVEN RUMORS

1994, han seulgi is the sole heir to han family’s enormous wealth, an exquisite beauty with unparalleled charm and wits; song haneul is a young businessman whose fortunes are built upon the vast farms that surround iri. the ladies say he’s quite the charmer, dashing good looks and all; the men say he’s ready to conquer the world. everybody thinks they’re a match made in heaven but what do they know?

1996, han seulgi and song haneul get married after over two years of dating and three months of engagement. the ceremony is nothing short of touching – you can clearly feel the love between these two! the bride looks absolutely stunning, by the way, and – oh! the groom is just to die for, isn’t she? god, can these two get any more perfect?

1997, han seulgi gives birth to a healthy baby girl named nari – wow, she’s a beautiful one, isn’t she? she has her mother’s eyes, yes? there’s no doubt she’ll grow into a beautiful woman, i mean, have you seen her parents? they look like a family of supermodels, and the baby’s not even a year old!

2004, there have been quite a lot of rumors circling the song family nowadays, isn’t that right? yes, indeed. there have been numerous reports of a conflict between the song family and the authorities in town. apparently song haneul strongly opposes the mayor – but why? nobody knows for sure, but according to a reliable source mr. song seems to believe that the mayor is incredibly corrupt! what a bastard, eh? i’m sure his wife must be sorely disappointed in him. i always thought mr. song was quite admirable, but now i just think he’s an idiot.

2005, it’s strange how we haven’t seen song haneul for quite some time now, no? i heard he took his family to the mountains – why? his business went bankrupt, since nobody wants to buy produce from him anymore. he could have just opened up a new business, but i’ve heard people talking about how he’s lost all his money, too. how could that have happened, though? nobody really knows, but i guess that’s karma. yeah, maybe – that could be it. maybe if he didn’t go after the mayor, this all wouldn’t have happened.

2006, is that han seulgi? is she with that man – whoa! did they just kiss? man, i never pegged her for someone who enjoys pda! doesn’t the guy look too old for her, though? isn’t she married to song haneul? last i checked that man didn’t look like…a leathery old prick. true, true, but maybe she’s left him for good? her husband – ex-husband? whatever he is, did bring shame to the han family as well. maybe this is han seulgi restoring her family name? could’ve chosen a better partner to do that with, i guess, but a person must make do with what he has.

2010, apparently the man han seulgi was last with died recently? yeah, i’ve been hearing about that, too. looks pretty strange, doesn’t it? last i heard the man was itching to get out of iri. was he really an outsider? i’m not too sure myself, but I would assume so. i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before news broke out about him and ms. han. but he really was wealthy, wasn’t he? he really was. it’s all with seulgi now, though. i saw her the other day, looked pretty distraught. i guess she really loved him, eh? for some reason, i believe that’s debatable.

FOUR YEARS

three, song nari finds herself in her father’s study, sobbing and wailing and gasping for breath. he waits, patiently, for her to collect herself. but why do the other kids get to attend school together? why do i have to stay at home and study here when i can just go with them instead? please, mother, i want to go with them! she had begged, crying and moaning all she’d liked that morning whilst her mother had been around. han seulgi had called her a brat, an ingrate who should learn to be more appreciative – as if she were doing her some sort of big favor. this is a privilege only people like them could afford, she had said, but her daughter could not comprehend how spending her days inside this too-large house could be called a privelege when it felt more like punishment. your mother doesn’t like to associate with…other people. father explains when she’s regained some semblance of calm. father’s face is kind and gentle but even she can hear the way he seems to choke on his words, can see how hard it is for him to talk about this. she does not understand this, too, how father always seems to struggle with his words when it comes to mother. but she is a child and they expect her to understand, somehow, so she says she does.

seven,  the cracks begin to show. nari has always known about her father’s opposition against, the mayor, though she never really knew why. of course this didn’t sit well with mother, who’d always been used to him caving in to her desires. this time, though, that was not the case. black was the color she’d known best, then, as it was all she’d see when she closed her eyes at night, when the screaming and breaking and shattering would reach its peak in the dead of the night. she does not remember anything like this, did not know that sadness could cut her as badly as this.

eight, an interlude. father’s failing business eventually hits rock-bottom, and the mountains are where they seek refuge. she quite likes the view up here, and judging by the elation in father’s eyes, he does agree. mother looks anything but, however – again, she does not understand.

nine, her mother eventually leaves. father looks broken all of a sudden, as if he’d come across something he would have rather not. it bothers her but he tells her nothing, offering only a crooked smile and ruffling her hair. he tells her not to worry so she tries not to. but there is no hiding secrets from the night, and he hears him whispering sometimes, something about han seulgi being a traitor, a blind wench devoured by her own greed.

TWO FACTS

HAN SEULGI TOLD ON HER HUSBAND

this, she learns eventually, from an old lady selling vegetables just on the outskirts of iri. it may sound suspicious, sure, but she knows her mother enough to be sure that she would have done this, that han seulgi resents her father enough to bring him to his ruin. and in truth, she really did – called for an emergency meeting of sorts and destroyed her husband without remorse. she might have exaggerated, just a little bit – nonetheless, it worked well in her favor, and maybe earned her some points with the mayor (but who knows).

NARI’S GLARE DOES NOT KILL MEN

some people seem to think song nari is some sort of evil witch – and perhaps in a city as strange as iri one cannot help but assume that they do exist and she is one of them, especially when she lives far off into the mountains and is just outright cold. this notion became somewhat widely speculated amongst a number of underclassmen after mr. choi’s death, when someone thought it would be smart to voice their observation on how hard she was glaring at the teacher just hours before his death, when he’d given them the two thousand-word essay due by 11:59 P.M. of course, there is no solid evidence to support this case, so it seems she won’t be called to the precinct anytime soon – for this reason, at least.

ONE GOAL

success. sounds rather vague, doesn’t it? this could be interpreted in a number of ways, but with song nari, no one can really tell: graduation, maybe? yeah, sure. but when she’s constantly topping exams and keeping a relatively clean behavioral slate, it seems this girl’s all good to go. restoring her family name? no one knows for sure, but it would be reasonable – the scorned will always thirst for revenge, or whatever. maybe that’s pushing it too far. perhaps she wishes to ruin her mother? now that’s something i wouldn’t mind seeing. as i said, though, when it comes to her, nobody really knows, so maybe it’s not as deep as we’d like to think. maybe, possibly, conceivably – but really, who knows.

#sr:app #sr:uprising #krp