#also... freddy in a corset :3

[venbetta]

Sun knows what he's doing

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

Impressions of Maurice (1987): More than a "Gay Movie"

Maurice is a Merchant-Ivory (directing duo) film based on the novel of the same name by late Victorian/Edwardian era author E.M. Forster. I've seen other films by Merchant-Ivory (A Room With a View, Howards End, The Remains of the Day) and I've wanted to watch this film (and learn about the story) for a very long time because it features a gay protagonist who isn't ashamed of his identity and takes place in a time when homosexuality was considered a crime. Also the film was made during the HIV/AIDS epidemic (significant as an affirmation of the LGBTQ+ community because HIV/AIDS was called the "gay disease" at the time.) I have not read the book that this movie is based off so this is just my general reaction to the story as presented by the movie.

1. General Things:

The aesthetic is beautiful (because this is a Merchant-Ivory film). Lots of period details and beautiful yet suffocating costumes (starched, stiff collars, thick sweaters, long, non-revealing dresses & corsets for women) and interiors. Watching the film feels like traveling back in time to the Edwardian era.

The protagonist, Maurice Hall, isn't ashamed of his identity as a gay man; after a while he accepts that he's homosexual and that it's natural. He suffers a lot because he has to hide his true self but still finds love in the end.

Sex scenes: there aren't very many in this movie (compared with modern LGBTQ+ movies) but there is full-frontal nudity. The naked bodies aren't "glamorized" in any way, no shots of 8 packs or muscular chests; instead nakedness is a way of establishing intimacy among men and represents freedom from societal strictures (remember how suffocating the clothing is?).

James Wilby plays Maurice and Hugh Grant plays Maurice's first love Clive Durham.

I was surprised that Clive and Maurice didn't end up together because the movie posters feature the two of them.

I also recognized some other actors/actresses that reappear in Merchant-Ivory films: Rupert Graves as Alec Scudder (Freddy Honeychurch in A Room With a View), Denholm Eliot as Maurice's doctor (Mr. Emerson in A Room With a View), that actor who played Mr. Beebe in A Room With a View, Helena Bonham-Carter in a minor role (Lucy Honeychurch in A Room With a View, Margaret Schlegel in Howards End to name a few).

3. Quick Summary of the Movie:

Opening scene: The Talk.

While on the beach together, a male teacher tells Maurice Hall (a young boy) about puberty and “procreation.” He talks about erections and how sex works in very frank terms. This definitely isn't a stuffy period drama.

The teacher draws a picture of a vagina in the sand and tells Maurice that after he falls in love he will enjoy sex.

A girl sees the picture of the vagina and her guardians rush her away. It's a sad commentary on English society at the turn of the 20th century (the gender roles where men had all the power and women were treated like fragile dolls). Maurice as a boy gets sex education and is able to play outside while the girl has chaperones hovering over her and can't gain the special knowledge that the boy is getting.

Cambridge University 1910:

Maurice is now a university student and is having an intellectual conversation which sounds good but isn't understandable. Maurice wisely points out the difference between words and actions. Ironic how some of the intellectuals think words count as actions.

Maurice meets Clive Durham and they play some piano together. Durham is rebelling against his mom by not subscribing to her religious beliefs. Clive is a rebel at this point in his life and is going to challenge the strait-laced traditions of the Edwardian era.

Maurice, Clive and the students read some books about love (the sexual part of it) and it’s awkward because the books use euphemisms about sex. It reminds me of the sex education classes I got in school (the queasy feelings from learning how it works) and I like the book's presentation of societal attitudes towards sex. It's a natural (but also pleasurable) thing needed to produce babies but at the same time viewed as shameful. Society fears sex because sexual desire is a primitive thing older than the laws of society and also because desire can cause a person to disregard social norms. Consensual sex can be freeing and pleasurable, which can come at odds with moral standards.

Clive then talks about “the unspeakable vice of the Greeks," literally bringing up the existence of homosexuality (which the story presents as a natural thing that has always existed, even before the Christian religious morals that English society as presented by the film runs on). The professor continues to insist that the Greek homosexuals had purely platonic "friendships." (and some academics still kept, and probably keep, doing so).

Clive continues about beauty and the Greek homosexual tradition, while Maurice is still stuck with his traditional “Christian” morals as taught by English society. But Maurice begins to show a rebellious streak when he refuses to attend church, shocking his mother.

In a brief scene, Hall and Durham cuddle/hug each other and almost kiss. Together they look sad and beautiful because it’s a Merchant-Ivory period drama…until they get disturbed by their friends. Clive tells Maurice he loves him: “To be alone with you hurts me.”

Maurice is scared of his attraction to Clive, Clive apologizes and Maurice admits he loves him. Clive meanwhile is relieved Maurice didn't tell on him for his advances. Maurice Hall sneaks into Clive’s room and kisses him.

They defy the dean and go on a romantic getaway in the country (but the relationship is never consummated). Maurice gets punished for his getaway and expelled from university. He becomes a stockbroker.

Maurice visits Clive at his fancy country house (Pendersleigh hall) and they have another romantic reunion.

Clive’s mom is planning a typical future for him; he will become a magistrate/politician, then marry and deliver some heirs for the estate.

The mom asks if Maurice is in love with a woman; he's lovesick.

Maurice and Clive try to get away to a secluded area to be alone together but are disturbed by a biker. It's a recurring thing which happens; the two can't be together and away from the prying eyes of strangers.

Clive’s mom tries to do some matchmaking with his mom (marry the children). The mothers are happy with the “friendship” between the two men.

1911:

One of Maurice's Cambridge classmates, Viscount Risley, is caught and jailed for homosexuality. Clive is scared of what will happen to him if he is discovered to be gay.

The viscount consults Clive, who is a lawyer.

In a change from the book, Viscount Risley is imprisoned and subjected to hard labor (parallel with Oscar Wilde's sentence).

Clive faints and Maurice kisses him after he wakes up. Maurice wants to take care of Clive and the doctor thinks that’s weird (reversal of gender roles, in which women are nurses.)

1912:

A very accurate quote: “To give people a comfortable home is what public life is for.”

Maurice and Clive are partying; Clive is dissatisfied with boring English life. Clive travels to Greece but finds he hates it (beginning of his transformation from societal rebel to staid English gentleman).

Clive is ashamed of his homosexuality, fearing the risks, and Maurice still loves him.

One of my favorite quotes from Maurice Hall, accepting that his homosexuality is natural: “the leopard can’t change his spots.”

1913

Maurice is a referee in a boxing competition. There is a gay shower scene with lots of full-frontal nudity.

Clive Durham is engaged to a girl named Anne. Maurice is sad since Clive doesn’t call on him immediately after the engagement (their relationship is not as close as it was).

In a heartbreaking scene, Maurice tries to “come out” to his family doctor. The doctor examines Maurice's private parts and refuses to believe Maurice when he says he’s gay. He is told to find a young woman to cure his “love sickness.”

Clive gets married and Maurice is sad because he loves Clive.

Clive’s wife is good at reading other people and senses that Maurice is in love and suffering because of it.

The undertaker (Alec Scudder) at Clive’s house is gay and he and Maurice have a fling.

Maurice has to see a therapist; the therapist realizes Maurice is gay and needs to flee England.

Another of my favorite scenes from the movie: Maurice has a dream where he is trapped in a coffin next to a woman in white; it plays upon the idea of marriage as repressive, except that the victim is the man as well as the woman.

Alec is disappointed when Maurice doesn’t meet him for another fling. Maurice is scared because he thinks Alec is trying to blackmail him. They run into Maurice's teacher (the one who gave him the sex ed) and the misunderstanding is resolved. They forgive each other and have another fling.

Alec has to leave for Argentina because of his homosexuality. He chooses not to leave and sacrifices his job for Maurice.

Maurice tells Clive he loves Alec. Clive is pissed at Maurice not “controlling himself” and “submitting to temptation.”

Another of my favorite scenes from the movie: Maurice and Alec reunite. My heart was so happy when they hugged and kissed each other while swearing that they "shan't never be parted again." After all his suffering Maurice finally found a partner who loved him back!

Clive, although content with his boring English life, has some regrets, remembering Maurice’s love for him.

4. Why I like this movie: The characters are complex and gay love is treated as something normal.

Gay movies have some tropes which I dislike:

The protagonist chooses between 2 partners; one is bad and the other is good. The bad gay guy is attractive and sexually promiscuous; his only purpose is to introduce the protagonist to sex and then blackmail him. On the other hand, the good gay guy is less attractive and the relationship he has with the protagonist is much more platonic. It's ironic that the good gay guy is less sexual (like sex is a bad thing). The protagonist usually falls for the bad guy first, suffers emotionally from the blackmail, and then finds happiness with the good guy.

Another trope is the "suffering wife" who is jilted by the protagonist yet still loves him in a mournful way. I hate this trope because it implies that being gay is wrong (who would hurt the "suffering wife" in such a way?) Also, it implies that gay people can't have meaningful relationships with other people besides their romantic partners.

Here's how the characters in the movie are complex:

Maurice isn't extraordinary because he's gay (after all homosexuality is natural), it's because he has the courage to be true to himself in the face of great obstacles. He does struggle with his homosexuality, initially trying to "cure" it, but accepts it as part of who he is and ultimately finds love.

Clive Durham, from when we first see him, is to some extent fearful of societal punishment for his homosexuality. That fear grows until he becomes ashamed of his homosexuality and rejects it in favor of a comfortable, socially approved life as an English gentleman. I like that he isn't entirely unhappy with his new life; he seems to respect his wife and has some affection for her. Most importantly his rejection of his homosexuality is in part his own choice in addition to something imposed on him by society.

Clive's wife meanwhile is quite intelligent (she accurately observes that Maurice is suffering due to love, but can't guess the true nature of it) and has affection for her husband. They seem to be best friends, avoiding the trope of "suffering wife."

Conclusion:

Definitely watch this movie. It's so good and quite underrated compared with other Merchant-Ivory films. It's a revolutionary film disguised as a stereotypical period drama.

It's a fascinating exploration of societal attitudes towards sex, specifically how it's natural yet something to be ashamed about. It also shows how sex education (or lack of) can be used to reinforce cultural norms by controlling how people think about their body and whom they should love, etc.

Most importantly the characters are complex; they have other characteristics besides "I'm gay." Interpret what you will of the fact that Clive as well as Maurice gets a "happy ending" (in that they both get what they want).

@appleinducedsleep @thatvermilionflycatcher

[official-weasley]

First Date (Bill Weasley x OC one-shot)

Warnings: fluff + fluff = this story

Word count: 3,317

Characters: Bill Weasley and my OC Theodora from the story Love, William which you can find here

A/N: First of all I am back! Second of all, I have more ideas for Bill and Theo 🙈 Third of all, I bring fluff! Fourth of all, I am done creating new OCs for a while and want to spend some time creating and bonding with my 3 girls (mostly Nova and Theo because I only have 5 ideas for Rhylee but 47 for Nova (no, she's not my favorite, what are you talking about?)) so you can expect more one-shots from my previous OCs rather than new stories 🥰

“Theo, come down here a sec!”

Theodora peered over the top of her book toward the door and sighed. One of these days, she might get to finish a chapter without her having to leave the room and check out what the twins need.

With them, it was always a guess – either it was something serious and had to do with the shop or they called her just to see her annoyed face when they would tell her that they already took care of it.

“Yes?” She said, halfway down the stairs.

“There's a package for you.” George grinned at her and gave her a rather big box.

“Who is it from?” Theodora's interest was piqued.

“There's no card. There's probably a message inside.” Fred pursed his lips, thinking.

“Is it from Bill?” George sent a wink to Theodora.

It has been 3 days since Bill came to the shop and very spontaneously kissed Theodora full on the mouth. 3 days and Theodora still can't stop thinking about it.

After the twins went away, letting the pair have a private moment, Bill officially asked her out on a date. He was very secretive about it – giving away only the date and the time and saying that she should wear something more formal.

Theodora was so enchanted by the kiss that she simply nodded to everything Bill said and it wasn't until the next day when she started to think about what she is going to wear – wanting to impress Bill – that she realized she has absolutely nothing that would fit the category 'more formal'.

She liked her clothes simple. Tank tops and linen shorts for the summer. Jeans and long-sleeved shirts – preferably in dark green or burgundy red – for the winter. There was nothing in between. She never had the need to buy other clothes and she liked to be comfy – especially since they opened the shop and it was so busy all the time.

The morning after Bill's visit, she threw every pair of pants and every shirt out of her closet. The most formal thing in there was her old Hogwarts uniform and she can't show up in that – Bill would think she has lost her mind.

She sat on her bed, trying to find a gap in her work schedule where she could slip out and get a dress or something. Her face screwed in an uncomfortable expression – she was not a type of a woman to wear dresses. But on the second hand, Bill might like that and if she was completely honest with herself, she never gave dresses a proper chance.

She let out a panicked sigh when she acknowledged that she won't have enough free time in the next 2 days to get the dress. There was also no time to inform Bill that she can't go or ask him if they can postpone so she can buy something for herself. Just the thought of admitting to Bill that she has nothing to wear – finally understanding her roommates which had closets full of clothes but always complained that they can't find the right outfit – made her stomach turn.

Another sigh. If she asks Freddie and Georgie if she can go out for two hours, they are going to tease her or ask her where she is going and if she says she needs something to wear to go on a date with their brother, she will listen to howling, whistling and seeing their eyebrows move up and down mockingly until she leaves for her date with Bill.

It was enough that their first kiss was in front of them. They didn't shut up about it for hours after Bill left for work that day. They teased her in front of customers, when they had their break, when they closed the shop and they waited for her when she came from the shower. She knew that they were happy for them and they were just excited that it finally happened but she also decided then and there that she is never sharing anything about her relationship with Bill with them ever again.

After a day of beating her head around it, she gave up and now that the day of their date has arrived, she tried to bury herself in her book so she wouldn't think about how she is going to wear the same shorts and a top to their first date in which Bill saw her last year at the Burrow.

“I don't know,” Theodora mumbled looking at the big box, shaking it a little.

It was quite light for a box that she could barely hold and the curiosity inside her chest was getting bigger. She wasn't expecting a package. Eric will come and visit in 2 weeks so he wouldn't send her anything. If the box was heavier, she would have a mini heart attack, thinking that perhaps Charlie has sent her a baby dragon.

She put the package down on her bed and carefully opened the lid. It dawned on her that it could easily be the twins trying to prank her. They knew that today was her date with Bill – it was the first thing they mentioned this morning at breakfast. But they wouldn't try to sabotage that, would they? No. No, they would not.

Nothing jumped out of the box when she took the lid completely off. There was something wrapped in thin grey paper and there was a note on the top. Theodora took it and turned it around.

Dear Theodora,

I was so overwhelmed by our kiss the other day that I didn't even consider the fact that I didn't tell you what you should wear to our date.

I apologize for that. I have known where to take you for our first date ever since we admitted our feelings to each other through letters.

To make it up to you, I have bought you a little something to wear. I hope you'll like it. I can't wait to see you tonight.

Love, William

If Theodora didn't find Bill perfect before, she definitely did now. She inhaled and exhaled sharply. She couldn't believe it! He solved her dilemma with one box.

Her heart was racing, looking at the wrapping paper as she placed the card on the bed next to the box. Bill bought her something to wear? He bought her something?

Suddenly she felt really uncomfortable. He shouldn't have. She doesn't deserve this. What if he spent a lot of money on this? Spending any kind of money on her was not okay in her book. She didn't require any gifts, she just wanted him.

Her hands were shaking nonetheless and she finally gave in to opening the box. A loud gasp escaped her mouth when she pulled out a long princess-like black dress. Was Bill insane?! This had to be the most expensive fabric she has ever laid her hands on. And were those feathers, flawlessly falling at the back? A lace corset with a princess cut with a lower part that was shorter in the front than in the back.

Theodora was holding the dress high, staring at it with an opened mouth for solid 5 minutes. Where was Bill taking her that she would have to wear anything like this and why would he put so much effort into their first date?

She put the dress down and looked at herself in the mirror. She frowned at her hair. What is she supposed to do with it? It's as straight as if she was ironing it. Perhaps a high ponytail? A braid to the side would be nice but she never learned how to do that and she never paid attention when her roommates were braiding each other's hair. A ponytail will have to do. She nodded at herself and turned on her heel.

Another wave of panic stroke her as she looked at the dress again, remembering that she has no shoes to match such a beautiful garment. She has boots and flip-flops and a pair of sneakers. Her eyes escaped back to the box – wistfully gazing at it, wishing some shoes would appear there.

She pressed her lips together and peaked inside once more and started rummaging through the wrapping paper.

Theodora wasn't even that surprised when her hand got a hold on something that felt like a shoe. Of course, Bill thought of everything. She couldn't stop a smile from spreading all over her face even though she wanted to. Bill put all this effort into this and what will she do? Just appear there and let Bill do all the work. Pathetic!

She sat down on her bed, now a shoe in each of her hands. She stared at them, half in admiration half in terror. Heels. Bill bought her heels. She swallowed hard, cursing herself to ever make a decision to be comfortable and laughing at the thoughts of ever putting something that made you taller for more than 3 centimeters.

Another mini heart attack. How is she supposed to do this? She couldn't walk in heels! She barely even laid her eyes on a pair. She tilted her head to see the time on the clock she had by the door of her room. 2 more hours until she has to meet Bill.

2 hours to learn how to walk in heels and properly put on a dress with a corset. How hard can it be?

—

“How's it going up here?” A gentle knock on the doorframe and Fred's voice, made Theodora look away from the mirror.

“I-I'm fine.” She bit the inner side of her cheek and smoothened her dress to calm her nerves. “Why?” She asked, turning back to the mirror.

“Well we have heard some heavy footsteps and some thumping here and there and I decided to check up on you. What were you doing?” Fred giggled.

“Oh, nothing. Embarrassing myself, mostly.” Theodora let out a nervous chuckle and showed herself to Fred.

“Theo, wow!” Fred gasped, forgetting how to close his mouth.

He has never seen his best friend in a dress before. She was more likely to wear something of his or his twin than ever put on a dress.

“Where did you get this?” Fred asked after he composed himself.

“I received it in the box this morning.” Theodora's cheeks turned scarlet.

“Bill bought you an outfit for your first date?” His face turned into a smug one immediately.

Theodora nodded and once again turned to the mirror. She put the dress on correctly and she was quite proud of herself for doing so. The heels were surprisingly comfortable but her ankles hurt from her stepping the wrong way, almost breaking them a few times.

“He isn't always like this, right?” Theodora turned to Fred.

“What do you mean?”

“It's just a one-time thing, right? He won't spend money and give me presents?” Theodora explained her question.

“He might.” Fred shrugged. “He fancies you, Theo, let him spoil you.”

“I don't want to be pampered like this.” Theodora frowned. “It's enough if he holds me tight in his arms, smiling softly, listening to me, and showing me with gestures how much I mean to him.”

“I know. You like things simple.” Fred bestowed her with a small smile. “But that won't stop him. Unless you tell him that it's making you uncomfortable.”

“It's not. It's just,” Theodora sighed, “I don't feel worthy of it. I have nothing to give in return. What am I supposed to buy him? A tuxedo?”

“No.” Fred laughed wholeheartedly. “Just show him how much he means to you. I know you never experienced this with any of your ex-boyfriends but Bill is very traditional and a romantic. You might need to get used to this.”

“Okay,” Theodora said slowly. “If it makes him happy and this is something he enjoys doing then I will do it for him.”

“That's the spirit!” Fred exclaimed and wrapped Theodora in a hug.

“Sorry, to interrupt your mo, but Theo, it's time for you to go.” George appeared in the door, pointing at the clock on the wall.

“Bloody hell, I'll be late!” Theodora stood up, trying to balance herself in those heels. She grabbed her black purse – grateful to have at least one item to match – and hurried past George, completely ignoring the dumbfounded expression on his face when he saw what she was wearing.

She hurried down the stairs and out through the back door, hoping she won't be too late. Bill told her to meet him at the only square in Diagon Alley and said that they are going to apparate to Muggle London together from there.

Theodora was surprised at how fast she could run in those heels. She was almost better at running than walking in them. She slowed down as she reached the square, spotting Bill immediately.

Her heart started racing when she saw how dashing he was wearing a black tuxedo and tie and a white buttoned shirt. She must be dreaming – this whole scene and them dressed as they were – it looked like something out of a fairytale.

Bill was turned in the opposite direction, his hands crossed behind his back, rocking on his feet – he seemed nervous. That calmed Theodora down and her heart stopped trying to escape her ribcage.

As she approached him, the sound her heels were making made Bill look in her direction. His eyes widened and all the air in his lungs escaped him as she took his breath away. Theodora bestowed him with a sheepish smile, stopping a few steps away from him.

“So what do you think?” She cleared her throat to make herself appear more confident and twirled on the spot to the best of her abilities.

It was true, the dress did grow on her and she didn't trip over her legs just yet and she wanted to show Bill just how grateful she is for the gift.

“How uncomfortable are you right now?” A giggle escaped his throat, taking a step toward her and offering her his hand.

“It's not as bad as it was 2 hours ago.” Theodora bit her lip.

She felt relieved. Bill knew that this wasn't her cup of tea after all.

“I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or for you to think that I reckon you don't have a proper attire for where I am taking you tonight,” Bill said with burning cheeks.

“You saved me, actually. I was panicking for far too long about what to wear tonight. I have nothing 'more formal' whatsoever in my closet.”

Theodora loved many things about Bill, but the fact that she could be brutally honest with him and tell him exactly what was on her mind was one of her favorite.

“I promise you can toss the dress the second I get you home safely tonight.” Bill smiled, put his left hand on Theodora's lower back, and pulled her closer to his body.

He first kissed her forehead, then her nose, and then put his other hand on her back and kissed her on the mouth. At first, the kiss was gentle but as they both missed each other so much, it quickly got stronger.

“I have no words for how beautiful you look tonight,” Bill whispered in Theodora's ear, making her knees weaken.

“Thank you.” She breathed.

“I saw the dress yesterday when I was walking home from work and I decided to buy it for you. I wanted to see you in it so badly.” He said, almost apologetically.

“Hopefully, there won't be a lot of dresses like that. I don't want you to spend money on me.” Theodora said truthfully.

“I might, here and there.” Bill winked at her and gestured for them to start walking. “I want to make you see that you deserve the world.”

“Then I'll get all spoiled and demand dresses.” Theodora giggled mockingly.

“See, that's why I want to buy things for you because I know you will never turn into someone like that.” Bill giggled with her.

“So,” Theodora made puppy eyes, “will you finally tell me where we are going tonight all dashing and fancy?” She scanned him from head to toe and winked at him, making Bill's face match the hair in his loose ponytail.

“I'm taking you to the opera.” Bill cleared his throat, trying to hide that he was nervous about how Theodora would react to his date idea.

“To the...” Theodora blinked at him. “...wow.” She didn't know what else to say.

She was never the one to obsess over Muggle things too much but she loved their music, especially classical one. She was pretty sure she never told Bill about that before but she couldn't imagine a better first date.

“I thought you might like it. Last summer you mentioned that you love to listen to music and I wanted to do something not as cliché as a fancy restaurant.” He scratched his cheek.

Bill has been nervous about their date ever since he asked Theodora out. Taking her to the opera seemed like a brilliant idea up until the point he arrived at the square and waited for her there. What if Theodora wouldn't like it? What if she would think he is weird for taking her to the opera?

Bill's face brightened up when he saw the sparks with which Theodora was looking at the opera house. He felt so relieved that she liked the idea and wasn't disappointed about where he was taking her.

“What are we listening to?” Theodora questioned, looking around and reminding herself of how she looked at the Enchanted Ceiling when she first arrived at Hogwarts.

“I think it's called Carmen by...”

“Georges Bizet!” Theodora squeaked but then quickly put her hands over her mouth, realizing how inappropriate her behavior was for such a beautiful building.

“You know it?” Bill let out a silent laugh.

“Know it? It's my favorite.”

Without thinking about it, Theodora jumped into Bill's arms, hugging him as tightly as she could.

Suddenly she didn't care about the people walking past them, she wanted to express how much this meant to her. She never thought she would be lucky enough to go to the opera, let alone to listen to her favorite one.

All of Bill's doubts if this was a good idea were diminished the second the music started playing and the singers appeared on the stage. Theodora was sitting on the edge of her seat the entire time, her mouth slightly opened, her eyes glistened with tears of admiration for their voices and the beauty of it all.

Bill has never been to the opera either and if he was perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't sure how much he would like it, but seeing Theodora enjoying it so much was completely worth it to him.

He was thankful that he could enjoy listening to it without paying attention to what was happening on the stage because he couldn't take his eyes of Theodora. Not only did she look breathtaking but the way she was paying attention to the stage – how happy it made her and how she admired the singers – made him fall in love with her even more and he couldn't wait for her to tell him about all the places she ever had a wish to see and visit because he wants her to have more moments like this.

They decided to walk back home. Bill insisted that he accompanies her to her apartment and despite being worried that Theodora's feet might hurt in those heels, he didn't want to apparate because Theodora couldn't stop talking about what they have just experienced in that opera house and Bill could listen to her for hours, his heart melting by the passion in her eyes.

[betheflame]

Wipdate

Since I’ve never done one of these, the “previously published” is my entire catalog, but here’s a few things I’m working on right now!  Untitled Stony Political Soulmate AU: Commissioned by @aspiring-academic through their donations to fight the wildfires in Australia (that was this year, too, can you BELIEVE) - the fic will focus on Steve the Congressman and Tony the scientist working together to end the migrant crisis at the U.S. border - while also getting their second chance on love. Posting starts August 3. Untitled Stuckony A/B/O Sex Worker AU: Commissioned by @corsets-and-cardigans also for wildfire donations, this one has established alpha/alpha WinterIron and omega Steve. Tag line: “Bucky and Tony thought they believed in omega rights, then they fell in love with one.” Posting starts mid-August. A Common Guttersnipe: MTH 2019 fic for @sabrecmc @festiveferret @ashes0909 @ishipallthings @bill-longbow @captainneverever @juuls. A My Fair Lady remix where Steve can’t stop speaking Brooklyn, Tony makes a bet with Rhodey, and I leave Freddie Einsford-Hill out completely. Posting starts mid-September. 

There’s also a PepperStuckony Wing fic getting cooked up for @tehroserose, a collab with @ashes0909 for Marvel4BLM and then... welll.... MTH is kicking off again!

Posting Now!  Past, Present, and Future (?) - MTH 2019 adjacent fic that features de-aged Avengers and parental figures Stucky with guest appearances by MJ, Peter, and Pepper helping to make sure the tiny super heroes stay alive.  Steve-Tony Games Fluff Fills - A whole host of one-shots that put these two in a lot of universes.  These Times have been interesting for my productivity. I’ve gone through a few weeks where I’ve written upwards of 15k and a few where I stared at blinking cursors. I am exceptionally grateful for fandom in general, though - y’all have gotten me through a lot of lonely moments! 

@festiveferret and I also made the INCREDIBLE decision to start a podcast about two weeks before everyone went inside and stopped listening to podcasts, but we’re 11 episodes in and not planning on stopping anytime soon. Give a listen @podonthesuit. 

[rushingheadlong]

3, 4, 19, 23 for the writing asks //tenderbri ✨

@tenderbri thank you!!!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

answered here! 

I’ll also add in that I had loosely planned out a scene for the Maycury AU where Freddie properly disappears for a little while and cuts off all communication with even Roger and John after he starts dating Tony... but I decided that I didn’t have time to include it and I really couldn’t be bothered to deal with tying up those particular loose ends later on, so it got scrapped.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

akdjflkadsj all of you just want me to say nice things about my writing and that’s impossible for me to do!!!

but I offer this up snippet from the original corset fic:

And then Brian tells you that Queen has extended their studio time by another week. Silently, you wonder whether the universe has decided to just conspire against you to make sure that you and Brian never get the chance to have wild, kinky sex ever again.

Aloud, you tell Brian, “Okay but, for the record, I kind of want to strangle whoever suggested that you keep working yourselves to the bone.”

He lets out a bark of laughter and asks, “Do you promise?”

You recognize that spark of amused mischief in his tired eyes and sigh, but can’t quite keep a fond smile off your face. “You’re the one who asked for more studio time, aren’t you?”

because it still delights me, and every time someone recognizes the interview I’m referencing here it makes my day

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

sort of answered here? I’m really blanking on this question today tbh... I guess technically if we’re talking about “trope you can’t get enough of” I can say Brian wearing a corset, because I have 3 fics where that features and plans to write more and if that becomes my brand in this fandom honestly I can’t complain about that

ETA: HONESTLY. I overuse “honestly” and “actually” and words like that in every single thing I write!!

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

It’s not an exciting answer, but I have a half-written Brian/Reader fic set the day that Queen films the WWRY/Spread Your Wings music videos where the Reader gives Brian a handmade scarf as he’s leaving in the morning, and then Brian comes back later half-frozen (and a little drunk from Freddie sharing his booze with them) and he keeps heaping praise on the Reader’s wonderful knitting abilities that saved him from dying of hypothermia. It’s supposed to just be a cute little fic but it started fighting me so I set it aside and never finished it.

[peakysabrina]

Dark Horse: chapter 3

 Warnings: I don’t think there are any other than language and canon-typical violence? Hope you like it tho!!!!

Tommy and Ada declined the invitation for lunch, and decided to depart. None of them felt very comfortable amongst the visitors, and although not even Gigi lifted a finger against them, the sense of impending threat was weighing heavy over their heads. Despite having an agreement, it was clear as day that they couldn't trust the girl and her minions to abide by human law, let alone common sense.

"I wonder what will happen to those men" Ada mused, as they made their way back to Tommy's car. "I know they'll end up dead and at your doorstpe, but how do you think she'll do it?"

"There are some pictures in Welsh newspapers you might want to look at" Tom responded, clenching his jaw as he walked. It was a terrible habit of his, along with grinding his teeth. "It almost always involves knives, I'd imagine"

"How come she's never been caught?"

"She said it herself, didn't she? She only kills bad men" the head of Shelby Brothers Ltd. chuckled, hands on the wheel, starting the car. "I would imagine that the good people of Swansea don't have a problem with her, and she does sell a fair share of newspapers"

"I don't trust her" Ada confessed, relieved to be driving away from Gigi Gold's camp. "I don't trust her, and I don't trust that man who was there when we arrived. I don't even trust her to honour our agreement"

"Romanis have rules, Ada. Rules that not even Georgia Gold can ignore. She made a deal with you, and I believe she will honour it. What we should worry about is what happens if we don't do our part. I, for one, am not any closer to finding who was able to undermine me, who managed to betray us. Meaning that I am no closer to finding out who killed that girl's father" Tommy had to admit, letting out a deep breath. "I don't like depending on people like this, but it's what needs to be done. Even without reading the articles, anyone who looks at her knows she's capable of killing us all, without even blinking. So we need to deliver to her what we promised, and if I have to come up with a scheme, or a lie, I will"

"We'll never feel safe again, will we, Thomas? You're in too deep, we are all in too deep" Ada sighed, more defeated than angry. She was almost ure Tommy knew it too, but sometimes he needed to hear it from someone else, he needed to hear it from her. "You can't just lie to her, she's not stupid"

"I've lied to more powerful people than Georgia"

"And look where it got you! Look at you, Tom! Look at you, and look at your family! We're falling apart, and it's only gonna get better once we clean up all the mess we've made. We cannot tell a grieving daughter and sister some half-arsed lie, it would only come back later to bite us in the arse. You have to understand that, Tom, don't you? And the shit with Mosley... I know it's almost impossible to let go of it, but you have to find a way, before we lose anyone else" Ada begged, tears in her eyes, hoping it was as simple as saying it to make it come true.

"It's not that fucking simple, Ada! How the fuck can you say those things, as if they were possible? I can't just turn my back on Mosley, he will destroy me if I do. Do I need to remind you of what happened to the father of your unborn child? Do I need to remind you of when Charlie, my own son, was taken? It's never as simple as just talking over a glass of whisky!"

"You have to try! You need to try. At least tell me you'll try" she concluded, not wanting to push her brother any further. And when it came to Ben Younger, well... she would rather leave it on the back of her mind, buried deep within her brain, nothing but a memory, keep Freddie company.

_____________________________________________________________

Gigi walked out of her wagon shortly after Tommy and Ada left. She was still barefoot, and didn't seem to mind the mud under the soles of her feet. If anything, it seemed natural to her, as was the gesture of picking up her dress to prevent it from becoming muddy as well.

"What did they want? Who are they?" the man in the top hat asked. His name was Lucas, and his demeanour was that of mockery and laziness.

"Thomas and Ada Shelby. They've employed us to kill some man associated with the people who killed Bonnie" Gigi simply responded, hands on her waist, made prominent by the corset she always wore. "They've also agreed to give me my father's killers"

"So, long story short... you invited the people you came here to kill into your wagon" Lucas chuckled, sitting on the step of his own vardo. "Why?"

"I made a deal with her. I would wait a month for them to find the person who killed my father. In return, I would not kill any of them"

"Do we intend on keeping our promise?" he enquired, extending a hand to help Gigi sit down next to him. "I'm asking not because I doubt your honour, but because I've never seen you accept others doing your job for you"

"I never thought I would, but I've a feeling these people are moving in circles where we do not belong... although they are responsible for my father's death, they might not have pulled the trigger. The ones who did are probably men who attend tables we wouldn't even be allowed to serve. I have no clue on how to get to someone like that, but they do. I will serve my justice, eventually " Gigi explained, reaching for the flask Lucas offered.

"He's quite handsome, isn't he? Thomas Shelby... Never thought he would be" Lucas said, furrowing his brow. He'd seen the man in photographs, but those didn't really denounce the sharp features and ice cold eyes the genuine product displayed.

"Is he? Seems pretty dull to me. The sister, though... The sister, Ada. She has something to her that he doesn't. A spark, a strength. He's bitter, and altogether too calculating for my taste. She's the kind of woman who could lead the masses, who could yield a sword with one hand, and nurture a babe with the other"

"Oh no, rakli, don't tell me you write poetry now. Are you in love?"

"What would I know about love, huh? Where would I have seen it?" Georgia asked, looking into the distance as she sipped on the lukewarm tea of the Lucas' flask. "Don't think I believe it, to be honest"

"Ah, but it's a beautiful thing. A very, very beautiful thing" Lucas let the sentence fade into nothing, remembering past days, where an orchard or an abandoned shed were enough to delight him, as long as a gentle pair of eyes and hands was there with him. Stolen kisses, stolen touches, stolen time from whatever chore needed to be done and dusted by nightfall.

"I believe you" Georgia laughed in return, thinking to herself that maybe love could be beautiful, but so was family. If she didn't know about the first, she made up for it with knowledge of the second.

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes (8.)

―; summary: Florence grapples with far too many feelings and, as always, Lissie comes to the rescue.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.8k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: flor is too lovely for all of this and i just want her to be happy guys im :(( but also, can we start a felicity marlowe fanclub?? please leave applications below to become an official member bc everyone should love her she’s like a rockin’ older sister. 

also, if i was okay with writing like 6k word chapters they would’ve kissed in this one so keep an eye out in the next chapter people

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

The walk back to Florence’s home was filled with light, cheerful conversation but brushes against the shoulder and moments of her simply studying Jacob’s face seemed far more frequent. Or were they like this usually? Florence was unsure; she’d begun to overwhelm herself inside her own mind, though she kept Jacob none the wiser. The last thing that she could afford right now was him, of all people, digging through her conscious.

“-- and I was trying to enjoy a pint but along comes Evie with this huge bloke’s head in her hands and she just slams him into my table. I tell you, beer in the eyes is painful but not as painful as the splinters that man had to pull out of his face.” Jacob grimaced, gazing into as though he was envisioning the wound’s that very moment. Then hazel eyes met hers, amusement mirrored in both of their eyes. “So, the moral of that story is to never go drinking with my sister.”

“Such a shame, that.” Florence’s brows drew together in faux disappointment. “To think, I was going to invite your sister down to the pub this weekend.”

“Without me?”

She shot him a little wink, a finger coming up to tap her nose. “Girl talk, Jacob; you wouldn’t understand.”

He huffed out a laugh, taking a familiar turn into her street. “I’m not sure Evie would either.”

Florence’s gaze fixed to the profile of his face for a moment too long, just watching the curl of his lips and the jovial light flickering in his eyes. Why did she find it so impossible that he actually wanted to spend time with her? Remnants of Thomas prickled at her heart, despite Jacob’s work to remove them. The thought that she might allow herself to fall fully for this man-- this assassin-- only for him to break her again terrified her more than Florence would like to admit. Yet, his presence had been lingering on her mind for longer than she’d previously realised.

His eyes dragged from the bunting strung above her street to her and the worried little crease between her eyebrows. Florence appeared to be in another world entirely. “Flor? Are you alright?”

She blinked once, then again, before refocusing on the world around her. A gentle smile tugged her lips upwards and she nodded. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking…”

… that I’d very much like to kiss you.

… of how you always seem to make me feel at ease.

… about you.

“... that we should perhaps part ways here, lest Freddy interrogate the both of us. You know how he is.”

Jacob chortled, nodding, his brows raised. “Indeed I do.” There came a little sigh, hardly noticeable, though gave the impression that he was almost sad that their time together had come to a close. The smile she gave him said the same.

Something heavy hung above their heads.

“Well, thank you for today, Jacob. There’s nothing like watching someone you know beat a crowd of grown men up.” Florence breathed out a laugh, shaking her head slightly.

There was a softness to Jacob’s face; the curve of his lips was gentle, the glint in his eyes screamed of something more than a simple care, and his gaze studied each of her features-- from that little mole on her bottom lip to the hump in her nose to the strands of mousy hair that had taken to resting on her forehead. The arm that had been hooked around hers moved forward but he paused before putting his hand on her hip. Instead, below her sight, Jacob’s hand balled into a loose fist-- a sign of a change of heart. “Florence,” her full name, “look, I really--”

Her hand came to his shoulder to stop him, heart roaring her ears. “I should really be getting inside, Jacob.” Ah, Christ Almighty, he looked like a kicked puppy. It was near indescribable how much her heart wanted her to push forward embrace him, tell him of all the tangled worries occupying her mind, but that very mind insisted that Florence had to make sense of it herself first. So, as to appease her heart enough to allow her a few hours of restful sleep tonight, she rolled up onto the tips of her toes, placed a hand to one of his cheeks, and gave a featherlight kiss to the other. She muttered a soft “Visit me again soon.” before turning and hurrying into the safety of her own home.

Jacob watched after her with wide eyes and parted lips. It was rare that Jacob Frye was speechless but, for a few moments, his brain was completely incapable of comprehending words. Was he blushing? His own hand came to his cheek and he frowned slightly. Maybe.

Bloody Hell.

London does have its surprises.

---

“A letter came for you while you were out, Florrie” was the first thing she heard as she walked in the door. Freddy, from the lounge chair, glanced over the newspaper he had been reading and to his sister, furrowing his brows at the red tinge to her ears and neck and the otherwise lost look in her eyes. “You look flustered.”

Florence hung her shawl beside the door and tucked a few strands that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Oh, it’s…” Eyes flickered over to the letter on the tea table before flitting to Frederick, giving him a reassuring smile, “... it’s nothing. I think Lissie made my corset a smidge too tight this morning and, well,” Her lips pursed and her brows rocketed toward her hairline, “I’ve already told you how overwhelming Willard can be.”

Freddy hummed, uncomfortable with the thought of a man being so shameless with his sister. The newspaper flopped at one corner when he gestured to the letter now in her hands. “What’s that about, then? Is it mother and father?”

She tapped the back of the envelope with her thumb for a second or two, having vaguely recognised the handwriting as most certainly not her mother’s, before tearing it open. It was an invitation to meet again the day after the next from--

“Willard. He’s asked to meet with me again.” She muttered, scanning over the contents of the letter.

Freddy frowned. “Couldn’t he have asked you that at the library?”

Ah, shit.

“He had to leave on ‘important business’ earlier than I expected so he must’ve just forgotten.” Florence had a talent for lying through her teeth, though whenever it was to her brother she did feel the need to pray to the Lord above at the same time.

Freddy was quiet for a few moments then sighed. Florence held her breath. “No doubt his ‘important business’ was--” The pitch of his voice heightened somewhat and it drew a smile up from his sister, “-- ‘collect my latest pomade shipment, make a fancy speech to parliament, plot the demise of Frederick Abberline.’”

She snorted, folding the letter back up and balancing it between her middle and ring fingers. “I’m sure he’s arranging the hitmen as we speak, dear brother.”

Freddy shrugged and raised his eyebrows in response, a motion that said “probably” before letting his eyes drift back to the newspaper. Florence paused for a few moments in her place, toying with the letter. She needed to speak with Lissie.

“When you see her next, can you tell Lissie to come up to my room? I’d like to get out of this corset and into a nice bath.”

“Of course.” Frederick gave her a little farewell smile as his sister made her way towards the staircase.

Lissie was something of an agony aunt and, goodness, did she need someone’s ear to chew off. In fact, merely thinking of it made her hands shake and breathing heavy. Even the gentle meowing of Duncan behind her bedroom door did very little to calm her nerves.

A gentle knock came to the door and Florence didn’t even have a chance to answer before the figure of Lissie bumbled through the door. She had two cups of tea in her hand and a concerned glint in her eyes; she already knew that Florence was worrying. Felicity was a good woman and Florence appreciated her very much.

Without a word, Lissie passed a cup to Florence and she began to blow over the surface of it, steadying it when the older woman took a seat on the bed beside her. There was a slurping noise-- how did she drink it while it was still so hot?-- then Lissie settled the tea into her lap, turning slightly so she could take Florence in fully. “What’s the matter, dear--”

“I like him.” She blurted out, honey eyes flickering from her tea to her maid. There was a look of desperation there-- as if she was hoping that Felicity could simple somehow magic away that clenching of her heart.

Lissie furrowed her brows. “You like who?”

“Jaco-- Mister Frye. We’ve been spending more time together recently and I-- and we--” Florence held her breath, keeping eye contact with Lissie for a few moments, before finally sighing. “He almost kissed me.” There was a pause. “I almost kissed him.” Another. She threw one hand up into the air and the cup of tea in her other hand wobbled dangerously. “I don’t know-- I don’t know! I just--”

“Lovely!” A hand came to Florence’s shoulder. “Lovely. Calm down.” Lissie’s smile was so kind that Florence actually felt her shoulders relax. Blue eyes met hers and, to reassure Lissie, she gave her a little nod. “It’s fine. He’s not a bad bloke, is he?”

“No, of course not. Jacob is… well, he’s really charming. He’s not a huge gentleman but he doesn’t have to be. I just--” Florence glanced to the corner of the room, where Duncan was watching them both, then back to Lissie. “I just think I really like him.”

That smile curled at Felicity’s lips and Florence stifled a laugh of disbelief. Before she could say anything though, Lissie was already speaking, “Oh, to be young and in love.”

“You’re lucky I need you, Felicity Marlowe.”

Lissie grinned, crow’s feet appearing at the corners of her eyes. “I know, I know. But,” The same hand that had been on her shoulder moved to her lap, giving Florence’s thigh a reassuring squeeze beneath her skirts, “you seem quite smitten with this Jacob fellow and, from the sounds of it, he likes you enough too. Is he why you’re always out?”

Florence took a sip of tea, avoiding the answer to the question for as long as she could, and flinched when it burnt her tongue. She swallowed once, with brows pulled downwards, then answered a simple: “Yes”.

“Do you enjoy yourself with him?”

A pause. “Yes.” Honey eyes met blue ones, remnants of the day swimming about in them. “Did you know he took me to a fight club today? I watched him fight; he’s the champion there.”

Lissie’s fingernails tapped along the ceramic cup and her lips pursed for a moment. “So, why is it such a dilemma that you fancy him, then?”

There was the real question. Why did it bother her so much that she liked someone-- liked him? It wasn’t like Jacob had done any wrong by her yet. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make her happier. And, the way he had looked at her: as though she was everything that existed in the world at that moment. God, it made Florence’s throat tighten and heart swell.

“I should be looking for a wealthy husband. I need someone my father would benefit from.” Lissie looked unconvinced. Florence looked panicked. “Freddy wouldn’t approve either.”

Felicity set her tea down and held her hands out. Florence did the same and placed her own hands in the maid’s grip. A thumb glided over the back of her palm as an effort to comfort. “Firstly, you have never been concerned with such tripe. My Florence would rather die than marry into wealth.”

Florence’s lips curled into one of those smiles that said: “You’re right but I don’t want to admit that I was wrong”.

“Secondly,” One of Lissie’s hands came up to raise Florence’s gaze back to her, “in the politest way possible, fuck your brother.”

Florence frowned. “I’d prefer not to.”

Felicity groaned, rolling her eyes and giving a slight pinch to the back of Florence’s hand. “Hush, you terrible woman.” She huffed out a laugh, allowing Lissie to continue. “Freddy would disapprove if you got with the son of Queen Victoria herself. He might yap on about you needing to marry a ‘good man’ but all he cares for is your happiness, lovely. He’s probably just worried about Jacob’s intentions.”

Florence sighed, teeth gnawing at her top lip. She was right. Lissie was always right.

“What is it that’s really worrying you?”

That clenching in her chest began again but it was sadder this time-- scared. When she looked back up to Felicity, there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I’m frightened he’s going to break my heart or--or--” One fell down the curve of her face and Lissie was already pulling Florence into a hug, burying the younger’s face into her own shoulder, “-- if he might leave me because I’m too b-boring and I--”

A gentle ‘shh’ came to stop her blubbering and stuttering. “Florence, lovely, you’re one of the most interesting, lively women I’ve ever met and anyone would be blind to not see the same.” Florence hiccuped into her shoulder, pulling away slightly to rub her eyes. At the same time, Felicity’s hands cupped her cheeks to ensure that Florence was looking at her. Red circled honeyed eyes, lashes thick and dark with tears. Lissie frowned slightly and moved forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. “If he’s gotten into your heart, it’s because he tried. I reckon Jacob wants you as much as you want him.”

God, he had tried. Jacob was so kind to her-- so willing to help her outside of this little box she’d been put in by her class. He wasn’t afraid to show her new things in fear that it’d ‘ruin her innocence’. He’d tell her horribly lewd jokes because they made her do that silly snort of hers. He, despite his sister’s words of concern, always went out of his way to see her.

Florence’s heart calmed down a little bit.

Maybe this all wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Through a small sniff and her hands coming up to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks, Florence sighed but it sounded somewhat like a laugh. “That sounds terribly dirty, Lissie.”

Obviously pleased with how Florence had stopped crying and now had the beginnings of a smile playing at her lips, Felicity released her face and grinned, pointing an accusing finger. “I’ve seen the bloke’s shoulders-- nice and broad. Don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t thought about him above--”

“Felicity Marlowe!” Florence slapped the maid’s arm, stifling a naughty little giggle. There was a wonderful sense of joy in the genuine smile of someone who had just been sobbing. It was their emotion in its rawest form-- walls torn down by the breakdown moments before. Despite her eyes and the red around them, light shone in her pupils eyes again. “Just go and sort me out a bath, please.”

“What? So you can think of all his muscles alone?”

Florence shot her a sharp look but the dimple in her cheek made an appearance, her head shaking. “No.” Then, a playful little smile graced her features and she glanced away briefly. “So I can plan on how I’m going to kiss him.”

Lissie’s grin was proud. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The park she’d been due to meet Willard in was quaint enough, with a little gazebo in the centre that a band played in. It was mid-morning, so the soft chirps of birds accompanied this melody, which calmed Florence’s heart to some degree, she supposed. In the light of the rising sun, it wasn’t difficult to spot Willard’s golden crown of hair. The mottled sun painted gorgeously against tanned skin and, when he heard the small clicks of her footsteps, he turned, green eyes appearing almost icy in the light.

“Dear Florence!” He stood from the bench he’d been sat on and took a few steps towards her. His head bowed and his hand took hers, placing a featherlight kiss upon the back of it. “I hope nothing terrible happened to your brother, hm?”

Florence’s smile was courteous and sweet but the sickness in her stomach remembered Willard and his feelings toward Freddy-- how he planned to use her. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that he was fine.” Willard raised a brow, asking her to elaborate. She did, hooking her arm through his so they could walk together, “He had ripped my favourite dress accidentally and had begun to panic far too much-- the poor sod. Oh, sorry for the language. I’m--”

For once, Willard seemed to smile genuinely, breathing out a laugh. “It’s charming, Florence; you shouldn’t apologise. I have siblings, so I know it’s not always so easy to refer to them nicely.” He had leant into her somewhat to say this, as though it was a little known secret. Much to her own surprise, a little grin tugged at her lips. “If you’d like, I can put some money in toward reparations? I would hate for you not to feel as gorgeous as you always look.”

Here start the compliments again.

“No, it’s fine; I’m unsure on if I’d even fit into it anymore. I’ve had it for far too long so it’s about time I chose another.” Did Florence have actually have a preferred dress? No. She chose all of her dresses because she knew that she’d look good in them. There was no purpose in her having one particular ‘favourite’.

“Well, perhaps you should make the one you’re wearing now your new favourite. If I might say, blue is a beautiful colour on you. It really brings out the paleness of your skin.”

Great. She supposed blue couldn’t be her favourite colour anymore.

Florence’s previous thought that her conversation was going quite swimmingly with Willard, although brief, flew completely out of the window. In an effort to hide her growing grimace, she turned as if to look at the birds in the trees above them. “Thank you, Willard. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They walked in silence for a while, following a path lined with flowers. The quiet was welcome for a time until the realisation that Willard was never quiet for this long hit Florence across the face. She finally shot a glance toward him to find him looking less-than-happy with the world.

“You seem troubled, Willard. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?”

His eyes met hers after a few moments. Then, he gestured for them to sit on the bench just beside the gazebo. “What is your opinion of me, Florence?”

Genuine confusion washed across her expression. “Nothing bad, Willard. You’ve only been nice to me. Why?”

“It’s just that there have been… unsavoury rumours going about with concerns to my intentions with you.” Willard shifted in his seat so that he might hold her hands. Florence allowed him to, upholding that look of bewilderment. “I simply hope for this to be the start of something grander and I would hate for you or your family to think of me in a bad light.”

What did he know? What had he heard?

“What rumours might those be?” The speed of her speech made her seem panicked but, if he had picked up on it, he didn’t comment.

Willard frowned. “After Sergeant Abberline arrested my brother, some people have this sick idea in their minds that I’m out for revenge. What my brother did--” He swallowed, appearing quite disgusted. A terrible feeling began to stir in Florence’s stomach. “What he did was… horrible and I am ashamed to have the same blood as the wretched man.”

Was he lying? He must be. A barrage of doubt slammed into her. Maybe he was being truthful and the note was a set-up of some kind. But, on the other spin of the coin, perhaps he’d noticed he’d lost the note and wanted to cover up his tracks. There was a flashing memory of the look in his eyes when Jacob introduced himself. None of the puzzle pieces were connecting and Florence was beginning to feel quite light-headed.

She blinked once. Then, twice. Her hand came up to tuck a few curled strands of brown behind her ear in an effort to self-comfort. “I have never thought such a thing and nor has Freddy.”

“I’d still feel horrible to just leave it at that; I feel like I must prove that I’m not the creator of some dastardly plan. So,” Was that a shy smile? From Willard? “I’d like to invite you and your brother to dinner at my manor at the end of this week.”

What had she done to the Lord above for Him to invoke such wrath upon her?

Florence felt like her body had frozen, bar the heavy swallow she took. Dinner wouldn’t be… so bad. Yet, there was this pang in her chest that told her that living this double life-- split between being this Florence for Willard and the real Florence to Jacob-- would be her downfall but she felt that she had very few options in the matter.

“That sounds lovely, Willard. I’ll be sure to tell my brother when I return home. Speaking of which--”

“Oh, don’t say you must leave, dear.”

Florence’s lips tugged into a sad smile, patting Willard’s shoulder to comfort him. “-- I must leave to go home. Our maid is due to do the shopping soon and I must go with her; my cat has a very specific diet.”

Willard huffed out a laugh at this and stood up with her. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again this weekend. Do say ‘hello’ to this diva cat of yours from me, too.”

At that, Florence grinned and said her goodbyes. Beneath her, her feet went a little faster than usual.

---

The door was unlocked when she got back, Freddy obviously having forgotten to lock it on his way out to work. As soon as she stood on the creaky floorboard near the entrance, the door closed behind her, Florence let out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing somewhat. She set her little purse down on the little table beside the coat rack but stays there to lean on it for a small while, simply gathering her thoughts.

Her opinion on Willard was much like a metronome; sometimes, he was delightfully charming and today told that he had at least some sense of humour but, other times, he was like the wolf to her rabbit-- ready to consume everything she had ever stood for in a grapple for power. It made her feel weak either way; she didn’t want to kneel for any man.

Her breathing was deep and slow-- an attempt to comfort-- and one of her hands had begun to work on undoing the bun on her crown. Florence had had enough of today and it was barely the afternoon. She would write her parents another letter, read, and wait for Freddy to get home; she didn’t have the emotional energy for much else.

“A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Florence jumped, all of her muscles tensing in one go to look toward the source of the voice.

There was Jacob, all amused at the sight of Florence so surprised, holding Pride and Prejudice in his hands. “Who knew books could have such profound words? Now I know where your fancy vocabulary comes from.”

Florence, despite her racing heart, laughed softly, shaking her head. With a brow raised, other hand out to ask for the book back, she asked: “How did you get in, Jacob?”

He took a few steps forward, around the lounge chairs, to give her the novel. “That maid of yours-- Lissie, was it?-- let me in just as she was leaving.”

The image of Felicity’s dirty little smile came to the forefront of her mind and Florence bit back a grin. “If Freddy had come home, you’d have been killed.”

“Oh, yes-- because your brother is capable of murdering me.” Jacob narrowed his eyes at her, snark dripping from his voice, and plonked himself down onto the nearest chair, playing with the fabric beneath him. Florence sighed, amused, but said nothing more, going to hang up her shawl. Jacob soon noticed the tension in her movement and the tiredness in her eyes. “What’s got you in a twist, lovely Flor?”

Of course he’d notice. He noticed everything. That feeling arose again when she turned to look at him, concern in those hazel eyes, but she swallowed it. “I met with Willard again today--” The slight frown Jacob adopted was nearly missable, “-- and he’s invited both me and my brother to dinner this weekend.”

He made a mock ‘ooh-la-la’ noise, despite there being a little part of him that hated the whole idea. “Sounds like a date. Perhaps he’s courting you and you don’t even know it.”

“Oh, I know it; he makes it all too obvious. I just don’t want to be… courted.” Florence paused, rolling her shawl in her hands. “Not by him, at least.”

Jacob’s little grin never left but there was something in his eyes as he asked: “Did you have anyone else in mind?”

Blood rocketed through her veins. She could hear it in her ears-- feel her pulse in her neck. Their gazes locked for a moment too long and his expression softened into one reminiscent of the other evening. Florence broke the moment by dragging her eyes away. “The only thing I have on my mind is alcohol; I need to relax.”

“I could help with that.” Briefly, she looked back to him only to be met with a cheeky wink. Her shawl flew through the air and landed on his face, muffling his chuckling.

“You’re terrible, Jacob.” Try as she might, she was unable to keep the dimple in her cheek away, facing away from him for a few moments so he didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her laugh. When Florence finally looked back to him, he was still grinning, now wearing her shawl like a pretty scarf. “You can stay and share some wine, if you’d like--”

“No, no. Certainly not.” He stood up, shuffling around the table to get to her. “Come on.”

She frowned, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going to drink wine and mope at home. If you want to drink, we’re going to go to the pub.”

“Jacob--”

One of his hands were already on the doorknob, tugging the door open. The other he held out toward her like an invitation. “I won’t hear it. It’ll cheer you up.”

Florence bit her cheek, arms crossed beneath her chest, unconvinced.

“I want to see you happy again-- like the other night.”

Felicity’s word from earlier echoed about her head. Jacob did only want to make her happy.

Florence’s resolve broke in the form of a tilt of her head and a little smile. “Fine.” She placed her hand in his and he helped her step out of the door. “You have to give me my shawl back.”

Jacob, closing the door behind him, hummed. “You know what?” The hand that wasn’t holding hers stroked the fabric of the shawl. “I don’t think I want to.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offence and he half-shouted when her hand came up to try to pull the damned thing from his shoulders. “Give it back to me, Jacob; that thing cost me a pound!” Florence’s words came out through laughter, drawing attention to the pair of them from people strewn about the street.

“Alright, alright! I’ll give it back--” She went to grab it again and he leant away. That gooey feeling in his centre returned when she pouted, “-- if you promise to hold my hand on the way there.”

Florence sighed. “People will talk.”

“Damn them.”

She frowned-- thoughtful. Then, honey eyes melded with hazel.

Damn them.

“Deal.” Jacob didn’t have a moment to react when she tugged it off of his shoulders and draped it over her own. “Thank you.”

He stared at her for a little too long, the beginnings of a certain smile curling at his lips. “I think it looks better on you, anyway.”

Florence gave a little grin, unable to keep the red twinge away from her ears.

Their fingers stayed interlocked for the short journey there and Florence, it seemed, had underestimated how much more it made her love him--

Like him.

She only liked him.

[hannigramfanfic]

The Pearls in the Sand Collection ( First Story) by Unknownmusing and Vintagefloof

Kiss Me, Hold Me, Taste Me, Fuck Me

UnknownMusing, VintageFloof

Summary:

Will discovers when left alone in Hannibal’s office that the man has a secret. He decides to explore it by becoming a new admirer of the Chesapeake Ripper called “Pearl-Lace,” leaving little presents for Hannibal at every crime scene.

Chapter 1: The Special Box

The box, creme white with a black ribbon tied around it, lies beneath some drawings Hannibal had done long ago. Gently, a pair of hands reach within and extracts it from its hiding place. They place the box on the desk in the soft sunlight which streams through a gap in the curtains.

Sea bluish-green eyes stare at it. A hand lifts the lid carefully and places it to one side. What lies within is a sight that surprises. Fingertips lightly brush the La Perla lace thongs, knickers, tights, and a blue ribbon.

Taking a deep breath and calming his heart rate, a conspiratorial smile slowly spreads across Will Graham’s face. It was time to plan a date with…..the Chesapeake Ripper.

Chapter 2: The Box’s Purpose

Summary:

The deep shade of crimson lipstick is slowly applied to fine, smooth, kissable lips as maroon eyes keep glancing in the mirror to make sure nothing goes wrong. 

Over the top lip, until it is completely covered, then the bottom lip. Then gently purse them together to ensure both are fully covered.

Pleased with the outcome, Hannibal Lecter rises slowly from the ornate chair close to the makeup table. He walks across the plush carpet in the room that no one else knows about and picks up the white creme box with the black ribbon on it. 

After taking out the La Perla collection, Hannibal calmly slips the lace thongs on with simple practiced ease, followed by the clip-on tights. He smooths them so they don’t get wrinkled and reaches for the final item - the light sea bluish-green ribbon. 

Chapter 3: A Body Lying Among Rose, Deadly Nightshade and Sakura Blossom Petals

Hannibal Lecter, exhausted and sated from a euphoric night of hunting, lies under the soft silk covers of the large king size bed, nude as the day he was born, calmly sleeping when a harsh vibrating sound chooses this inconvenient moment to shatter his peaceful sleep. 

Grumbling a Lithuanian curse, he reluctantly lifts his hand from under the soft warm covers, then reaches for the offending object. The illuminated screen of his mobile phone tells him that it is 5:34 a.m. and it is Jack Crawford calling. Pressing the answer button, he brings the phone to his ear. 

“There had better be a good explanation for this call, Jack,” Hannibal growls. 

“I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter. The Chesapeake Ripper has struck again, but with some really strange differences. I think you better come and see." 

 Hannibal finds himself tapping one hand on the leather steering wheel, trying to figure out what had Jack meant by "strange differences" as he remembers last night’s hunt and the prey he was hunting. 

The underground bar is filled with the haze of curling, writhing smoke from cigarettes, while lily-shaped lamps glow softly in ornate sconces on the walls. 

In a far corner of the bar, perched elegantly on a bar stool and sipping a glass of amber liquid, is Hannibal Lecter, unrecognisable with the crimson lipstick and gloss to make it shine - wearing a long black dress adorned with golden ginkgo leaves. 

His hair is slicked back a certain way, and teardrop earrings like droplets of blood hang from his ears, glinting in the faint light each time he moves to look for his prey. 

He finally spots a potential victim, heading up to the barmaid to order some drinks for their mates. Picking up his cigarette in the antique gold cigarette holder, Hannibal brings it up to his mouth to place between fine lips. 

The prey turns to look at him, taking in every detail of his body. Hannibal reaches into his beaded evening bag for a lighter when the flame from a very expensive lighter - indeed, he notices - soon illuminates his face for a brief moment in the darkened corner. 

Hannibal leans close to light his cigarette, flicking his gaze upwards in a certain coy way, and sees how his sweet vulnerable prey is caught between two choices - stay and talk to this lovely cross-dresser, or go back to their mates who are waiting for their thirteenth round of drinks no doubt.

"You…don’t have to go back to them. I do…get rather lonely without any company. I haven’t had any for a long time, ever since my ex treated me so badly for…what I do,” Hannibal purrs out, low and seductive, reaching for the prey’s hand and stroking it lightly with his fingertips. The flirty gesture makes them look down, then back up at Hannibal again. 

“Do you have a name?” they ask him, making him smile softly. With a wave, Hannibal invites them to sit down on the empty stool next to him.

“You can call me…Nimue,” he replies, placing his hand over theirs, already imagining the perfect tableau for them. 

Coming out of the memory, Hannibal pulls the car into a free space close to the crime scene, seeing Will’s car parked up ahead. He breathes slowly in and out to calm his rage that someone had messed with his tableau, then unclips the seatbelt. 

Calmly he gets out of the car, closing the door before he walks ahead and sees Jack, close to the fluttering yellow police tape, arguing once again with Freddie Lounds. Price and Zeller meanwhile are hedging bets on who will win the argument. Hannibal stalks past them and approaches his tableau. 

The prey he had killed last night is still in the same place against the riverbank.

But not in the position he had put it in. 

Instead it has been laid out in a hollow which has been dug for it. Scattered around the prey are many flower petals - roses, deadly nightshade and sakura blossom. 

The hands of his prey have been arranged to suggest they were morbidly enticing someone to come nearer to them and embrace them. The head was turned at a certain angle to bare the pale expanse of throat and one blood red teardrop earring. 

Hannibal recognises it as one of his own. When the prey had tried to escape, they slapped him across the face, causing the earring to come flying off to land in the darkened alleyway somewhere in the shadows. 

It seems someone had found it and used it. 

But…who? 

  Chapter 4: Watching from Afar at What the Ripper Does to Catch His Prey

Pearl-Lace/Will’s P.O.V: 

The underground bar is filled with wreathing smoke that curls and wisps in the environment as I slowly descend the steps leading down to it, seeing Hannibal sitting in the far corner of the bar. 

He is beautiful. Those soft kissable lips of his outlined by the cherry lipstick, crimson teardrop earrings dangling from his ears, then finally the black dress with golden ginkgo leaves on it. 

I’m wearing a lime green dress that splits at the thighs and has a fragile lace piece attached to a ornate choker that also becomes sleeves right down to the hands. Underneath is the corset I had bought after discovering Hannibal’s secret in the drawer in his office. 

I want to go up to him. But instead I head to a corner booth after ordering a glass of absinthe. Carrying it, I walk silently past a bunch of young men who are about to get their possibly thirteenth round of drinks - or maybe not, as Hannibal seductively flirts with their friend. 

One of them manages a quick slap on my ass, making me throw him a slightly peeved look, then wink flirtatiously at him as I head to my seat. 

If Hannibal had seen me, he might have recognised me. But this get-up was my alter ego and something I had wanted to do since I was seventeen years old and living with my father, who had also been a drag queen in his time. 

Mother had quelled all of that by burning his drag queen outfits out in the garden. She was ashamed of what her hoity-toity friends would think if they discovered her husband’s “shameful and disgusting secret,” as she called it. 

I come out of that memory, seeing how Hannibal has enticed the prey to sit down next to him. They begin to chat among themselves. 

I take sip of the absinthe, jealousy and anger surging in my veins when the prey reaches out to place a hand on one of Hannibal’s thighs. They then slip it upwards under the dress, the brazen action causing Hannibal to give a slight hitched gasp. 

They move their hand a little more, making Hannibal lean into them to breathlessly whisper in their ear something I don’t hear. They soon rise from their seats and saunter towards the exit.

I follow them both outside into the cold air, seeing how the prey keeps on incessantly fondling Hannibal, who is still managing to keep up the act as the hand between his thighs feels through the fine lace La Perla panties I can see peeking out slightly from the dress. 

Hannibal soon grabs hold of them to haul them into a darkened alleyway where I silently follow.

I soon stop short when I see Hannibal slammed face first up against the brick wall as the prey starts to rip the dress apart. Hannibal lets loose with a warning snarl. 

I see a glint of something in Hannibal’s hand, silver and metallic, followed by him stabbing into their side, dragging the curved devil’s claw knife downwards to rip the flesh apart at the same time the prey looks at him in shock and surprise as crimson rivulets begin to stream down either side of their mouth. 

I want to step closer to take hold of Hannibal. Pull him back to me and kiss him heavily, smearing both our lipsticks - lime sea bluish-green mixing with cherry crimson. 

I want to be the one to hunt with him, instead of watching from afar. But for I now I must. 

This prey will also soon be my design. 

My courting gift to him. 

Along with a poem wrapped in lace and a pearl on top. 

Chapter 5: Remembering the Hunt Last Night as the Body of One’s Prey is Observed

Hannibal Lecter’s Memory Palace is vast, with memories and places like Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore  in Florence, Italy ingrained into it so that every time he sinks into a deep sense of calm, that is where he goes. 

It is where he is at the moment, exploring the memory of the hunt last night.

The underground bar is filled with the haze of curling, writhing smoke from cigarettes, while lily-shaped lamps glow softly in ornate scones on the walls.

In a far corner of the bar, perched elegantly on a stool and sipping a glass of amber liquid, Hannibal Lecter – unrecognisable with the crimson lipstick and gloss to make it shine – wears a long black dress with light golden ginkgo leaves on it.

His hair is slicked back a certain way, and teardrop earrings like droplets of blood hang from his ears. They glint in the faint light each time he moves to look for the Prey . He finally spots them heading up to the barmaid to order some drinks for their mates. Picking up his cigarette in an antique gold cigarette holder, Hannibal brings it to his mouth to place it between fine lips.

The Prey turns to look at him, taking in every detail of his body. Hannibal reaches into his beaded evening bag to retrieve his lighter, when the flame from a very expensive lighter - indeed, he notices - soon illuminates his face for a brief moment in the darkened corner of the bar. He leans close to light his cigarette, flicking his gaze upwards in a certain coy way, and sees how the Prey is torn between two choices - stay to talk to this strange cross-dresser, or go back to his mates, who are waiting for their thirteenth round of drinks no doubt.

“You…don’t have to go back to them. I do…get rather lonely without any company. I haven’t had any for a very long time, ever since my ex treated me so badly for…what I do,” Hannibal says, reaching for the Prey’s hand and stroking it flirtatiously with his fingertips, making them look down, then back up again at him.

“Do you have a name?” they ask him, making him smile softly. With a wave, Hannibal invites them to sit down on the empty stool next to him.

“You can…call me….Nimue,” he replies, placing his hand over theirs, already imagining the perfect tableau for them.

The Prey is oblivious, even when they stumble into an alleyway with Hannibal being slammed face first up against the brick wall. Hannibal slowly unfolds the small but deadly devil’s claw knife in his free hand. He feels their slobbering mouth, stinking with alcohol, press against his ear as they tear at his dress and growl with disgust:

“I think after I fuck your faggot hole raw, bitch, I’ll just leave you in this alleyway with my cum and your blood running down the inside of your thighs. You’d enjoy that…cockslut.”

They have not sensed it. Hannibal whirls around with a snarl, stabbing into their side, causing a muffled grunt of shock and surprise to come from the Prey who pulls back with blood starting to seep out of their mouth and trickle down the sides of their lips. Then he twists it more effectively, slicing upwards to split the skin apart – like fabric being ripped apart at the seam.

“Hush now. Hush now. Don’t worry. I’ll take…care of you. I promise. And I always…keep my promises.”

  Afterwards he is back in the bar, pretend-weeping as he tells the Prey’s mates what their supposed friend had tried to do to him. He hears shocked and sickened exclamations of disgust while they all insist on escorting him home so it doesn’t happen again.

Hannibal politely declines their offer and allows them to kiss his cheeks lightly, while one of them, Anthony Dimmond – who is leaving tomorrow for Florence - gives him his handkerchief to wipe away the trails of mascara which have stained his fine cheekbones.

He does allow Dimmond to help him walk up the stairs of the underground bar into the cold night air, where the first snowflakes have started to spiral down. Pulling the soft fake fur coat closer around him and the now-tattered dress, he allows the not-Will to walk him to his car.

Dimmond says nothing, only gives him a light kiss on the lips and pushes away the hand attempting to return the handkerchief, indicating Hannibal may keep it.

Hannibal does.

There is now a heated discussion in the morgue room between Price and Zeller, discussing the best way to open the body carefully and gently, as Hannibal, still deep in his Memory Palace , slowly comes out of the Memory.

 If anyone were to look at him, they would just think he was bored and would rather be somewhere else.

Not understanding the concept of what a Memory Palace was.

“Okay, we delicately take the light blue thread out, then get to the other stuff as they watch,” Zeller says, followed by Price rolling his eyes and bringing over what they need to start opening the body.

A cracking noise, followed by a gasp of “What the hell…is this?!!” coming from both Price and Zeller, make Hannibal fully aware of what is happening in reality. He heads over to see, nestled where the heart lies, a special kind of paper wrapped up in…..soft lace.

It is, however, what has been placed on top of it that sets his heart thrumming at a dizzying pace, threatening to escape his rib cage – a pearl, gleaming white, and a real one.

His mother had once told him, before she had been brutally murdered in front of his and his sister Mischa’s eyes, that pearls were a Courting Gift, and someone would one day, when he was older, give them to him – one at different times – until the very last one.

Slipping on a pair of gloves, he carefully takes the lace-wrapped paper and the pearl out of the gaping chest cavity and carries them over to place them in a metal tray as Jack, who has come into the large morgue area, walks over to have a look as well. Placing his hands on the lace, Hannibal unwraps it and gently smooths out the paper, revealing a poem that has been written for him by this secret Admirer of his.

Your heart is aflutter no doubt

Like the soft stirring of butterfly wings as it begins to stretch them out

In the soft morning light

I saw you from afar

So beautiful, hauntingly so

I ache for you

By just thinking of kissing those soft lips of yours

Wondering how they would feel against mine

My gift to you…is my Pearl

And there will be more to come

Until they become a necklace for you

A necklace to show off your inner Aphrodite within yourself

My sweet Ripper

—————————————

Chapter 6: The Gift Given in Reply to the Gift One Had Left for the Ripper

A vibrating, humming noise makes Will shift in his sleep, pleasantly dreaming of what had happened in the alleyway, with the added bonus of grabbing Hannibal to kiss him so heavily their lipstick had soon smeared together.

It vibrates again, this time more incessantly, making him flick his eyes open. Rising up slightly like a feline stretching, he reaches for his phone and sees it is Jack calling him.

Had the Ripper already replied to his Gift within the body of their Prey?

His thumb hovering in anticipation, Will answers it and brings the phone to his ear. He hears shouting, followed by Jack shouting something back, followed by Jack sighing heavily.

“Will, it’s him. You need to get down here.”

“Where?”

“Baltimore - the old toy factory.”

“All right. I’ll be there.”

Jack cuts off, leaving Will to lie there looking up at the ceiling, smiling softly at the fact that Hannibal had managed to make sure Pearl-Lace got a gift back from the Ripper so quickly.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he gets up and slowly heads to the bathroom, passing the seven snoozing dogs – Winston, Buster, Cria, Yui, Kisto, Hanto, Yukish – and then looks at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Pearl-Lace, hidden beneath his skin, appears in the mirror for a brief moment. Leaning close, Will places his lips against the cold glass over the reflection, feeling the coldness of it against them.

In his mind he is imagining a different pair of lips brushing against his – Hannibal’s lips.

  When Will finally reaches the crime scene, he parks his car close to Jack’s large Land Rover and then just sits there, looking at the sight in front of him. He feels his heart start to thud against his rib cage.

The Gift.

One that has been given to him by Hannibal.

Unfastening his seat belt, he gets out the car and heads over to Jack, who is waiting impatiently for him. Willing his heart to stop thudding against his rib cage, he looks at the circular tent which has been erected by Hannibal. Placing a gloved hand on one of the curtains, he pulls it back slightly to look within.

Two bodies are displayed in the pose of “The Kiss” by Klimt. Will sees how Hannibal has placed the bodies in such an intimate way. He knows he will have to up the ante in his own gifts to the man he is courting.

Will knows that if they are ever discovered and Hannibal is arrested by Jack, people will say they are in Love and Freddie Lounds will have a field day writing articles about it on TattleCrime’s website.

It was Love.

The kind that only he and Hannibal understood, because the older man can see potential in him. He steps closer, seeing, hidden from sight, that the two bodies have been stitched together. He waits for the rest of the forensics team to leave when Jack gives the order.

He soon closes his eyes, allowing the golden pendulum to swing once, twice and finally a third time, dragging him into the crime scene.

You gave me a gift, Pearl-Lace.

 I return the favour by giving you one back in a way that I know you will appreciate. I choose two Prey who are suited to this Tableau of mine, and after taking what I need, place them in the pose of my intention.

I stitch them together with black thread, sewing them to become entwined like Klimt’s “The Kiss,” and stepping back to admire my work, wish you were with me.

Holding me from behind to stabilise me.

This is my Design.

This is my Gift to you

Chapter Management

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Chapter 7: Invited to a Dinner Party by the Ripper, Where Intense Fiery Passion Arises

Summary:

UnknownMusing sez: 100% Smut and just Smut, then later of course the dinner party. But Smut first, then a little bit of dinner party, followed by…mehh…more Smut.

Blame Purplesocrates, my Smut Hannigram Queen and metaphorical Sister.

VintageFloof sez: Hope you’re wearing asbestos knickers

Chapter Text

The letter with Hannibal’s elegant handwriting arrives on Friday, just as Will is returning from taking the dogs out for a long-needed walk. Picking the envelope up from the porch, he allows them to go in ahead of him.

He looks at his name carefully written on the thick creme-colored envelope in fancy Elizabethan script, and his heart begins to flutter in his chest. Heading over to the old rocking chair on the porch, he sits down to slit it open and begins to read, hearing Hannibal’s smoky voice in his mind as he does so.

Dear Will,

I would appreciate your company at a dinner party at my home this Saturday night at 7:00. You need only bring yourself and no one else. Although I anticipate that you and I will desire some time alone together later in the evening, I have also invited Jack Crawford and his wife to the table, along with Alana Bloom and an old colleague of mine, Dr. Donald Sutcliffe, who informs me he is bringing a guest with him.

Hannibal

Will smiles softly at Hannibal’s signature, written with a flourish of the pen in his inimitable style. Will sits back in the rocking chair, still smiling, heart thudding quietly, his gaze unfocused and his thoughts drifting. He is soon brought back down to earth, however, as Winston, Buster, Cria, Yui, Kisto, Hanto, and Yukish insist it’s past their dinner time.

Each dog receives a generous bowlful of Will’s specially prepared homemade dog food, along with many pets and skritches. While the dogs enjoy their dinner, Will goes to the living room and places the letter in the bottom of his chest of drawers, underneath a black box with a crimson ribbon wrapped around it.

    Saturday night arrives with a slow gentle ease, like the opening strains of a waltz, as Will eases into the driveway of Hannibal’s house. Standing on the stone front steps, looking impossibly, effortlessly handsome, is the man himself, waiting for his guests.

Will is glad he is the first to arrive and not the last. It would be rude of him to be last and late. He pulls up neatly beside Hannibal’s car, then nervously smooths down his black leather trousers and wonders what the older man would think if he knew Will was Pearl-Lace.

That underneath his clothes he is wearing La Perla “Crimson Night” lace panties and tights with suspenders on them. Around his throat he is wearing a maroon ribbon choker; his legs are adorned in high-heeled lace-up boots that his father had sent him for his thirty-first birthday.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Will gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. He smiles as he nears the steps and gets a better look at Hannibal, who he sees is wearing diamond studded earrings. Will wonders if underneath the man is wearing one of his many lingerie collections. He ascends the stone steps, his eyes locked on Hannibal’s and his smile growing wider.

“Will, you look….utterly divine,” Hannibal breathes, stepping close to him on high-heeled shoes. He leans close to Will, inhaling deeply the delicate perfume Will had chosen to wear.

Will hears in the process a soft breathless moan – so faint it sounds like a gentle breeze ruffling the tops of the trees.

“I aim to make sure….I provide nourishment for those who like to look at me, Hannibal,” Will says, flirting seductively while wishing that Hannibal would just grab him around the hips to pull him close and smash his lips into his.

Followed by dragging him inside and upstairs where, after cancelling the dinner party, they could thoroughly ravage each other in pleasure and ecstasy on dark blue silken sheets decorated with gold ginkgo leaves.

“Is that……Peach Blossom Sin….you’re wearing, Will?” the older man asks him, stepping closer. Their chests are touching now. Tilting his head back slightly to expose his throat, Will sees how Hannibal licks his lips to wet them at the sight of pale, unmarked skin.

“Why? Do you like it or would you prefer what I get for Christmas?” he teases, suddenly feeling Hannibal grab hold of him to pull him into the house, closing the double doors behind them both. He lifts Will up in his strong arms and slams him against the wall, next to (in Will’s mind, but he is barely thinking at the moment) a hideous, odious painting. The impact of Will hitting the wall sends the questionable work of art crashing to the floor, the glass of the frame emitting a tinkling smash as it breaks into a million pieces.

Will’s hands are seized around his wrists and lifted up to be pinned above his head, where he feels a macabre Gothic candle holder – empty – attached to the wall. A wicked idea begins to form in his mind. Looking up at Hannibal, he sees the man is thinking the same thing. Will hears the clink of a belt being unbuckled, his rapt gaze never leaving Hannibal’s, followed by the belt’s smooth leather being wrapped around his wrists and the rest wound around the Gothic candle holder. The older man lowers his head, maroon eyes dark with passion and want. He wraps his arms around Will, presses him close, and kisses him heavily.

Will kisses back, flicking his tongue over soft, kissable lips. Hannibal accepts the admittance asked for, opening his mouth to allow Will to probe it deeply with his tongue – feeling the enticingly sharp canine teeth, which could easily rip out his own throat or someone else’s, for that matter. Sparks of danger and desire shoot through Will’s blood as they begin to grind their hips into each other, tongues still entwined and breaths growing heavy and hot. One of Hannibal’s large hands slowly slides down to caress Will’s beautiful ass, supple and smooth beneath black leather.

Saliva is exchanged and trickles down the side of their mouths. Through the fog of his desire, Hannibal realizes that exciting as it is to have Will’s hands bound, he would much prefer to have them on his body. Without breaking the kiss, the arm around Will’s back reaches up blindly and releases his wrists from their bond. The passionate kisses continue as hands fumble clumsily to undo trousers. Breathless sighs and moans fill the air, while Will strokes Hannibal through the soft lace panties he wears, feeling the outline of how large, throbbing and pulsating the older man is.

“The….things you do to me, Will. The….way you make me feel. It’s like wicked tongues of flame are caressing me from within and making me so….hot and aching for you,” Hannibal pants out, between kisses, rocking his hips into Will’s hand that cups him.

Hannibal reluctantly breaks the kiss and tilts his head back to breathe. He shudders heavily with a soft breathless moan at the debauched look he sees on the younger man’s flushed face. He slips downwards to place Will’s thighs in the crooks of his arms. Kneeling almost reverently, he pulls the leather trousers further apart and down a bit more with his teeth. His eyes widen and his brain scrambles as he sees the lace panties Will is wearing.

So this is Will’s secret as well.

He leans close, caressing the lace-covered bulge with his lips and upwards to where pearls of pre-cum are beginning to seep from the tip of Will’s cock, soaking through the lace fabric. Hannibal extends his hungry tongue and licks upwards, causing a hitched gasp to come from Will and soon the loud ecstatic cry of his name - “Hannibal!!!”

The taste of Will is like the sweetest ambrosia. Placing his teeth against the lace, he rips it to fully expose Will’s beautiful cock. He then bends his sleek head between Will’s thighs, tasting him intimately. The hallway near the dining room is soon filled with soft moans and breathless gasps that become music to his ears.

A symphony of pleasure and ecstasy.

  Will can still feel the chemical endorphins of sexual arousal running through him, even when he now sits to Hannibal’s right, across from Alana. Next to him are Jack with Bella, and across from them sit Dr. Sutcliffe and a young man called Matthew Brown.

Hannibal is busy in the kitchen, applying the final touches to the dinner he has made. Picking up the glass of fine wine, Will takes a sip to calm himself. Hannibal soon appears, bearing the plates of food for the first course.

“That smells amazing, Hannibal. What is it?” he hears Jack ask. Hannibal replies, “For the first course, oysters in gelée, a dish I was taught by a French cook in Paris when I was very young. Though some would consider the oyster to be… an aphrodisiac. Young men in ancient Greece believed it…spurred their sexual desire.”

 Laughter fills the dining room, while Will flicks his gaze up to Hannibal when the man places his plate down in front of him. They are so close he could lean up, right in front of everyone, to pull the older man into a heart-stopping kiss.

Hannibal moves away, breaking that spell, to sit down himself, after unbuttoning the bottom button of his waistcoat. Knowing it is rude of him to start eating without the older man’s permission, Will takes one of the oyster shells, staring at the viscous fluid of the meat topped with tiny cubes of aspic. He brings it to his lips, tips it down to swallow the meat.

He can feel maroon eyes watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Lowering the oyster shell back down on the plate, he sees how Hannibal is smiling as he brings his own up, doing the same.

Soon chatter and laughter fills the dining room, while the oysters are either left or devoured by the gracious guests. More wine is poured.

“So, Mrs. Crawford, are you an Annabelle or an Isabella?” Will hears Hannibal ask Jack’s wife – who he can see is not eating at all – and she smiles softly at him.

“A Phyllis. Only Jack calls me Bella,” she replies, making Jack tell the story of how he met her in Florence, Italy, when she was working for NATO. The Italian men would call out “Bella, bella!”(beautiful!) as she walked down the city streets, so he wanted her to be his.

They married a few days later.

Their wedding day had been a beautiful day for them both.

As he is taking another sip of wine, Will suddenly notices, out of the corner of his eye, that Matthew Brown seems to be watching Hannibal with a kind of curiosity. Will leans close to Hannibal, who turns his face slightly to acknowledge him.

“Would you like some help to bring the main course through?” Will whispers, making sure his lips are close enough to Hannibal’s ear to make him give a subtle shiver at the feel of his hot breath on his cheek.

The older man nods, getting up to take away the empty dishes and clear the table for the main course. Heading through to the kitchen, he can feel Will’s burning gaze on his back. Jealous, no doubt, at what he had seen.

    The large kitchen of Hannibal’s home is quiet and peaceful, with a marble kitchen island in the center to accommodate any produce brought in from the herb and vegetable plot outside.

Going up to the double doors that lead out onto the porch and into the back garden, Will can see the shadow of a tall sakura blossom tree near a pond, with small Japanese spirit shrines close to it. Large clever hands wrap around his waist, pulling him back flush against a warm chest.

“The meat will spoil,” Will says quietly, feeling Hannibal nuzzle his nose softly against his cheek and up to his ear to whisper, “There is… a better dish in front of me I would rather savour.” He is turned around to face the older man, who begins to slowly walk backwards, pulling him along until they reach the island.

“Tell me or show me,” Will hears himself saying to Hannibal.

With a quirk of his eyebrow and a half-smile on his lips, Hannibal gracefully turns his back to him and calmly unbuckles his belt. He slips his suit trousers down and off to reveal the fine lace thong and tights, then bends over the polished marble surface to present himself.

Will almost forgets how to breathe at the sight. He slowly walks over and places the palm of his trembling hand on the dip of Hannibal’s spine, feeling the stays of a fine corset. Hauling the older man up – after slipping his own trousers down and off – he unbuttons the fine black waistcoat and the crimson shirt.

Hannibal helps him to slip them off, allowing them to fall to the kitchen floor with a muffled thump. A hand comes up to take hold of the back of Will’s head to sift through his curls, and he unbuttons his own shirt, chucking it to the armchair in the far corner of the kitchen. They fall once again into passionate kisses, savouring the taste of the oysters and rich wine.

Soft wanton moans and heavy breathless panting are coming from them both, while Will remembers that just next door the rest of the dinner party are waiting for the main course – lambs’ hearts in hot sauce, with root vegetables and sweet baby potatoes – and could possibly hear them.

Hannibal, though, doesn’t seem to care about being overheard and releases Will’s lips, a strand of saliva still connecting their lips together. Will gently turns him to face the island, and Hannibal assumes his previous position, heart pounding in anticipation. A warm hand slipping into the confines of his lace thong from behind makes Hannibal tilt his head back and gasp softly.

Fingers already coated in lube (Will had a small bottle tucked away in his inside blazer pocket) rub against his puckered entrance, spreading the lube and teasing gently. The fingers soon press inwards and Will begins to scissor and stretch, as evidence of his arousal, covered by his fine lace panties, presses against Hannibal’s thigh.

Hannibal presses back against the hand, rocking his magnificent ass slowly back and forth, feeling the fingers reach deep inside to rub the wee gland within that makes him gasp and clench around them. Finally they slip out, making him feel bereft of the loss.

After removing his lace undies, Will pulls Hannibal up again and leads him to the narrow end of the island, patting the marble surface with an insouciant smile to indicate Hannibal should hop up and lie down. Hannibal, who would normally be absolutely scandalized by the mere thought of having sex in the kitchen, much less on a food-preparing surface, obeys without hesitation. His breathing stutters as Will lifts his legs onto his shoulders, still covered in the elegant tights. They gaze at one another for what seems like an eternity, the anticipation of this moment holding them in its thrall. Hannibal’s eyes drift closed as Will caresses his thighs. He loses track of time for a moment, only to bite his bottom lip as a long, breathless moan threatens to escape when he feels Will push aside the lace that lies over his slicked and stretched entrance, and slowly begin to slide the head of his cock inside. Will continues to sink into him until he is fully sheathed within.

Will shudders heavily when he feels himself now within Hannibal’s tight, warm insides. Willing his heart to stop thudding against his rib cage, he slowly and gently begins to undulate his hips back and forth. Hannibal grasps the sides of the island, wanting to keep gazing into the wicked depths of Will’s ocean blue eyes, but pleasure overtakes him. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes in bliss, gasping and grunting softly with each thrust.

Will pulls back slightly to look down each time he slides his cock in and out of the warm, clenching, tight and hot rim of Hannibal’s ass, mesmerized by the sight. He is pulled down into a breathless kiss by Hannibal, who is flushed, sweating and looking utterly debauched.

 They are well on the way to losing themselves in fiery passion and ecstasy.

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Chapter 8: The Morning After the Dinner Party

Summary:

Authors’ Note – The rest of the chapters will be written in Hannibal and Will’s P.O.V.

Chapter Text

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Sunlight filters through a gap in the ink blue curtains of my bedroom to shine a shaft of light down onto the large king size bed as I softly flutter my eyes open, basking for moment in the warmth. I smile sleepily at the still-dozing form of Will Graham under the covers. We are both nude.

He looks peaceful and calm. No nightmare at the moment to disturb his sleep. I hear him give a small “Hmm,” followed by his arms reaching out for me. I allow him to pull me close to him. Sea bluish-green eyes open to look up at me and he smiles, still hazy with sleep, causing me to bend my head down to kiss him lightly.

Our lips gently move against each other. He changes position each time to deepen the kiss, then pulls back to bury his face into the crook of my neck, wrapping his arms around me to hold me close.

“It feels good being in your ar…Oh god!!!? The dogs!!!?” Suddenly panicked, he remembers his dogs have been waiting for him all night back in Wolf Trap. He scrambles out of bed; I pull him back to stop him from going further.

“Will, calm yourself. I brought them here while you were asleep and placed them in the large kennel I have outside,” I reassure him, leading him over to the window to show him the outdoor kennel in the garden.

 Seeing him smile at the sight of all seven dogs napping in the sun and enjoying themselves brings an unaccustomed warmth to my heart. I snake my arms around his waist from behind, nuzzling into his hair as my cock begins to rise against his breathtakingly exquisite ass.

“You…I don’t what to say,” Will breathes, surprised and amazed I had performed such a task for him. He turns in my arms to face me, smiling, while I lift him up and lay him on his back on the window seat. Licking my lips, I stroke his cheek lightly with my thumb.

“I want to make love to you. May I?” I ask him. His bright eyes and wide smile are my answer. I quickly retrieve the bottle of lube from the bedside table. Like the mischievous imp he is, he grins and snatches it from my hand, dangling it in front of my face for a moment before uncapping it and pouring some of the stuff into the palm of his hand. He slowly rubs his palms together as he looks up at me from underneath those beautiful eyelashes.

“Come here, Hannibal,” he purrs, beckoning me closer. I eagerly obey. He slips a slicked-up hand downwards, causing me to arch slightly at the touch of his hand on me. With great difficulty I resist the urge to thrust my hips forward as he strokes me from where pre-cum is already forming small white pearls at the tip, to down below, cupping me in a certain way that drives me wild. I have to place both hands on the glass window to stabilise myself.

His knees drawn up, the other hand is busy between his own thighs, prepping himself for me. He moans heavily, baring his neck in the process, then breathes out “Enter me, Hannibal.” Moving his hands away and kneeling before him on the window seat, I enter him with a single thrust of my hips.

A breathless hitched moan escapes Will’s lovely mouth. He wraps his legs around my waist and I hover so very close above him, my hands on either side of his head as he grips my arms and looks into my eyes with an expression of adoration. I begin to thrust into him, slow and hard. He rocks his hips in tandem with mine, his lovely hard cock caught between us, as I watch every expression and movement he makes.

The way he gasps breathlessly, lips parted in soft moans and cries of pleasure. The arch of his spine off the soft fabric of the window seat. His hands on my ass, desperately pulling me deeper and deeper inside him.

Tensing my muscles, I speed up slightly as I begin to feel the pressure building within me coming to a climax. I press my forehead against Will’s, staring into the depths of his eyes as he whispers my name like a prayer.

It hits so suddenly. I find myself arching my back heavily, distantly feeling Will tighten his thighs around my waist as I cry out his name over and over, whiteness clouding my vision.

I manage to block out every external sound around me, except for the beating of my heart within my rib cage and every beautiful sound coming from Will’s lips. Every fibre of my being tenses as I slowly release my seed into him – filling his warm, tight, clenching insides with it. With a strangled cry Will reaches his own climax, tossing his head back as thick white ropes shoot out to decorate our abdomens and chests.

Euphoric is the only word I can think of to describe my emotions during this time.

  Breakfast at the dinner table is a simple meal of fluffy scrambled eggs, sausages and sliced baby tomatoes that we share together on one plate, giving the excuse that it spares us the bother of washing two dishes. The real reason, of course, is to enjoy one another’s closeness and warmth.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Will comments, looking out the dining room double door windows. Grinning, he turns his face back to me. “Come and walk the dogs with me, Hannibal, please?” he pleads so sweetly, making those (ironically) puppy dog eyes that I simply cannot resist. I glance through the window at the seven dogs, now released from their kennel, lounging on the porch waiting for a walk.

“Anything for you, mylimasis,” I say, smiling back at him and getting up to clear the table. I find myself swaying my hips as I walk, just to hear his gentle laughter fill the dining room. “You’re such a diva, Hannibal.”

Yes. But I’m your diva and no one else’s.  

  Walking the seven dogs - Winston, Buster, Cria, Yui, Kisto, Hanto, and Yukish – with Will’s arm in mine as we stroll down the forest path together, feeling him clasp his hand in mine, feels peaceful and beautiful.

“What are you thinking about?” Will asks me, when with my free hand I throw a stick for the dogs to go after, listening to their excited yips and barking.

“Nothing that concerns you, dear Will. Just happiness that you’re here with me,” I reply, turning to face him. I lean forwards and rest my forehead against his, aching to say the words.

But they don’t come out. Instead I capture his lips with mine to distract him from asking me about the silence, and try not to feel like I am slowly being led into a snare.

Who was luring me, though?

Will, or Jack?

Or someone else, hidden in the shadows?

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Chapter 9: Another Courting Gift, Another Poem, and an Encounter at the Opera

Summary:

Hannibal receives another gift from Pearl-Lace, and has an erotic encounter at the opera while in his Miss Nimue persona.

Chapter Text

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Monday is a busy day of appointments with my patients. I calmly allow poor, neurotic, bumbling Franklyn Froideveaux to leave through the back door of my office as he tries hard not to burst into tears.

I tolerate him for a reason. He sees me as someone he could talk to about his friend Tobias Budge – one of the violinists of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra - who had recently been acting strangely.

“Dr. Lecter…umm….thank you,” Franklyn says. Just before I move to close the door, he wrings his chubby hands in his handkerchief and tries to catch my eye, as though he wants to say something else.

“Yes, Franklyn? What is it?” I ask politely. He reaches into his suit pocket and hands me a flyer for the Baltimore Concert Opera, which I see is presenting “Carmen” tonight only . Franklyn gives a small smile.

“I saw it and…thought maybe you might be interested. It’s on tonight only, I’m afraid, and leaves for…Okinawa, Japan tomorrow. I’ve already got tickets thanks to Tobias,” he says, sighing heavily at his friend’s name. A knock on my front office door makes me turn my head to look up at the grandfather clock.

“Same time next week, as usual, Franklyn,” I tell him. He nods nervously in reply and heads off, leaving me alone with the flyer in my hand. Closing the door silently, I head over to my desk as another knock, more insistent this time, is heard at the front door.

Smoothing down my suit and waistcoat, I almost wish it were Will in the waiting room. I stroke my neck lightly where, hidden under my shirt, is the first pearl from Pearl-Lace on the sea bluish-green lace ribbon that I had made into a choker. I can feel the smoothness of it through the fabric.

No one had noticed when I had been close to my own kill in the Behavioral Science Unit that I had come back to take the evidence – the pearl and the poem wrapped in fine lace. Moving to the door, I calmly open it.

The waiting room is empty. Before I can step out of my office, I see a large lingerie box wrapped in crimson ribbon on the floor before me. I bend down to pick it up, carry it into my office and close the door. I endeavor to remain calm. I am only partially successful.

I place the box on my desk, untying the ribbon and placing it to one side. Lifting the lid reveals a lovely, long, sea-bluish green dress that seems to shimmer in the dim office lights as I lift it slowly from the box. Delicate silver ferns embossed upon it provide the shimmer. Entranced, I head into the bathroom with the box and slip off my clothing.

At last I am standing nude, the lace ribbon choker around my neck the only thing adorning my body. Under the tissue paper that had cradled the dress are more surprises - crème white stockings with light blue bows around the edges; a corset that laces from the front, the same colour as the the dress; and resting on top of them, the most thrilling of all - two pearls this time, and a poem, wrapped in lace.

Ripper

At night…..I imagine your touch on my bare skin

Fingertips delicately caressing like a butterfly feeling flowers to look for nectar

Your lips…..outlined in crimson and shining like….blood in the moonlight

Predator that you are

Your body…..strong and sleek like that of a panther

You neither hide nor run

I’ve…watched you….

Thought only of….touching you

Holding you against me

While we writhe entwined…..on soft silk sheets or upon a bed of rose petals

Do you not feel the same for me?

Wouldn’t you want to hold me?

Taste me?

Fill me to the point where everything begins to… blur at the edges?

I ache for you.

Do you not ache for me?

Pearl-Lace

    “Who is that?”

“Amazing!!!”

“That can’t be….Dr. Hannibal Lecter, can it?!!”

“No, I think that is Mrs. Komeda’s friend, Miss Nimue.”

“Oh.”

Whispers like snakes slithering over each other to keep warm reach my ears from other patrons attending tonight’s performance as I calmly descend the curved white marble stairs to the large main ballroom of Baltimore’s Engineers Club in the fashionable Mount Vernon district.

Here everyone waits before the opera starts. I am wearing the sea bluish-green dress adorned with silver ferns. My old friend Mrs. Komeda, one of the very few who knows of Nimue’s existence, catches my eye and is delighted to see me “in my element.” She comes to me, smiling and laughing, taking my hand and pulling me into her circle of friends.

I am introduced to them – Mr. Anthony Dimmond, who is glad to see Nimue doing much better than the last time he saw her; a man I already know, Mr. Andrew Caldwell – an independent medical examiner - and finally, a newcomer I have not seen before.

“Now…this is Erisa Ereshkigal,” Mrs Komeda says, introducing the person next to her. I nod politely, murmuring a greeting. My eyes drift to a figure standing a short distance away, their back to me. They seem strangely familiar, even though I cannot see their face. Perhaps they sense my gaze, for they turn to face me fully, revealing to my startled eyes….Will! Or is it Will? With their hairless face, makeup skillfully but rather heavily applied, and chocolate curls in an insouciant up-do, it is difficult to tell. The ocean blue eyes resemble Will’s, at least, and they observe me looking at this new creature strangely.

“You look pale, Nimue. Is everything all right?” Mrs. Komeda asks. I turn my gaze away from Will-or-not-Will in consternation, about to answer her, when a hand slips around my waist and settles on my hip, causing me to stiffen slightly.

“I’m sure Nimue is fine, Mrs. Komeda,” a gentle voice says in reply, causing me to turn my head. Somehow I know that standing beside me, softly smiling with an arm draped protectively around me, is…my secret admirer Pearl-Lace.

They are wearing a soft shimmering brown suit jacket and trousers, with purple and gold flowers stitched onto the fabric, and gold stacked-heel pumps. Beneath the jacket I can see a white blouse with lace ruffles on the collar.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I manage to get out. “Will you excuse us, please?” Mrs. Komeda nods graciously, and I head away with Pearl-Lace and walk up the flight of stairs to the second landing.

Sensing eyes watching us from down below as we do so.

  The high box.

It is quiet and still up here. I step up to the edge, placing my hands on the fabric balustrade, and look down at the large circular opera stage and the seats that will soon be filled by eager patrons of the arts.

“Have you liked my gifts?” Pearl-Lace whispers into my ear. They have come up behind me to place their hands on my hips. They slip one hand beneath the dress to cup me through the white lace thong attached to the silk crème white stockings. I would know the caress of that hand anywhere, at any time.

“You mean…gifts….ohh!….yes, I love them,” I whisper back, feeling their fingertips brush the tip of my hard, lace-covered cock where pearls of pre-cum are starting to form.

Their other hand slips down my spine, hitching the back of the dress up to reveal their Gift to me. I am soon pushed down onto the balustrade. They lean over me, their breath hot against my cheek.

Arching myself against Pearl-Lace, I look over my shoulder at them, fully aware that the lust I am feeling can be seen on my face. They cover me once more as their hand slips downwards, feeling the seam of the lace thong. After a tantalizing moment, the hand slides down within its confines and caresses my hot bare flesh.

I arch fully, spreading my legs more widely apart and keeping my palms spread on the fabric balustrade. I moan softly – hearing slight echoing around the large area where the opera would soon take place – then I am whirled around to face them. They haul me up onto the balustrade which, thankfully, has a metal railing to stop people from falling over the edge.

“Take hold of the railing with both your hands,” a command which I find myself submissively obeying, while they take a curtain tie from one of the high box curtains to tie my wrists to the railing, one crossed over the other.

When they are satisfied I cannot free myself, they take off the fine jacket to place over one of the viewing chairs. They saunter over to me, placing their hands on my thighs, and spread them wide apart. They stand between my legs and kiss me heavily, opening their trousers and letting them and their boxers drop to the floor. A slow hand reaches between both our bodies.

I hear a ripping of fabric, followed by the harsh shove of hips forwards into mine. My head tilts backward, a pleasured moan escaping me before I can stop myself – it echoes around the empty space, barely concealed by the murmur of the crowd below. Pearl-Lace leaves me no time to adjust, entering me slowly but forcefully and with no lube, jolting my body and up down with each thrust.

I writhe uncontrollably, every thrust sending ecstasy running up my spine as they slide in and out of me. I bare my neck and their hot mouth kisses, sucks and bites the pale flesh. They adjust slightly and drape themselves over me, bringing my crème stocking-clad thighs onto their shoulders, filling me so deeply it overwhelms me.

They are…..so deep…..My body….feels like I am burning up within!!!

Trembling underneath them, I suddenly hear voices. I turn my face to see, down below near the double entrance doors, Mrs. Komeda coming in with Andrew Caldwell, Anthony Dimmond – who had told me had missed his flight to Florence - and Erisa Ereshkigal.

It is at that moment when a particularly hard, intense thrust causes me to clench heavily around Pearl-Lace’s cock and give a keening wail of pleasure – which echoes all around - as my back arches heavily off the fabric balustrade.

I have finally succumbed to the pressure that been building up within me. Distantly I can hear from below the shocked gasps of the group, and yet I only pay attention to Pearl-Lace who looks adoringly into my eyes, then pulls me into a deep, breathless kiss in front of them all as I suddenly realise who they really are.

Will!!!?

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Chapter 10: The Consequences that Betrayal Brings When the Truth Comes Spilling Out of the Seams

Summary:

Authors’ Note: Quote – “Betrayal is something akin to love. There is the betrayer and the betrayed.” – Bedelia Du Maurier, Season 3

Chapter Text

Pearl-Lace/Will’s P.O.V. 

Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane is one of those places where I do not want to be right at this very moment. I would rather be at home, relaxing with my dogs or checking up on Hannibal at his office.

My appointment with him wasn’t until later in the evening, and so I would have to make do with Dr. Frederick Chilton talking my ear off once again about my empathic abilities. He was obsessed with interviewing me about it. Pulling the car into an empty parking space, I reach into the glove compartment for some aspirin.

I would have to mention the persistent headaches and hallucinations to Hannibal at some point. I wonder if he could recommend a good doctor for some neurology scans.

Maybe his old friend and colleague Dr. Sutcliffe could help me out?

Swallowing the aspirin down with some bottled water, I slowly feel the headache lessen to a dull residual ache. I just hope it won’t be aggravated again by Jack or even Chilton, for that matter.

  “What has happened here is very tragic. Especially with the death of one of the nursing staff.”

“Dr. Chilton, is it still possible to see the scene of the crime? We need it as fresh as possible.”

“Ahh, yes. Come this way, gentlemen.”

Stepping into the nurse’s room, I see why Chilton had said he already had the Ripper in his clutches. In front of me is a scene that greatly resembles a crime scene called the “Wound Man.” The unfortunate nurse is impaled on the metal I.V. stand, her back arched in a certain way, both of her eyes squished down into her sockets.

Stepping closer, I know immediately that Hannibal didn’t do this. It is sloppy and too trained-looking to be one of his Tableau . I slip my glasses off, placing them in my shirt pocket.

I close my eyes. The golden pendulum swings once, twice and finally a third time, dragging me deep into the reconstruction.

Their voices echo around me as they quickly wheel me to the infirmary because they think I had some kind of seizure or stroke. Fools.

They wheel me into the room, where the nurse starts to set up the equipment as I calmly retrieve the skeleton key from wee Nick and begin to unlock the handcuff around my wrist.

She is still busy with the sorting and placement of equipment, and it is only when she turns that she sees me standing there. She tries to scream or shout for help, but I silence her by punching her in the larynx, effectively shutting her vocal cords down.

She tries to escape, but I grab hold of her to slam her against the shelving and onto the floor, where she lands on her back. I straddle her, reaching up to her face and shushing her. I place my thumbs on her eyelids, pressing down until hearing a satisfying squelch.

Glancing around, I see the I.V. stand and pull it out. I feel her hands touch my shoe as she tries to crawl away. She doesn’t get far. I lift the I.V. stand above her, then bring it down….hard.

Harshly, I come out of the reconstruction, only to suddenly see I’m not in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I’m in Hannibal’s office waiting room. Moving unsteadily backwards, I sit down in a chair and drag my trembling hands down my face.

I had lost time.

I had somehow lost time in the reconstruction or after it.

“Will, this is an unexpected surprise. Your appointment isn’t until late this evening. Though today has been…rather quiet without you.”

Arriving here unannounced? Yeah, no shit…darling…

I hear Pearl-Lace saying in my head. Hannibal comes to stand before me, concern in his eyes, just in time to catch me as I fall forward into his arms. Flicking my gaze up to him, I allow him to help me up out of the chair and into his warm, almost homely office.

    Fine, rich wine is poured into two glasses.

The light from the lit fire in the hearth is reflected in the polished surface of Hannibal’s desk. He turns to look at me sitting in one of the leather-backed black armchairs with the small glass table next to it. I’m feeling calmer, more settled, but there remains an aura of unease in the air.

I have taken off my jacket, placing it over the back of the armchair, and unbuttoned the top three buttons of my salmon shirt. I preoccupy myself by looking through Hannibal’s sketchbook of the many different artworks he has done.

“Anything you find interesting, Will?” he asks me, just as I turn the page and see a sketch of…me as my alter-ego Pearl-Lace and himself writhing on the balcony opera box balustrade, just as it occurred just a few nights ago.

Thighs clenching tightly around my waist.

Hannibal releasing a keening wail of pleasure, followed by being pulled into a breathless kiss by me.

“The Ripper’s admirer?” I ask, accepting the glass of poured wine from him. I hand him back his sketchbook as he sits down across from me. “Zeller and Price are joking that they’re both plotting Crème de la Passion with each other, because of the gifts being given.”

“Is that what they think?” Hannibal asks, not answering my question. He brings one leg up to cross over the other. His gaze is inscrutable.

 Placing my glass down on the small table, I stand and make my way to Hannibal’s chair. Stepping behind him, I place my hands on his shoulders gently and calmly. I don’t want to spook him and end up with my arm twisted behind my back, or worse, my neck snapped.

“There’s something bothering you, isn’t there, Hannibal?” I ask him, only for him to slip away from me as he gets up from the armchair and heads over to his desk. He picks up his scalpel and begins to sharpen a pencil.

There is only one reason why he is acting like this. He knows deep down inside I am….Pearl-Lace and the one who has been giving him the gifts.

In his mind I have betrayed him. I look around for my messenger bag, retrieve it, then excuse myself by asking if I can use the restroom.

He gives a nod in reply and nothing more. 

  Inside the dimly lit bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror. I start to rip my clothes to shreds until I’m finally standing in the laced up corset – black with red Sweet William flowers stitched onto it; the lace diamond-shaped nylon tights which clip to it; and the lace panties with black ribbons trailing down from them.

Opening my messenger bag, I take out my shaving and makeup kits and place them on the bathroom counter. I look one last time at myself - my old self - then begin to shave and apply the makeup that will transform me….into Pearl-Lace.

There will now be, from now on, only…Pearl-Lace for the Ripper.

No Will Graham. Will Graham no longer exists.

Only Pearl-Lace and nothing else.

Madness shared by two.

Pearl-Lace and the Ripper.

  I step out of the office bathroom in my blue sleeping kimono that is decorated with koi fish and ginkgo leaves which seem to float on the surface of water. I look over to Hannibal’s desk; he is nowhere to be seen.

The pencil is sharpened. The scalpel, however, is missing; this tells me he has taken it with him. The glasses of wine have been cleared away. I exit the bathroom and quietly shut the door behind me.

A creak above my head on the landing of the mezzanine library brings me to a halt, and I stand very still, listening quietly for more. No further sounds are heard, suggesting the person above was waiting for me to make a move. It reminds me of the game mahjong – one player plays the white side, the other the black. I step forward and look up.

There is no one there - or, if there is, they are hiding from my sight. I remove the kimono, placing it over Hannibal’s desk chair in case he returns looking for me. I am grateful I had brought a change of my everyday clothes in my messenger bag - trousers, shirt and jacket. I zip up the jacket to ward against the sudden chill. I walk toward the ladder, slowly ascend it and step onto the landing.

I can feel a draft coming from somewhere I cannot immediately locate. I walk toward the draft, frowning, and idly place my hand on a book that is out of place on the shelf. I jump back, startled, as the entire section of shelving silently slides back to reveal a long black tunnel, with stone steps leading down into the darkness. A small flashlight hangs on a hook on the wall; I take it, turn it on, and with dread growing in my chest, slowly begin to descend the steps.

  The flashlight is surprisingly adequate for lighting my way through the dark tunnel. I imagine the tunnel was built in colonial times, judging by the stonework surrounding me. I continue walking, the only sound the clicking of the high heels I wear echoing off the walls. Just ahead of me I finally see a faint pinprick of light.

I switch the flashlight off, tucking it into my corset for safekeeping. As I near the light source, I can see it is coming from far above me. Iron rungs embedded in the wall are the only way up. Some are corroded, others look extremely fragile. Taking a deep breath in and out to calm my nerves, I begin to slowly and carefully climb the rungs, wishing I had thought to bring a change of shoes.

Reaching the top at last, I push the hatch open to reveal a small arched storage space. I clamber out and fully take in the sight before me.

If I had harbored any doubts in my mind, at that instant they vanished. I now knew beyond the shadow of any doubt that Hannibal was the Ripper.

That the serial killer was sadistic and always killed in sounders of three was common knowledge, available to anyone with access to TattleCrime.com. But seeing this, here, now, spotlit in harsh reality… A wave of intense nausea almost fells me as I realise I never knew what he was actually doingwith his victims.

Bile and vomit splash onto the floor, and I tremble in horror. Dear God, he has been forcing me to eat… I shake my head to side to side, trying not to think about it and failing miserably. Somehow I manage to quell the nausea, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and reach for a sharp hunting knife hanging on the rack.

    Alana Bloom’s laughter and Hannibal’s voice coming from the dining room give me pause as I come out of the underground cellar into the kitchen. I place the hunting knife in Hannibal’s knife block, hoping I will not need it (but keeping it accessible if the need arises). Taking a bottle of wine from the rack, I take down two glasses from the wine glass holder.

I pour myself a drink and another for him, when the sudden sound of Jack’s voice makes me want to strangle Hannibal for doing this to me.

All the players have now been brought onto the mahjong board. I pause to think for a moment. Making my decision, I slip out of my normal clothes, placing them on the armchair near the clock on the wall. I retrieve the flashlight from my corset, placing it in his kitchen drawer. I can see that an unused tube of lipstick is in the drawer.

It is called “Black Ochre Sin”. Unwrapping it, I walk to the mirror to apply it, observing how it shines black in the moonlight coming from the kitchen windows behind me. I blot it by pressing my lips together and pick up the two filled wine glasses.

I head to the dining room, hearing Jack still talking and another voice piping in – Abigail. I take a deep breath, then step around the corner into the dining room. I can hear shocked, surprised gasps come from Jack, Alana and Abigail.

Hannibal, serene in his rightful place at the head of the table, is the only one who is silent. He glares at me, then immediately gets up, stalks over to me and slaps me across the face, splitting my lower lip. “Hannibal!!!?” a now doubly shocked Alana admonishes, as I calmly turn my face and look at him.

“Oh, darling…is that really the way to treat me? I was only bringing you some more wine, though it seems you….don’t want any of it,” I say. There is a pause. Suddenly he pulls me flush against his chest with such force I drop the wine glasses. They shatter on the hardwood floor.

We stare deeply into one another’s eyes – sea bluish-green into maroon – and the tension rises to near boiling point. It is Jack who places a hand on Hannibal’s arm, saying evenly, “Hannibal, that is enough. Can’t you see you’re frightening Abigail?”

I turn my gaze at the same time he does, seeing she is pale and wide-eyed at the sight before her. Hannibal composes himself and slips away from me towards the kitchen. Alana follows him, eyes flashing, throwing her napkin onto the table with a muffled thump.

I feel her brush past me, eyes glancing with apparent disgust at what she no doubt considers to be Hannibal’s Prostitute or Slut or Whore. I quietly follow Alana to the kitchen, leaving Jack to comfort Abigail. At her request he helps her upstairs so that she can rest, away from the chaos.

Seeing that Abigail is now safe, I stop just short of the door frame, peeking in to see Alana glaring at Hannibal. He has poured himself a glass of brandy, swallowing it down in one gulp.

“I cannot believe this, Hannibal. You….invite myself, Jack and Abigail to dinner, and suddenly, out of the blue, that turns up on the doorstep,” she hisses, pointing at me. The jealousy, anger and shock in her trembling voice are unmistakable.

“Alana, what I do in my private time….is actually none of your goddamn fucking business,” Hannibal spits out, barely containing his rage. The obscenities spilling from his usually refined lips surprise me. I had always thought him above such vulgarity.

Who knew Hannibal had such a filthy mouth on himself.

“You!!? So, was sleeping with me…..just a one night stand, then? Just a passing amusement?” she hisses. Something in me rises up, fearless. I step forward and begin to stride into the kitchen. But Hannibal - the devious bastard - quickly catches my eye and with a malevolent glare, stops me in my tracks.

He steps closer to Alana, hemming her in. As if in slow motion, I see Alana’s right arm raise, her hand clutching something that glints softly in the light. I throw myself between them, saving Hannibal from getting his throat sliced by the knife in Alana’s hand. Or…is it a knife? It looks like… I feel a sting across my cheek and stumble backwards. Blood drips down from the wound on my cheek, splashing onto the polished floor.

“There….see how you care for your slut now, Hannibal,” sneers Alana. All at once my legs give out from beneath me; Hannibal moves quickly forward and catches me before I can hit the floor.

His gazes down to see blood dripping onto the snow white brocade of my corset. It dawns on both of us with horrifying clarity just who has been leading him into a snare all this time.

“It wasn’t you who took the scalpel?” I ask Hannibal as he crouches beside me. He shakes his head, never moving his eyes from Alana. I slide my gaze over to her. I can now see that the glint in her right hand is Hannibal’s scalpel, gleaming with my blood.

Anger surges through me, forcing me to rise and stand defiantly straight, feeling my breathing come in laboured gasps. In one swift movement I turn and grab the hunting knife I had left in the knife block and lunge forward. A shot rings out, sending me stumbling backwards into the armchair with a thud. It feels like all the remaining breath in my lungs has been knocked out of me.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Hannibal has been sprayed with my blood from the impact of the bullet hitting my shoulder. He is looking at me, dazed. It is as though he is experiencing some traumatic memory where he had been covered in blood, as he is now.

The hunting knife slips out of my grip to hit the hardwood floor with a muffled thunk. Alana rushes forward as Hannibal suddenly collapses like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Still dazed and a bit weak, I manage to kick my shoes off, get up, knock Jack out of the way and run past him, out of the dining room and up the stairs. I can hear Jack chasing after me.

  The upstairs sitting room in Hannibal’s house is quiet, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock. Yet something is telling me I’m not alone in the room where moonlight is shining through the large window.

Blood is still dripping from the wound made by Alana onto the carpet where I stand near the window, staining it with small crimson petals. Trembling heavily, I hear a noise behind me. I slowly turn to see it is… Abigail…not Jack, standing before me. Her gentle, sweet eyes are red-rimmed and it is clear she has been crying.

“Abig-” I begin to say, reaching up with my hand, only for her to march forward and shove me with such force I cannot even react when the glass of the window shatters all around me.

Time slows down into slow motion. I can see her watching from the shattered window frame as I float down through the air. At last I hit the pavement with a sickening, bone-crunching thud, followed by blackness.

I remember nothing thereafter.

I remember nothing at all.

  Chapter Management

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Chapter 11: Epilogue – The Aftermath

Summary:

PLOT TWIST!!

Chapter Text

Hannibal’s P.O.V.

“Thank you for coming in, Hannibal.”

“Any…news on….Will’s condition, Jack?”

“I’m sorry, Hannibal, to have to tell you this. Will has gone into some kind of coma. The doctors predict he…may never come out of it.”

“Thank you for the information, Jack.”

Coming out of the memory of the conservation I had had with Jack at Johns Hopkins Hospital, I walk to the fine leather chair and sit down, feeling Bedelia’s gaze on me. I lift my head to look at her.

“It’s…difficult to find words today,” I manage to get out, voice breaking slightly. She notices this, seeing a crack in the “person suit,” as she calls it. She rises from her chair and walks to the liquor cabinet, retrieving two tumblers.

She pours some whisky for the both of us. I feel like declining her offer, and yet when she hands it to me I happily take it from her. I bring it to my lips and take a sip, savoring the burn as it glides down my throat. I deserve the pain.

“Has something happened that has deeply affected you, Hannibal?” she asks me. I turn my head to gaze out the windows of her office. I watch the trees, just beginning to display their autumnal finery, slowly swaying in the wind. I am reminded of Will’s curls ruffled by a passing breeze.

“Nothing has happened that will concern you, Bedelia. It’s just….I’m leaving for Florence tonight,” I reply. She places the tumbler down on the small table next to her chair.

“Then I guess you do feel emotions. He made you feel…different, and now you’re leaving him behind,” she states. She turns her face to look at me with confusion as I rise from the chair, slip on my coat, and head toward the door. “Hannibal, what are you thinking right at this moment?”

A question which makes me look back at her, sitting there in her fine dress with one petite delicate leg crossed over the other. Opening the door, I leave it unanswered.

There is no need for her to know.

  20 DAYS LATER

The heart monitor attached to Will beeps steadily with each beat of the young man’s heart, his chest rising and falling. An oxygen mask has been placed over his face.

A shadow peels itself away from the far corner of the room.

The shadow walks toward the bed. It leans over. A hand comes up to stroke a strand of hair from Will’s forehead and gently tuck it behind his ear. Lips bend down to his ear, moving as they calmly whisper something so quiet it is like a gentle breeze ruffling the top of the trees.

The shadow pulls back with a whisper of “I’ll be waiting, mylimasis. My sweet, darling….Pearl-Lace.”

The shadow slinks away until there is only the sound of the heart monitor with its steady beep. The beeping rises slightly, only to go back down again. It rises again three times and back down again. At last it rises and does not falter, growing steader and stronger with each passing moment.

Within Will’s body his heart is waking from its deep slumber, beating stronger and faster, until finally sea bluish-green eyes shoot wide open and lips curve into a…seductive smirk.

Will Graham….no longer exists.

Only……Pearl-Lace….remains now.

À SUIVRE (to be continued…)

[ramajmedia]

Friday The 13th: 10 Hidden Details About The Horror Movie Costumes You Didn’t Notice

We will never look at a hockey mask the same way again because of Jason Voorhees. Seeing it instantly reminds us of the first time we ever watched a Friday the 13th movie, and we will always think of Jason when we see that same mask outside the films.

Yet, there's more to the wardrobe of Friday the 13th than that infamous mask. In fact, there's a treasure trove of trivia regarding the attire of Jason Voorhees and other Crystal Lake residents. So, take a seat by the campfire as we explore the costumes in the Friday the 13th franchise.

RELATED: 10 Fan Theories That Will Forever Change Your Favorite Horror Movies

10 A Moral Dilemma

Assigning fates to characters based on their life choices is an enduring trope in slashers. It's right up there with saying, "I'll be right back." The writers stuck to a dichotomy of morality and immorality when writing female characters. Jason killed women who had sex, used drugs, and dressed alluringly, whereas the virgins and prudishly-dressed were spared.

Final girl Rennie was overdressed in a shirt, a vest, and baggy pants in Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan. Meanwhile, resident bad girl Tamara offers her half-naked body to their English teacher. Can you guess what happens to her?

9 The Case of the Reappearing Sweater

In Friday the 13th V: A New Beginning, survivor Tommy Jarvis from The Final Chapter checks into Pinehurst Halfway House. The facility's director is Pam Roberts, who was played by Melanie Kinnaman. Although she isn't the main character, Pam is the movie's "final girl."

By the end, she and another of Jason's potential victims fend for themselves in the woods near Pinehurst. As they run, the pink sweater wrapped around Pam's shoulders disappears and then returns throughout the sequence. According to the Crystal Lake Memories documentary, this goof is the "bane of [Kinnaman's] existence." She didn't even like the sweater.

8 Going 3-D

The eighties had a notable resurgence in 3-D-shot films. Jaws 3-D and Amityville 3-D were popular examples, but Friday the 13th Part III was at the forefront of this short-lived revival. It was a daring choice at the time, seeing as shooting in 3-D wouldn't be easy for director Steve Miner—especially with his film being the first to use the Marks 3-D system.

It wound up being a learning experience for everyone involved. Something Miner and costume supervisor Sandi Love had to keep in mind was the color of the characters' clothes; certain colors interfered with the 3-D process.

RELATED: Every Single Friday The 13th Movie (In Chronological Order)

7 Über Jason

Jason received his most radical costume change in Jason X. Set in the far future, a space station discovers the corpse of famed killer Jason Voorhees. He's then revived as a cyborg after coming in contact with nano-bots aboard the ship. Thus, Über Jason was born.

Kane Hodder's costume for the role was a cumbersome one-suit with limited motion in the limbs and knees. He wore red contacts, too, that unnerved the crew. In addition, an android named Em-14 starred opposite Über Jason. Her actress (Lisa Ryder) was restricted in a corseted, full PVC outfit during the film's action-packed conclusion.

6 Daddy Dearest

If there's one moment in Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood that confuses fans, it's how Tina Shepard's father looks at the end. Originally, actor John Otrin was going to be portrayed as equally decayed as Jason. He was in full costume and makeup, ready to shoot. However, associate producer Barbara Sachs, who did not care for horror movies, was not happy with Mr. Shepard's rotten appearance.

Director John Carl Buechler had no time to go over Sachs' head and get permission from producer Frank Mancuso, Jr. Hence why Tina's father looks so bland in the finished cut.

5 Remake

Ten years after its debut, fans have come around to the remake, and Jason's stunt actor Derek Mears is one reason why. The film's effects artist, Scott Stoddard, wanted to use physical maladies—such as hair loss and skin rashes—to convey Jason's humanity in a way other films didn't.

On top of body makeup and fake skin, Mears wore a chest plate beneath his costume that adjusted to his muscles' movements. To give the appearance of scoliosis, Mears put on a prosthetic hump. Something else unique to this movie was how Jason used both the burlap sack and hockey mask.

RELATED: 10 Horror Movie Remakes That Missed The Mark

4 A Tale of Two Jasons

The fandom is divisive over the fifth entry A New Beginning. After sending Jason off in The Final Chapter, the producers had to come up with a new way to bring him back—and that they did.

At the end of the fourth sequel, "Jason" is actually a deranged paramedic incognito. To this day, this decision doesn't sit well with fans. Tommy Jarvis imagines seeing Jason from time to time. So, director Danny Steinmann used different masks to distinguish between the real and fake Jasons. To tell them apart, the impostor's mask had blue marks as opposed to red ones.

3 A Seminal Setup

The low return for Jason Takes Manhattan urged Paramount Pictures to sell the character rights of Jason to New Line Cinema. Director/writer Adam Marcus' first film Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday generated polarized opinions.

For most of the movie, Jason does not even appear in person. Instead, his spirit possesses people. Viewers agree the story would have been okay for a non-Friday horror flick. In the last scene, Jason's mask is snatched by a familiar arm—wearing Freddy Krueger's glove was no other than Jason's stuntman Kane Hodder. And, ten years later, we got Freddy vs. Jason.

RELATED: Friday The 13th: 10 Most Brutal Jason Voorhees Kills, Ranked

2 The Sack

There was contention behind the scenes about the movie using Jason Voorhees as the killer in Friday the 13th Part 2. The timeline just didn't make any sense.

Now, it isn't a slasher movie unless the villain has a gimmick or wears a disguise. So, costume designer Ellen Lutter covered Jason's face with a burlap sack. It's rather plain-looking, but what the audience imagined was underneath the sack was scarier than what was possibly there. Lutter was also the first person to play adult Jason in the series. She appeared as him—legs only— at the beginning of Part 2.

1 The Mask's Origin

Jason Voorhees did not appear in the present-day storyline until the second film. And, in that sequel, he's not even wearing his signature mask.

The iconic Jason mask we all know and fear nowadays was first owned by the character Shelly Finkelstein in Friday the 13th III. Later in the same film, Jason dons the mask before continuing his hunt for more teenage victims.

The mask—the originator remains a source of dispute after all these years—was based on a vintage Jacques Plante Fibrosport Elite model. The one Shelly owned was modeled after a Detroit Red Wings goalie mask.

NEXT: Fashion Friday The 13th: All Of Jason Voorhees' Looks, Ranked

source https://screenrant.com/friday-thirteenth-horror-movie-costume-details/

[floridageekscene]

Leo Nocedo :How did you discover cosplaying? Ellie Villafine: I discovered cosplaying from a friend who used to be one of my coworkers, and I immediately got into it since my very first con appearance. Leo Nocedo : What’s my favorite con to attend to? Ellie Villafine: Spooky Empire Leo Nocedo : What was your first cosplay? Ellie Villafine: Edward Scissorhands Leo Nocedo :What are your next 3 cosplay plans? Ellie Villafine: Fiona from Shrek, the original comic book version of Black Widow, and steampunk Black Cat. Leo Nocedo : Have you ever been in a cosplay contest? Ellie Villafine: Yes, I’ve competed a few times and I’ve won third place from one of the contests. Leo Nocedo : Do you prefer sewing, armor making, or wig working? Ellie Villafine: Sewing. I also do building things up as well as a fair share of DIY. Leo Nocedo : Do you prefer to do photoshoots at cons or at specific locations? Ellie Villafine: I’m open to wherever photoshoots take place Leo Nocedo : Is there a type of character you cosplay frequently? Ellie Villafine: Horror characters, steampunk, and variations Leo Nocedo : Do you have any favorite cosplayers? Ellie Villafine: Plenty of them that I’m friends with, but my favorite has got to be Mark Knight Rises Leo Nocedo : What’s the most detailed cosplay you’ve ever done?Freddy Krueger Leo Nocedo : What are your top 3 craftsmanship tips? Ellie Villafine: Always make sure to buy the right materials for making a certain cosplay, always make sure to measure things right, and when crafting always take your time so don’t rush it. Leo Nocedo : What is your favorite cosplay you’ve done? Ellie Villafine: Freddy Krueger Leo Nocedo : What is your worst cosplay “horror” story? Ellie Villafine:I don’t think I’ve ever had a cosplay horror story, though. Leo Nocedo : What’s your funniest cosplay story? Ellie Villafine: When doing the funniest pictures Leo Nocedo : What’s the best in-character interaction you’ve ever had? Ellie Villafine:While I was cosplaying Jigsaw/Billy the puppet I ran into someone who was cosplaying one of the victims from the Saw movies and I ended up saying “I want to play a game”

Leo Nocedo : Have you ever cosplayed with a family member? Ellie Villafine: My older brother was considering to cosplay along with me, but due to his life situation with his job and kids he couldn’t do it. So my answer is no. Leo Nocedo : What is your favorite cosplay photo of yourself? Ellie Villafine: Captain America Leo Nocedo : What are your go-to stores for cosplay materials/full cosplays? Ellie Villafine: Plenty of places. Joann’s, Michael’s, Goodwill for DIYing things, Hobby lobby, etc. Leo Nocedo : Do you prefer to buy pre-styled wigs or style your own? Ellie Villafine: Pre-styled, but if it falls apart I will style it Leo Nocedo : Have you ever had someone mistake you for a different character? Ellie Villafine:A few times yes! When I cosplay Jigsaw/Billy the puppet someone thought that I was Harley Quinn, when doing Lily Munster someone thought I was the bride of Frankenstein, and when doing She-Venom someone thought I was Gwenom. Leo Nocedo : List all the cosplays you’ve done. Ellie Villafine: I’ve done around 50 or more cosplays, so I’m going to name a few: Freddy Krueger, Elvira, Lily Munster, Captain America, Jean Grey, Leatherface, Huntress, Carrie, etc. Leo Nocedo : What’s the biggest con you’ve cosplayed at? Ellie Villafine: By far Dragoncon Leo Nocedo : Do you prefer cosplaying characters with props, or characters that you don’t need to carry a prop around all day? Ellie Villafine:I’m always cool with either one. Whether if I need a prop or not Leo Nocedo : Have you ever lost a cosplay piece at a con? Ellie Villafine: Nope Leo Nocedo : Have you ever bought a cosplay piece at a con? Ellie Villafine: Yeah. A few pieces to match or complete my cosplay if I forgot to bring it in. Leo Nocedo : Do you prefer to cosplay solo or in a group? Ellie Villafine:I’ve done plenty of groups, but most of the time I’m always cosplaying solo Leo Nocedo : If you had a chance to meet your all-time favorite cosplayer, what would you say to them? Ellie Villafine: I’m always coming by to say “Hey! How are you?” and so forth. I normally talk to them as if they’re my friends Leo Nocedo : Have you ever done a cosplay panel? Ellie Villafine: Yeah, I’ve done a panel with the Bombshells cosplay Leo Nocedo : Do you prefer to buy or make cosplays? Ellie Villafine: Both because sometimes I couldn’t get the time to finish things up before the con Leo Nocedo : If you could tell your past self anything about cosplay, what would you say? Ellie Villafine: Have fun with whatever character you like Leo Nocedo : What is your ultimate dream cosplay? Ellie Villafine: Steampunk Huntress Leo Nocedo : What’s the most difficult cosplay you’ve ever done? (Craftsmanship, wearing of, ect) Ellie Villafine: Steampunk Venom it’s because of the corset and sometimes the body paint. Leo Nocedo : What’s the most difficult character makeup you’ve done? Ellie Villafine:Steampunk Venom as well as Zombie Daryl Dixon. Leo Nocedo : What, in your opinion, makes a cosplayer a “pro” cosplayer? Ellie Villafine: The more creative the more professional it can get Leo Nocedo : What is your favorite part of cosplaying? Ellie Villafine: Showing my creative side and it helps me to open up more for who I am Leo Nocedo : Make up your own question! Ellie Villafine: What’s my favorite con to attend to? Ellie Villafine: Spooky Empire

Spooky Empire

Cosplayer of the Week Ellie Villafine Leo Nocedo :How did you discover cosplaying? Ellie Villafine: I discovered cosplaying from a friend who used to be one of my coworkers, and I immediately got into it since my very first con appearance.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardians of the Creatures; AU! Queen x reader Prologue

*Author’s note*

Hey gang I know this year has been INSANE but I am here to tell you all that I’ve now got my next upcoming Halloween FIC series ready at the helm. Now it’ll be slightly similar to my last Hallowqueen fic series (it being in 2nd person POV after this chapter), with some differences.

Now then I wish to give credit to @kinole009x​ for allowing me to use the same physical appearance that they made for our beloved Deacy in their fabulous series “NEVERMORE” (which you ALL should check out if you haven’t read it. Trust me, you will LOVE IT!!). 

Now Idk when the next chapter will be up cause work is REALLY starting to pile up on me now. But I promise this fic series WILL go on, I won’t abandon it after this. I’ve got plans for this series. Enjoy my lovelies and I hope you all enjoy this new HALLOWQUEEN series :)

Warnings: Blood, dark magic, evil witches and wizards, close-to-death experience.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@dancingcoolcat​

@kinole009x​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@klausidiot​

___________________________________________________________

I……Am the eyes of the world.  I can see the past—and the future.  Chaos, and darkness.  The end of the world, and the rebirth of it.  My people have been around since the beginning of time itself.  But with the birth of so many creatures, my kind couldn’t survive.  Except for me.  Who am I you might ask? It is I—Freddie Mercury, who witnessed the rise of creatures, and men.

I’ve seen the world continuously trying to survive with the rise of each new species of the world.  And it is here that I have seen a darkness of which no one would ever see before.

Look into my eyes—and trust in me.

There are many dangerous creatures that live within our world. For a certain time period there were were-creatures, Elves, faes, goblins, dragons, mer-people, and all those creatures you would believe to be in your fairy tales and mythologies.  But the most dangerous creature of the time wasn’t man.  

But Witches. Warlocks. And Sorcerers.

I’ve seen generations of these creatures slaughtering and imprisoning other creatures.  And breaking the mythical creatures ancient laws.

And then—one fateful night. I saw our world place our hopes into the hands of two people, the like of which—no one would ever suspect.

*3rd Person POV*

Flying through the dark midnight sky was a cloaked figure and in his arms he held a young woman close to his chest.  He dove down as fast as he could to the ground knowing full well that he couldn’t continue flying anymore, not with the woman now starting to cough out blood.  

When he finally reached the ground, he picked up the woman and gently set her down on the ground.

“Lumos.” He softly whispered.  His hand soon made a light, about the size of a star, appear in his hand. His pale skin could only be compared to the white glow of the moon, while his long jet black hair framed his face and his black eyebrows arched with both fear and concerned for the woman that lay beneath him.

As he shined the light upon the young woman he could now see that blood had now stained her once pink lips.  Her sclera was now starting to bleed red and she was coughing out even more blood.

“Serafina. Oh my darling Serafina please hold on.” He pleaded softly as he cupped the side of her cheek.  Piercing through the air was a maniacal female laugh.  Thinking quickly he made the light from his hand vanish and he covered both himself and Serafina with his black cloak.

High above the air riding on their own brooms a swarm of witches were flying over the air.  One of them in particular had curly madded hair (that almost resembled a lion’s mane), she wore a long black dress that was a mix of fabric but also leather that made a corset-like shape around her midriff.  She took the lead alongside five witches and four wizards.  

All of them wearing black and baring a snake tattoo along their necks.

“They’re not here cousin!” hissed a ginger haired witch.

“Keep searching for them. They’re around here somewhere. That spell I gave her will buy us some time to catch up to them. There’s no way he’d leave her behind.” She cackled softly before flying on ahead with the eight other witches and wizards following her.

Once the coast was clear, the young wizard removed his cloak from the two of them and he slowly picked up Serafina.

“We’re gonna have to travel by foot. I’m sorry my love.”

“John.” She croaked out before suddenly coughing out more blood.

“Shh, shh, shh. Save your strength my love.” He soothed her as he rested her head against his shoulder so that he could press his head against hers.  He trudged on through the thick forest, all the while his love continuously coughing out more blood.  

He knew that if he didn’t at least find a way to slow down the curse that had been bestowed upon her, she would continue to bleed out internally until she died.

After walking for god knows how long, he set her down in a decent sized thicket.  He gave her his cloak and lay down some twigs, grass and leaves before muttering out a quick spell to make them into a pillow.  He lay her head on the pillow and stroked her dark hair out of her face.

“I’ll be back my love, I’m going to find some ingredients to slowdown her curse.” He went to stand up but Serafina grabbed his hand and weakly said.

“Don’t…….go……John.” he looked down at her with sympathy and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” He covered her up more with his cloak then casted a protection charm around her, in case either the witches or anything else dangerous were to come by.

John raced through the woods hoping to find some familiar herbs that could hopefully be brewed up.  He searched and searched but he wasn’t having any luck, and he could hear every now and then the haunting piercing manically laugh of the head witch leading the hunt for them.

It wasn’t until finally when he arrived by a small creek and he had found the perfect healing herb for his love.  To some it was known as Athelas plant but in the common tongue it was called Kingsfoil.  A weed but it had healing properties.

He took out his wand and shifted it into a small knife and went to cut the root, when he heard a strange sound coming from the creek.  A hypnotic, siren-like song soon began to echo through the air.  John turned towards the creek and was shocked to suddenly see a hand burst out from the water.

Slowly a body began to rise up over the water.  The body was pure water at first until it finally dissolved and morph into an actual human skin.  The man that now stood before John was handsome.  Beyond handsome actually.

Almost as if he had been carved by the Gods himself.  His wild, untamed blonde hair shone under the full moon’s light, and his hypnotic deep blue eyes stared right at John curiously. But when John took a closer look and saw the long claw-like nails, the gills along his neck (that almost looked like deep scars), and the fact that his eyes were inhuman with how they were just pure blue and white, he realized just what this man was.

This was a Nokk.  A water spirit said to be a handsome man that is known to lure women and children to their deaths by either singing or playing a sweet song before drowning them.  They are also known to be shapeshifters going between a handsome man, or a beautiful white horse.  Tempting all that see him in his horse form to ride him before sending them to a watery grave.

Little did he know that while staring at the Nokk, he soon felt a long sword blade slide right down his neck.  Thankfully it wasn’t the actual blade of the sword itself, it lay flat against his neck but it still sent fear through him.

“What do we have here? A wizard caught off his guard?” a soft, honey-like voice spoke with a sternness to it.

“Please, I mean no harm. My Serafina needs help.” At hearing that name, the Nokk’s eyes went from defensive and anger to concern and worry.

“Serafina you said?” the voice behind John spoke.

“Yes. Please I don’t have much time, I need to get this Athelas to her. She’ll die without it!” John then whipped out his wand and turned the sword blade into a stick.

He quickly turned around and held his wand at the attack only to soon find out that his ‘attacker’ wasn’t who he thought it was.

This man had curly hair that resembled an animal of some kind, but unlike the witch they were hiding from, his hair was tamed and well kept. John also took notice of the man’s attire and the ears that stuck out from his hair.  It was then he realized just who this person was.

“You—you’re an Elf.” the Elf closed his eyes and did a faint nod as he hummed, a hum that sounded like the faint wind.

“Brian May. High Elf Lord of the West. We were also told of your arrival by a friend of ours. He can help her.”

“Just who is your friend?”

“I can sense your hesitance.” Brian spoke.

“Of course I’m hesitant! We’re being hunted by our own cult! My love is dying and I’m sitting here in the dark forest with an Elf and a Nokk!” the Nokk lowly growled that’s when Brian lifted his hand and said.

“Quilda Roger, quilda.” The Nokk named Roger softened his growls but continued to glare at John. “As you’ve said we don’t have much time. Please allow us to help you heal her. And take her to our friend who is a healer.”

“I thought Elves were known to be the best healers?” John asked.

“We are. But by the time we would reach my kingdom it’ll be too late to save her. Our friend is the closest for he lives in the Black forest.” Not being given much choice, John agreed and led both Brian and Roger to where his love was.

Serafina continued to wheeze out her breaths and occasionally coughing up more blood.  And either it must’ve been the curse having a side effect, or due to the pressure on her brain, she saw this blinding light coming up towards her.

She turned and there she saw a horse running up towards her and the glowing figure rode on top of the magnificent creature.  Skillfully it unmounted from the horse before walking towards her.  Finally she could see a man who was too ethereal to look upon.

His tall lean frame, the pale skin, and the halo of curls almost made him look like an angel.  His piercing blue eyes stared right down at her, almost as if they were piercing her very soul.  He knelt down before her and whispered with what sounded like the sweetest honey-like voice she had heard (that could only be compared to her love John’s voice).

“Serafina. im Brian. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.” After hearing this beautiful language coming out of this man’s mouth, Serafina turned her head back upwards to the sky as she softly began coughing again.

John soon came in with a small brewing bowl and was currently stirring up the brew.  Brian knelt down beside Serafina softly calling out her name once again as he touched her head.

“This curse is strong.” John finished stirring up the brew and gently took his love’s head and lifted it up, with Brian’s help, and he gently poured the Athelas brew down her throat.  “She won’t last for much longer. We need to get her to Freddie now.”

John picked her up bridal style and the two of them walked towards Roger as Brian said.

“The five witches are still out there searching for you both further in the woods. The four wizards however, I do not know where they have gone.” John gently placed her on top of Roger’s back and steadied her.

“Thank you for your help. But I can take it from here.”

“Roger and I are the fastest together, I’ll take her.” Brian said.

“No. I won’t leave her!”

“You will take the safest road down the river. Once you reach the end, you will go East and soon you will arrive at our friend’s hut.” Brian explained to John the fastest route he could take.

“But what if they find you? Or worse what if this Nokk betrays you and takes my beloved away? I know of what his kind does to women and children!”

“I understand your concern for her. But she is in the safest of hands John Deacon. Roger will ensure that they can’t reach us.” Roger turned to face John.  His ears bent back slightly and he gave the young wizard a bow of his head.  “A Nokk’s name is powerful. He will not harm her.”

John faces Roger and in his horse form he gave the young wizard a small huff before lightly nodding his head.

“As you wish.” Brian softly smiled and hopped onto Roger’s back, sitting behind Serafina so that she now had support to lie back on. “I’m trusting you both with my heart. Ride hard and run swift. Do not let them catch her.”

“Noro lim mellon, Noro lim!” Brian spoke to Roger in Elvish tongue, soon Roger took off running deeper into the forest.  

As he watched with a heavy heart, John prayed to Merlin above that Serafina would be safe and healed in time.

Running with the speed of mercury, Roger ran across the woods in almost a blur.  Brian holding tightly to his friend’s long white mane while keeping an arm wrapped around Serafina so that she wouldn’t fall out.  But soon he heard a whooshing sound and through the trees and when he turned right he soon saw one of the four male wizards flying just a few feet beside them.

He looked to the left and he saw that a blonde witch was also flying beside them, the two of them flying closer and closer to Roger’s body hoping to pin him so they could claim their prize.  But never doubt the speed of a Nokk in horse form.

Roger ran faster but as he turned into a clear opening in the woods, that’s when the rest of the scouting party descended.

“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! WE’VE GOT THEM NOW! TEAR THE BEAST DOWN! KILL THE ELVISH FILTH! BUT LEAVE THE GIRL ALIVE. For now. HAHAHAHA!!!” the leading witch cackled manically.  Brian turned to the witches and wizards behind and saw one of them take out their wands and fire an attack.  He shielded Serafina with his body from the blast that sent an excruciating pain all over his body.

His bite his lip to try and hold back his screams that desperately wanted to come out.  He gripped Roger’s mane tighter as his friend ran faster through the woods.  But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he tried to lose them through the trees, the party still kept on their tail.

When they came across an open meadow, the witch party now had them surrounded like wolves taking down their prey.  Brian was almost certain that they were about to die right then and there.  But when he saw the crazed woman extend her arm out towards Serafina, it was then Roger took over.

Using his long whip-like horse tail, he whipped the woman across the face and sent her back several feet right off her broom.  He repeated the technic with the other wizards and witches that were too close for comfort, allowing him to take off even faster than he had ever ran before in his life.

Two of the witches flew back towards their sister witch and helped her up.

“That filthy mongrel. HE COULD’VE KILLED ME!! I’ll get him. I will kill him and wear his skin like a coat!” the woman cried out as she got back on her broom and took off flying with her sisters following behind her.

Roger soon got them into a thicker part of the woods where the trees were lower and more condensed together.  He swiftly turned around every other tree to try and confuse the party that followed behind him and it worked.  For some they had to regroup high above the trees just to get out of the condensed area, and others they ended up flying off their brooms cause of the low hanging branches.

Roger leapt over a log and ran down a hill which led to a small river-like creek.  He ran across the water till he came onto the other side of the creek.  He stopped and turned around to face the witches as he huffed and panted heavily.

“Well done Roger, well done.” Brian praised his friend as he too looked at the incoming party.  However once they came to the shoreline of the creek, they found that they couldn’t cross it.

Almost as if there was higher magic blocking them from coming any closer to their targets.

“Give up the traitors, filthy Elf and mindless brute!” the leading witch snarled.  Roger let out a loud roar as he reared high into the air while Brian revealed his sword and held it in the air.

“If you want her, come and claim her!” he challenged the party. All nine of them soon took out their wands and all together they fired at the forcefield that kept them from getting any closer.  

The forcefield held for as long as it could but it was starting to break.  When they noticed the forcefield beginning to break, the party slowly moved forward across the water.

Unbeknownst to them, Brian’s eyes shifted as he stared at the water while softly began to chant in Elvish a spell that had been put up for only him and Freddie to speak out since they were both ancient creatures of old.

Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;

Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Kuruni!

Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;

Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Kuruni!

The water slowly began to rise and once Brian finished the chant, the wizards stopped their attack as they suddenly heard a rush of water. Soon storming down from further up river was a tsunami-like wave.

Fearing for their lives, the witches and wizards hopped on their broomsticks and took off flying, but the rushing water was right on their tail. If you would look closely, you would notice that the shapes that were forming in the water were dozens of snakes, all slithering outward towards the witches.

Just before any of them thought they were in the clear, one by one they were each swallowed by the raging waters and taken downstream.

Brian and Roger stood satisfied over the boulder but that’s when they heard the fain wheezing coming out of Serafina’s mouth.  Brian took Serafina off of Roger’s back and lay her down on the ground.  Her face now almost completely red from bleeding internally, tear streams of blood stained around her eyes, and her eyes were almost devoid of any life.

“Serafina, no! Serafina don’t give in. Not now!” pleaded Brian as he gently shook her.  But with one last croak out of her mouth, she went still.  

Roger threw his head back and whinnied out a desperate neigh for help as Brian held her in his arms.

‘What grace has given me. Let it pass to her, let her be spared. Save her.’ Brian prayed in his head.

“Someone call my name?” a voice echoed through the air. Both Brian and Roger looked around when the voice spoke again, “You two honestly call yourselves the fastest team? Even I have ran across the world at least three times faster than that.”

“Freddie.” Brian said.

“How quaint to see you again Brian. It’s been—what 200 years since we last met?”

“187 actually.”

“And Roger, my big strong, handsome Nokk how’s the clan doing?” Roger huffed softly and a soft chuckle rang through the air. “That’s good. Don’t want those nasty other wannabes to let them reign supreme over you. Other than me of course.”

“Please Freddie, we need your help. She’s dying.”

“I know. Which is why I’ve already brewed up the proper counter curse for her. Give her to me now, her partner is running himself ragged wanting to see her already.” Appearing from the bottom of the boulder was a large snake tail.

Brian picked Serafina up and placed her body down along the snakes coils.  Slowly they wrapped around her until almost her whole body was covered.

“Go now, make sure those nasty witches are dead. I won’t have them interfere any longer.” Then almost as quick as lightning, the snake coils disappeared deep within the forest.  Brian looked towards the forest and prayed.

“By the light of the Valor, please let her be saved.”

“She will be.” A soft, raspy voice spoke to him.  He looked up and saw that Roger was now in back in his human Nokk form. “She has to be. I’ll be dammed if after we ran all the way here just for her to die like this.”

“And you’re sure it’s not because of your feelings for her?”

“It’s not like that and you know it! The first women to not fall for my charm even when so many married women have fallen for me, Serafina she—she’s special.” Roger said. “Now c’mon. You heard the naga, we have to see whether that crazed bitch and her lackies are dead or if they somehow survived the spell.” Brian nodded and soon the two of them took off running downstream.

In a quaint little hut, the snake coils soon lifted Serafina into the hut and they set her down along the floor.

“Serafina. Oh Merlin’s beard she’s—she can’t be…..” John pleaded.

“Not yet John dear, now quiet I need to concentrate on the spell.” Freddie’s voice soon spoke up.  Soon coming down from the ceiling was a man with long pitch black hair, his dark tanned skin glistened amongst the candle light, but what would catch your eyes were the dark green and yellow scales all over his arms, chest, neck and even dotting around his face.

His lower half would be twice as shocking for there wasn’t human legs, no his lower half was pure snake.  Dark green with hidden yellow scales.  He also had deep brown eyes with the traditional snake pupil.

Slowly he lowered himself down before the witch, his snake-like tongue flickering out so he could get a read on her.  She was practically knocking on death’s doorstep.  He soon stood face to face over the young witch. His tongue flicked across her bloodstained lips as he hummed gravely.

“The world still has big plans for you my dear. You and your darling lover.” He then raised his hand and forced her mouth open before hissing out in a language that was unknown to John.  

It sounded pure snake-like and it was terrifying to listen to. It sent a cold shiver up John’s spine. Freddie’s voice turned almost ghostly as he continued to chant out this unknown spell and soon he let out a low, threatening hiss as he opened his mouth wider and wider revealing not only the overbite, but the other rows of snake teeth in his mouth.

At first John thought his love was about to be swallowed alive by this monster, but just before he could grab his wand, a red smoke shot out of his love’s mouth and entered inside Freddie.  The naga was actually swallowing the curse!

John watched with both terror yet fascination as the naga devoured the very curse that had poisoned his love.  Freddie placed his hands beside Serafina’s head as he continued to swallow the curse.  Once the last bit of it was swallowed, Freddie lurched back and with a gasp, Serafina woke up.

“My love?” John asked.

“My heart.” She whispered.  John happily smiled and the two young lovers embraced each other.

“I thought I had lost you.” John whispered in her ear as he stroked his fingers through her hair.

“I thought I was gone too. But you saved me my love.”

“I didn’t do it alone though.” That’s when he turned towards Freddie and once Serafina got a good look at her savior, she jumped back. “It’s alright my love, it’s okay. He won’t hurt us.”

“It’s you.” she whispered in awe.  John looked at Serafina confused.  Freddie hummed with interest at the young witch.

“So you remember me?”

“Remember him? My love what does he mean?”

“All will be explained young John. Just know that you have a special witch by your side.” John leaned his forehead against his love’s and whispered to her.

“I know. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Their noses gently brushed up against each other’s lovingly.

“Since you recall our first encounter, I’m sure you’ll also remember Serafina that the world needs you. Both of you. Now more than ever.” The young witch and wizard looked at each other perplexed.

“That’s always puzzled me. What do you mean the world needs us?” Serafina asked.  Freddie looked out of his hut and said.

“I have seen the world shift, burn and rebuild itself time and time again. But with what your people are doing, I fear the world may finally burn and not rebuild itself in a peaceful light.”

“We know. That’s why we left. We couldn’t stand along with what they believed in. Now we’re marked for death.” John said grimly as he took his love’s hand in his.  She placed her hand on top of his and the two stared at each other solemnly.

“Which is why I have seen a potential future for all of us. But for that to happen, it needs you two as the star attractions.”

“What do you mean?” asked Serafina.

Thus…….I began to tell them of a future that I had seen.  A world where all creatures and deities large and small alike could be free, equal, and at peace.  But in order for that world to come to pass, we were gonna need one more star.

And that my darlings, is where you come in.

[rushingheadlong]

Some fic updates for you all:

I’m working on cross-posting all my Reader-insert fics from tumblr over to AO3. So far I have all of my shorter <1k fics uploaded in a single story here (originally it was just my short Brian fics, but I just added some Roger and John fics too). I’ve also uploaded my 98!Brian/Reader fic, my sub!Brian/Reader fic, and my 5+1 Freddie/m!Reader fic.

My hope is to get everything cross-posted by the end of the year. All the stories will stay posted on tumblr and you can still find links to the tumblr posts in my masterpost (link in my bio).

Going forward, I will not be posting non-Reader fic to tumblr. I’ll probably make posts linking to the fic on AO3 but, as I’ve said a few times recently, it’s just not worth the effort to cross-post everything in both places when non-Reader fics get hardly any attention over here. I will continue to post Reader-insert fics both here and on AO3, though, and I’ll only be updating my tumblr masterpost with my Reader-insert fics going forward.

Besides that, if you want an idea of some of the fics I’m working on at the moment, you can find that under the cut!

The next new fic that I’ll be posting is a long (16k+) Maylor kink fic. It’s still being edited but this is my #1 priority at the moment, so it will definitely be the next thing you see from me. I won’t be posting the entire fic on tumblr but I’ll definitely post an AO3 link when it goes up!

After that, there are a few different WIPs in the pipeline... 

The fic about Brian and his post-1974 scars is in the works but, as I think I’ve said before, it’s gotten wildly out of hand as all my fics tend to do. It’s looking like it’ll be a 3-part story, and the first part is nearly done.

The sequel to “Dear Friend, We’ll Carry On” is also still in the works (and also has gotten out of hand). 

The corset fic sequel is finally being written! Rather than another long fic it’ll be (at least) 5 parts exploring Brian and the Reader experimenting with different corsets and adding in a few new kinks as well. 

Anyway, I’m not sure if any of you really care about this but I know I went on a bit of a fic-posting spree at the end of October there so I just wanted to let yall know that more fic is still coming! It’ll just be a hot minute until things are finished!