#but there is so much more that is maybe more influential

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?

[mermaidsirennikita]

I gotta say this is also very unsuprising casting when you think about it. Like as soon as the shock had worn off I was like...yeah of course she cast them.

Oh yeah, it does make sense because Emerald isn't about what's good for the project, Emerald is about what makes Emerald happy. Which is why I fundamentally can't get into her creatively.

Because of course, any creative has their aesthetic, their sensibility, their work. And I respect that, as a creative.

But you also have to kill your darlings. And we think of that in the writing sense most often—cut that sentence, that scene, that chapter if it doesn't truly serve the work. Scrap the whole thing and start over if it's truly not what it should be.

I'm a STRONG believer in that, to be fair. Brutal. Maybe too much so? Lol. Or I'd have a book out by now.

But anyway, it applies to every type of creative work, imo. You don't cast someone because YOU like them, particularly in an adaptation of a work as iconic as Wuthering Heights. You cast them because they are right for the role.

Heathcliff and Cathy, especially Heathcliff, are two of the most groundbreaking and influential characters in literature of the past 3 centuries. Heathcliff's lack of proximity (for his era) to whiteness is particularly central to the role, and I don't know anyone who seriously takes this work apart and isn't like... actively racist... who interprets Heathcliff as white. It's so crucial to his character that he is "other" in his society.

It's just TRULY a shame to me that she not only cast someone as subpar as Elordi, but someone so, so white. Like, I wouldn't want a white actor I love to play Heathcliff. And this is a fabulous role for a man of color, too.

The last adaptation did cast a man of color, but it was frankly not a very high profile project and not well done.

(I also think it would be compelling to cast a man of Roma descent OR a man of Asian, specifically South Asian descent because the text literally uses a contemporary term for Indian men to describe him... Though Nelly also speculates that he has Chinese heritage, and there are definitely some implications that he could be descended from presumably African enslaved people. The latter I could definitely see being an interpretation when you factor in the speculation that he's Mr. Earnshaw's illegitimate child. I think there's always this idea that "catch-all" terms were probably being used to describe Heathcliff's appearance, but I've thought for a while that I would personally most love to see a Roma actor or a South Asian actor play him.

But like. Literally any other than a white guy.)

This will be much more high profile, with way more attention, and it just really sucks that Emerald decided to use it to push one of her faves. It tells me that she has very little respect for the text. On what planet would anyone, even in the 1800s, look at Jacob Elordi and think that he was anything other than a white guy.

And again, I think Margot is way too old to play Cathy, and honestly doesn't read in any way as Cathy to me. I say that as someone who, again, considers her a very strong actress when she's in her element. I just. Ugh.

[reds-revenge]

My main issue with the conversations we have about media and how moral it is is that there's actual, tangible suffering and death in real life we can work on instead. I don't really care if I'm watching a horror movie that's not giving the women agency because it's not real, but I care very much about women not being assaulted in real life. I only have so much energy, though, so if I focus all of that on how to tell the One Perfect Horror Story, I'm not focusing it on getting women access to healthcare, which is the thing that will really help.

[starlitangels]

Ignore this it’s just a tag rant

[shiraru]

Got really into drawing my ocs as anime bugs

[killadelphias]

thoughts.......................

[13eyond13]

.

[rimouskis]

got dinner with the sisters tonight and I had the oh fuck, you're an adult realization about the youngest one.

[cuntstable]

i feel like the thing is that yes the pucci family backstory is muddled at times and also not like… an incredibly insightful and/or accurate potrayal of racism in the deep south in the 80s but like so many of the points of ”confusion” people have about it are literally answered or implied in text, like it really is not that crazy if you reread it and also are not trying to find any possible reason to be like Oh the puccis are white actually

[sevenines]

torn between wanting to watch steven universe’s contemporaries to gain perspective on the shows place in broader culture and just not caring enough about other shows of its type to analyze it all

[autistichalsin]

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

[oozywoozycon]

sooooooooooo fascinated by ‘the gang breaks dee’ episode bc it says SO MUCH ab the relationships ??? ? ? ? ??????

mostly regarding dee and dennis’ relationship BUT i can’t stop thinking ab it

his desperation at her seeming to pull herself out of the pit w the rest of them bc she was always down there with them, she was always just that bit lower than him, and she always fucked it up for herself first but he could step in to make it worse if necessary but for the first time it’s not fucking working and she’s getting away and why isn’t it working why isn’t it working why isn’t it —

anyways just like obviously the whole crew is massively codependent and toxic 💕🧚✨💖 and that’s nothing new, that’s like the premise of the show

and if any of them started to seem to get their foot out the door, the rest would put their all into pulling them back in or chopping off that foot, whatever needs doing to bring them back, but this episode is so interesting bc since the other three are in on it, it’s only dennis who’s spiraling and boy he’s spiraling so bad

i NEED to see them as kids i MUST witness their elementary school dynamic (tho i must admit it has likely not evolved since grade school) it is FASCINATING

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (pt 2)

This one actually is edited thanks to @basementqueercock! Thank you friend!

part 1 | Masterpost

-------

Vlad had been making a stink at the Gala about the Wayne brats taking his godson from him without his permission when the music suddenly cut out. Bruce Wayne himself stalked towards Vlad with an expression that was honestly a little intimidating, even if Vlad obviously wasn’t scared of such an empty headed pretty boy even if he was one of the richest and most influential people on the planet. He was Plasmius! He could take a rich pretty boy is he had to!

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, thank goodness! Your children have taken my Godson off somewhere! I’m sure it’s just a harmless prank but he’s a bit fragile and unpredictable so I really think that it would be best if-“

“Is he fragile and unpredictable because he’s pregnant and you knew?” Bruce asked low and dangerous. Silence spread out around them, even though there’s no way they could have heard they saw the look on Brucie’s face. He rarely got angry but when he did it was serious, when he did it usually meant someone had hurt a kid.

Vlad blanched for a moment, Danny had been so tight lipped about it, so unwilling to tell even those he trusted how did These people know?! “What? What on earth are you talking about? Of course he’s not pregnant, I mean he’s a boy!” Vlad huffed and Bruce’s jaw tightened even more somehow.

“He’s not leaving with you. Get out.” He said low and menacing, then raised his voice. “Sorry to cut the party short everyone but something has come up, a situation that really needs my attention so I’m going to have to put an end to the party early.”

“What do you mean!? He’s MY God son! MY heir! You can’t just keep him from me!” Vlad said, he knew that his eyes were starting to glow a little red but he couldn’t help it. “He’s MINE! Return him to me or you will regret it I swear!”

“See him out.” Bruce said dismissively to a handful of guards who had approached at the start of the commotion A lot of the socialites were already starting to see themselves out, now was not the time to argue, or even stick around when it looked like this might get physical.

“I will be back! I will be back with lawyers and police and the brat’s parents,” Vlad vowed but couldn’t risk fighting the guards any more than a usual old man would on the way out with so many eyes on him. Well he just needed to find a place alone. Then he could transform and come back, possess Bruce Wayne and make him do something heinous in public to ruin him for this.. this- this INDIGNITY!

-------

Bruce was having a hard time keeping his Batman expressions off his face as he saw that everyone was out of his house and he knew his children were having the same trouble. Dick looked like he was ready to bash someone’s head in and Steph wasn’t that much better. Damian was standing by the door, seeing everyone out with frosty politeness that no one would mistake as genuine. Bruce felt just a little bad, it wasn’t anyone’s fault what they had found tonight. No one else knew about the clearly abused teen they were currently harbouring, but none of the family could help it either. Bruce would send all the guests gift baskets once they could announce what was going on.

Alfred was on the phone with Bruce’s lawyers, sending them the mildly distorted audio from Danny’s earlier conversation with Cas and Dick, and the footage from Vlad Master’s outburst. That had the same sort of distortion over it too which was odd, he’d have to look into it. Cas had already informed him she thought Danny was a meta of some sort, maybe it was connected to that? Or maybe they were aliens? Though Danny being trans was currently the most plausible explanation for his pregnancy. They’d find out more later. What mattered was the footage of both of those would be enough for Bruce to get emergency custody while the family was investigated. 

Tim was with Danny in the room Alfred had fixed for him, helping him settle in and lending him some clothes. Tim was the closest to Danny’s age and also one of the calmer ones right now so he was in charge of trying to make Danny feel safe and comfortable while the family took up battle stations to deal with the legal and logistical elements of this.

Bruce made sure everyone was out, the perimeter was secure, and Oracle was at her computer watching the security feed for anything suspicious including the pattern of distortion Vlad and Danny seemed to emit. He wasn’t sure how paranoid he should be about all this, but he’d seen the way Vlad’s eyes sparked red when he was angry and Batman was sure he was a lot more dangerous then he first seemed. And not just in the way that he was apparently willing to impregnate a boy young enough to be his son.

Finally he couldn’t avoid going to check on Danny anymore. Not that he was Really avoiding it, just that he knew this was going to be an exhausting and difficult conversation and he needed to brace himself for it. With every step towards Danny’s new room he felt the weight gather on his shoulders of what this child must have been through.

He knocked, and let himself in. Immediately clocking the way Danny tensed at the sight of him. Of course a rich older man would set off his alarm bells. Bruce gave the softest smile he could and went to pull out the desk chair across from the bed Danny was sitting on, well out of arms reach so he wouldn’t seem like a threat as he sat down. He glanced at Tim who nodded and went and sat on the bed next to Danny. Solidarity, willing to stand up against Bruce if Danny needed it, safety.

“Hello Danny, it’s nice to meet you. My children told me a bit about.. your situation,” Bruce said with a small grimace. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions? I promise I won’t judge you whatever you say, and I promise I am on your side. No matter what I will try to keep you safe okay? Just tell me the truth, it’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

“Alright Mr. Wayne,” Danny said, though he was still wary.

“Thank you, please call me Bruce. So first, what’s your full name?” he asked deciding to start super easy.

“Daniel James Fenton,” Danny replied softly.

“Your parents names?”

“Doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton,” Huh the fact that he called his parents doctor like it was part of their name seemed to be significant though Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 16,” He said. A little older than he looked but still no where near old enough to have the weight of the world on his shoulders like he did.

“And you’re pregnant?” Bruce asked as gently as he could, Danny nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Danny said softly and Bruce nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Did you take a test then?” He asked and Danny grimaced making a so so motion.

“It’s not… that simple,” He said softly.

“Can you explain it to me please?” Bruce asked softly.

Danny took a deep breath and licked his lips, hesitating, opening his mouth to stat, hesitating again and biting his lip. Bruce stayed quiet as he watched the conflict on Danny’s face. “You work with the justice league right?” Danny asked suddenly which seemed like a bit of a non sequitur to Bruce but he needed. “A bunch of the members aren’t human right?” Ah, Bruce nodded again. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am Danny,” Bruce promised, soft and reassuring. “People don’t have to be human or from earth to be people. Whatever is going on with you you’re still a person, and a kid, and deserve to be protected.”

“Okay,” Danny said as he scrutinized Bruce’s body language for any sign that he was lying. “Okay. I’ve never been able to trust any adults with this shit but I can’t keep doing this on my own so okay. I’m not human, not fully anyway, not anymore. These are..” He touched his stomach. “Like if you did an ultrasound you wouldn’t see embryos more like… Hang on Here.”

Bruce blinked as Danny suddenly, reached Inside himself, and before he could panic Danny had pulled out a perfectly round object that filled his palm. It shimmered with light from within, cold and sparkling with stars. “Our kind is more energy and light then anything else. This is Us, the mind, heart, everything we are is stored in our core the rest is formed around that. I mean for most of my kind, I’m still half human.” Danny said before replacing the orb inside him. “I have two other little cores inside me right now, feeding on my energy to develop properly, you could see them on an Xray. I don’t know how long they’ll take honestly.” He sighed caressing his stomach again.

 “But I can feel them inside me, I can feel their worry when I’m scared, and their joy when I’m happy, and their love. They’re my babies.” He said with the softest most paternal smile on his lips. The bags under his eyes were awful, he was clearly exhausted and stressed, but his expression told Bruce Danny thought it was all going to be worth it for his children. It brought a lump to his throat he had to clear before he could speak again.

“Okay, do you have access to healthcare appropriate for your.. species?” He asked and Danny nodded. Though he was tight lipped still.

“There are protections for non-human species in America you know,” Tim said.

Bruce and Tim exchanged a confused look as Danny barked a laugh. “Not for MY kind, we were specifically excluded,” He said with a wry curl to his lips. “The shadow or echo left behind when a proper human dies, not sentient or sapient they say. Malicious and dangerous they say. To be captured or exterminated on sight. They would take me, experiment on me, probably put my babies in jars or something.”

Oh, oh fuck, he was shaking, eyes blank and glassy like he was heading towards a panic attack. “Danny! Danny look at me,” Bruce said as he leaned forward and Danny’s gaze flicked up to his face. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get you. You’re clearly not what they say, and anyone who would hurt a child is not the good guy in this story.”

“Who are they?” Tim asked with an expression that promised swift and vicious retribution.

Danny took another deep breath. “The GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward. They’re a government agency, they’ve been hunting in my hometown for a while. Early on we tried to call the Justice Legue, but I think they were jamming the lines or something,” Danny said looking down and biting his lip.

Fuck this poor kid really couldn’t catch a break! Bruce was sure that the ‘ghosts’ these idiots were hunting weren’t really anything of the sort, but he would look into this and see what he could find. Tim was clearly itching to as well bad he wasn’t willing to leave Danny alone with Bruce, good lad.

“And what about your parents? Do you think you could be safely returned to their home?” Bruce asked, as much as he wanted to keep Danny reunification was supposed to be the goal of fostering.

“No!” Danny nearly yelped sitting up straight. “No! They work for the GIW! They design most of their weapons. If they ever found I’d been contaminated- I don’t want to think the worst of them but even if they still recognized me as their son the babies-“ He cut off, wrapping both his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

“Okay, we’ll call child protective services, my lawyer, and the Justice League. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Bruce promised Danny. “And you can stay here as long as you need to. Is there any other family you would want to go to?” Bruce asked, just to be sure, but he wasn’t surprised when Danny shook his head and grabbed a pillow to hug.

“And I know Oracle and Red Robin will be itching to find out more about this ‘government agency’,” Tim said. “I want to go tell them Danny, if Bruce and I go will you be okay on your own or do you want me to ask Cas to come stay with you?”

“Cas please? If she’s not busy?” Danny asked uncertainly and Tim nodded. Bruce was getting up before Danny spoke up again. “I have a sister, Jazz. She knows about me not being fully human, but not about the babies. She’s a good person, and she’s almost an adult. I don’t know, I just need you to know she’s good, and I don’t want to mess things up for her,” Danny said worriedly.

“Of course Danny, thanks for letting me know,” Bruce said with a smile already making plans to get her out as well. “We’ll let you know as soon as there are developments.” He promised before both he and Tim ducked out. They split up, Tim going to find Cas and ask her to go back to Danny before they reconvened in the bat cave, they had a lot of research to do.

next>

[foone]

Look if there's one thing, just one thing, that I wish everyone understood about archiving, it's this:

We can always decide later that we don't need something we archived.

Like, if we archive a website that's full of THE WORST STUFF, like it turns out it's borderline illegal bot-made spam art, we can delete it. Gone.

We can also chose not to curate. You can make a list of the 100 Best Fanfic and just quietly not link to or mention the 20,000 RPFs of bigoted youtubers eating each other. No problem!

We can also make things not publicly available. This happens surprisingly often: like, sometimes there'll be a YouTube channel of alt-right bigotry that gets taken down by YouTube, but someone gives a copy to the internet archive, and they don't make it publicly available. Because it might be useful for researchers, and eventually historians, it's kept. But putting it online for everyone to see? That's just be propaganda for their bigotry. So it's hidden, for now. You can ask to see it, but you need a reason.

And we can say all these things, we can chose to delete it later, we can not curate it, we can hide it from public view... But we only have these options BECAUSE we archived it.

If we didn't archive it, we have no options. It is gone. I'm focusing on the negative here, but think about the positive side:

What if it turns out something we thought was junk turns out to be amazing new art?

What if something we thought of as pointless and not worth curating turns out to be influential?

What if something turns out to be of vital historical importance, the key that is used to solve a great mystery, the Rosetta stone for an era?

All of those things are great... If we archived it when we could.

Because this is an asymmetric problem:

If we archived it and it turns out it's not useful, we can delete.

If we didn't archive it and it turns out it is useful, OOPS!

You can't unlose something that's been lost. It's gone. This is a one way trip, it's already fallen off the cliff. Your only hope is that you're wrong about it being lost, and there is actually still a copy somewhere. If it's truly lost, your only option is to build a time machine.

And this has happened! There are things lost, so many of them that we know of, and many more we don't know of. There are BOOKS OF THE BIBLE referenced in the canon that simply do not exist anymore. Like, Paul says to go read his letter to the Laodiceans, and what did that letter say? We don't know. It's gone.

The most celebrated playwright in the English tradition has plays that are just gone. You want to perform or watch Love's Labours Won? TOO FUCKING BAD.

Want to watch Lon Cheyney's London After Midnight, a mystery-horror silent film from 1927? TOO BAD. The MGM vault burnt down in 1965 and the last known copy went up in smoke.

If something still exists, if it still is kept somewhere, there is always an opportunity to decide if it's worthy of being remembered. It can still be recognized for its merits, for its impact, for its importance, or just what it says about the time and culture and people who made it, and what they believed and thought and did. It can still be a useful part of history, even if we decide it's a horrible thing, a bigoted mess, a terrible piece of art. We have the opportunity to do all that.

If it's lost... We are out of options. All we can do is research it from how it affected other things. There's a lot of great books and plays and films and shows that we only know of because other contemporary sources talked about them so much. We're trying to figure out what it was and what it did, from tracing the shadow it cast on the rest of culture.

This is why archivists get anxious whenever people say "this thing is bad and should not be preserved". Because, yeah, maybe they're right. Maybe we'll look back and decide "yeah, that is worthless and we shouldn't waste the hard drive or warehouse space on it".

But if they're wrong, and we listen to them, and don't archive... We don't get a second chance at this. And archivists have been bitten too many times by talk of "we don't need copies, the original studio has the masters!" (it burnt down), or "this isn't worth preserving, it's just some damn silly fad" (the fad turned out to be the first steps of a cultural revolution), or "this media is degenerate/illegal/immoral" (it turns out those saying that were bigots and history doesn't agree with their assessment).

So we archive what we can. We can always decide later if it doesn't need preserving. And being a responsible archivist often means preserving things but not making them publicly available, or being selective in what you archive (I back up a lot of old computer hard drives. Often they have personal photos and emails and banking information! That doesn't get saved).

But it's not really a good idea to be making quality or moral judgements of what you archive. Because maybe you're right, maybe a decade or two later you'll decide this didn't need to be saved. And you'll have the freedom to make that choice. But if you didn't archive it, and decide a decade later you were wrong... It's just gone now. You failed.

Because at the end of the day I'd rather look at an archive and see it includes 10,000 things I think are worthless trash, than look at an archive of on the "best things" and know that there are some things that simply cannot be included. Maybe they were better, but can't be considered as one of the best... Because they're just gone. No one has read them, no one has been able to read them.

We have a long history of losing things. The least we can do going forward is to try and avoid losing more. And leave it up to history to decide if what we saved was worth it.

My dream is for a future where critics can look at stuff made in the present and go "all of this was shit. Useless, badly made, bigoted, horrible. Don't waste your time on it!"

Because that's infinitely better than the future where all they can do is go "we don't know of this was any good... It was probably important? We just don't know. It's gone. And it's never coming back"

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 12

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Part 11 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

You and Silas stared at each other.

"What do you mean "okay"?"

You nod. "Okay, I'll marry you."

He looked at you suspiciously. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"That is not an answer." He frowned, making you sigh as you turned your body to face him completely. "Look, you're going to pay me anyways right?" He nodded. "So, I need the money, and well... lets just say I have nothing else left to lose. Maybe I'm just bored."

Bored? More like pissed at the universe and I will not let it beat me to the ground anymore. I wont go out without causing chaos and maybe if someone tries to kill me again, I will perhaps consider disrupting the historical timeline to make the universe itself combust and unravel. If I'm suffering, I'm taking the universe along!

Silas gave you an incredulous look, before shrugging in defeat. "Very well, then."

"Wait-" You stop him from getting up. "Why did you choose me? Actually, why do you need a wife?"

He rolled his eyes, standing up, you following along. "Come on, Silas. Tell me. Is it cause I'm pretty? Smart-"

"You dressed as a man."

What?

"What?"

He looked down at you. "What? You didnt think I'd spot you in that poor disguise at the newspaper office that day?"

Silas saw me that day? He recognised me?

"How did you even-" He scoffed. "I'm intelligent. And I have eyes. I notice everyone and everything." He turned around and began walking away.

"Wait!" You ran after him. "That still doesnt answer my question! You're marrying me because I dressed like a man? What- you're attracted by that-"

"Stop talking." Silas cut you off abruptly. "I chose you because you work at the newspaper, not because you're a man."

"Oh. So you need someone to write out articles singing your praises?Cant you just pay someone to do that?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. I dont need someone to sing my praises. I need you to be the mole there. I want you to report everything that happens at the paper, specifically about the murders thats been on going these days."

Murders? Murders-

"The White Chapel murders?" He nodded. "I need the papers to focus on them, not on me or who I am marrying. I need them to put the pressure on the cops to catch that sick bastard! Not idolise him with that stupid alias-"

"Jack the Ripper." You finish for him. He breathes heavily, anger radiating off him. "Yes, that. Because its only causing people to either admire him for killing off those prostitutes or fear him, letting the idea of them terrorise them!"

"I see. But... why do you need to get married to me for that? I mean, if you pay me, I could just report to you everything from there, including his letters."

Silas looked at you in slight annoyance, as if mad that you couldnt figure out his motives.

"The papers are focusing on me and my marriage. If I get married, the news will only run for a week or two before diverting their attention to the papers. And before you ask why I'm marrying you specifically instead of someone much better suited to my tastes-" okay, not gonna take that insult to heart. "- I told you, you work at the paper, which means you'll report everything to me. And if I were to marry someone more influential, the papers will continue to write about us for longer. But you? You're a nobody- believe me, I checked. You have no family, dont come from nobility, so no one will talk about you. "

Great. "Wow, you do know how to flatter a woman."

Silas smirked. "Trust me, "a woman" would be flattered-" You shot him a glare before he could finish off his joke.

-

Silas and you got married later that night. He arranged an out-of-town priest, some official documents, and two witnesses for the vows, which were his butler Cadbury and his wife, Erin, who acted as the best man and maid-of-honor. It was obvious that Silas wanted to keep this ceremony a secret, and he told you that the time will come to break the news.

When the priest asked him to kiss you, SIias pulled a face and said to skip over that part because you had bad breath. You did not. Jerk.

But you were glad you didnt had to kiss him, so you didnt bother kicking his shin. Maybe nearly dying so many times has made you grow a pair, or maybe its the fact that you dont actually consider this a real marriage because a Nikkah (an Islamic wedding) ceremony did not happen, so technically, you're still single, but you're surprised at how... calmly you've come to terms with everything.

Silas let you go back to you house, because the marriage was the still a secret so there's no use keeping you around at his place. Besides, he needs you to continue working on the murders.

Honestly, you do kind of want to find out who Jack the Ripper is. Any historian worth his salt, dreams of this very opportunity you've been given- to find out the man behind all the horrendous, gut wrenching murders.

Colin watched you get up from your desk and go to the corner office where Will was working on the murders. Poor Will. Colin pitied the lad- he had to deal with the gruesome details of the murders, write out the articles in details that are just pallatable enough for the readers, only to be rejected by the editor who wanted the front page news to be about Silas FitzGeorge.

What were you doing there? Colin didnt think it was best for you to go in there, after the depressing weeks you'd barely pulled yourself through. Grisly details of a killing spree might not be what you need at the moment.

"Hey Will!" You walk in his office, changing your voice to that of a man.

"Holmes." He acknowledged you briefly, his hair a mess as well his desk. If anyone knew how giddy you were everytime someone in the office called you Sherlock Holmes, you'd be labelled a loser for sure.

"Still working on those murders, eh?" You walk closer to his desk. "Any leads on who the mystery man might be?"

"No." He glared at you. "I would, if the coppers were to do their job and the editor published my work, but noooo. God forbid we miss any details on that FitzGeorge fella and his tragic life. Cry me a fucking river-" Ah, a fellow Silas hater. You can work with that.

"Let me help you." You offer him. Will raises his brow, before scoffing. "Unless you can somehow have the editor publish my articles, I dont think you can help me. Besides, I dont need an amateur disturbing me because he's just wants to see a dead body."

Amateur? Pfft, I'll have you know I was a minor celebrity on Wattpad at just age 11 when I wrote Sherlock Holmes fanfics-

"How about this? If I can convince the editor to post your work, will you let me help?"

Will stares at you, studying you for a moment.

"Fine."

You walk out of his office and go to your desk where Colin is already waiting for you.

"Hey, Colin." You greet him, sitting down as you pull a blank sheet of paper from your drawer and start writing on it.

"Hey... Sherlock. What were you doing in-" He leans down to read what you're writing. "Jack The Ripper- why are you writing about him?"

You shrug. "Why not? He's an important figure to talk about and needs to be caught. If the papers bring enough attention to him, it'll put pressure on the authorities to work harder to catch him."

"I get that, but- I mean, you already have the FitzGeorges to write about and what about other douches in high society?" Colin tried to persuade you.

"I'll write about them too, in fact. Dont worry about it. I'm going to bring you some real dirt soon." You tell him before picking up the pen again, but Colin grasps your wrist, stopping you.

"Y/n, I just dont think that you should be working on this right now-"

"Colin." You cut him off, freeing your wrist. "I'm grateful for your concern for my well being, but I assure you- I am not made of glass. I can handle my business. Besides, this is something that has intrigued me. Let me work on it, please." You say before returning to writing down your points on the homicidal maniac.

-

After work, you changed out of your disguise and went to the antique store on Regent street, or what was left of it.

You knew there was no chance, but something inside you hoped that your time machine had survived.

The store was burnt down, and since the interior was mainly made of wood, most of the antiques had burnt to ashes or at least, damaged beyond repair and could not be sold.

You stood outside the ruins off the store, the property was sealed off and guards stood outside it, not letting you in.

"Please, I just need to-"

"Like I said, miss. We were given specific instructions not to let anyone in." The guard cut you off, annoyed by your insistence.

Before you could argue again, someone walked up behind you.

"Y/n." Henry looked at you. He was dressed well, his hair combed and face shaved, well kept as he usually was but his eyes.... he had bags under his eyes. Like he hadnt slept in days.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, um- I just wanted to see if my stuff is still there."

He nodded at his guards to step aside, leading you inside the shop.

"Look around. See if you can find it." Henry's tone was flat, as if he already knew.

Still, you looked around. You searched the whole place, not even finding the remains off your machine. And how could you? It was made of mostly plastic and very cheap metal, its not like you had funds to make it indestructible.

Or incombustible.

"Satisfied?" He asked you when you finally stopped looking for it.

You huff. "If you'd just given it to me before-"

"Y/n." He cut you off. "I lost my store. I lost my employee who was working in here, who was blasted to pieces. I lost more money than you can ever imagine and you have the nerve to stand there and try to blame it on me? After I'd given you the courtesy to look through my property to put your mind to ease?"

He admonished you, all while barely letting his rage slip through his voice. He was holding back from blowing up on you, but it did not help because you still felt small.

Because he is right. He lost an employee. He lost money. He lost too, and yet you have the audacity to complain to him like he was somehow at fault.

And he wasnt. Its not like he bombed his store.

"Do you know who did it?" You ask, diverting your eyes to avoid his piercing gaze.

"No one "did" it. It was an accident." Henry looked at the floorboard. "Apparently, there was gunpowder in some of the artefacts that came from China that day. The employee probably didnt check it when he put it on the table, next to a candle. Then one got lit up and it set off all the others, blowing up the whole store."

That... sounds like a big coincidence.

"Henry, are you sure someone wasnt behind this-"

"Y/n, I dont have time to entertain your wild theories right now. I have to deal with insurance and other things. Please leave." He cut you off abruptly.

Without giving him another moment to bruise your self esteem, you stormed out of his store. By the time you reached home, it was dark, which wasnt the best idea with a murderer on the loose- as the boys made it clear.

"Do you have any idea what he's capable of?! Have you seen the crime scenes?!" Liam yelled at you.

"No. But its not like I'm a prostitute, so he wont hurt me." You answer from your seat between Benjamin's legs, who insisted on brushing the knots out of your hair and placing some essential oils in your hair.

Liam looked at you like you'd grown two heads. "How would he know that?!"

You leaned forward, frowning. "Okay if you're saying that you cant the difference between a prostitute and me, then thats just insulting to me and to you as a police officer!"

Shepherd suppressed a chuckle as he handed a drink to Liam to calm him down. As they continued to joke around, you mind went to your time machine.

Sure, you could try making it from scratch again. It'll be difficult, and not just because there isnt enough technology to make the whole thing by yourself, but also because the mere idea of building a time machine could have you lobotomised.

So yes, one of the reasons why you agreed to marry Silas was because of his money that would not only let you buy expensive raw materials but also allow you to have a space to make the machine in secret.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Colin left to see who it was, returning moments later with a huge box in his hand.

"Its for you." He set the box down and handed you the letter that came with it. You read the letter while the boys opened the box-

"Tomorrow. 7:30 pm sharp.

Dont be late, missus."

The "missus" part gave away that it was from Silas. What was he planning? Were you supposed to go to his place or was he going to pick you up? What was going to happen tomorrow?

"Woah! Who is this from?" Shepherd asked as he looked at the fancy dress in the box. He pulled it out of the box, the gown flowing down effortlessly. "It looks expensive- this is expensive, right? Its expensive." He stated before repeating his question to you. "Who is it from, Y/n?"

You folded the letter as you saw them all looking at you. "I... I might have a date-"

"With who?" Benjamin asked sharply.

"I-" You sigh. "I'll let you know after the date. Lets see how it goes first."

"Oh, come on! Just tell us!" Liam probed, but you took the dress from him, putting it back in the box and taking it to your room, not noticing how silent Colin had went.

-

You stood in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection while Ben did your hair. Wearing the black velvet gown that had a white blouse and long skirt underneath, puffy regency era sleeves and a belt at the bust, you looked elegant.

Seeing as you had no jewellery to pair the outfit with, Ben styled your hair down, curling the locks and putting a dainty black silk bow on the back, trimming the front of your hair so that they framed your face.

"There's a carriage waiting for you!" Shepherd informed you before going back to gushing about the rich fella you'd managed to bag.

You turned around for Ben for the finishing touches. He smiled softly at you, taking your hands in his and squeezed them gently.

"Dont force yourself to do anything you're not comfortable with, hm? Just because he gave you this dress doesnt mean he can do anything he wishes." You nodded, returning his smile. "And remember, you have me and the boys to beat anyone who upsets you, Y/n." He winked making you giggle.

Standing outside the carriage, you looked up and waved to the 3 boys standing in the window before getting inside.

"Ah, I hope she knows how to use that knife I gave her." Liam mumbled, making Shepherd yell at him.

"You gave her a knife?!"

"What? She needs to protect herself when there's a murderer on the lose-"

As the two continued to bicker, Benjamin went to his room and packed some scissors and razors in a small bag, before leaving the room.

"Where are you going?" Colin asked, finally speaking for the first time that evening. Sitting on the sofa chair, he'd been nursing on a drink the entire time you were getting ready for your drink. He kept quiet, pretending to be to engrossed with reading the paper to notice you getting dressed for your date night.

"I... have a client." Ben said, putting on his top hat and leather gloves before wearing his coat.

"This late?" Colin raised a brow.

Ben gave a nod.

"He... he needs a haircut urgently."

Colin stared at him before sighing, picking up his drink.

"Alright. Be careful. Its foggy out there."

-

Sitting inside the carriage alone, you wondered where the buttler was taking you. Since Silas isnt here with you, then its likely that you're being taken to him at the FitzGeorge estate.

You take a deep breath, fiddling with the velvet of your dress. So tonight will be the night he announces his marriage to you. Or maybe not. I mean, if he did plan on doing that then perhaps he'd be giving you some pointers on how to win over his family? To get their approval? It was a big thing for high society, if not for someone who is loosely attached to royalty.

Maybe thats why he called you over tonight. To soft launch you to his family, something like- "hey, this is Y/n, a girl I fancy. I think she might be the one." so that it seems a lot more believable when he does introduce himself as your husband, probably a few weeks or a month from now.

Yes. Silas doesnt seem like the type to just spring up the union on his family out of nowhere. He is English, he is noble, he wouldnt be one to cause a scene.

The carriage stopped after sometime, and you could hear people chattering outside. Your door suddenly opened, but before you could step out, someone stepped in.

It was Silas.

He sat across from you, wearing a formal dress black suit, his hair styled properly. If your dressing didnt give it away, then his did- it was definitely a black-tie event.

He gave you a nod of acknowledgement, looking you up and down.

"Here, wear this." He handed you a velvet lined box. Opening it, you saw a beautiful pearl necklace and matching tear drop earrings.

"Oh, this is... beautiful." You said in awe. "You could've sent this along with the dress, I would've worn my hair differently-"

"No, I didnt want to risk you running off with it." Silas casually insulted you as he began opening the door. "Wear this and dont talk to me or approach me in there."

"Wait, what?" You looked at him confusion.

Silas huffed in irritation. "I'm going to go back inside. You'll walk in after five minutes, and when you do, you will not talk to me, or approach me or do anything that gives away that you know me."

"Silas-" But he left before you could question what he was on about.

So... he wasnt planning on announcing his marriage to you tonight? Wearing the jewellery, you followed his instructions and exited the carriage exactly five minutes later.

But instead of seeing the FitzGeorge house, you were standing in front of a... palace.

A palace you're seen quite a few times.

Buckingham palace.

"What am I...?" You whispered to yourself before composing yourself as other guests began walking past you.

As you ascended the stairs to the entrance where guards stood, you wondered if they'd let you in. Surely, without Silas by your side or an official invitation, they wouldnt let you in. You watched a few guests holding an envelope with a royal seal, an invitation they showed to the guards before being let in.

Heart pounding as you feared the embarrassment you're about to face, you reached the guards who looked at you for a few moments, trying to recognise you before their eyes fell on your necklace and they let you pass.

Ah, so thats why he gave you the jewellery. If you looked like you belonged there, then you probably did.

Why am I here though?

You looked around and saw many people inside, all belonging from high society. This definitely wasnt the place where Silas was going to announce his marriage. So why did he invite you here?

Maybe he wants me to use this as an opportunity to get dirt on high society?

Yes, perhaps, but how would this serve him? Is there a specific person he wants me to get dirt on? Someone I need to write about in the papers?

Silas, what game are you playing?

You spotted him standing in the corner, talking with his cousins and uncles, though you noticed many girls looking at him. Of course, he still is the "most eligible bachelor" to them. If they knew how rude he was, maybe they'd change their opinion.

Walking through the crowd, you began listening on conversations, trying to pick up on interesting bits. It was the usual obnoxious bragging about their wealth, some scandals here and there, disturbing comments about women, etc. Nothing particularly interesting.

Fortunately, you werent bored for long as the royal butler announced the arrival of the hosts. It hadnt truly hit you where you were standing until you heard her name-

"Her Majesty, Queen Victoria-"

Queen Victoria. The Queen Victoria.

You could feel goosebumps raising on your skin, your eyes widening as you realised you're looking at one of the most iconic figures in history. Alive. She's alive and she's walking right in front of you-

She's short. They were right about that. Standing next to her husband, Prince Albert, she looked even shorter. But she looked incredibly happy, full of youth as she stood next to him, unlike all the paintings who depicted her as this angry old widow.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

Her children stood behind her in order, all smiling at their mother. Her daughters, you recognised them all, looked just as beautiful. You recognised her eldest, Edward VII, a 20-something old boy who would end up being hated by his mother and blamed for his father's death. He looked nervous, standing beside her and you could see he was just itching to leave her side and avoid any more scrutiny.

The Queen began speaking.

"Thank you everyone for joining us on this pleasent occasion." She looked around. "Tonight, we are going to welcome a member to our family, even though he has always been a part of us. But now, we will make things official."

"Silas FitzGeorge." She called suddenly. You saw Silas step forward in front of the queen, bowing his head curtly before looking at her confidently.

"You're my cousin Georgie's grandson, and I have no doubt when I say that if he were here tonight, he'd be just as proud of the young man you've become as I am. Our families may have had some issues in the past, but I have always accepted you as a part of me. Over the years, you've only proven me right with how capable you've become on your own, without seeking a helping hand in your adversities. You have made us all immensely proud, as well as your predecessors for being the first man in our family to attend Oxford university. Watching you start businesses and expand your empire, I have no doubt that you will only continue to make the royal family and Britian proud. Therefore, I would like to offer my support and make good on my promise that I made to you when you were a child."

She turned around and a servant handed her a document.

"I hereby make Silas FitzGeorge, the Duke of Westminster."

Oh. Ohhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-

This was Silas's dukedom ceremony. Why is this a huge deal? Because his grandfather, Prince George was once estranged from the royal family and stripped off his royal duties and benefits when he married Sarah Fairbrother, which meant their descendents were all illegitimate and not recognised by the crown.

But tonight, with Silas becoming a duke, its like a welcome back to the family. That too, by the same woman who had in essence- ostracised his family.

And with Dukedom comes other benefits, money, property, influence. Not to mention that Silas has become the duke of Westminster, as in THE WESTMINSTER! One of the wealthiest dukedoms to get, and also where Westminster palace is, the place which is the meeting place for the Parliament of United Kingdom. It'll allows Silas to have a say and play around with politics.

This is a huge gesture by the queen, and if Silas wasnt the most eligible bachelor before, then he definitely is one.

You watched the queen sign the documents first, before giving it to Silas who signed it. Everyone cheered and clapped for the young duke before stopping as Victoria began speaking again.

"Now, I would like to share more good news." She smiled at Silas, who stood beside her now. "I would like to announce the new duke's betrothal to my daughter, Helena."

What?

The guests clapped again as you saw Silas looking ahead, purposely avoiding your gaze. The queen beamed as she looked back at Helena, who was blushing.

So this is why Silas didnt want you to talking to him. He knew he was going to marry Helena, and he didnt want anyone to even doubt that he's associated with you in any way. Is this his way of telling you that the sham marriage between you two has ended?

Victoria encouraged Silas to say a few words.

Silas looked down briefly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Oh, wow. I am grateful that her majesty has awarded me dukedom. I dont have enough words to express how thankful I am to you." He looked up and you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes. "However, I was only informed of this ceremony and not of my betrothal beforehand."

The queen's head snapped in his direction, as did all of the royals, but Silas continued speaking unfazed.

"I wish I had been told about this earlier to avoid this awkward situation uhhh..." he chuckled nervously, but you could see he was anything but nervous. "I am honoured to be even considered for the princess's hand, your majesty, but I'm afraid I am already married." He announced, looking straight at you.

The hall interrupted into gasps and whispers before they parted the way to let Silas make his walk to you.

With a charming smile, a dimple on his left cheek, he approached you, pulling you into his arms as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

"Hi, sweetheart." He whispered loud enough for the onlookers to hear. Your eyes widened, your face flushed at the feeling of everyone's eyes and at his word.

"Si-" The words died down your throat as he placed an arm around your back and pulled you close to his side, showing you off.

"This is Y/n, my darling wife."

With Silas's announcement, the hall went silent once again. Your throat went dry at being put in the spotlight, and your eyes flickered from one guest to another, until finally falling on the queen's, who looked... pissed.

Finally, it was Prince Albert who broke the silence and announced dinner had been served. As the guests began walking out of the hall, Silas lead you out of the palace and to the carriage where his grandmother was waiting for you.

"Go home, now. I'll see you soon." Was all Silas said to you before whispering something to his grandmother, who beamed and nodded, patting his cheek.

"Come on, Y/n. Its getting late, now." Sarah said as she lead you into the carriage, taking her seat next to you, completely unaware of the eyes that had been following you since the moment you'd left home.

-

Silas returned inside, seeing his uncles smirking with pride at the game he'd just played but instead of going to them to celebrate his victory, he went to Prince Albert and Queen Victoria who seemed to be arguing in a low tone in the corner while the guests were being seated in the dining hall.

Clearing his throat, he got their attention.

"Your majesties, I am so sorry for not informing you about my union with Y/n. Its just my wife is terribly shy and we wanted to keep this marriage a secret. But I understand how this creates an embarrassing situation for the crown, and I would like to humbly turn down my dukedom-"

"No." The queen cut him off, her eyes void of any emotion. "The dukedom was awarded to you for your achievements, not because you were asked to marry my daughter. Helena is not something to pawn off to just anyone."

Silas offered a sympathetic smile. "Of course, your majesty. I'm sure you'll find a better suitor for the princess." He took his bow before turning around to enter the dining hall while Victoria stared at his back.

"Are you really still going to keep him as the duke of Westminster?" Albert asked his wife.

She was fuming. But only Albert could tell.

"What choice did I have?" Victoria asked, still glaring at the young boy who dared to play her. "If I took the dukedom away after announcing it publicly, it would've been a far more embarrassment for the crown. They would call us "cheap"."

"We cant let him get away with it." Albert whispered. "Its Westminster. We may rule it, but the duke will still be able to influence the government."

"You think I'm not aware he wants to play politics?" Victoria snapped, before softening her tone. "I wont let him get away with it, Albert. He's just a boy. I am a queen. I wont let him or anyone humiliate us."

Silas sat down besides his cousins as his uncles raised their glasses to him. He sipped his drink, a satisfied grin resting on his face. He knew exactly what he did. Even though no one actually told him that the dukedom came with marriage to the princess, because how callous would it be to ask him to marry her when no one would give up the opportunity of becoming the queen's son-in-law, Silas knew he was expected to marry Helena.

But no one said it. No one asked him. Its the English, they never say what they mean outright, choosing to read between the lines and do what is expected of them, because its more artful, more honourable this way.

Not that Silas could care about traditions. Why would he, when he planned on exacting his revenge?

The queen only came to offer her support when he became successful enough on his own. Where was she when his parents died and his sister was left to take care of him? Sure, Victoria attended the funeral and "promised" to take care of him. But she also said she'd only do that if he proved himself. His grandmother and his sister, Daisy were the ones who raised him.

And now, years later when he got into Oxford without using his family name, without saying "I am related to the queen", when he used his skills to create a powerful business empire that has the potential to influence the British industries, she wants him?

Sure, Westminster has its benefits, but Silas doesnt need Westminster. Westminster needs Silas. He could topple over the government and even shut down Britain herself with just his influence alone. Being a duke just has given him a public platform, an acknowledgement and most importantly, backing from the crown.

And you? Marrying you wasnt just because you happened to be around. Oh no. Silas has plans for you, plans to use you and further his revenge. This is just the beginning.

-

Sarah dropped you back at your place after you insisted that you needed to inform your flatmates of your departure. She gave you a disapproving look when she found out you were living with 4 men and was very determined to have you move in with her and Silas at the FitzGeorge estate, but you were able to persuade her to let you stay the night at home one last time.

"There's something I need to tell you guys." You fiddled with your thumbs as they all sat down in front of you.

"I um... I'm married."

"What?" Shepherd asked. "And you still went on a date?"

"I went on a date with my husband-"

"And who is that?"

You took a deep breath.

"Silas FitzGeorge."

Everyone except for Benjamin broke into laughter.

"Yeah, good one. Seriously, who is it?"

You frowned. "Seriously. Its Silas FitzGeorge."

As you began explaining your situation, even showing them the jewellery that you definitely werent wearing before you left, they started to believe you.

"Y/n- you cant- you cant marry Silas. You cant just marry someone you barely know!" Colin argued.

"What? Havent you heard of "love at first sight"?" You ask but he was unamused. Sighing, you shrugged. "Look, its a marriage that will benefit us both mutually. He gets people nagging him to get married off his back and I get to use his money and influence to get dirt on high society! Besides, I can leave him anytime I want."

"Then leave him now, before its too late." Ben said, standing up as he approached you. He took your shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze. "If its money you're worried about, I'll help you. I can provide for you, Y/n. Dont get into bed with these rich bastards, you dont know how selfish they can be. I- I- dont want you to get hurt-"

"I wont, Benny." You grab his arms, assuring him. "Silas and I are working together. If I go down, so will he. He wont hurt me, he cant. Its too risky for him now, you know? He announced our marriage tonight in front of the queen!"

As you began telling him about how you met the queen and all, Colin quietly left the living room to pour himself another drink, something to knock his brain out so he doesnt have to think about you and Silas.

-

Next day, before the sun even rose, you had packed up a few of your things to go live with the FitzGeorges. All the boys were awake at that time, though Colin's eyes were bloodshot from apparently drinking the wrong liqour, so he sat quietly on the sofa, watching you.

Liam and Shepherd took your bags to put it in the carriage waiting outside, while Ben pulled you in for a hug.

"I'm just moving out, Benny! I'll still see you guys." You laugh, patting his back.

Ben kissed the crown of your head before tucking it under his chin, arms tightening around you. "Just know that you will always have a home here, with us. Dont hesitate to reach out for help. And if Silas or anyone every hurts you, I dont care how rich they are, Y/n. I will take care of them. You just- just come back to us, hm?"

You pulled away from him, wiping a lone tear from your eye. "You're the best, Benny." You whisper before going to Colin, who just stared at you with red eyes.

Leaning down, you poked his cheek. "Kinda wish you werent drunk when I said goodbye, but I guess it makes it easier." Colin continued to stare at you. You grabbed his hand, smiling gratefully at him. "Thank you for everything, Colin. You saved me. Truly." You gave his hand a firm squeeze before leaving, missing him mumble something under his breath.

The carriage took you to the FitzGeorge estate and you were a little disappointed to see only Sarah waiting to welcome you. Its not like you wanted Silas to make a grand gesture to welcome his bride, but you were kinda hoping he was going to ease you into his world while explaining the events of the previous night.

Sarah showed you around the house before leading you to Silas bedroom.

"Cadbury has already placed your bags in there." She turned to you. "This will be your space too, so do make changes to the place as you please."

You smiled shyly at her. Honestly, you dont know whether Sarah knows that Silas only married you for personal agenda, but she wasnt surprised when Silas announced you were his wife.

Sarah looked at you and she placed a hand on her chest, touched.

"Oh, I am so glad you're Silas's girl."

Silas's girl?

"When Silas told me he married you, I was only mad that he did it behind my back! But I suppose it is understandable... these FitzGeorge men always liked to make a statement when it came to love." Sarah said, fondly remembering her late husband.

Sarah continued to gush about you enough for you to know that you dont need to kiss her ass. You have her approval.

When she left, you looked around the large bedroom, Victorian and dark academia was the aesthetic. Wooden panels lined the room, the shelves were stocked with thick books, a study table in one corner, an ottoman chest seat in front of the bed. The entire room was illuminated by the large windows that opened into the balcony, overlooking the large gardens and the cold air of London.

Standing at his balcony, you couldnt help but wonder...

Silas definitely has to HAVE a mega douchebag personality if this was where he was raised.

I mean who wouldnt have an ego trip if they woke up to a view like this, a butler named CADBURY who probably brings him his bland tea and tells him about all the proposals he had, and Silas would just wave a hand in dismissal, telling his butler to reject them all on his behalf.

Silas lived like a king. Or at the very least, lived like the 1% of Britain.

Returning back into the room, you looked at the interior before a grin formed on your face.

Time to snoop around, Y/n. You made your way to his desk.

Lets see what secrets you're hiding, husband.

-

Silas walked in on you folding your clothes and placing them in his closet.

"What do you think you're doing?" He huffed, loosening his tie. He was still in his clothes from last night, having just returned home after celebrating with his uncles and cousins.

You turned to him, faking enthusiasm. "Hello to you too."

Silas rolled his eyes, sitting on his bed. "Dont touch my things." He began untying his shoes.

"Why? You worried my poverty would taint them?"

He looked you dead in the eyes.

"Yes."

"Haha." You close the closet and turn to him. "We need to talk."

He looked at you miserably. "Cant it wait-" "No."

"Fine, then. Go on, I'm listening." He leaned against the headboard while you took your place on the foot of the bed.

"Why didn't you tell me last night that we were going to the palace? Or that you were going to announce our marriage?"

Tired eyes looked at you. "I didnt want to risk you getting cold feet."

Okay. Fair enough.

You gave him a nod. "Fine. Still would've liked a heads-up." "I'll keep that in mind for next time. Good night-" He began closing his eyes when you spoke again.

"No. We still need to talk about our situation." You looked at your lap, smoothing your dress before looking at him again, only to find his tired eyes studying you.

"Silas, who knows that our marriage is not... real?"

"It is a real marriage. We signed proper documents and all." He told you. "What you mean to ask is who knows our marriage is like mutually beneficial business deal? The answer is- no one, except for my butler and his wife, who wont say a word. And I want it to stay that way."

You raised a brow. "So... what exactly is the image you're trying to sell to the world? That we're a young couple, madly in love?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"Silas." Your tone turned serious. "If you want people to believe this fairytale you're creating, then you need to get your stories straight. And involve me in it too!"

He tilted his head at you before sighing. "Fine. Lets say... we met two months ago."

"Where?"

He grinned. "Ballet theatre. Near Oxford university."

"Ballet theatre- are you trying to use your grandparents story?"

He shrugged. "So what if I am? Besides, people will love it."

You glared at him, but he continued on with his story. "So we met at the ballet theatre, you fell madly in love with me the first time you saw me. Your exact words were- "Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father, have I died and went to heaven to witness the utter beauty of an angel-"

"I have seen rodents looking better than you." You cut him off.

"You're ruining my story." He scolded you. "Fine, we can say that after you were mesmerised by my beauty, you stalked me for a few weeks until I finally said yes out of pity-"

"Silas."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll leave the details to you, just remember- we met at the theatre. Thats the most important part of the story."

"Okay, I'll add my version of the events, which you can read in the papers in a day or two." You stood up, walking over to the vanity. "I will be going to work from tomorrow. I'll tell your grandmother I'm going to visit some friends, and you'll drop me off at my old place where I'll change my clothes and then I'll go to the office."

"Very well." He turned his head to look at you. "But after you're done writing about us, continue working on the White Chapel murders."

You hummed, turning around. "Dont worry, I should be able to get access to the letters in a few days. Wait- Silas, didnt you say your friend owned the paper I worked for?" He nodded. "Well, can you ask him if he could let me, I mean- assign Sherlock Holmes to work on the case? You could bribe him with giving an exclusive interview about your marriage for the papers, in return, he has to let me work the murder story."

"Consider it done." Silas said, putting his arm over his eyes.

"Um, Silas?"

"What?" He asked, annoyed.

"Where am I to sleep?" With Sarah in the house, its not like you can occupy another room. It'll raise suspicion.

Silas removed his arm to look at you, before looking at his large bed.

You shake your head. "I am not sleeping in the same bed with you-"

"I wouldnt want that either." He said, grabbing a pillow. Your heart warmed at the gesture. He really was going to leave his bed for you, like the true gentleman-

Thud.

You looked at the pillow he'd thrown on the floor.

"There." He pointed before returning to bed.

"You want me to sleep on the floor?"

With his eyes closed, he replied. "You say that like you expected me to sleep on the floor."

"Well-"

"Its my room, my bed. Why would I sleep on the floor?"

"I dont know, whats the word- chivalry?!" You huffed, grabbing the pillow and walking near the closed balcony window. It was cold but you'd rather sleep with a pretty view than to wake up to Silas feet landing on your face.

Muttering curses under your breath, you soon fell asleep with your back turned to Silas. A few minutes later, he got off the bed and dropped a blanket on your sleeping body.

And they say chivalry is dead. He thought to himself, returning to his bed.

-

The next day, while dropping you off to work, you brought up the previous day's convo.

"I need something." Silas's gaze flickered from the window of the carriage to you. "What do you know about Henry Blackwood?"

Silas' looked bored again. "He's a fellow businessman, invests in people rather than companies, likes to keep his operations in the dark, which means he has secrets. His shop blew up some time ago, allegedly a "technical failure" but... I think someone did it."

"You think so too?" You asked, hopeful. "Do you know who?"

Silas shook his head. "No. His enemies, like his operations are secret. All I know is someone did it to send a message to him, blew up the shop deliberately while he was out."

A message?

"I want to get dirt on him." You watch Silas raise a brow at you. "Just... get me close to him, or to his people. I saw him talking to your uncles, maybe they know something?"

Silas shakes his head again. "My uncles talk to anyone who has money. Henry wouldnt ever invest in them, they couldnt manage a business for the life of them."

"And you? Would Henry invest in you?"

Silas nodded. "He's tried. I wasnt interested." He cut you off before you could even suggest the idea. "And I'm still not interested. But I'll get you close to him."

"Thank you." You settled back in your seat before remembering another request. "Silas?"

"What now?"

"Can I have some money?"

"Here's a pound-" You glared at him, making him sigh. "How much?"

"Mmhm, oh I dont know... just enough to buy a small house-"

"And why do you need a house?"

You looked at him dumbfounded. "Well, when our marriage goes to the sewers, I would like to have a roof over my head."

"And what if I say I dont intend on ending this marriage?" Your blood ran cold at his words.

"What?"

Silas tilted his head at you before chuckling. "Why have you turned pale? If anyone should be horrified at the prospect of staying married in this mismatch, completely unbalanced relationship, it should be me. Struck down, caught out of the lake in his prime, of both beauty and brain-"

"Oh God, please stop talking before blood starts pouring out of my ears."

"So you agree your voice is irritating enough to do that?" Silas remarked smirking.

"Shut up." You flared your nostrils at him. Why does he have to ruin my mood this early in the day?

He chuckled victoriously, looking out the window. "I'll get you the house. You dont need money for it." He looked at you, already knowing you'd be confused. He grinned, pointing to himself. "Duke of Westminster-" he then points at you. "Duchess of Westminster."

Of course. Now that you're married to the duke, you have a whole lot of land in your hands. You really can have a house anywhere you'd like.

The carriage stopped. "Off you go now, wife."

Entering the office, you were first greeted by Will, the man in charge on working on the White Chapel murders.

"Holmes! How did you do it?" He shook you by the shoulder gleefully. "How did you convince the boss to post my story next?!"

I married his friend. "Oh, I just... promised him an article. Once I give him that, we can work together on the murder story."

He nodded, ushering you to finish off your article first before helping him.

Making your way to your desk, you spotted Colin. "Hey, Colin-" But he walked right past you, as if he didnt hear you.

Maybe he didnt. You shrugged, sitting down at your desk as you began writing down the news about you and Silas.

-

"Oh, Mr Holmes has definitely written most accurately about you Y/n!" Sarah said as she read the papers at the breakfast table. "He calls you the "fairest maiden in town" and "beauty with brains"- oh, I couldnt agree more!"

You smiled, sipping your tea sheepishly while Silas rolled his eyes. Its been 3 days since you wrote an article announcing your marriage to the world, and the editor decided to post it on Sunday, when you and most of London had off from work, all tuning in to read "how the most eligible bachelor bagged the fairest maiden in town."

Sarah ate some of the dishes you'd prepared today. "These are absolutely delicious, Y/n! Silas, your wife-" A maid came in to inform her that there's someone at the door to meet her. As Sarah excused herself, you got up from your seat to serve Silas the food you'd made on Sarah's request.

Silas picked up his fork and took a bite, a smile forming on his lips.

"Have I ever told you how good of a cook you are?"

You blushed, looking down. "No-"

"Then why do you keep cooking?" He dropped his fork on the plate, pushing it aside. "Stop using my kitchen." He smirked as he drank his tea, watching rage take over your face.

"Listen you twat-"

Sarah came back rushing in, a worried look on her face. Silas immediately sat up. "What is it, nana?"

"The- there was someone here from the palace." She gulped. "They sent flowers and a letter congratulating you two on the marriage. They... they said they'd like to meet Y/n and- and welcome the new couple officially."

Silas understood Sarah's worry. The palace never writes to them. In fact, the last time they did, it was years ago when his parents had died.

Getting up from his seat, Silas wiped his face with a napkin before dropping it on the table. "Then we'll let them. We shall host the Queen."

"Si-" But he took her by the shoulders, easing Sarah's worry.

"Dont worry. This is our home, nana." We have the advantage.

Silas left to start making arrangements for hosting the queen at the estate, while Sarah ran around the house with the staff to prepare for the event that is a week from now. Seeing as you couldnt be of use there and everyone was too busy to give you any pointers on what to say or act when the queen arrives, you left the estate to explore the town. Or more specifically, return to the blown up vintage store.

Yep, you're still hoping your time machine survived.

When you arrived on Regent street, you saw the same men still guarding the store, so they probably still wouldn't have let you in. But you also saw Henry, who was leaving the store and in his carriage.

Deciding to follow him, you sneaked into the back of someone's carriage and rode it before jumping off it when it got near Henry's carriage. Fortunately, you didnt have to follow him for long as he got off on Piccadilly street soon and strolled into a place called "The Gentlemen's Club" and from the looks of the daunting bouncers standing outside, you knew you couldnt just stroll in like Henry.

You watched the people who seemed to walk into the club, mostly men, all dressed formally and looked like they were a part of the high society. You saw some women too, though most of them dressed scandalously, so you assume they were there to provide entertainment.

As the sun began setting, more and more people started entering the club and just when you were about to leave, you saw Henry walk out of the club, a frown settled on his face. You werent expecting him to leave the club so soon, not when more people had started going in there, to rave or whatever. If Henry was here for pleasure, then he came out too early. If he was here for business, then most of the club goers have just begun entering, which means that whoever he wanted to conduct business with was already in there. Someone who works at the club... maybe even owns it?

As you turned to leave, you felt someone bump into you.

"Watch where you're going!" The blonde haired woman shrieked at you before crossing the street to go to the club.

You huffed. Everyone's got a giant stick up their-

You whipped your head around, feeling someone watching you. And thats when you spot it- a shadowy figure of a man, standing in the window of the club, on the second floor. Henry? No, he left. Then...?

The shadow didnt move, staring at you until it creeped you enough to make you leave.

-

Silas finally sat down after working all day. Cadbury brought him his evening tea.

"How are the preparations coming along?" He asked his butler. Cadbury informed him of the arrangements he's made and the guest list he's written down that needs his approval before he sends out the invitations.

"And the seamstress will come tomorrow to make a gown for Miss Y/n-"

Silas cut him off. "No need. Send the seamstress to me first. I'll let her know what kind of clothes need to be made for the event, then she can take Y/n's measurements."

"As you wish, sir." Cadbury said, but Silas could see something troubling the young butler. They werent that apart in age, and both of them had practically grown together, each reading the other person well.

"What's the matter, Cadbury?" Silas set his teacup down.

Cadbury took a deep breath. "Its just- I dont understand why the palace is suddenly coming to visit you, after what happened at the dukedom ceremony. It was certainly... humiliating for them, so why would they be coming to welcome Miss Y/n into the family?"

Silas grinned. "They're coming to see who I replaced the princess with." He picked up his cup. "They couldnt break me down, so they're going to try their luck with the missus. There's another reason why the queen is coming, but you let me worry about that."

Cadbury looked concerned. "Then we should prepare Miss Y/n to make no mistakes."

"Dont worry, she wont." Silas smiled, making his butler even more confused. "Speaking of, did you observe her when she was cooking in the kitchen today?"

Cadbury nodded. "Yes. And as you'd said, she didnt touch, let alone cook with bacon or wine despite my insistence that its your favourite. She replaced the meats, and didnt use any alcohol at all!"

Silas chuckled, his eyes gleaming with intent. "Perfect. Just as I'd suspected." He looked at Cadbury again. "Are there any leftovers from the food she'd made?"

"Yes. I was about to throw it out-"

"No. Bring them to me. I'll eat them. If Y/n asks, tell her you fed it to the dogs and then they got violently sick." Cadbury was confused as he left to bring him the food. He thought that Silas didnt like your cooking, at least from what he'd heard him say to you.

Oh. Maybe the young duke just doesnt want to acknowledge that he enjoyed your food.

-

A week passed by quickly and the day of the royal dinner came. You were freaking out because Silas had barely spoken two words to you about how to act or what to say, just telling you to act as yourself and he'll take care of the rest.

"What the hell...?" You muttered, watching your reflection in the mirror. Okay, you're not a conservative, but even you knew that this plunging neckline was a little too much skin for this time period, especially in front of the queen!

You were wearing a white satin and lace gown- wedding gown, if you were being honest. All that was missing was a veil, but you guess that would be a little too much on the nose. The dress was beautiful, no doubt, but it was missing a whole lot of cloth around the neckline, the tight corset making your chest puff out slightly more with a snatched waist. Your collar bones looked prominent, but you would credit that to the bland food served in London. Seriously, why do they act like vampires when it comes to adding garlic?

"Your husband had this dress designed specifically for you, madame!" The seamstress told you as she added her finishing touches. "He must love you a lot!" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you wore the jewellery he'd sent for you.

Yes. Thats why I sleep on the floor while he sleeps in his bed. Hope he suffocates under those plush sheets. My backache is the sign of our true love.

"Oh, who did that to your hair?" You heard a voice behind you and you turned around quickly.

"Benny!" You squealed, watching Ben, Liam, Shepherd and Colin enter your room. "Ah, I'm so glad you all came."

"Of course we did. There's free booze-" Shepherd smacked Liam on the back of his head. "We're here because we're happy for you."

"And because they wanted to see the queen." Colin said, rolling his eyes, making the other two bicker with him.

"How's Silas treating you? Are you happy?" Ben asked in a low tone as he fixes your hair.

Oh Ben. He reminds you so much of Qasim. "Yes, Benny. Silas is very good to me. I couldnt be happier."

Ben had a sad smile on his face as he nodded.

Just a few minutes later, Silas entered your room. "Y/n. Gentlemen." He nodded to them, before pulling you aside. "I need to talk to you."

You looked at him surprised. Silas was concerned. He was nervous about something. You've never seen him break a sweat.

"What is it, Silas?"

"The queen is onto us."

"What?"

Silas looked at you exasperated. "She knows about our sham marriage." He casted a look to the boys, who were pretending like they werent trying to hear what he was whispering to you. Silas pulled you close by your elbow to whisper. "I have a source telling me that the queen knows you... you're not a Christian. That you're a Muslim."

You pull back to look at him wide eyed. "How- how did she- how did you-?"

"I suspected, you confirmed it now. But she knows. And she's coming here tonight to expose us. If she tells everyone tonight, then she'll be able to take away my dukedom and she will make our lives hell!"

Your throat went dry. "What- what do we do?"

"There's a way." Silas grip on your arm tightened. "We get married for real."

You tilted your head in confusion before shaking your head at what he was implying. "Silas, no-"

"We get a Nikkah."

A Nikkah? If... if you get a Nikkah with him, an Islamic wedding ceremony, then you'll be married to him for real. No- no, the only reason you'd agreed to his proposal was because you knew it was a fake marriage, it didnt really affect your conscious because it was a sham! But-

"No. Silas-"

"Y/n, please." Silas pleaded. "Dont make me beg. If the queen finds out, everything I've worked so hard for, it'll be for naught. She'll take it all away. Dont you- dont you want to help catch the lunatic behind those murders? Dont you want to make a difference by writing? If you dont do this, if you dont stand by me, we'll both be done for!"

You looked at him conflicted, your resolve starting to break as he continued to talk. "My sister, my parents, my grandfather... my family... they need me, Y/n. They need me to pull this off, for me to reinstate our honour, for me to remove the stain and stigma from my family's name. Please, I'm asking you to do this for me... for my family." He swallowed thickly, his eyes boring into you with intensity. "You once told me you lost everything. I'm telling you now that I'll lose everything if we dont do this. Will you let me lose everything, Y/n?"

Lose everything? Everything?

You shake your head. "No, Silas. I... I wont let you lose everything."

10 minutes later, there was an imam in your room. Silas had somehow managed to find an imam in London to marry you two off. But you suppose when you're so rich and well connected, you can find anyone.

This is happening. This is really happening.

With Ben, Colin, Liam and Shepherd as your witnesses and Cadbury and his wife as Silas's witnesses, the imam began the Nikkah ceremony.

Am I really getting married?

You watched the imam ask Silas some questions, and you tuned them out except for one.

"Are you a Muslim?"

You looked up. A flicker of hope! Yes! If Silas isnt a Muslim, he cant marry you! The Nikkah wont happen, or at the very least wont be real because he's not Muslim! He cant marry you, this will still be a sham marriage, a paper marriage and your conscious will be clear and you wont feel like throwing up-

"Yes. I converted an hour ago." Silas informed the imam. "I took my shahada, in sound mind and state, of my own will without any pressure or coercion."

No. Oh no-

"Do you take Y/n to be your wife?"

"I do."

"Do you take Y/n to be your wife?" The imam repeated.

"I do."

"Do you take Y/n to be your wife?" He asked again.

"I do." And with that, Silas signed the Nikkah contract. The officiant then turned to you.

"With the agreed mahr, do you take Silas to be your husband?"

"Mahr?" You whisper in a daze. The officiant looks confused. "Do you not know what your mahr is?"

Mahr is a gift to the bride given by the groom. It is a symbol of the groom's promise to care and provide for the bride. You're more surprised that Silas even knew what Mahr is.

"It must've slipped my mind to tell you." Silas looked at Cadbury, who handed him a document. "For your Mahr, I give you Westminster palace." You looked at the document, he really had signed it over to you!

"Silas..." You say in disbelief, your hands trembling a bit. He smiled reassuringly at you. "You wanted a house. Here's one."

House? He gave me a palace!

"Do you take Silas to be your husband?" The imam asked you. You stared at Silas, at his content face. He didnt have to sign over a whole palace to you, much less one which he'd just gotten from the queen!

And he looked perfectly content with his decision. Not a shadow of doubt. He... he trusts you? Trusts that you'll maintain this union? Wont run out on him- wont betray him?

"I do."

Does he believe that this marriage will last?

"I do."

Does he trust you?

"I do."

You signed the papers, your eyes still in a daze as Silas smiles charmingly at you before pulling you close to hug you. You hear everyone clap around you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Thank you."

-

Silas escorted you to the dining room where all the guests were waiting. You were still quiet and in a trance as you walked by him, with your hand around his arm.

He's surprised it didnt make you suspicious with how quickly he'd found an imam. Truthfully speaking, Silas knew you were a Muslim when he first proposed to you. He had his doubts, which were confirmed by his observations especially with your aversion to foods that were forbidden for Muslims. And yes, the queen had also found out about you being a Muslim, but only because he spread the rumour to them.

The Nikkah documents, the ceremony, the Mahr, he had already planned it the moment he found out that the queen was coming over. And the reason why he waited until the last minute to spring this out on you was so that you would be pressured into saying yes. He just couldnt risk you taking time to think this through.

You may still be under the impression that Silas chose you because it was circumstantial or whatever, but he chose you to be his wife precisely because you were a Muslim. Oh he has plans to use you.

You're everything the English monarchy hates, what it stands for. You're not prim and proper, despite your best attempts. You work, that too disguised as a man, and you're far too strong willed and determined to prove yourself unlike the British high society women.

He knows the crown wont be happy to have Muslim bride in the family, much less a Muslim duke who just so happily signed off Westminster palace to his wife.

A Cheshire grin graced his lips, which people mistook for glee for being with his blushing bride. He's going to have fun ruffling the queen's feathers. He's going to tilt the palace upside down.

Curtsying to the queen, Silas immediately noticed and took great pleasure in the queen's displeasure at your dress. Yes, he specifically chose a wedding gown that showed too much skin for the conservative monarch.

"Your majesty, this is Y/n, my sweetheart." Silas introduced you so lovingly, you couldnt help but be flustered as you avert your eyes to the ground.

"Its an honour to meet you, your majesty." You manage to say without throwing up.

Victoria casted one unamused look to you. "Very interesting choice for clothing."

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. She hates it. I knew it-

Silas's hand gently grasped yours. "Thank you, your majesty. I chose it for her after being inspired by a painting my love gifted me. Ah, let me show it to you."

You already knew it was the stupid portrait he was talking about, and you wanted to hide away into a corner as you saw the disapproval on the queen's face- God, she doesnt mask any emotion, does she?

The queen turned to Silas. "I have heard a rumour and I would like you to address it now." She said, glancing at you.

Silas nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "Why dont you go and help nana with the guests? I'll be right with you."

Sarah was introducing to the guests, but your head was preoccupied with Silas and the queen. They are definitely talking about me-

"Y/n, this is Mr Blackwood." You stared at the familiar face. "Oh please, Sarah. No need to be formal with me." He smiled charmingly. "Besides, miss Y/n and I have met before."

"Well, thats wonderful! You two talk- I have to find my troublesome grandsons before they embarrass me!" Sarah left you with Henry.

"Congratulations on your wedding." He said with exaggerated joy, though his eyes expressed anything but that. "I'm sure he offered you a lot of money for putting up a show. I just wish you'd told me about it before."

"Excuse me?" You frowned. "I'm not putting up a show."

He raised a brow. "Really? You expect me to believe that a FitzGeorge wants to marry you? Out of the blue?" He throws a look to your gown. "That this wedding dress wasnt him trying to just convince the world that you're his wife?"

Your jaw ticked. "You're right. This dress is Silas's way telling everyone we're married. Because we were married on paper before, but I have an imam, 4 witnesses and a Nikkah document stating that Silas and I are married, both in the eyes of the law and God." You watched Henry's face fall. What use was it lying when he already heard of the rumours. Rolling your eyes, you turned to leave, only for him to reach out and grab your arm.

"Why are you doing this?" Henry asked you, looking for any signs of you lying. He didnt find any. "You know you dont belong with him-"

"Oh? I dont?" You snapped. "Who do I belong with? No, go on. Tell me."

He pulled you close, looking into your eyes. "Me. You belong to me. You know it, you felt it- we have something. We have-" He lowered his voice. "I can give you everything you want. Whatever you'd lost in my shop, I'll find it again. I'll travel the world for it, just- come to me. Leave Silas."

"That is the most pathetic thing I've heard come out of a man's mouth." You yanked your hand out of his grasp, walking away from him. The next time you saw him, he was busy talking with Victoria's heir- Prince Edward VII.

"Sweetheart, there you are!" Silas grabbed you, pulling you along. "I was just telling her majesty about how we met. You remember, love?" He shot you a knowing look.

You nodded, remembering what you two had practised. "Yes. We met at the ballet theatre near Oxford. It was love at first sight-"

"Ballet theatre?" Victoria's voice was sharp. Your heart dropped as you tried to follow up on your lie. See, this is why you two should've discussed this because its hard to lie on the spot!

"She's an amazing ballerina! Ah! I was immediately charmed by her art! She bewitched me!" Silas said cheekily and you wanted to smack him for saying "bewitched" because this is still Victorian era and sure, they dont have witch trials anymore, but why would he risk even the accusation when it is literally the queen's ancestors who had a major part in burning up "witches" in the 1600s!

Look, people back then were dumb and evil, which is a really bad combination.

"Is she now?" Victoria looked at you now, with those piercing eyes. "I would love to attend a show of yours. See what these FitzGeorges fancy so much."

Oh she knows. You can see it, hear it in her monotonous voice that she knows Silas is lying.

And yet this dumbass continues to lie. "Of course! We'll host you for... Christmas eve?"

As Victoria left, you glared at Silas. "Why would you say that?! I'm not a ballerina and you invited her to watch me dance? Do you want to get caught?!"

Silas tutted at you. "You worry too much. Its not that hard, you know. Besides, you have my grandmother to teach you. Ah yes, nana will love it-"

"Silas!" You stopped him. "I cant learn ballet in a month!"

"Not with that attitude-"

"We will get caught. You will be caught, and I will be embarrassed and- and- I wont let anyone make a fool out of me, Silas!" He pulled you into his chest, shushing you.

"I wont let anyone make a fool out of you either, Y/n." He pulled your head back to look at you with those deceptively charming eyes. "You carry my name next to yours now. You're my wife now, and by association, your dignity is my dignity now. I wont let anyone make a mockery of us, Y/n."

You looked up at him and you believed him. How could you not, when lying comes so easily to Silas?

He watched Sarah console you, promising to help you learn. Silas his his smile as he picked up his glass, enjoying his plan falling into place.

Ah, it would be a pity to see your heart break when the entire theatre laughs at you.

Thoughts????

[nope-body]

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