#dangerous englishman

[pmillsy]

Wan.illa NICE - Dangerous Englishman - SoundCloud

Listen to Wan.illa NICE - Dangerous Englishman by Wan.illa NICE on #SoundCloud

[nombinary-snax]

Revisiting Dracula through Re: Dracula, I'm really struck by how knowing the story well changes these early chapters. All of the people Jonathan meets on his way to Castle Dracula are really doing their best to help him without actually stopping him. They're depicted through the racist undertones of an 19th century Englishman so Jonathan dismisses a lot of their actions, but these peasants understand exactly what danger awaits our dear Mr. Harker. If he had just listened to one of them, things might have turned out differently.

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin’s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

[kitten4sannie]

19 - ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴘᴇɴᴇᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ - ʏᴜɴʜᴏ/ꜱᴀɴ

ꜱʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ

pairing: vampire! yunho x witch! reader (fem) x werewolf! san

genre: fantasy au, smut, a little baby pinch of humor 🤏🏼

summary: you teach your bickering boyfriends to get along with a fun group activity.

w.c: 3.5k

warnings: poly relationship (it’s a work in progress), mxm, dom! yunho, dom! san, sub! reader, olfactophilia, pet names, name calling, degradation, praise, lots of spit involved (surprise, surprise), oral (receiving), breeding kink, slight bulge kink, fingering, kissing, double penetration in both holes (unprotected), creampies

a/n: after i finished typing this up it was like niagara falls in this bitch 😵‍💫 jshdgdhd so it’s safe to say i might’ve actually gone insane this time <3

FFF Masterlist

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As a witch attending a magic academy, it was only natural that you’d encounter supernatural beings of all kinds. Ones that were bigger and stronger than you. More powerful and a lot more equipped when it came to spell casting. Despite this, you felt like you knew enough about the dark arts to take care of yourself. Whether it came to emotional conflict or actual threats of danger, you could handle it without issues. Though things became difficult in a way you never anticipated.

Halfway through the semester, you decided to open yourself up to two new lovers, ones that were having a hard time getting along — though it was sort of expected. One was a ravenous, moody werewolf and the other was a haughty, refined vampire. They were like night and day. Their clans were mortal enemies, only tolerating each other because they weren't allowed to break the strict laws that were enforced throughout the land, or else they faced governmental punishment. Maybe you didn’t think it all the way through, but then again, you were happy and so were they, but they just needed a little help adjusting to each other.

Lazing around in the unmade bed of your rowdy, rambunctious boyfriend, you buried your face into one of his pillows, inhaling his comforting scent. Strong accents of warm spiced cinnamon entered your system, along with the musky-sweet smell of leaves. He must’ve been rolling around in the woods near the academy again. How cute of him. You slowly turned over to look at the door when you heard a voice that was too light and sultry to be his.

“There you are, Darling.” Yunho sighed, stepping past the open dorm door, taking three large strides across the room, already near your side and running his long, cold fingers up the side of your bare figure. “Why are you at this clan’s house instead of mine?” His nose scrunched up for a second, not used to the musk of werewolf dens. “You said that you were coming to see me today.” 

“Hey, Yunnie.” When he sat down on the bed, you reached up to run your fingers up his perfectly ironed, gold-laced button up blazer, unbuttoning the first button to see his chest peak out underneath. “I was going to, but San wanted me to stay longer. He just had a collar delivered, and he wanted me to see it.” 

Yunho’s friendly disposition soured at the mention of the werewolf, watching you unbutton the second and third button on his top, but not acknowledging it. “Once that mutt is done with his little show and tell, you’ll come to my dorm so I can have you to myself, alright?” 

“You have to learn to share, baby...” Just as you were going to express your disapproval of the word ‘mutt’, someone beat you to it. 

“Mutt?” San stood in the doorway, his large canines already on display for Yunho to see. Not wasting a single second, he slammed the door behind him, pounced on the bed behind you and pulled your body back against his broad bare chest, his muscular arms wrapping protectively around you. “You come into my clan’s home unannounced looking like an undead Englishman, insult me, then you try to steal my Y/N? Are you trying to die?!” 

 “Undead Englishman? This is made of the finest material a dog like you could only dream of wearing.” Yunho scoffed, rolling his bright crimson eyes at the other male, still not saying anything when you continued to unbutton his blazer. 

“Call me a dog again,” San threatened in a raspy voice, leaning over your naked body to growl in Yunho’s face, his golden irises forming into slits. “Say it so I can see if you can still talk after I rip your vocal cords out of your throat.” 

Wanting to prevent a catastrophic fight from breaking out, you reached up towards San, playing with the shiny new leather collar that adorned his freckled neck. “Sannie, this is so cute! You look so handsome with your new collar~” 

San’s large black ears flattened slightly into his wild raven hair, his anger melting away within seconds. “Handsome?” he questioned, slowly lowering himself onto the bed, his half-clothed body pressing into yours, nuzzling your neck with the side of his head. “Do you really mean that? 

You ran your fingers through his hair, stroking the tip of one of his ears, causing him to let out a low whine, his tail wagging a bit. “Of course, silly…You’re my very handsome boy~” 

“Yay,” San murmured softly, a light blush forming on his angular cheekbones, his fluffy tail wrapping around one of your thighs. “I’m Y/N’s handsome boy, Yunho. Not you.” He stuck his tongue out at the vampire, ears twitching slightly, feeling more playful than bloodthirsty.  

“Sannie, baby, Yunho’s handsome too. Try to get along with him, okay? Can you do that for me?” you asked in a gentle voice, pressing your lips to San’s neck just above the collar and stroking his velvety tail, making him nod and whine again, sounding more needy. 

Yunho chuckled, taking one of your hands and running his thumb over your knuckles. “That’s all it takes, huh? What a simple creature.” 

You turned your head to shoot the vampire a fiery look, gritting your teeth. “Yunho, don’t start that up. Or else.” 

“Or else, what, my lovely plaything?” the vampire asked in a low tone, undoing the last button on his blazer and sliding it off, his chiseled porcelain body now on display.

“I’m surprised he’s not sparkling like in that one movie you showed me a couple weeks back,” San murmured into your ear, making you hold a finger up to his lips to shush him. 

Not caring to listen to the werewolf’s comment, Yunho laid down on the bed to press himself against your bare backside, his half-hard cock against your ass and his lips near your ear. “Or else what, princess? Or else you won’t let me fuck you until you’re too dick-drunk to function?” He feigned a small pout, nudging your neck with his nose and running his fangs across it, trying to ignore how much San marked you that particular night. “I thought you loved that.”

Taking notice of Yunho’s scent, which was giving off strong notes of oak aged vanilla, with small hints of citrus, you licked your lips and slowly exhaled when he just barely punctured your neck with his fangs. You didn’t bother stopping him from sliding a hand past your hip and in between your legs, allowing him to brush his fingers over your clit. “If you don’t stop being mean to San, I’ll put a spell on you that’ll make you hard forever…” 

“Mm, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Darling?” he returned, licking the blood that dribbled from your neck, causally slapping San’s hand away when he tried to play with your pussy as well, causing him to growl. “You’d let me fuck you day in and day out, wouldn’t you?” 

Leaning your head back and turning Yunho’s jaw to face you, you pressed kisses along his jaw, replying, “Only if you learn to share your plaything.” When he licked his lips, you grabbed the vampire’s hand to keep it still, allowing San to slip two large fingers inside you to scissor them apart, then quickly pump them in and out. “Yeah, that’s it, Sannie, just like that. Good boyyyy,” you addressed your other boyfriend, giggling at the werewolf’s toothy grin, his tail thumping against the mattress from your praise. Acknowledging Yunho’s twitching fingers, you let his hand go, looking down to watch their hands begin to work in tandem with one another, supplying you an intoxicating amount of pleasure. 

-

With your lower half lifted up into the air with your left leg hiked up over one of San’s solid shoulders, he rubbed and grabbed at your hickey-covered ass, sucking and licking at the bottom half of your slick cunt from in front of you. “Mmn, Y/N, so sweet…” he mumbled against your mound, slowly slurping up your arousal and spitting it back out, then moving the dripping mess around with his fingers. With his back towards you, Yunho sat on his knees facing San, clutching the inside of your other thigh and keeping it out of his way, his mouth latched onto you, swiping at your throbbing clit with his long forked tongue.

“F-uuuck, that feels good,” you breathed out, grabbing and pulling at the sheets, barely able to handle the visual of Yunho and San both lapping at your cunt, the vampire administering longer, steadier strokes with his tongue, which was quite different from the way the werewolf was licking your soaked folds and salivating on your slit like you were a juicy steak he was about to devour. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum…” 

“Cum, baby,” they answered in unison, their voices low and gravelly, both consumed with their lust for you, not even caring when their tongues began to overlap. Yunho glanced up at San, his wide tongue spreading out over the expanse of your cunt, swiping from your clit down to your pulsing hole. Eyes narrowed, San pushed two fingers inside you to make you feel full, rubbing your g-spot in a way that made you cry out desperately from the intense pleasure. “Cumming! I’m cumming…!”  you yelled out, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from how overstimulated you were becoming. San pulled his creamy fingers out of you, but continued licking your cunt to collect your cum, until his tongue started to drag up and down Yunho’s, their spit mixing together with the influx of arousal. 

“Give me,” the vampire mumbled, grabbing the werewolf’s hand and bringing it to his mouth to lick the thick strings of cum and spit from his spread fingers. San watched with glazed-over eyes, leaning in to lick at his own fingers as well, their tongues entwining now and then. Yunho slurped the mixed fluids up into his mouth and grabbed San by the jaw, spitting it onto his tongue. “You like that, huh?” the vampire questioned, chuckling when San nodded, watching with interest as the werewolf started to let a thick wad of spit drip down his chin, encouraging Yunho to lap it up and swallow it down. 

You whimpered softly from what was occurring in front of you. Not only was it the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life, it felt almost orgasmic to witness your boyfriends finally getting along in such a filthy way. 

Once they were both satisfied, they simultaneously licked their lips and pulled out their heavy, throbbing cocks from the confines of their pants. They had a stare-down for a while, ravenous and thirsty for you, wanting to bury themselves deep inside your cunt as quickly as possible. Yunho spoke up first, claiming, “I made her cum when I sucked on her clit, so I should get to fuck her first.” 

San shook his head, countering, “She came once I finger-fucked her, so it’s actually my turn.” 

Yunho peered at the werewolf, about to argue with him when you interrupted him, “Just fuck me at the same time. It’s not that serious.” 

Never considering that to be a solution, Yunho and San exchanged glances, their glistening lips forming perverse smiles. “I’ll fuck her tight little ass and you’ll fuck her pretty cunt?” Yunho suggested, reaching out to shake San’s hand. San nodded his head adamantly, clutching the vampire’s hand and giving it a firm shake, the both of them sharing a series of delighted chuckles.

No matter what background they were from, men were kind of odd. Oh well, at least they weren’t fighting anymore. Instead, they were about to work together so that they could stuff themselves inside you. Team work. We love to see it.

-

Growling and making guttural noises from his collared throat, San shoved his cock as deep into your cunt as he possibly could, wanting to ensure that he would fill you up with his pups one day. “Gonna breed you, baby…Gonna make you a mommy,” the werewolf huffed out, drool leaking past his lips, angling his head downward, his eyes zoning in on the faint outline of his cock being forced in and out of your lower stomach. 

“Sounds good, Sannie,” you moaned out, barely able to get a deep breath in from being sandwiched in between the large men, laying on your side on the warm mattress, thankful that Yunho was holding your right thigh up from behind you, his cock sliding in and out of your other hole. You felt a piercing sensation on your collarbone, knowing Yunho was taking a healthy portion of your life source.

"So sweet...my Darling, your blood..." Yunho mumbled against your skin, licking and sucking at the bruising skin, unable to keep his breathing under control. "God, you drive me crazy. I just-"

San's loud growls and groans interrupted the vampire's train of thought, making him grow irritated. San had his head leaned down over your chest, eagerly sucking your tits into his mouth one at a time, nibbling, licking, and slobbering all over them. 

Disgusted, Yunho scowled across your shoulder at San, questioning harshly, “Why do you always have to make such a mess all the time? Dumb dog.”

San pursed his lips and let out a few long strings of spit onto your shiny tits, his golden eyes narrowing at Yunho’s crimson ones. “Because she loves it, onion boy.”

Yunho bared his blood-stained fangs at San, growling, “Onion boy?! That’s literally an old wive’s tale, you absolute d–”

They were both fully sheathed inside your holes, pumping themselves into you over and over again and they couldn't stop arguing even for a moment? How rude. Trying to focus on how heavy and warm your lower half was beginning to feel, your arousal coating the both of their moving cocks, you huffed dramatically, injecting, “Jesus Christ, will you two just fucking focus?”

Rolling his eyes, Yunho started sucking on your neck again, quietly sipping on your blood, still pounding his cock steadily into your ass. Hearing the loud, whiny-sounding moans you were letting out, he chuckled to himself, asking huskily, “You’re such a dirty little witch, aren’t you? Is one cock not enough for you now? You need two now just to cum?” 

San nodded his head in agreement, his shaggy black hair bouncing along with his movements, unable to respond verbally, too concentrated on making sure his pre-cum was reaching your womb, desperately wanting to fill you with his kin.

Personally, you didn't want to admit that you were a slutty little witch, in desperate need of being filled by your boyfriends as much as humanly possible. So, you simply shook your head, exhaling, "No...that's not it...It's so you two can finally get along..."

Yunho dragged his tongue up your neck to your jaw, nipping at it, grabbing your ass roughly and sighing into your ear, “Darling, you say that you’re doing this so that I get along with San, but you really just wanted both of your slutty little holes to be filled up at once, huh?” 

Inhaling sharply at the sensation of both Yunho and San slowing down their thrusts, allowing you to feel every inch of them rubbing against your slick, plush walls, you searched for an excuse inside your clouded mind. “This is a bonding experience for you two, so you can finally stop–unnh–bickering,” you argued back, leaning your head back on Yunho’s collarbone, panting heavily. “How does it feel being cock to cock with my Sannie? Tell me, Yunnie.” 

Leaning his head back, San let out a small howl, overwhelmed by the constant stimulation. Not only was he able to mark you with his scent, and pump his cock into your breeding hole, but he was also able to hear you call him yours. It felt so good, so good he started to drool again. 

Blushing, Yunho pressed his cold sweaty cheek onto yours, glancing over at San, not wanting to admit that it felt good when their cocks rubbed against one another. “It could feel worse, I guess.” 

San snapped out of his daze to growl, “Liar. I can feel your stupid, undead cock throbbing against mine!” 

Yunho blushed harder, the color now reaching his pointed ears. “That’s because I’m inside my Darling’s tight little hole, you dumb m–”

“That’s enough!” you shouted, reaching back to grab the back of Yunho’s head and leaning forward into San’s chest, pushing his head in the opposite direction, now sandwiched tightly between one extremely cool body and one that was radiating heat off of it like it was the surface of the sun. “Kiss and make up, or else I’ll recite a spell that’ll turn the both of you into vibrators.” 

It took a few seconds for the both of them to internally admit to themselves that they found each other to be extremely attractive, despite their differences. San made the first move, having to squish you against his large upper half to press his lips onto Yunho's, already swiping his tongue across the vampire's lower lip. One heated kiss led to another, and soon enough, San was lapping at Yunho’s tongue and sucking on it, his drool dripping down onto your face below. Yunho groaned periodically, his cock throbbing heavily inside you, eventually grabbing San’s face to deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue inside and moving it around to assert his dominance. 

You almost felt like you were under a spell yourself, watching their tongues and lips meet in a fervid manner, noticing how they occasionally used their fangs to bite at each other’s swollen lips, their mixed saliva dripping onto your flushed face now and then. “Kiss me too…” you eventually whispered to the both of them, watching them slowly split apart, the hatred in their eyes gone and instead filled with intrepid lust. 

Without hesitation, San slotted his lips onto yours, moaning into your mouth, his ears flattening down. It's desperate, full of passion and need, his teeth clinking against yours from how fast he’s moving his mouth against yours.

You could barely handle how much pleasure you were feeling, your cunt pulsing and dripping so much slick, you were surprised either of your boyfriends could even stay inside. "Gonna cum..." you moaned into San's mouth, tears forming inside the corners of your eyes.

Yunho suddenly grabbed your chin and moved it towards him, kissing you in a more deliberate manner, allowing you to savor every swipe of his tongue and the faint taste of your own blood. He started to buck his hips up into you, sloppy and desperate, breaking the kiss to groan, "I'm gonna fill this slutty little hole up with my load, princess."

"Fuck, Y/N...I'm cumming...you're gonna be a mommy for me, baby...my pretty mommy...full of my pups..." San grabbed onto one of your hips, digging his fingers into your soft flesh, suddenly emitting harsh, animal-like noises, fucking his own load into you as deep as he possibly could, wanting to make sure it reached your womb.

You couldn't even announce your own orgasm, only able to let out a strained scream, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Your arousal squirted out of you, coating both of your boyfriend's cocks, some of it forming a small puddle on the sheets below.

The three of you laid there in a pile, huffing and puffing, simply looking at one another's flushed, fucked-out faces. The three of you exchanged quiet 'i love you's', until you sat up and jumped up from the bed, a large amount of cum dribbling out of you and down your legs.

"What's wrong, Darling?" Yunho questioned, casually holding his arm out for San to join him, the werewolf laying down on the vampire's chest and looking up at you with a puzzled expression.

"Your cum...it's all coming out of me..." you whined, squeezing your thighs together. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick." And with that, you ran out of the dorm room to the bathroom across the hall as quick as you could. When you left, Yunho and San exchanged glances, their lips slowly curling up into the same suggestive smiles.

"Alright, that's better," you sighed to yourself, walking back into the room, only to stop in your tracks, a strong zap of arousal immediately striking your core. Were you seeing things right? You rubbed your eyes and blinked. San was sitting in Yunho's large lap, rutting against the vampire like a bitch in heat with his head leaned back, his tail curled around Yunho's thigh. Not only that, but Yunho had put one of San's leashes on for him, holding the end of it with a tight grip, suddenly yanking on it so that it San down onto him, causing their open mouths to meet.

"Hey!" you called out, a hand on your hip.

They both jumped, pulling away from each other to look up at you.

Your fake angry face disappeared and was quickly replaced with a wide smile. You giggled with delight, closing the door and running towards them to jump onto the bed. "Make room for me!" They laughed in unison and wrapped their limbs around you, pressing kisses to your face and neck.

"Darling," Yunho sighed happily, nuzzling your neck with his cheek, holding you close to him. San nuzzled you as well, giving your cheek a small affectionate lick, adding, "My Y/N....ready for round two?"

Despite the odds, it seemed this naughty fairytale had a happy ending, after all. A very happy ending. 

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

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© toxicccred, 2023.

[thisismeracing]

Literature lovers | CS55 (patreon exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Professor!Sainz x TA!reader (she/her) ― Warning: implied age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties, Carlos in his mid-thirties); mentions of food and alcohol; graphic description of sex (p in v, oral –fem receiving, dirty talk); Use of Cassio Sanchez instead of Carlos Sainz for known reasons. (5.1k words) ― Summary: One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”, deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you. Of course, it was dangerous grounds, but things clicked, and as he said so himself, destiny guided you together.

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Growing up, you always heard about how you had to be the best, had to run twice as fast as others, train more, and still hear how lucky you were. It was something that tired you once college came around. Yet,  it was almost like second nature to you, doing things as close to perfection as possible. That’s how you ended up getting into your master's right after graduating, that’s how you turned out being a teacher’s assistant to one of the most famous professors on campus, and coming to think about it, you guess that’s how he ended up recommending you to everyone.

That’s the reason he recommended you to Carlos Sainz, the Spanish Literature professor.

Your professor, English literature specialist, George Russell, was a posh Englishman who would occasionally forget some of his materials and schedules, always having a book on his nose and talking about it. You and he hit it off quickly. You were his favorite student, and when you became his assistant, he was even happier because you were just so organized, and punctual.

When George told you he was “lending” your teacher’s assistant’s services to another professor, because he was off, and his colleague had a few conferences that month, besides taking over his classes, you accepted. George knew you loved Spanish language literature, and he knew you and Carlos would work well together. At least that’s what he told you before sending you Carlos' work e-mail and handing you a copy of the uncensored version of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a book you had been trying to get for months but hadn’t been able to find that particular edition.

While setting some of your things for the first day with Carlos, you stared at his e-mail for the hundredth time. You didn’t know him. Your Spanish Literature classes were all completed during an exchange in Colombia, and the University was big enough for you not to know every professor by name or face.

Still, you took a deep breath and wrote an e-mail to Professor Sainz about some of your ideas for the upcoming semester, well aware that you had accepted the role and you would make it work. You liked to think that you could have denied George's request and could have told him about a personal project you’ve been working on, but you said yes.

One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”. Deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you.

***

He keeps his eyes on your face, and you smile after swallowing a bite and finally opening yours.

“I take it, you liked the dish?” His amused, yet provocative tone made you shiver the slightest.

“It’s perfect, Carlos. Now I’m feeling bad I bought a cake from a bakery, instead of making our dessert myself,” you complained, taking another bite. Carlos caught the joke in your tone and smirked, eyes finally wandering down your body, or what the table lets his big brown orbs see.

The V-neck dress was not scandalous per se, it has sleeves that go to your wrists, and it’s not form-fitting, but rather loose around your body. It showed the right amount of skin. And Carlos couldn’t have loved your choice more.

His eyes found yours after a few seconds, it’s almost like he’s making sure you’re comfortable with his gaze, and the way you lean slightly on the table giving him the perfect view is answer enough.

“Don’t worry about dessert, you know we have it covered.”

“Do we?” You add to the tension, and Carlos chuckles.

“Oh, we sure do,” he nods, taking a sip of his wine. “In fact, how do you feel about skipping the whole meal and going straight to dessert?”

“It sure sounds tempting.”

“Do you want it?”

He was still sitting and hadn’t made any move indicating he was about to go your way. You knew this game you were playing and knew that the way he was throwing the questions your way was Carlos studying you, making sure you were comfortable with the outcome. He wanted you to be comfortable. He always wants it, and you can tell from the small details.

No pressure.

Never pressure.

He wanted you to want him.

And oh, how you do!

“I want it.”

He smirked. You heard the scrape of the chair against the wooden floor and watched as he walked barefoot to you. The first few buttons of his white button-up were undone showing you his tan skin where a few dark strands of hair peek out on what you can tell was a remarkably toned body.

Carlos pushed your chair back, turning it to him. He parted your thighs the best he could with your dress and kneeled between your legs. From this angle, he looked even hotter.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this sneak peek! This piece has been on Patreon since last month, but I forgot to add the sneak peek here hihi <3 I wanted to write for Professor!Sainz for a while now, and finally found the inspo to finish this piece, and the time to finish editing the last details. A huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon) and Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading this, and to K (@dancininseptember) for suggesting the TA!reader when I posted about writing this (Ily, guys!).

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[grogumaximus]

As a performance engineer, he is the man who keeps an eye on all the data in a complex world like Formula 1 and leaves no stone unturned to see how to get even more speed out of the RB20. “For example, I can see how the tires behave individually, how high the temperature of the brakes is and how the hybrid systems of the engine behave,” says Hart in the Red Bull hospitality area.

Together with Lambiase, Michael Manning and David Mart, he is part of the regular group of engineers around world champion Verstappen.

“And GP is the one who talks to Max during sessions, so he has to filter all our information and assess what he finds relevant to pass on to Max. And then as a driver he now has an enormous library of experience. Max is ultimately the best sensor. He senses what he is up against and can make it very clear whether he wants to try something different and what exactly. He is very direct and knows what he wants. There is no room for politics or bullshit.”

In order to be able to empathize with Lambiase's work, Hart occasionally takes his position as race engineer, as was the case on Friday during both training sessions in Imola. Hart explains how a weekend is broadly divided.

“First we have to make sure that the car behaves as we expected. Then we look at how we can get more out of the speed over one lap. Where do we lose time in the bends, does Max feel limited somewhere at the beginning or at the end of such a bend? We then look at the longer runs and how we can protect ourselves against possible dangers.”

With the help of his engineer, a driver can adjust the necessary things on his steering wheel, for example when it comes to the brake balance or the differential. As far as Verstappen and Red Bull are concerned, the Azerbaijan Grand Prix last year is a good example of this. For Verstappen, that race in Baku was the turning point in the season.

“In those first four races, Checo (teammate Sergio Pérez, ed.) and Max were close together. But in terms of setup and the tools he uses, Max has gone in a completely different direction since that race in Baku. He has twelve so-called switch positions that he can use. He tested many of them in Baku, while normally you use two or three in a weekend. Max learned a lot then, and so did we."

Since that race in Baku, more than a year ago, Verstappen has not won only three races. While the Dutchman himself is almost never completely satisfied with how a race weekend is going, this also appears to apply to his engineers.

“Coincidentally, we were still talking about it together on Thursday evening. We as engineers are a bit like the goalkeepers in football. It's only when we make a big mistake that it becomes noticeable. We have to keep pushing to see if we can improve anything in areas where we are not yet performing optimally. And even if we are faster than the rest in every corner, we are still not satisfied and we look at where we have left something behind. Everything worked great in China, and then in Miami with the same car we didn't have the speed. And then afterwards you can understand so well why that is, here in Imola there is a completely different asphalt, the conditions are different and the tire compounds are also different.”

Given the immense pressure and expectations, Hart considers Verstappen's victory in 2021 in front of his own audience in Zandvoort as his personal highlight. The Englishman started working as Alex Albon's performance engineer in 2020 before being transferred to Verstappen the following year.

“With Alex we mainly looked at how we could close the gap with Max with the same material. With Max you look less at the other side of the garage. His experience, not only in Formula 1 but also with other cars, helps us. Actually, after a racing weekend I am also a kind of translator. In the debrief Max tells us what his limitations were. Drivers speak their own language. We then look at his words with the people in the factory in combination with the collected data.”

And yes, Verstappen may be the most important sensor, but he also sometimes has to rely on the information from his engineers on the pit wall and in the garage. They now have the complete overview.

“Especially in races where we play the longer game ,” says Hart. “We can see what the lap times of the other drivers are and how the different tires are worn. For example, if we say that Max needs to change something on his handlebars, he may well think: the balance is now just right. But then we have to prepare for later in the race. If you wait until the front tires are on, you will be too late. We always have to think one step ahead, otherwise you go too slowly.”

[schrodingerscougar]

Note: Seriously, I have no excuse for the Toranaga fics. Here's a modern day one. Please, enjoy, then kindly point me in the direction of works from others.

..

Toranaga remained silent after Blackthorne finished talking and waited for Mariko to translate for him. You watched him with curious eyes, looking for small changes in his expression that would tell you what he was planning this time. Because you knew many things about him, one of them being the fact that he spoke English quite well.

Once the conversation was over, he asked Mariko to be with their guest for the rest of the day to help him communicate with others and get to know your customs better. After they left, he asked you to go to the roof with him so you could talk in private, away from the people who were dying to find out more about the outsider.

“Please, enlighten me. Why are you making the Englishman believe you don't speak English?” you asked Toranaga once you stepped next to him by the railing of the rooftop.

The man looked at you with a small smile as his fingers played with the small box he held in his hand. What it contained you didn't know, but something told you it was none of your business. “I believe I shouldn't make things easy for him just yet,” he said after a while.

You tried to resist, but your eyes kept falling on the box in his hand. It was a small and simple cardboard box, not something that would seem particularly precious. It was killing you that you had absolutely no clue what it was hiding, and why he had been playing with it ever since you joined him up here.

“You want to know what's inside, don't you?” Toranaga asked with a laugh as he opened his palm and held the box close to you. You shook your head without thinking, even reaching out to close his fingers around it, but he gently pulled your hand away and showed you the object once again. “Take it. It's yours anyway.”

“Mine?” He nodded with that kind smile still visible on his lips. So you took the box and opened it, only to find another box inside. But it wasn't another cardboard box, no. It was a blue jewelry box that had a beautiful white gold ring with a yellow diamond in the middle inside. “I don't understand, what is this?”

“I believe you already know. We've been together for long enough to understand what we want from this relationship. This is what I want,” he explained.

You didn't know what to say. These were trying times for all of you, a proposal wasn't something you could think about. There were people after him, his life was in danger, he had a strange Englishman as a guest, and he was thinking about this? If you didn't know any better, you would have assumed he went mad.

“You have nothing to say?” he asked, bringing you back to the conversation with only these five words.

“Why now in the middle of this mess?”

Toranaga decided to wrap an arm around your body and pull you into a kiss, probably hoping this would make you focus on his proposal instead of your fears regarding the future. His future. He was right as usual, you were terrified those idiots would get him killed.

“I want to hear you say yes before I die, that's all,” came his response as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “Don't you want to stay by my side as my wife?”

You flashed a delicate smile at him then put your arms around his neck to pull him against you. “That's all I want,” you whispered to him before burying your face into the crook of his neck.

People had warned you not to let him close, to keep a safe distance from this man who was way more powerful than you could handle. At first you followed the advice, especially because you saw what he could be like, how cold and scheming he was with others.

But then you saw a different side of him. A softer side, one he seemingly reserved for you, and only you. Gentle touches, romantic getaways, generous gifts; he did everything he could to sweep you off your feet. Maybe it was a trap, but maybe he was genuinely interested in you. Either way, you couldn't resist for long.

The two of you joined Blackthorne and Mariko for dinner in the evening, going to an excellent restaurant with a private room to talk a little more. Through the other woman, Toranaga asked a lot of questions about the Englishman's intentions. He assumed he came here looking for something that had been hidden a long time ago, a relic that held value only to a small circle of people.

You remained silent and listened. You weren't allowed to talk to the outsider yet because your fiancé wanted you to stay out of whatever mess he was here to cause. He would have rather thrown Mariko under the bus right now. It was cruel, but he was only protecting you, you knew that.

“Why don't you ask him about the relic? Go on, ask him about what object they've been hiding for a long time,” Blackthorne told Mariko once he had enough of the cross-examination.

She looked confused, hesitant to speak up at first. Knowing Toranaga understood everything made her more cautious and you couldn't blame her. Of course, Blackthorne didn't speak Japanese, so he wouldn't have understood what she said. But despite this, she was carefully choosing each word when she spoke up again.

“Lord Toranaga, the relic he's talking about… Is it real?” she asked.

“It is very much real, I can assure you,” he said before turning to his guest and switching to English. “I believe you are chasing a myth, Mr. Blackthorne. This relic went missing a long time ago.”

His lie made you nervous. What was he plotting this time? But the biggest surprise came from the other man whose jaw dropped upon hearing him speak his language.

“You bastard, you understood everything I said, didn't you?” he asked angrily before turning to you. “I bet you understand everything too.”

“Whether or not she understands you doesn't matter as I asked Mariko to translate, not her.”

Blackthorne laughed at this. “You don't want your lover to be involved? What are you afraid of? That she might realize what a manipulative piece of shit you are?”

Toranaga glanced over at you for a moment, then turned back to the Englishman. “You should learn to choose your words more carefully,” he warned him. “You saved my life, for which I'm grateful, and you are my guest, but I won't hesitate to get rid of you if you make the wrong choice.”

You shivered because of the way he talked to Blackthorne. This was the man people warned you about, the one who was usually nowhere to be found when you were around. He exchanged a few words with Mariko in Japanese, then stood up and extended a hand to help you up too. It was time to leave apparently.

Before you left the room, your eyes met Mariko’s and you couldn't hide your worry. She flashed a small smile at you then nodded to tell you she would be fine. You returned the smile then said goodbye and went after Toranaga. You didn't dare to resist.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die. 

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will. 

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die. 

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now. 

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey. 

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out. 

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in. 

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye. 

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me. 

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night. 

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me. 

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed. 

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again. 

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me. 

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?” 

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days. 

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly. 

River shook his head, “I can help you.” 

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell. 

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.” 

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him. 

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it. 

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists. 

River chuckled softly. 

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough. 

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now. 

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.” 

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was. 

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides. 

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained. 

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts. 

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.” 

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin. 

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed. 

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.” 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me. 

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold. 

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf. 

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice. 

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there. 

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault. 

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive. 

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit. 

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it. 

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth. 

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable. 

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose. 

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied. 

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed. 

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood. 

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster. 

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself. 

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways,  he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.” 

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

[toastmrlord]

HAWK BOY!!!!!!!!!

First full drawing I made of him lol also had more time on my vacation to think about his story

He was born and raised in Germany, his father, an Englishman, left when he was very young so his mother raised him on her own. His mother is very kind and caring and tried to keep any danger away from Theo his whole life. He became a mothers-boy (if that is a word in English?) and never really left her side.

When he was around 19 in 1775 his father however reached out to his family, hoping to rebuild his relationship with Theo. His father suggested that Theo visited his father (and his new family) in England. Though Theo didn’t really like the idea of traveling to a new country he has never visited and didn’t speak the language of on his own, he decided to visit his father.

There things weren’t as fun for him, his father introduced Theo to his half siblings, who weren’t nice and picked on him for not speaking English, they would often make fun of the way he talks and his pronunciation of English words. His fathers new wife also didn’t think much of him, keeping her distance from him. His father tried to communicate with him frequently (he speaks some German), but couldn’t seem to really get into conversations with him. Theodor felt excluded from the world and would spend a lot of time alone. Despise his situation he would write to his mother, telling her about how great it is in England , not wanting her to worry for him.

————————

Hes still a very silly guy and when he found the right person to communicate with he would talk non-stop for hours, ignoring the fact they probably don’t understand a word he says lol.

[angelsaxis]

Ooh the layers to every interaction these four have. Their toxic ass racist white girl friend plays dumb about or outright refuses to acknowledge the racial reality that they're living under, and it corrupts basically every word that comes out of her mouth. They were put in a dangerous racist situation because of her. Robin's white passing and has unfortunately adopted the same patronizing/paternalistic protection orders that your typical white Englishman would have for anyone who was Black or Indian and under their care. Robin's genuine concern for his friend's safety is beat out by how much he's internalized the shitty parts of England and academia. I wonder if they'd had this conversation earlier if it would have gone smoother (as in, if Letty hadn't been hanging around them and unintentionally making everything worse, whether the conversation would have ended on a better note. I'm thinking no.)

That's because Robin's primary reason for not telling Ramy and Victoire about Griffin was the paternalism. The "I need to protect you from yourself". The "it's my Job to keep you safe". The awareness of the violence Victoire and Ramy are subject to on a daily basis isn't a substitute for actually treating them like adults capable of making their own decisions about their lives. Does Robin love them? Yes. Did he royally fuck up? Also yeah.

It's fascinating to watch how the level of honesty they have with each other varies depending on who's present (Letty) and then what they're talking about. So much can go unsaid, and STILL there's things Robin doesn't *understand*. He doesn't understand that Ramy would have gone with Hermes not because of his impulsiveness and pride but because Ramy has never once in his life cared for or given a fuck about the "safety" and "comforts" that white people can offer him. Ramy hates white people, which is largely why he can't stand Letty (this is in turn largely aided by Letty's a) personality and b) family history). He understands his role in colonial Britain because he's been dealing with it and witnessing it since he was a child, and he grew up in an explicitly colonized area, and he had a family to teach him the necessary lessons of survival and pride. Things Robin entirely lacked. From what it looks like to me, Robin didn't even know he was mixed til he got to England?

I wonder if they were doomed to head down this path from the start. In another post I'd speculated about whether the ways they'd hurt each other would be specific to their personalities and interactions, as in if Letty's racism would come to a head and destroy what little patience Ramy has left for her. I don't have a neat conclusion to this, I'm just thinking.

[yallemagne]

I like how Jonathan freely admits how scared he is or how he could be easily crushed by the other man or how he never states that he must stay the course because he's not a coward etc

And then all "academic analyses" of the text say he's hypermasculine as if Dracula didn't just pull a "make sure to break your hand-shaking partner's fingers to assert dominance".

Impending rant aside, Jonathan is a perfect example of fear meaning bravery. Unlike other protagonists of his time, he doesn't scoff and turn his nose up at the danger he's in. He's not a prideful Englishman self-assured of his main character status giving him plot armour. He doesn't callously dismiss the warnings or try to assert his British-ness over the Count.

He's humble and not afraid to tell his fiancée how unnerved he is by how much stronger the Count is than him. He can't even hide his distress from the Count out of politeness– he's very expressive: a contradiction to the British stereotype of an unmoved prig with a stiff upper lip. He also just doesn't get defensive about his bravery. He's not worried about being seen as a coward, and that is precisely what prevents him from being one. He goes forth with his work not to prove himself a man but to prove himself a dependable employee. And to get that bread.

Like, I can't help but compare him to Hippy Rowan from A Kiss of Judas. Hippy attacks a man who was merely minding his business out of irrational fear but presents his fear as disgust instead, and later on, he brags about never having ever felt terror, to which the men he is staying with respond with a bet that they can show him true terror beyond his imagination. They were just planning to put on masks and jumpscare him when he was not expecting, but just the anticipation of being proven a coward leaves him bedridden with dread. Now that is stupidity and cowardice.

Jonathan's a brave man. He's not stupid, he's not arrogant, he is aware of his helplessness but still determined to pull through for the sake of his loved ones.

[hellsenthero]

Hidden In The Sand.

Written by: hellsenthero

Marc X FemReader, Steven X FemReader

Warnings/themes: Swearing, choking, mentions of smut, female reader, angst, fluff. (1.1K Words.)

A misson gone wrong for Marc and Steven potentially puts Y/N’s life in danger. Y/N is used to facing danger, but she’s unequiped when danger comes to her in the form of a third alter, a man that neither Y/N nor her boyfriends ever knew existed. 

MASTERLIST

*****

Egypt was nothing like what Y/N thought it would be. 

The tea? Strong. 

The food? Odd aesthetic, great taste.

The streets? Loud.

Marc? Unconscious.  

“Marc!” Y/N yelled as she grasped him tightly by the shoulders and looked him over. “Marc, wake up, please!” He was passed out on the hot sands of the Egyptian desert. Eyes closed, unresponsive. “Steven?” Y/N pleaded. Begging either one of her boyfriends to wake up and front. The woman looked around wildly, searching for anything to help her despite knowing how useless it was. The jeep they had taken into the desert was parked miles back, and that’s if it hadn’t been stolen yet. “Wake up!” Y/N cried with a harsh shove to her boyfriend’s shoulders. 

Finally, his eyes peeked open. A sign of relief left the distressed woman as she layed a hand down on his chest. Before Y/N can even ask how your boyfriend is, she’s flipped onto her back with a hand around her throat. The pressure was tight, but it wasn’t enough to close off her airway. 

“Marc!” Y/N gasped. Her hands went to push against his chest but he didn’t budge.

Dark eyes raked over her form. Too dark, too harsh, not Marc and certainly not Steven. “Who…” she began before the man hissed above her.  

“Maldito infierno!” Y/N had no idea what he said, but she knew it was Spanish. 

Before she could say anything else, his eyes rolled back and his body twitched. Moments later, Aa his eyes opened once more, Y/N could instantly tell it was Marc that was fronting. His eyes met her own for a moment before he was letting go of her throat and climbed off of his girlfriend.  

“Y/N.” He gasped. 

“Marc?” Y/N asked before breaking out into a cough. Marc didn’t answer. When Y/N looked back up she found Marc was staring down at his hands. A strangeness moved through him followed by deep regret. 

“Steven?” Marc whispered. The other man was quick to answer him, a reflection in his steel water canaster showed Marc how pale and distressed Steven was as he pleaded with Marc to believe his story. 

“I don’t know what happened but that wasn’t me mate. I didn’t hurt her. I was out, just like you. I had no control over the body!” 

Marc flinched when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. The breath rushed out of him when he met his partner’s gaze and saw the forgiveness in them. Forgiveness he didn’t deserve. 

“Marc,” Y/N began but he shut her down before she could say what he knew he didn’t deserve to hear. 

It’s okay. I love you. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I, fuck, I fucked up. I’m sorry.” Marc stood up swiftly as Y/N went to reach for him again. “I could have fucking killed you!” He gasped out as he turned away from Y/N. 

Y/N knew the switch happened by the change in her boyfriend's posture. “Steven?” Usually, she’d say his name with conviction, but after what just occurred Y/N no longer knew who had control over her boyfriend’s body and that clear hesitancy in her voice killed Steven. 

“Oh love,” the Englishman began. With wide eyes and open arms, Steven was quick to hug his girlfriend. He needed to reassure himself that she was alright, that she was alive and unharmed. “I’m so sorry Y/N! I have no idea what happened. When Marc woke up and he was on top of you, I woke up too. That wasn’t us, darling please, I’m so sorry.” 

“I know, it’s okay.” 

Steven stopped for a moment, his grip tightened on Y/N as he confessed to her in a wavering voice. “I don’t know who that was, love. I’m bloody scared whoever it was will come back and…” he didn't finish his sentence, but Y/N knew by the loosening of his grip and the shuffled step backwards that he was scared this new alter would try to front and hurt her. “Marc says you’re not safe with us and… Gods, I think he might be right on this one.” 

Y/N was shaking her head before Steven could finish his sentence. Her hands reached for him as she took a step forward. “No. Don’t do this sacrificial, isolation bullshit. Whoever fronted was with me long enough to kill me if they really wanted me dead. I know you and Marc are scared but we’re a fucking partnership. We don’t leave each other when the going gets tough.” 

Steven was quiet for many moments. Soaking in what Y/N had just said. He really was terrified about this other alter, but what really stuck with him was how passionate Y/N was about sticking at his side. He was sucked back into reality when the woman spoke up again. 

“He spoke Spanish.” Steven looked up into Y/N’s eyes, his dark brows were furrowed in confusion. 

“Do you know what he said?” 

Y/N shook her head. “No. It was two words and he yelled them, like a curse or a demand, but then Marc fronted." 

“And this mystery man was choking you as he said this?” 

It was quiet for a moment before Y/N answered. “Honestly, it was no more than what I do to you in bed.” 

Steven was quick to blush at the mention of his sex life. Y/N would have found it adorable if she wasn’t so focused on figuring out her boyfriend’s third alter. 

Before he answered his girlfriend his attention was taken away by something else. Looking over Y/N’s shoulder at the sand dune that rose above them, his gaze landed on Khonshu. “What is it?” He called out. Y/N knew he had to have been talking to Khonshu. 

“That fucking bird gonna help us get out of here?” Y/N asked. She wanted, needed, to get out of the desert. With the hot sun beating down on her and the new problem of an unfamiliar alter rising, she was quickly losing her patience.  

“People are here.” Steven gasped out before it was Marc that was fronting and donning his ceremonial armour. 

Y/N slipped her knives out of her boots as she looked around the open desert. They had to be coming from over the sand dune. “How many?” Y/N asked. 

Marc’s answer came right before Harrow’s people came over the dune. “Too many.” 

[mysteriouspersonrambles]

Live listening to the new Malevolent episode so long post:

Dude fucking medieval Britain being Kayne’s bind spot is so funny - like what a loser

Alexander!!!! My Boy I love you so much

This peace is not going to last

Oh a weaved basket let me guess the village is going to be totally destroyed and that’s what causes the foul taste in the river or the bad river taste came from the witches nest dumping into the river supple

You walk a path with devils- bestie you guys run had fist into the devils on a regular basis don’t act like all those run-ins aren’t your fault

Nooo Yorick - get bagged idiot I suppose

Arthur continues to be the most conspicuous guy of all time. Congrats buddy nobody does it worse than you

Do you still have your lighter remember the magic lighter

Arthur you trespass on the Daily you where a fucking PI dude

Oh never mind Arthur got his spooky sense and being touched by ghosts apparently he truly is beloved

Arthur was a Boy Scout oh man I forgot about that. What a mental image

Oh yeah Arthur’s super dead parents

Oh man friendship let’s go. Wait Arthur what happened with your friend did die or something. Oh who am I kidding it’s malevolent of course he’s dead

Ohh what else is in the pen. Is it bones I hope it’s bones.

Aw boo it’s just a weird figure dudes you guys encounter those things all the time

Bewildered Englishman I love that

Yeah dude he’s different it’s the trauma. Remember he had to eat a man

But your Kayne’s favorite boytoy that should mean something

Dude I hope they run into their other self’s that would be so fucking funny please 🙏 or like a Catbox situation (does anybody get that reference)

Yeah dude fuck the narrative

You might fail but also like you’re the MC’s so plot armor

Huh difficult to see anything else but the fire- this better not be foreshadowing

The Guy is back hell yeah ohhh what a voice

Arthur does not know how the deal with the fay

Arthur this village is fucking dead there is nobody here

Yeah guys this guy has been through some shit

I think he’s warning you dude you know there are monsters about

Yeah dude the Fay the one you don’t know how to handle

I like this guy he speaks in riddles

I this guy talking about the prince or another Arthur or just regular Arthur

Welcoming is a dangerous thing Arthur

Dude not his biggest trauma

This man is not up to date with modern law procedures man

Ohhh spooky ghost man is a story teller

Dude the foul taste in the water

Self hate for the win 🏆

He is the boy’s vengeance

Oh shit was I right or half right but I knew this guy was ghost guy. I think that’s actually so cool

The witches child?? Or Faroe

Arthur these noises are not the ones I would want to hear when talking about children. Like I know you’re morning but the noises man

Good choice Arthur I would want the truth too but it could be something you know but still

That’s so cool that the ghost kids are so powerful good for you ghost kids

Scratch!!!! Or the goat lady the one who was mentioned in the 1st season I can’t spell her name but I was talking about her the other day

Or maybe just another spooky ghost lady either way in hyped

Fuck indeed you just murder one of her kids and she got a good look at you and who you’re traveling with

You can’t destroy the darkness idiot

Oh fuck is Alexander evil please I will cry if he is

You don’t get a weapon you chose a truth

Yeah man you can’t escape the darkness idiot

Is she why Kayne can’t be here. Is Kayne scared of her please that would be so funny

“He is not what he seems” I can’t tell if this is about Yorick or Alexander the owl it could be both but I love them so much.

Also where was Yorick this episode I missed him he’s not evil just kinda dumb and a plotter and he wants a hand of glory but he’s just a little guy

Arthur are you going to sleep on the ground the forest is going to eat you

William aw what happened to him how did he die horribly

I’m sad this episode was a feeler though I’m glad Arthur got a little peace of mind when it came to Faroe. I can’t wait to see the absolute shit show that must be next episode this one was much too fluffy something terrible must be coming.

[aneurinallday]

Gibson and the Shivering Soldier

Chapter 2: Un Homme, Deux Ombres

William found himself in a quieter part of town - small houses and fenced-off yards, all standing in neat rows. Most people were still awake and abuzz, but the chaos of the boats’ arrival was starting to subside. Both soldiers and locals alike were settling down for the evening, eager to rest.

As he made his way downhill, he glanced up at the terraced houses above him. A middle-aged woman was taking in her laundry from her balcony. She was in a hurry - she must’ve forgotten her chores amid all the pandemonium.

“Excuse me,” William called out, “What time is it?”

“Midnight, love,” she called back, “You got somewhere to sleep?”

“No. Do you have a room to spare?”

“Not here. Sorry.”

“I only need to lie down. I’ll sleep on the floor if you’ll let me.”

“There’s no space, dear. I’ve already got a soldier sleeping here, and two boys of my own.”

“Ah. Pardon me for bothering you.”

“It’s no bother. Have you been to the railway yard yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, head on down there. There’s trains ready to take you boys home - you’ll have missed the last one, but there’ll be more.”

“Can you point me the way?”

“Just follow the street, and when it ends, keep heading in a straight line,” she said, pointing west, “It’s only ten minutes on foot.”

“Thank you.”

William began to walk. As he went, he basked in the cool night air, in the rustling of the breeze through hedges and flowerbeds, the fragments of overheard conversation, the fleeting smells of cooking which wafted from kitchen windows. Not really observing his surroundings, but rather, soaking in the ambience of civilian life. He heard children playing in their living room, and a few metres on, a woman laughing in an upstairs window - sounds which seemed almost surreal to him now.

After a minute or two, he felt a strange prickle of danger. He sensed, rather than heard, that someone was walking silently behind him.

Quickly turning, he saw the darkened shape of a fellow soldier, tailing him at a distance too close for comfort. Upon being noticed, the soldier stopped and stood sheepishly in the middle of the road. It was the Frenchman.

“What do you want?” William demanded, “I don’t recall inviting you to accompany me. Did you follow me all this way? Eh? Answer me.”

Gibson didn’t reply.

“Do you speak English? Anglais? No? No Anglais? Of course you don’t.”

William scoffed, turned his back, and continued on his way. After a few metres, he glanced over his shoulder to see Gibson still following him, like a dog at his heels.

“Go back,” William ordered. “You’re not coming with me. Why are you skulking about like a thief?”

Gibson took a hesitant step closer, but the irritation in the Englishman’s voice made him back away again. He was hugging himself for warmth, and shivering.

“Go back!” William repeated, pointing down the dark street. “Just fucking go, alright?”

He walked faster, but Gibson’s presence clung to him like a shadow. William spun around.

“What’s the matter with you? I gave you a bite to eat, so you think I’m your friend now? Is that it? Well, I’m not your friend. I should never have spoken to you.”

Gibson remained stubbornly, frustratingly mute.

A sudden wave of anger welled up in William, and overflowed in the only direction it could: towards the mute Frenchman.

“Fuck off, will you!” William snapped, his gentlemanly demeanour slipping. “Can’t I get a moment’s peace? For fuck’s sake. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve any of this! I’m an officer in His Majesty’s army. I served for years with distinction - I’m a man of integrity and honour. I’m not a deserter who looted the clothes off a corpse to hide himself among honest men!”

Gibson said nothing, but shivered violently.

William’s anger faded as abruptly as it had seized hold. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t angry at Gibson, but at the claustrophobic crowds, at the oppressive smell of bodies and saltwater, at the inescapable sound of the sea. A whole tapestry of horror and chaos and misery, of which Gibson was just one tiny thread.

“For God’s sake,” William muttered.

Then, to his surprise, Gibson broke his silence.

“Je suis désolé,” he said quietly.

“Oh, so you can speak after all?”

Gibson glanced back the way they’d come, as if considering returning. The road led away into darkness. Even if he managed to find his way back to the chippy, he would be no closer to finding a warm place to sleep. And there was no guarantee he wouldn’t cross paths with the soldiers who’d accosted him.

“Well,” William sighed, “We’re both going in the same direction anyway - away from here. Wherever those trains are headed, we’ll both be getting on one eventually. So we might as well go together. Come along, then.”

He beckoned for Gibson to follow. Gibson hesitated, but at William’s encouragement, crept closer. William walked on, with his tag-along a few steps behind him.

Before long, they arrived at Weymouth’s railway station. Long queues of weary soldiers were shuffling slowly onto trains, shepherded along by civilians. As William wandered the length of the platform, past carriage after carriage, he looked through the windows at the crowded interiors. There was barely any standing space, let alone two empty seats.

“We’ll wait for the next one,” he said. “Come along.”

Away from the busy platforms, they found an empty bench and sat down, drawing their jackets closer around themselves for warmth.

“This time tomorrow, we’ll be in warm beds, with a roof over our heads, sleeping off a good supper.”

Gibson didn’t respond. William closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and tried to forget the smell of the sea and the sound of the waves.

Chapter 3: Une Nouvelle Vie

[friendly-books]

Rivers of London read and write up

Thanks for the recommendation @temporaryyuri. I’ve been told it's about a magic london cop. I won’t hold him being an Englishman against him that’s not his fault but I will hold him being a cop against him. But I’ve been told he’s cool. 

“when he noticed that it was in fact missing a head.” pg. 1 Well looks like there’s been a murder. Now let’s see if it’s mundane or supernatural.

“Martin Turner dialed 999 and asked for the police.” pg. 2 What your supposed to do if you’re in Great Britain and deal with a crime call the emergency line 999

“everything else being equal, it probably wasn’t a case of accidental death.” pg. 2 Ha and yes having your head removed definitely isn’t accidental

This book is so British. I might need to go eat a burger and apple pie to compensate

“why it was me that met the ghost” pg. 3 Metaphorical or “physical” ghost?

“We maintained a strictly professional relationship despite my deep-seated yearning to climb into her uniform trousers.” pg. 5 Well then good to know.

“My name’s Nicholas Wallpenny” pg. 7 Such a British name

“Seeing as I’m dead.” pg. 8 Well at least he knows he’s dead

“The killing gentlemen did t just change his hat and coat, he changed his face” pg. 10 Spooky

“Separate beds, unfortunately” pg. 11 Just ask her out

“Trident was always on the lookout for black officers to do hideously dangerous undercover work and being mixed race meant I qualified.” pg. 15 POC protagonist! Not a fan of Trident or that police force

“Too easily distracted”

“You were checking what was written on the lions bum”

“I like you, I think you’re a good man, but it’s like you don’t see the world the way a copper needs to see the world-it’s like you’re seeing stuff that isn’t there.” pg. 21 Does Peter have ADD or ADHD?

“I’m going to hack HOMES and see if my ghost was right,” pg. 25 Homes like Sherlock Homes? And what do you mean hack? Hacking takes exploiting security vulnerabilities or a phishing con? This is going to take so long

Whats the main character’s name? I don’t think anyone’s said it yet.

“I wondered if we could enhance the faces” pg. 29 I don’t think that’s a thing

“Nicholas the corporally challenged,” pg. 31 Ha

“Peter” pg. 32 Protagonist name finally

“emphasized the width of his shoulders and a trim waist.”

“When he strolled over to talk to me, I thought  he might be looking for that slightly ethnic boyfriend after all.” pg. 34 Ha Is Peter bi? Time for a counter. Bi Peter 1

“Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale,” pg. 35 I was told I would like this character and that I would ship him with Peter so let it begin

“Ghost are real.” pg. 49 Fun

“You took sciences at A-level,” said Nightingale as we pulled out. “Why didn’t you take a science degree?”

“I got distracted, sir.” pg. 51 Time to look up what A-level means

“We call it vestigium” pg. 54 Cool

“He was from Yorkshire or somewhere like that and, like many Northerners with issues, he’d moved to London as a cheap alternative to psychotherapy.” pg. 55 What’s wrong with people in Yorkshire?

“He bore down the corridor toward us like a bull on steroids and as he did I had to fight the urge to hide behind Nightingale.” pg. 56 I’m sure Nightingale will protect you

“I’m late for my colonic irrigation.” pg. 57 Is he talking about a colonoscopy?

“What’s the agreement?” I asked?

“It’s not important,” said Nightingale” pg. 57 That’s going to come up again

“A life of quiet desperation,” said Nightingale. I knew it was a quote but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking who’d said it.” pg. 58 Well I’m going to look it up. It looks like it’s from Henry David Thoreau book called Civil Disobedience and Other Essays

“but the Murder Team didn’t know about know about my psyche powers and the vestigium of the barking dog.” pg. 59 Peter you didn’t know about your psyche powers up until a couple of hours ago

“I looked at Nightingale, but he just raised an eyebrow.” pg. 61 Nightingale what did you do to the dog?

“A wizard.”

“Like Harry Potter?”

Nightingale sighed. “No,” he said “Not like Harry Potter.”

“In what way?”

“I’m not a fictional character,” pg. 63 Ha

“Brandon Coopertown was a good-looking older man in his mid forties  with black hair and narrow features.” pg. 65 Bi Peter 2

“Stone retains vestigia very well. That’s why old buildings have such character.” pg. 69 Interesting

“Just ask him about the year of his birth.” pg. 75 Interesting how old are you Nightingale

“thrown a baby from a second story window.” pg. 80 Oh no

“Salaam” I said

“Assalaamu alaykum” pg. 91

“dissimuo was a magic spell that could change your appearance.” pg. 92 Interesting

“It’s almost impossible to steal another man’s magic.” pg. 94 Almost that’s the key word here

“It’s theoretically possible, but, morality aside, I couldn’t do it.” said Nightingale. “I don’t think any human wizard could.” pg. 95 But a non human wizard could

“Do I have to call Sifu?” pg. 97 Ha

“You have to call me Master.”

“Master?”

“That’s the tradition” said Nightingale.

I said the word in my head and it kept on coming out massa.” pg. 97 Glad I’m not the only one who got a bad taste in my mouth when Nightingale a white man says that Peter a bi racial man should call him ‘master’ Massa is a offensive and outdated term used in writing to represent spoken altercations of the  word master.

“And your patron Sir Issac Newton?” I asked

Nightingale grinned. “He was our founder and the first man to systematize the practice of magic.

“I was taught that he invented modern science,” I said.

“He said both,” Nightingale. “That’s the nature  of genius.” pg. 106 Interesting

“And she is…”

“Indispensable,” said Nightingale” pg. 108 Glad that Nightingale is nice to the “help” but what is Molly?

“while I, easily distracted remember, had been  wondering whether I could sneak Leslie back to my room in Folly.” pg. 114 Peter focus please

“Middle aged women suddenly goes bonkers and attacks someone in the cinema, in front of her children.” pg. 118 Suspicious maybe magic?

“What’s she going to do with it all the leftover.”

“I’ve learned to not ask these questions,” said Nightingale

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not sure I want to know the answers.” pg. 120 Ha

“So it’s not a process of oxidation, is it?” I asked

“Focus,” said Nightingale “Magic first science later.” pg. 123 Peter can multi task

“Good,” I said. “Now I’m incentivized.”

Nightingale laughed and let me to it.” pg. 124 Ha and I take it Nightingale hasn’t laughed in awhile

“I��d managed to get it turn it on but got distracted when Nightingale put us around the Hogarth roundabout fast enough to smack my head against the side window.” pg. 125 Ouch slow down Nightingale who taught you how to drive? How do you have your drivers license?

“Eel Pie Island I knew, as a collection of boatyards and houses on a river islet barely five hundred meters long.” pg. 126 Interesting

“Better than watchdogs,” said Nightingale “ask the Romans” pg. 126 Why did you know any Romans? How old are you? And yes geese are terrifying

Glad the books explaining London police talk

“River spirits” pg. 131 Cool

“He’s a troll.” pg. 135 Trolls are real in this world

“That the boys in the boat had been followers of Father Thomas, and had come downstream  to raid the shrine at Eel Pie Island and been caught by followers of Mother Thames.” pg. 137 Why does this give me slit verse vibes?

Does Peter have daddy issues? That’s what I’m picking up

“I tried to keep my eyes off the long legs emerged slender and brown below the helm of the tshirt.” pg. 141 Focus Peter

“I was fighting the urge to fling myself to my knees before her and put my face between her breasts and go blubby, blubby, blubby.” pg. 144 So definitely some sort of supernatural thing right? Charm person?

“Are you on speaking terms with the Mississippi, then?” pg. 145 Ha

“My father always swore that jazz, like the blues, was born in the muddy water of the Mississippi.” pg. 145 Yep and resisting the urge to talk about music history

“there were too many Igbo in my class.

‘I can no longer wait for you to make up your mind and I am going to marry a white bitch Irish woman.” pg. 147 Someone’s bitter. Igbo refers to a member of the largest ethnic group in southeastern Nigeria. And there’s no need to bring the girl’s ethnicity in this :|

“This is the cleanest industrial river in Europe.” pg. 150 That’s concerning. How dirty are the other rivers?

“I dreamed that I was sharing a bed with Leslie May and Beverly Brook both lithe and naked on either side.” pg. 153 Peter don’t make this into a love triangle

“Tactus disvitae,” he said “The smell of afterlife-they must be down here.” pg. 169 Good to know

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we deal with vampires in Old London Times.” pg. 173 With grenades and white phosphorus

“Fuck me, I thought. I can do magic.” pg. 178 Yep Peter can do magic!

“I said she could come in, but she looked shifty and said she couldn’t.” pg. 179 Oh threshold magic

“Surprisingly, Molly was standing beside her, their heads close together as if exchanging confessions.” pg. 180 Ohh interesting

“I noticed Toby was my dog now.” pg. 185 Yes!

“I hung up as Beverly Brook sauntered over from the hospital, the swing of her hips dragging my eyes.” pg. 186 Peter I feel like I need a spray bottle for every time you get like this

“one of her breasts pushed against my shoulder and I resisted the urge to put my arm around her waist.” pg. 192 Come on Peter focus on the plot and the magic. I’m choosing to believe  there’s some magic involved when it comes to Beverly

“She was spontaneously created by the midcholorians.” pg. 194 Ha nice Star Wars reference

“Detective Sergeant Miriam Stephanopoulos, Seawoll’s right-hand woman and terrifying lesbian.” pg. 205 I love her already even though she’s a cop

“You’re not the first apprentice with an inquisitive mind.” pg. 210 Were you one Nightingale?

“The man was holding silver topped cane and for a moment I thought he might be Nightingale, but the man was older and his eyes were an intense blue. Nightingale senior perhaps?” pg. 212 That’s Nightingale isn’t it.

Good for Molly with the painting

“It was Inspected Nightingale, dressed in the blue polo shirt and blazer that I recognized as being the closest thing he ever got to casual dress. I stared at him stupidly for a moment.” pg. 217 Oh I’m choosing to believe this is a Bi Peter 3

“Thank you,” he said. “Call me Thomas, please.”

Which was just not going to happen.” pg. 218 Come on Peter call him Thomas :)

“You don’t think she and Nightingale…?” asked Leslie

“Ew,” said Beverly. “That’s just wrong.” pg. 219 I agree they can just be friends

“Young men are always tempted to use brute force,” Nightingale had said. “It’s like learning to shoot a riffle; because it’s inherently dangerous, you teach safety, accuracy, and speed-in that order.” pg. 222 Oh were you tempted to use brute strength Nightingale? And he’s definitely old who uses a rifle anymore?

“Officially she was there to liaise with me on the case but really she was mainly there for the wide-screen tv, takeout, and the unresolved sexual tension.” pg. 223 No Peter stop :(

“It’s the change in the clocks,” he said. “Twice a year she takes the day off.” pg. 224 Good for her

“of the horseshoe roof of a wooden gypsy caravan” pg. 227 I believe the term is Romani

“I nearly said that not all fathers were worthy of respect, but I managed to keep my gob shut and anyway not everyone had a dad like mine.” pg. 238 Daddy issues

“We both laughed out loud at that and bypassed Swindo.” pg. 242 Aw they’re laughing with each other

“It was the same Old Man in 1914, I can tell you that for certain.”

“How do you know that?”

Nightingale hesitated, then he said, “I’m not quite as young as I look” pg. 242 I knew it

“It’s escalating,” pg. 245 Yep

“All to no avail, except pissing off Nightingale” pg. 251 Hold on Nightingale Peter’s experiments could be useful

I like that Peter experiment with magic

“Nightingale laughed. I caught a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision and I turned to find Molly standing in the doorway, eyes shining with reflected fire and fixed on Nightingale.” pg. 255 Aw :)

“The Folly has three libraries;” pg. 261 Can I live there?

“Vincit qui se vincit August 1821. I wondered what it meant.” pg. 262 According to google translate it means “he conquers who conquers himself”

“Nightingale smiled

“What is it?” I asked

“You remind me of a wizard I used to know called David Mellenby,” said Nightingale. “He had the same obsession.”

“What happened to him?” I asked. “And did he leave any notes?”

“I’m afraid he died in the war,” pg. 263 So many thoughts. I love that Peter makes Nightingale smile and laugh I take it this hasn’t happened in a long time. I want to learn more about David. I don’t know if David actually died maybe he’s behind the murders?  Tinfoil hat theory. And what war Nightingale? World War One or two? How old are you?

“Help me,” he said

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“He’s eating me,” pg. 269 Oh no

“There was a poster, white lettering on a blood red background, keep calm and carry on, which I thought was good advice.” pg. 270 Peter please tell me you know England history. And interesting that Nightingale has the original poster. Peter doesn’t mention whether the poster has a crown on it

“We broke off for morning tea” pg. 272 Morning tea? Really? So British

“You keep asking the kind of question,” said Nightingale, “that really shouldn’t be coming up for another year or so.” pg. 273 Come on Nightingale tell Peter. So what if he’s asking questions that “shouldn’t be coming”? why does there need to be a time table when Peter “should” learn things?

“You get hunted down even unto the ends of the Earth and summarily executed,” pg. 274 I’d hope so as murder and human sacrifice are illegal and unethical

“safety within screaming-for-help range” pg. 276 Ha

“Chemical glow sticks from the local camping shop and these I cracked and placed where the crib sheet called for candles.” pg. 277 If they work then that’s cool

“I heard Nightingale yelling and looked over to see him running flat out towards me.” pg. 280 Go Nightingale save Peter

“Nightingale grabbed my collar and pulled me away as cherry blossoms and clods of dirt rained down around us.” pg. 281 Oh how romantic with the cherry blossoms falling around them :)

“You’ve got a devious mind, Peter,”

“Thank you, sir.” I said “I do my best.” pg. 283 Ha

“I wanted to watch her tuck her long legs under the dash.” pg. 285 Stop

“She stretched and arched her back, making her breasts strain alarmingly against her sweater.” pg. 288 I will get a spray bottle

“You really are the most extraordinary gullible young man,” she said. “What on earth are we going to do with you?” pg. 292 My thoughts exactly

“A most terrible Irishman”

“Had that Irish temper” pg. 293 Stop being prejudice about the Irish

“before I could stop her she kissed me.”

“What the fuck was that about?” pg. 296 Again my thoughts exactly

“She pulled my head down and kissed me on the cheek.” pg. 301 What is happening?

“I’d like to know what your intentions are with my sister.” pg. 301 Is Peter getting the shovel talk?

“Pikey is a word for Gypsies that a well brought up young policeman is not supposed to use.” pg. 302 I don’t think you’re supposed to use gypsy either and can the rivers stop being racist

“I’ve got nothing against the Old Man or his people but this is the twenty first century and this is my town I haven’t busted a gut for thirty years so some ‘gentleman of the road’ can move back and take what’s mine.” pg. 302 His people that’s a bit racist

“Technically he’s my master” I said “I swore a guild oath as his apprentice.” My tongue felt thick and dry as if I’d spent the night sleeping with my mouth open.” pg. 303 The wince I made when Peter said ‘master’

“A Ministry of Magic” pg. 303 Ha

“Why don’t you have a nice drink?” pg. 305 Don’t drink it

Tyburn is the worst :(

“People are conditioned by the media to think that black women are all shouting, and head shaking and girlfriending and “oh no you didn’t” and if they’re not sassy, then they’re adignified and downtrodden and soldering on and “I don’t understand why folks just can’t get along.” But if you see a black women go quiet the way Tyburn did, the bright eyes, the lips straight and the face still as a death mask, you have made an enemy for life, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred.” pg. 308 Run Peter run

“We were going to use vampires during the war?” I’d asked, and been surprised by the look of genuine hurt and anger on Nightingale’s face. “No,” he’d said sharply and then with more moderation, “Not us-the Germans.” pg. 311 So Nightingale definitely fought in WW2 and has seen some stuff

“It was his guide dog” pg. 313 Good dog

“In her words, ‘Why does this shit always fucking happened to me’ pg. 314 Ha and I can’t see Nightingale saying that even quoting someone else

“You’re volunteering to have your head beaten in?” pg. 316 It sounds like he’s volunteering himself for possession with the ‘sequestration’

“Like the manifestation of the social trend, crime and disorder, a sort of superyob. The spirit of riot and rebellion in the London mob.”

We all looked at her in amazement.” pg. 317 That is a good theory but I doubt it

“I might have even written an essay, but I’m damned if I remember any of the why.” pg. 326 Ha and I still can’t believe that Nightingale swears

“Nightingale smiled” pg. 327 Aw I just love that Nightingale smiles

“No man strikes his wife without provocation-was she a shrew?”

“A man can be driven to terrible acts by the tongue of a woman.” pg. 329 De Veil is the worst

“Seawoll’s people would provide containment in case things went pear shaped” pg. 331 Things are going to definitely go pear shaped I’m only 60% done

“shot Nightingale in the back.” pg. 332 Ahhh! :0

“Inspector Nightingale was alive” pg. 336 Good

“It’s beautiful” pg. 343 Aw :)

What’s Tyburn doing here?

“Your father’s a junkie, has been for thirty years.” pg. 351 Ouch rude Tyburn

“his heroin” pg. 352 Heroin?!

“So you understand why I don’t find Nightingale’s shabby gentility impressive in any way.” pg. 353 There’s no need to be so rude Tyburn

“Why aren’t you inside right now?” pg. 354 She probably can’t get in the the whole threshold magic

“What did he see in you?” pg. 354 Someone’s jealous

“Checking first to make sure that no one was likely to see me, I reached out and squeezed his hand.” pg. 356 Come on Peter just hold Nightingales hand

“you can’t just walk into a random pub and buy a handgun.” pg. 359 Good point this isn’t the U.S.

“Which meant that somebody had told Henry Pyke” pg. 360 We have a rat dun dun dun

“Leslie May was my suspect.” pg. 365 Oh no Leslie

How am I only 70% of the way though there’s still so much left

Who let Beverly drive?

“but it came out muffled on account of the fact that my jaw felt like it was dislocated.” pg. 378 Is Peter the possessed?

“the bastard had stolen Nightingale’s cane” pg. 382 No

“exaggerated poop deck” pg. 382 PETER THAT’S NOT WHAT IT’S CALLED (sorry the theater kid came out of me) It’s either center stage, right or left stage, downstage or upstage. Trying not to unleash my theater history onto everyone

“I know you’re out there, you black Irish dog.” pg. 383 Stop being racist

“But he has the luck of the Irish and the gift of gab.” pg. 387 So racist

“God spare me from fools and amateurs,” pg. 388 Ha

“Seawoll must have walked up behind me while I was feeding clever.” pg. 393 Oh no, are they all possessed?

“safety harness to be worn by the handsome baritone” pg. 394 Bi Peter 4

“Why is it that good quality pay their taxes while foreigners pay naught and yet expect the liberties that are an Englishman’s hard-won prerogative.” pg. 395 Is this the play being racist or Henry being racist

“Nobody likes a riot except looters and journalists.” pg. 403 Oh no a riot

“but I was distracted by the sight of the helicopter hovering directly overhead.” pg. 404 Peter you’re always distracted

“He wouldn’t have been able to spell racial discrimination on his report, if there had been a report.” pg. 406 I really hope that’s just the magic talking and not the guys actual thoughts

Inspector Neblett to the rescue

“I was wrong about you Grant,” he said. “You do have the makings of a proper copper.”

“Thank you sir” pg. 408 Aw that’s nice

“A Molotov cocktail makes a very distinctive sound.” pg. 409 Oh no

“We kissed.” pg. 422 Ahhh :) Beverly and Peter kissed

“I saw my ranting drunk-he had the face of Mr. Punch.” pg. 429 Oh no

“Mr. Punch-the spirit of riot and rebellion” pg. 430 I can’t believe Leslie was right

“From September 1944 to March 1945, that lovable Nazi scamp Wernher Von Braun” pg. 431 What did I just read.

“Just to let you know that Thomas is conscious and asking for you.” pg. 440 He’s awake :)

“How old are you?”

“Old,” he whispered “Turn century” pg. 442 I knew it!

“Nightingale made a wheezing sound that alarmed me for a moment until I realized that it was laughter.” pg. 442 Glad that Nightingale can laugh in this situation

“Is it natural?”

He shook his head” pg. 442 Oh interesting so it’s not normal.   

“He was a heavyset white man with a skinned head and a faded tattoo of SS lighting bolts on his neck.” pg. 448 He’s a skin head?! Get away from Peter

“Someone sniggered-probably Beverly” pg. 449 Ha

“My duty, my obligation-my decision.” pg. 449 Yes go Peter

“You want to fuck with me, Tyburn, you had better know who you’re messing with.” pg. 449 Ohhh

“Your father is a failed musician and your mother cleans offices for a living. You grew up in a council flat and you went to your local comprehensive and you failed your A-levels.” pg. 450 She didn’t go there >:( Someone shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses. The only reason your immigrant mother from Nigeria is a goddess is because she chose to commit suicide from failing her medical exam and her fiancé leaving her and by some struck of luck became a goddess instead of dying. Tyburn won’t have the opportunities and the power she has if not for her mother being an actual goddess.

“Toby slammed into my ankles as soon as I was across the threshold.” pg. 452 Aw :)

“Which meant-nothing” pg. 453 I’m sure it means something

“as she bit me hard.” pg. 455 Ahh

“After knocking my forehead a couple of times, I just opened the side door like a normal person.” pg. 457 Ha

“But no, not Nickolas Wallpenny, it was Henry Pyke. It was always Henry Pyke, right from the start.” pg. 460 It was him from the start!? :0

“You know;” he squeaked, “you’re not nearly as stupid as you look.” pg. 460 Rude

“Where’s Henry now?”

“He’s in your girlfriend’s head, having carnal knowledge of her brain.” pg. 461 Beverly?! No wait he’s talking about Leslie. Come on Mr. Punch keep up this the new relationship details you’re so far behind on the gossip

“I could no more have not chased him than I could have stopped breathing.” pg. 461 Cool

“I closed the last couple of meters on Mr. Punch and rugby-tackled the dead fucker to the ground.” pg. 463 Yes go Peter!

“Bastard,” he said. “Black Irish bastard dog.” pg. 463 So rude and racist >:( it’s not even that creative come up with better honestly

“Was there a god of Justice? And where would I find him-or maybe her.” pg. 464 Way to be inclusive Peter :)

“And suddenly I understood what Mama Thames had been trying to tell me.” pg. 465 See I knew it would come in handy

“It was the spirt of Old Man of the River as a young man.” pg. 466 So cool and he’s so old

“Molly was hunched over, her face turned away and hidden by her hair, vomiting blood onto her nice clean tiles.” pg. 467 Oh dear

“I looked into her eyes and saw that they were all back, no trace of white at all, and filled with  hunger and despair.” pg. 468 Oh no

“Nightingale’s name made her pause, but only for a moment.” pg. 469 She still paused that’s something

“It was Toby” pg. 470 Go Toby!

“It was Leslie, waiting for me on the chaise lounge, holding Nightingale’s cane across her knees and staring into space.” pg. 471 Oh come on

“I blame it on the Italian, Piccini, a passionate race-they have to incorporate lust into all their endeavors, even their religious works.” pg. 473 Well that’s racist

“And then the mouthy git was gone, right on cue.” pg. 477 Good

“whom he piled with alcohol”

“he might have pressed his case a little too fervently”

“she was a willing partner, or at least not objecting too strenuously”

“At least right up to the point where she bit his dick off.” pg. 480 Good for her

“Beautiful, but she didn’t have slanty eyes.” pg. 481 More racism I’m so glad you got your dick bitten off

“I couldn’t help thinking that hanging out with me had almost killed her.” pg. 482 Poor Peter

“It had been less than six months” pg. 482 It hasn’t even been six months?!

“Nightingale was in the adjacent room, was awake and sitting up and doing the Telegraph crossword.” pg. 483 Yay Nightingale and he’s doing ok

“two people who definitely still believed in divine rights.” pg. 486 Ew divine rights

“It can’t be Tyburn.” I’d said. You don’t inflict Tyburn on anyone as a gesture of peace or goodwill.” pg. 487 Yep

“old-fashioned rectangular hay bays, of the type I happen to know are no longer common in British farming practices.” pg. 488 It’s not common? Over here it is at least where I live

“Don’t worry, it’s basically just like the country,” I said. “Only with more people.” pg. 491 Ha

Final thoughts

I enjoyed this book. I adore the characters, especially Peter, Nightingale, and Molly. I liked the Rivers. The book was very British. I enjoyed the magic and the mystery. I’m glad this book didn’t go into a love triangle with Peter, Leslie, and Beverly. Bi Peter is up to 4 (yes I’m turning this into a counter) I wasn’t a fan of how horny Peter. I wasn’t expecting all the racism.

Onto Moon over SoHo

[alexanderlightweight]

Love, love, loving Marriage of Inconvenience ~ Also have you heard the song Boyfriend by Dove Cameron? Because I listened to it again this morning and it is really giving me Magnus on the prowl vibes!

hey anon! I'm glad you're enjoying it and i have but i'm terrible at songs so i had to look it up because off the top of my head, i was going with no! so i hope you enjoy this!

-

“Am I interrupting?” Magnus finds himself asking, knowing full well that he is, in fact, interrupting.

“Yes.” The seelie says with a frown and Magnus’ prey of choice says, “no” at the same time.

There’s a moment of delicious silence where the seelie stares, clearly shocked, and the shadowhunter she’s trying to seduce raises a single brow and flicks a look up and down her body.

“Definitely not interrupting.”

Magnus laughs, unable to help himself as he shoes the seelie away with a glance and flick of his magic.

“Now darling, surely you know you could do much better than her?” Magnus asks, and he sets a drink down in front of his shadowhunter. “Or was she bothering you?”

There’s a wince, something like a grimace of disgust and then his shadowhunter is reaching out for the glass and draining it, as if it’s tea and he’s an Englishman returning from visiting America.

Magnus would know, Ragnor acts frightfully similar whenever he deigns to ‘cross the pond’.

“Oh now, I can’t have driven you to drink away my company quite yet.”

“Not you—” is blurted out and then there is a soft pink blush and then his shadowhunter sighs and stares at the empty glass. “Just, that whole thing.”

“Oh, do tell. Did you find out the risks of letting a seelie have your heart? Because sweetheart, I could be a much better lover than her.” It’s forward and presumptuous and Magnus reaches across and slowly sets his hand on his shadowhunters thigh.

There is a soft hitch of breath and then his boy is leaning across the counter and looking at Magnus with a stubborn intensity.

“What if I don’t want a her.”

His shadowhunter looks shocked, as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud but Magnus has him now and he smiles, a little more softly, a little more dangerously.

“Then, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?”