#pls forgive any errors

[andythelemon]

Sorcery fight!!! A print for cons this fall, I'll have leftovers available here after!

[kentopedia]

starry silence

dazai x reader my lil contribution to the chaos that was today's episode <3 not quite a reunion, but the aftermath of one ෆ. i'm happy he's safe & sound, but he must be so tired. :( sfw !! kind of sad bc i’m also dealing w jjk leaks i love being in pain (i don’t)

as dazai slept, moonlight cut across his face, highlighting the contours of his skin, the dark maroon cuts and bruises that had been littered across his face. though he seemed the image of a soldier home from war, his freshly washed hair and soft breaths turned him into something much more gentle. dark strands fell in soft waves over his head, shifting as he stirred, his inhale just a skip before his breathing evened out once more. 

you traced his jaw, watching the steady streams of air flow through his chest, out his nose. he looked so angelic, so tender in that waxy moonlight, comprised of something otherworldly and earthly all at once. 

a soft sigh left his lips as you traced his chin, and something about that sound of relief, of him relaxing completely under your palm, had you choking up. tears pricked at the edge of your waterline like sharp needles, each one filled with something poisonous. 

dazai didn’t move, but you curled into a ball, squeezing your legs to your chest as he slept on.

he’d been out for hours, ever since he’d gotten out of the shower, collapsing in a pile of long limbs stretched toward every corner of the room.

the blankets were much kinder to him than the steel bed he’d slept on at meursault, where he’d always kept one eye open. now, though, even his own clothes fit him poorly, like the white prison pants that had hung so loosely off his waist. 

under his t-shirt, the angles of his collarbone had become sharper, the planes of his stomach much flatter than you remembered. though his features had never been soft, even the skin of his cheeks had thinned, stress taking more of a toll on him than he'd admitted.

it was peaceful night outside, no sounds of screams to be heard in yokohama. you were certain that you’d absorbed every ounce of turmoil that had lingered in the city beyond your doorstep, and it gathered up in your chest like a bundle of fiery energy. something that you weren’t sure how to get rid of without bending over the porcelain toilet. 

everything had resolved itself, hadn’t it? yet, you couldn’t shake the twisted anxiety that lingered in your chest, even when dazai was right beside you, sleeping soundly with no lasting injuries. 

you rested your chin on your knees, letting that emptiness swallow you whole, disappearing somewhere that wasn’t entirely there. the steady rise and fall of dazai’s chest was the only thing that kept you grounded, kept you from drifting away, lost in a spiral of every possibility that hadn’t come to be. 

a small sound of misery left your lips, and you bit down hard, tasting blood as two salty drops rolled down your cheeks. though the cry had been nearly inaudible, dazai heard it nonetheless, alway attuned to you, even the simple fluctuation of your heartbeat a beacon for him across the universe. 

“what’s wrong, darling?” his words were quiet, like he was hesitant to break the atmosphere, in fear that he might startle you. 

you blinked, not sure when your vision had become so blurry, and twisted your neck, letting your jaw rest against your shoulder. “nothing,” you said, but your smile was weak, and the word was hardly a sound at all.

dazai had tucked his cheek under his hands, blinking up at you with sleepy brown eyes that so resembled a child's. it hurt you all over again, that this aching soul who had never seen the beauty in himself had almost been taken away from you. 

your lips parted, but the words halted at your tongue as you pinched your eyebrows together, trying to explain what exactly was within you. it wasn't quite sadness, but it wasn’t relief either, a cumulation of everything you’d ever felt, and something entirely new. 

though, as always, dazai seemed to understand. he reached a hand out, fingers slender and delicate, placing them on your wrist. “it's not good to hold back your tears, my love.” 

as if you’d just been waiting for dazai’s permission, you shook once more, silently, the tears rolling down your cheeks faster, harder. he sat up, bringing you closer with every moment, until you were wrapped in his warm arms. ones that were battered and bruised, but still the safest place in the world. 

he smelled clean, more like himself than he had when you had reunited with him, and that fact alone sent another nauseating wave of emotion over you. you gripped his shoulders, his chest, unable to get any closer, even as you tried to fuse yourself into his being, turn yourselves into one whole that could never again be separated.

dazai kissed your temple, holding you as you cried, saying nothing until you could form the words to explain the ache that in the deepest part of your stomach, stretching to the back of your throat. 

“i was so close to losing you, osamu,” you said, and even if dazai denied it, even if he said he’d always had it under control, you knew that wasn’t true. one slip up, one miscalculation, and you never would’ve seen him again. a single error by chuuya, by ango, by yourself… 

dazai’s fingers twitched against your spine, and he, for once, was faced with uncertainty. like he hadn’t considered what would’ve been ahead of you when he was gone for good, even if his death would always be a possibility. even if you'd always known that if the world wouldn’t kill him, maybe he’d do it himself.

“i’m here,” dazai said, and it wasn’t a promise, but it wasn’t a lie, and you'd accept it for what it was woth. “I’ll be here.” 

there was no way to predict how long that would hold true, but you’d grasp that last spark of hope tightly nevertheless. you'd shelter it away in your loving embrace until the universe clawed it from your bloody palms, stealing the very last light that it had dropped down from heaven into your life.

and that would have to be enough.

"i probably won't write anything abt the episode, i really need to work on—" … rylie is such a silly liar (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

[lovebugism]

love romanticizing my silly little fics by outlining them like screenplays <3 (feat. snippets from the breakfast club!au that's been plaguing my brain. maybe this will see the light of day soon, but who's to say? 👹)

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong.

if you’ve got a girlfriend, i’m jealous of her, but if you’re single, that’s honestly worse ‘cause you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts (honey, it hurts). ocean blue eyes looking in mine, i feel like i might sink and drown and die. you’re so gorgeous, i can’t say anything to your face, ‘cause look at your face. and i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.

Steve’s been spending the summer at his parents house in Beverly Hills. His parents want him to think about his future, to consider college or some career, to get out of the house at the very least, but he’s only nineteen. How is he supposed to know what he wants to do for the rest of his life?

He thinks maybe he’ll ask his dad for a small part in his next movie. Maybe Steve can become an actor, walking red carpets and going to all the best parties. Steve could ask to be in the one he’s filming now, but Steve’s got a busy schedule full of parties and clubbing with his friends who are home for the summer. Plus he doesn’t want to miss out on watching the landscaper who comes every Thursday to weed his mother’s garden, mow the lawn, and clean out the pool.

The landscaper is… hot. Steve has no idea where his mother found Munson&Son, but he thanks whatever gods exist for their favor every week. Every time he hears the big landscaping truck pull up the driveway, Steve rushes to the front window of his bedroom to hide behind his curtains and watch the beautiful long-haired, tattooed guy unload the ride-on lawnmower from the trailer.

He’s not much older than Steve, maybe twenty or twenty-one. He always starts with his hair down, curly, hanging around his shoulders, like he thinks something about this time will be different and he won’t have to tie it up. Whatever the reason, Steve is thankful because there’s just something about watching him flip his hair up on top of his head, twisting his wrists around each other to tie it in a messy bun, that really gets to him.

Steve stands there watching like this is his favorite television show. He brings his glass of iced tea with him and absentmindedly sips it through a straw with his attention glued on his mother’s rose garden. The guy wears these grubby gloves, thick and brown, and he has to wipe his brow with the back of his wrist. Steve thinks it looks like really hard work, knows the landscaper’s arms are lightly muscled, his torso wiry and toned. Steve imagines what the guy’s chest might feel like under Steve’s own fingertips, feels the sweat break out on the back of his own neck as the guy bags up the weeds and throws them in the back of the truck.

Steve holds his breath, waits for it. This is when it happens, when the landscaper climbs on to the ride-on lawnmower and peels off his sweat-soaked shirt. Steve licks his lips as he watches, traces the lines of the guy’s chest tattoos with his eyes—can’t help but imagine what they might taste like—watches as he wipes at the sweat on his chest with his shirt before throwing it in the back of the truck along with the bags of weeds from the garden.

Steve has to take a sip of his iced tea again and considers taking off his own shirt. He pulls at his collar as he remembers that he actually has to breathe to, like, live or whatever. He loves watching the landscaper drive around their lawn on the lawnmower, can’t look away from the way the muscles in his arms tighten and release as he steers. Steve thinks many, many, many thoughts as he watches and drains his glass, ice clinking at the bottom.

The guy is done with the lawn and Steve knows he’ll head to the back of the house to work on the pool. This is when Steve takes a break, fills his glass with more iced tea, and gets his heartbeat under control on his way to his parents room, which overlooks the pool.

This is Steve’s favorite part, because the landscaper has to peel off his cargo pants to reveal his very short swim trunks—Steve has memorized the guy’s thigh tattoos—so he can get into the middle of their admittedly quite large pool. It’s Steve’s favorite part of their Beverly Hills house; he’d been on the swim team at his boarding school and he loves floating in the middle of the clear water on nights when the moon is full and he can see all the stars over their house. They’re far enough from the city and their neighborhood has enough regulations against light pollution that the summer skies are relatively clear.

Watching the landscaper wade into Steve’s favorite place in the world makes him really start thinking Thoughts. He imagines how weightless they both would feel, skinny dipping under the full moon. Sometimes, his thoughts aren’t even all that horny; Steve is just a lonely, privileged kid, really. He imagines what it would be like to make the landscaper laugh, to splash him and dunk him in the water before pulling him close and crashing their lips together. And then his thoughts turn decidedly more horny. He’s nineteen, after all.

After a while, the landscaper finishes and starts pulling his vacuum out of the pool, winding up the long hose before pulling his cargo pants back on. It’s so hot, his clothes will dry almost instantly.

As the guy turns, chest still bare and hair still tied up, Steve sees the moment he notices movement in the window. Steve briefly considers ducking down, face flaming hot, but he’s already been caught and he thinks it would be even more incriminating to act like he’s been caught. The guy waves up at him, makes a gesture like he wants Steve to open the window.

Steve licks his lips and does it, holding his breath, nervous.

“Enjoy the show?” The guy yells up at him, grinning wide.

Steve laughs nervously, hand sweating around his glass. He decides the lean into it; he’s already been caught staring after all.

“Sure did,” he yells back down, giving the guy a very obvious once over. The guy’s smile widens.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, scratching at his chest. “My band’s playing a show tonight. You should come.”

Steve’s mouth goes dry. How was his creepy staring actually working out for him?

“Oh, yeah?” He tries his hardest to sound flirty and ignored the pounding of his heart. “Where?”

Eddie tells him the name of the club, some place on the side of town Steve normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. Then he asks, “what’s your name, sweetheart?” Steve smiles and tells him before Eddie continues. “I’ll put you on the list. See you tonight, Stevie.”

Steve shakes his head, still grinning, before shutting the window. And who would blame his if he lingered at the window just a little longer to watch Eddie lift his vacuum and haul it around to the front of the house?

He hears the truck start up as he walks through the doorway to his own bedroom, making his way over to his walk-in closet and thumbing at his phone, clicking on Robin’s speed-dial. He’s got another show to get ready for.

I made this post and then decided to take matters into my own hands :’)

[911-on-abc]

9-1-1 Script Fic: Eddie vs. Josh

INT. METRO DISPATCH. BREAKROOM - DAY

MADDIE BUCKLEY stands in front of table. On it are cards with the names of her wedding guests. She is trying to plan seating arrangements. It is not going well. SUE BLEVINS walks in and stands next to LINDA BATES spectating the planning.

SUE Oh no. You can’t put EDDIE and JOSH at the same table.

Maddie is visibly confused. She does not know the lore.

MADDIE Why? Don’t they know each other from when Eddie was at Dispatch? I thought it was a good idea.

Sue and Linda share a look.

LINDA That’s the problem.

Cue Flashback. We CUT TO:

INT. OLD METRO DISPATCH. FLOOR - DAY

JOSH RUSSO is typing into his phone. He’s messaging the Metro Dispatch Group Chat. ON SCREEN: "Going on coffee run! Text your orders!" We CUT TO:

INT. OLD METRO DISPATCH. EDDIE'S OFFICE - DAY 

EDDIE DIAZ types his order into his phone, visibly tired. He hates using his phone, but he wants coffee more. We hear the whoosh of the message being sent. We CUT TO:

INT. OLD METRO DISPATCH. FLOOR - DAY

Josh walks onto the dispatch floor. He is passing out everyone’s drink orders. Everyone is smiling. Grateful. Eddie waits for his drink. It becomes clear that Josh did not get a coffee for Eddie. 

JOSH Oh sorry Eddie. I must not have seen your message.

Eddie fakes a smile. They both know Josh is lying. We CUT TO:

INT. OLD METRO DISPATCH. EDDIE'S OFFICE - DAY 

Eddie is in his office ranting on his phone to EVAN "BUCK" BUCKLEY, his best friend, who he is also in love with. He is complaining about Josh. 

BUCK (amused) You know, Maddie actually tried to set me and Josh on a blind date once.

Eddie sees red. He’s jealous. We TIME CUT TO:

INT. OLD METRO DISPATCH. FLOOR - DAY

Eddie is walking out of the breakroom onto the dispatch floor with a mug of coffee in hand. He ‘accidentally’ walks into Josh, spilling coffee on Josh’s uniform. 

EDDIE (smug and echoing Josh’s words) Oh sorry Josh. I must not have seen you there.

The camera pans to Sue, Linda, and MAY GRANT watching from May’s desk. May has a small whiteboard with the words “Days since last incident” written at the top. She erases the words “2 hours” and replaces it with a zero. 

Flashback ends. We CUT TO: 

INT. METRO DISPATCH. BREAKROOM - DAY

MADDIE Oh. - Well I do need someone to watch over the kids table.

Maddie moves a name to a different spot, but we don’t see which name she picked. Sue and Linda share a smile.

END.

[defensivelee]

Six Lives Won't Make You Happy: Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me

A dog fight, a mock trial, a humiliating execution: James certainly has his schedule full this time around! He has decided there can only be one winner in each of these, but Bentinck and Mary have other plans, and so do others he would not expect, clawing at the edges of his heart. Victory seems inevitable with his enemy finally kneeling before him, but that's where he makes his first mistake...

Of course, here is the AO3 link! Please enjoy this one, I think it's my favorite so far.

CW: explicit violence (more than usual), torture, murder, death, use of guns, drowning, fire, heavy drug use, addiction, smoking, drinking, implied/referenced domestic abuse, implied/referenced child abuse, objectification, dehumanization, indoctrination, public humiliation, rape threats, sexual assault, normalization of rape/sexual assault, implied/referenced child sexual abuse, implied/referenced non-consensual incest, implied/referenced pregnancy from rape, mild necrophilia.

“You could never tell now, but your father used to fight in the arena, too.”

Mary looked to her uncle as he sat down beside her at the bar, his massive, striped horns catching the neon lights above him. He flicked his tail dismissively when the bartender came by; much to her surprise, he had not come here to drink.

“He did?” She pushed her hair from her face, sticking to her with sweat. In her drunken daze (though she had so far smoked more than she had swallowed any substance), she couldn’t remember if James had told her such a thing. She couldn’t imagine why anyone other than an Ally or a hostage would fight in an arena. It was fun but pointless bloodshed, the risk too high for the reward.

“Yes. In the Southern Kingdom, while we were in hiding.” Charles laughed. “He acts as if he’s ashamed of it. I hope he isn’t, because there’s nothing wrong with what he did there.”

“He killed people?” That wasn’t a surprise. He still did it all the time.

“Well, yes, but that’s not the part he worries about.” Charles curled his lip back to show his teeth, lifting a finger to tap at a canine. “Right here, Mary, he used to have tusks. Long, regal things, and rare, too.”

“He’s talked about them,” she said. She’d heard about them often, actually, when she was younger. The days were all blurred and incomprehensible in her head; even if she were sober, she could remember very little from that time, but she knew that in their games, he had liked to say that he was going to bite her. She would hold up her little hands to his mouth, and he’d snap his teeth, flashing the golden ones at her, and she’d fall back with a squeal.

Her mother said that he used to bite her all the time. She always teased him for it, said that he acted like he still had those big, glorious tusks of his. He said that he was glad they were gone, for he could speak and eat properly now, but sometimes Mary thought he was lying about that.

Everything was alright then, when her mother was still alive. When James still loved Mary because she was his daughter and nothing else. Now she had to give him reasons to love her, reasons justified in blood and devotion.

“Good, otherwise this would be a very awkward revelation,” Charles said, tapping his tail against her shoulder. “Anyway, they worked wonders in the fighting rings. King Louis had never had a human in his arena before, so he sent James in, expecting him to die...but he won, Mary! He had never bitten anyone before, but in that moment he tore right through a devil’s throat and became the first human in centuries to kill one of those divine beings.”

“And did you ever kill one?” Mary hoped she didn’t sound too accusatory. But she had to wonder, then, why James wasn’t the one leading the Disciples if he had managed to kill a devil before his brother.

“Yes, Mary, many times after,” Charles said, his yellow eyes widening slightly. “I’ve told the stories before.”

“Forgive me.”

He smiled and continued. “It wasn’t the last time James fought for the Sun King, and the ring certainly wasn’t the only place. Louis turned him into his little fighting champion. Those powerful tusks were the only reason James wasn’t immediately killed when he entered the Southern Kingdom.” He shook his head, lowering his voice. “They saved his life then. They secured victory after victory. And yet...what good was it for Louis?”

Mary shrugged. She knew little of that devil save for the spell that called him, and the protections he had extended to her father. And even that she could not make sense of.

“It was Louis who ripped them out,” Charles said. “But it wasn’t the end of the world. By then, James could defend himself without biting once. It was just as well; devil blood is disgusting. Have you ever tasted it? Slightly metallic, but more than that, it’s a stinking, bitter liquid, burns your throat like alcohol.”

“Sounds like fun,” Mary said. She stared listlessly ahead at the glowing clock on the wall, reading the Infernal on the walls. Or so she tried, but she hadn’t understood the written words in a very long time.

“Maybe to some people,” Charles said thoughtfully. He flung his tail over Mary and laughed again, and she laughed too. “The fight’s about to start; come, sit next to me! We could even bet on the winner. I say it’ll be that feisty little dwaallicht remnant we caught last month.”

“Oh, no, thank you, sir,�� she said, getting up. “I’ll be with my father.”

Charles stood up with her, following her to the back, past the stages and the smiles, where she opened the door and heard the cheers from the ring below. It was the same as always, blood everywhere, the brothers smoking and cheering on the relentless death.

“I just- do I have to go?” she asked, looking back at Charles.

“I can cover for you,” he said. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes, please, I-” She stepped away. “It’s just the same thing every time, you know? It’s boring. Suffering needs a reason; that’s what makes it satisfying.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, perhaps with confusion, though she didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t understood what she said or simply didn’t believe it. But he shrugged and walked past her towards the stairs.

“I’ll just say you were a little more fucked up tonight,” he said. “Don’t talk to any strangers out there, Mary.”

“I won’t.”

“And who knows?” He waved a hand at her. “Maybe we’ll get an Ally in here soon. It won’t be so boring then, won’t it?”

She shook her head. “Not at all,” she said, and turned away, just about collapsing back into her seat.

🝰🝰🝰

The fight’s about to start.

The agitated cries of four hundred Disciples filled the room, all looking down to the arena and anticipating the fight and subsequent execution. Fights like these were held once a month when Charles was alive, maybe twice if James couldn’t wait any longer. Of course, he saw no reason to delay them any longer than his supposed mourning lasted, so here they were again, Mary sitting between her sister and father.

“I don’t know how he expects Marly to fight,” Anne said once James had turned away to speak to Maria. “Something happened yesterday—”

“Whatever it was, he’s an Ally.” Mary shrugged. “He’ll be fine.”

Anne lowered her voice. “James stabbed him. In the fucking thigh. He could’ve hit an artery in there, do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Well, he didn’t, so Marly should have healed up nicely.”

“Have you ever cared about anybody that he’s hurt?” She leaned in towards Mary, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Even yourself?”

“If he’s hurting anyone, they deserve it.” Mary rolled her eyes and pushed her away. “We’ve talked about this, Anne. Everything we do here is for the sake of our future!”

“The sake of our future!” Anne mocked. “I’m not even going to be a fucking Overlifer, you’re the heir! Where would that leave me?”

“Um, my second-in-command?”

“WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EVER WANT TO SERVE YOU?”

“Anne, will you stop yelling?” Maria leaned over and scowled at her stepdaughter. “You can argue about whatever it is later.” She gestured down at the arena. “We’re about to witness justice being served, your father doesn’t need the extra stress.”

“It’s an execution,” Anne said dryly.

“Which is still justice,” Maria said, looking back at James expectantly.

“That’s right, Anne, and you’ve caused enough trouble for me as it is.” James glared straight ahead at the arena. “You know what could have happened with Marly? He could have bled out, he could have been out for a while, and then who is going to bomb all those trains? It isn’t going to be me.”

“I’m not the one who stabbed him,” Anne said, it being her turn to roll her eyes.

“It was your fault!” James leaned over Mary, who ducked back in her seat, looking frantically between her sister and her father. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, you insolent, ungrateful girl! Come here-” He reached out towards Anne’s horns, and Anne shuffled to the side. “Stop moving!”

“James, by all the stars, enough!” Maria pulled back on his tail, and James turned to her with blazing eyes.

“Don’t tell me how to discipline my daughters,” he snapped.

“I- I’m not telling you to do anything,” she said, clearing her throat as he settled back down beside her. “I’m just suggesting that maybe you’re causing a scene and maybe we should get on with the fight. There’s four hundred of our people here, and they’re all looking at you.”

James snorted like a slighted bull. “You see, Anne? You see what you do?”

Anne sat back down with a huff, turned pointedly away from Mary, who realized she was breathing hard, her heart beating its way out of her chest. She looked down and buried her face in her hands.

Calm down. He’s not mad at you. Everything’s fine.

If anything, he’s pleased. He’s very pleased with you.

Why did Anne have to be like this? It was as if she searched for every opportunity to enrage James, to go under his nose and mock him and Maria behind his back like a true heretic. She knew what would happen, and still she did it anyway.

“Why can’t you just obey?” she asked out loud, her voice shaking. “Why don’t you understand how things are?” Then, slightly louder: “Is it true? You won’t serve me when- when James—” She couldn’t finish the sentence; losing Charles stung, losing her father was unthinkable.

Anne swallowed with what looked like great effort and focused her gaze ahead on the sands. Her tail came to a rest behind her. “I- do- do you really expect me to answer that right now?”

“I guess not. I’m sorry.” Mary looked back at James, who glanced down at her and took her hand, smiling as he adjusted the microphone over his mouth. In an instant, all kindness was gone from his eyes as he looked to his Disciples, his grin suddenly one of contempt.

“Hello, my dearest, beloved subjects,” he said, quieting down the last excited murmurs and whispers. “It’s been long since our last fight, hasn’t it? As a reward for waiting so patiently, I have made sure this one will be as exciting as it’s never been before. Most of you by now have heard of a dwaallicht spirit’s attempts on my divine lives, and both times we have beaten him, crushed him like the worthless dog he is!” He leaned back and waved his arm about triumphantly. “That’s right, today we have here the legendary Duke of Monmouth!”

The Disciples did not cheer as usual, instead looked on in disgust. From one end of the arena, the aforementioned spirit was dragged out onto the sand, his blank white eyes widening as he looked out at the audience. The chain was unclipped from his collar.

“Heretic!” cried Maria abruptly, her voice carrying nearly as well as James’ microphone did. “Look upon this heretic!”

At that the Disciples joined in on the chant, heretic, heretic, heretic, jeering and hissing, fangs bared and tails whipping in the air. James didn’t say a word, only watched through lidded eyes as Monmouth stumbled back and shook his head.

Mary, too, kept her mouth shut. She knew that if she joined in, it wouldn’t sound sincere.

This is going to be...unreal. Though she was sober today, it all still felt like a dream. It was a stupid hope, her wish to wake up before he had to die.

“Good girl,” her father murmured at Maria. Standing, he smiled at Monmouth and raised his voice once more. “We have no room for traitors like this spirit. Charles was too friendly with these little beasts, and I have tolerated it. But no longer! All his mistresses, all his half-bred children— they are not welcome here unless they serve us from their proper places beneath us.”

“And I can serve you!” Monmouth yelled over the noise of the audience. “You don’t have to kill me, you- sir, please, do you remember when I was a boy? You were the one who taught me how to use my powers to help you. I was named after you!” He reached his magnificent claws out as if he were about to call for his shadows, but a second glance around seemed to remind him that he couldn’t win a fight here. Instead he attempted to smile. “Sir, you- you can’t say this is what my father would have wanted.”

James snorted. “And what do you know of that? He was never your father, he was only my brother. Do you think he’d turn the whole world over to defend an insignificant little mutt spirit, all to go against me? His real blood, the only person he ever gave a fuck about?!” He shouted the last part out, then shook his head. “No. I will not spare you because you have deluded yourself into thinking that I ever loved you as a nephew. You only affirm that I am making the right decision with this insolence.”

Monmouth flicked his ears back in horror, and James looked back to the audience. “This is not just any fight. This is an execution that he cannot win his way out of. And his executioner we all know very well. My champion, my Ally, my most beloved John Churchill!”

Marly entered from the other side, resplendent in the small golden chains hanging off his shoulders and waist, and the shimmering green of his rings, earring and nails. As usual, most of his body was exposed to the audience, showing off the tattoos that James so loved; only his chest and crotch were covered by black and green silk. And around his face was strapped a traditional accessory of the Allies who fought in the arena of an Overlifer: a gold wire muzzle.

Despite this, he always sauntered out in the same way, so sure that he would win this fight like he had won all the others. Today he walked only with a slight limp, but Mary could see no wound on him; much of his thighs were covered by the chains and jewels. Other than that, he seemed fine, as she had guessed. Maybe his smile was even more annoying today.

Should have stabbed him harder! She rolled her eyes when James waved down at Marly, who knelt on the sand before him and bowed his head low.

“I have no reason to believe that he should fail today,” James said, and Mary recognized the slightest hint of a warning in his voice. “Remove the muzzle.”

Sarah hurried out behind Marly and began to gently pull the muzzle from his face, her tail twitching as she looked from him to James. The excitement buzzing in the air seemed to pause when she leaned in to kiss Marly, gripping his hand tightly. James only raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Sarah skipped up the seats to sit next to Anne.

“Your greatest honor is to die,” he went on instead.

There it is. Mary’s heart skipped a beat. It was about to begin.

“Today, I will refuse it,” Marly replied. He raised his hand in the air and called up a spear from out of the devils’ realm, and James sat back, his tail lashing forward once in satisfaction.

Monmouth held his hand out cautiously as Marly approached him. “Wait,” he said. “Marly, you- you and I, we’re—”

“We are nothing!” Marly stabbed his spear into the sand, and behind Monmouth, another one sprouted up from the ground, brushing by his tail. The spirit yelped and ran to the side, his wounded tail flying between his legs.

“Are you making this boring on purpose?” Marly narrowed his eyes. “Fight, damnit!”

“I’m not going to fight you after what happened last night,” Monmouth said firmly.

You have to at least try to survive! Mary clenched her fists on her legs.

Marly looked around at the Disciples, some of the front rows having grown quieter with curious whispers, all wondering out loud about what Monmouth could possibly be referring to. James seemed unaffected, merely tilting his head to the side when Marly looked up at him.

“It is not your place to mention that,” the Ally spat, glaring back at Monmouth. “You think I can’t fight now? You think anything can stop me? I have the power to destroy everyone here!” He threw the spear at the dog, barely missing him as he flew into the air, now a raven as he had been when Elizabeth shot him.

“Oh, you son of a—!” Marly called for the spear again as the bird flew frantically towards the exit. James stood up then, his eyes wide, but he had no need to worry as the spear melted in Marly’s hands to form a long chain. He threw it out at Monmouth, and it wrapped all around his wings just as he was flying out, pulling him back sharply. He fell to the sand with a dissatisfied caw.

“I thought you would have learned by now,” Marly said, dragging Monmouth back towards him. “I can only catch you easier in the sky.”

“Very good,” James muttered, sitting back down. He turned to Mary. “He better turn back before Marly kills him. Where’s the fun in killing a little bird?”

“It wouldn’t be a face we recognize,” Mary said.

“Yes, that’s exactly the problem.”

Mary sighed, looked back to the fight.

“You want a real fight, Marly?” Monmouth flapped his wings, trying and failing to shake the chains off of him. “Very well.” The shadows and ribbons around him began to draw closer to his body, his wings and feathers appearing to grow and grow until they were not feathers but fur. Sharper teeth glistened from a snarling black mouth, raised high in a powerful bark.

Mary’s eyes widened. A real dog.

And he’s huge!

“Shit, John, don’t waste time!” Sarah whispered frantically. “Kill him now!”

Monmouth ripped off the chains with a fierce growl, beginning to pace around Marly, a new confidence under his starry black pelt. “We haven’t had a real fight in a long time,” he said.

“You think I can’t handle an animal?” Marly pulled the chains back in, letting them wrap around his wrists.

Monmouth snarled again, leaping at Marly and throwing him back against the sand. The Ally rolled to the side as Monmouth brought his jaws down on his stomach, scoring wounds along his waist and thighs. The audience cheered as they had in the beginning, and James lit a cigarette, grinning down at Marly as he dragged himself out from under Monmouth, his blood dripping onto the sand.

“Maybe I shall be their champion after this,” the spirit said, stepping forward.

Marly slammed a hand down on the sand, and three spears drove upwards from the ground beneath Monmouth, digging into his belly. He let out a shriek, rearing up on his hind legs and tearing the spears out of his body. All save for one disappeared back into the sand, and Marly took the last one, pulling himself back up to his feet.

Monmouth was panting now, licking his whiskers, before running once more towards Marly, snapping his jaws in the air. Marly jumped to the side and onto Monmouth’s back, forcing his spear into him before the dog could manage to throw him off. Monmouth turned in a circle, desperately trying to shake Marly off, but the Ally only buried the spear deeper until it poked out through Monmouth’s chest.

“Too easy,” James remarked. Raising his voice, he shouted, “More, more, Marly!”

Marly smiled up at him, then pulled the spear out, eliciting a loud whine from Monmouth. He stumbled forward, unsteady on his feet, and Marly took hold of one of his ears, the spear shrinking down into a whip. He brought it down against Monmouth’s haunches, and the dog sprung forward, once again bucking in the air to throw Marly off. But he was too weak to thrash around any harder, only spinning around as Marly whipped him. The sound was familiar to Mary, sending a thrill through her.

At last Monmouth bowed his great head, his shaking body returning back to its usual humanoid state. Marly twisted the whip in his hands, turning it back into a spear and bringing it down through one of Monmouth’s folded ears. Monmouth cried out, his shivering slowly coming to a stop as Marly stepped off of him. He ripped the spear carelessly back out.

This heartless bitch! Mary swallowed hard, feeling James’ hand on her shoulder.

“What, can’t fight anymore?” Marly kicked Monmouth in the side. “Get up.”

Monmouth said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the ground in front of him, but he was not dead, Mary knew. No, this was Marly’s power that James loved so much, the ability to drain the movement from a person when he drew enough blood from them. It was rather useful, Mary supposed, to be able to end a fight quickly, but she imagined it as some kind of cheating, even though there were no rules.

“Kill him now!” Maria yelled beside James. “Now!”

This is what happens, Monmouth, you should have known. Mary narrowed her eyes as Marly turned his spear into an axe. He raised it slightly, as if in hesitation, but surely he knew it was too late for that now.

This is what happens when anyone defies James.

Marly brought the axe down on Monmouth’s neck, and the shadows engulfed him fully, pooling around the sand like blood. Marly waved them away, letting the axe fall into them and disappear back into the realm of the devils. When he stepped away, the body was gone, leaving nothing of the remnant.

He’s with Charles now, wherever that may be. Mary bowed her head. She didn’t care what James said; Monmouth had always been family, and she’d remember him as she liked. Oddly she wasn’t as upset as she thought she’d be. Maybe she just had to give it a few days.

Or maybe she had no problem with this after all, but she had no idea.

“The traitor is dead!” Maria called out, springing out of her seat and raising her tail and fist triumphantly in the air. “Long live our Overlifer, long live James Stewart!”

She was met with echoing sentiments from the Disciples, some of them even applauding their leader, and this time Mary joined in. James laughed with almost giddy delight like she’d never heard from him, flinging an arm over her and leaning in to kiss her face.

“You know I do this all to protect you,” he said, “though he really wouldn’t have ended up down here without you.” He lifted her head in his hands, and she looked into his glistening eyes. “I love you.”

“I- I love you too!” She attempted to smile, but he thankfully broke away from her and walked over to Anne, ruffling the hair between her horns.

“I forgive you for last night,” he said. “Just don’t do it again.”

Anne coughed, leaning away from James’ cigarette. “No- no, of course not.”

“You know I love you, Anne.”

“Yeah.” She stood up and began to follow Sarah down towards Marly, flicking her tail at her father. “I know very well.”

James sighed as he watched her go, turning to Maria. “Sometimes I wish she had stayed small. She was a lot sweeter. And a far better listener,” he added with a snort. “Nowadays it’s like I give her one order and she feels compelled to do the exact opposite.”

Maria shrugged. “Maybe you should let her live on her own. I mean, she’s been with you so long—”

“I would prefer to stay here, Maria,” Mary interrupted. “And I’m sure Anne would as well. We’re the heirs, we need to stay where our Overlifer is should anything happen.”

“Exactly,” James said. “They’re safer with me, Maria. The whole world would break them if given the chance.” He shook his head. “I have been protecting them since they were born, and I will do so until they die.”

He made it sound as if he would outlive them both. It was possible, Mary knew, and likely, even, with the way she went about things. She had already decided that that wouldn’t be so bad, either.

They were to host a very late dinner that night back home, much to Mary’s disappointment— she’d been looking forward to getting high again and streaming into the morning. But James said she had to be sober for the celebration, since it wouldn’t be just family.

She didn’t really care for any of the Disciples there, though, and she might as well have been drunk for the way she watched them laughing in the limo on the way back through her tired eyes. She fell asleep leaning on Anne, half-dreaming of the vicious dog still barking, with blood staining its teeth. It was Maria who woke her up a while later, gently adjusting the glasses back over her nose, and she followed everyone inside in something of a stupor.

She stopped by her room first to look for her lighter; everyone would be smoking there, so at the very least James would have to allow it for her, as well. When she stepped back out in the corridor, standing alone in the vast darkness, the booming, merry conversation below tempted her to retreat back into her room.

James’ voice was louder than everyone else’s, which was unusual— that had been the role of his brother’s. But she realized then that it was on the same floor she was on, coming from down the hall, where his room was. She headed toward the stairs first, but in the end she turned back to follow James’ voice. He had no reason to be up here if he had to entertain his guests.

“Well, heal it up quickly,” he was saying from behind the door. “I don’t want you bleeding out like that in front of everyone.”

“It’s not that fast,” answered Marly’s voice, and Mary stifled a sigh of relief that it was only him and no one else. “Besides, I was bleeding out in front of four hundred of your people and you said nothing then.”

“It’s the arena, you are in fact expected to bleed a little.”

“So they can expect it again now.”

“Ah, John,” James sighed. “You know, I do love that about you...”

Mary didn’t hear the rest as she backed away. Whatever happened between the two was none of her business, but it certainly was Maria’s.

“I think James is done looking at you for the night,” Mary said as she sat down at the table, quiet enough so as not to arouse the attention of the Disciple guests, but loud enough so that Maria could still hear her over them.

Maria sighed. “You know it’s always like this for a while after every fight. Both in and out of the arena.”

“An Ally doesn’t deserve to have such attention showered on him by an Overlifer,” Mary grumbled.

“No.” Maria glanced up as James walked in with Marly at his side. “He doesn’t.”

Mary had no idea why her father wanted her sober; as the night went on, everyone around her drank to the point of what might have been death had Marly not quietly slipped their glasses away from them and told them to get a grip on themselves. It was the worst thing about him, the worst thing about the whole circle of Sarah, Anne, and a few others— they thought they were so much better than everyone else here.

But it wasn’t even close. She was the heir, and Marly was an Ally, a sycophantic, sickening Ally kissing James right in front of the latter’s wife. She had hated him before, but she hated him more now for all he had done tonight. James returned every little kiss and touch until it would have been voyeuristic for Mary to stay any longer. She nudged Maria and murmured that she was going back upstairs.

As she stood she heard someone knock on the front door, and she rolled her eyes. Whoever it was, they were lucky James was too drunk to notice anyone new; he would have had their head for coming this late to his celebration. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Mary, baby, hello!” Elizabeth Villiers wagged her tail at the sight of her. “Is your father in?”

“Um, yes, but he’s—”

“Perfect! Bring him in, Anne!” Elizabeth turned to the side, and then the aforementioned sister pushed past Mary, shoving forward the furious, wiggling body of William Henry Nassau, letting him fall hard to the ground.

Mary stumbled back in shock. “You- you actually got him.” His hands were tied rather messily behind his back, his face obscured by a tight blindfold and gag. Around his horns, ropes had been woven in and tangled like webs, and it was from their excess that Anne pulled him back up on his knees, forcing his head up towards her.

“I followed your orders,” she said, glowering down at William with a cold satisfaction Mary had never seen from her before. “If you had known half of the shit he’s done to Hans, it would have been much easier to capture him. Trust me.”

“Is that so?” Mary laughed nervously. “Ah, well, great job.” She had drank very little tonight, but she thought she might be sicker than anyone else now.

Anne looked up, the cruelty in her eyes replaced with the usual concern Mary had come to associate with her. “This is what you wanted, right?”

Mary swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m not- not mad, I just didn’t expect it, I mean—” She stared at William’s tail, lashing with indignance. “You really did it. You might have just saved the Disciples.”

“Have I?” Anne looked down at the floor, and Mary took her hand.

“Yes. Thank you, dear, it means everything to me.” She pushed the hair from Anne’s face and smiled at her. “James is going to be very happy.”

“I know.” Anne still didn’t look up.

Mary hurried back to James, who was coughing in the midst of his laughter, another cigarette lit in his hand. Marly sat on the table in front of him, one of his legs on the Overlifer’s shoulder, and they both glared at her when she tapped at her father’s tail.

“Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head at her father, “but the Villiers sisters have returned. They have William with them.” “Are you serious?” James stood up, looking around at his guests.

“Yes. He’s by the door.”

“Marly—” James coughed again, then handed his cigarette to Marly, waving his hand. “Tell everyone! Go, go! Meet me there.” Turning to Mary, he took her hand. “Take me to them.”

Elizabeth was tying the ropes around William’s horns into somehow even more elaborate knots, an increasingly difficult task as William bucked his head up and down like a displeased horse. She stood up when she saw James, and Anne brought her foot down on William’s back, forcing his head down on the floor.

“Well, well, he looks much nicer like that, it must be said,” James said, running his tail over William’s spine. “You see, Lilli? You’re much prettier when you keep your mouth shut.”

William clenched his fists. Behind them, a few of the Disciples guests, led by Marly, came warily out of the dining room, their eyes wide as they stared down at the rival Overlifer.

“And hopefully we never will have to hear you speak again,” James said. He nudged William’s horn with a foot. “How many lives do you have left? Five, at least, right? Nevermind, I’ll ask you later. Then we can figure out how many executions I need to plan. Oh, Mary, we are about to have so much fun—” He looked back at his Disciples watching. “And once we get rid of their leader, dealing with the fuckin’ Devils will be much easier. That Ally, too, the fuck was his name? Ah, Bentinck...loyal Hansi.”

Anne’s grip seemed to tighten around the rope she held, her gaze fixed on William before her. James turned to her and Elizabeth with a lopsided smile.

“Such good girls,” he purred. “I ought to reward you; what are you thinking? Perhaps you would like the greatest gift of all, the divine touch of an Overlifer such as I...” He ran his tail under Anne’s chin, lifting her head up, but she pushed it away, shaking her head rapidly.

“Money would do just fine,” she said.

“Are you sure? I can make you-”

“I’m very sure. Both of us.”

James glanced uneasily at Mary, then flicked his tail at Anne. “Your loss, ladies. One last thing— take our prisoner to one of the smaller arenas outside of the city, with Mr. Spencer, and make absolutely certain that he does not escape.”

“We can’t leave him here?” Anne asked.

“Fuck no, that’s like rescuing, say, a wounded bear, and bringing it into your house just for it to tear you apart later.” James shook his head firmly. “I’ll look at him tomorrow. We have a great trial planned for you, William, you hear that?”

“Trial?” Mary said. “For what? We know everything he’s done, don’t we? Nothing is going to stop us from killing him.” At these words, William curled his tail in closer, and Mary wondered then if this was the last glimpse she would catch of him before his executions. It was a cruel wish of hers, but she wanted to say goodbye, at least, thank you for the hope but I didn’t need it anyway.

“It’s more of a ceremony than anything.” James shrugged. “It’s new for everyone here, nobody has seen an Overlifer’s execution before, like how they used to do it in our oldest days.” He lifted his tail at Anne, who stepped off of William and pulled him back up to a sitting position. James then took William’s chin in his hand, wiping at the drool from underneath the gag. “Tomorrow I’ll set things right with you. Tomorrow.” He pushed William’s head back, spitting down onto his face, and the Disciples laughed as James walked back over to them.

“If he escapes,” he went on, staring at the Villiers sisters, “after all this, I will seriously fucking kill you.”

As soon as he was gone, Mary cleaned William’s face up with her sleeve. “Alright, keep a close eye on him. Knock him out if you have to.” She drew back when William tried to twine his tail around her leg.

“He’s perfectly safe with us,” Elizabeth said, patting William on the head. “Besides, I’m sure he has enough of a concussion from the beating Anne gave him.”

“What? Anne did it?”

“He deserved it,” Anne muttered, looking away. “He’s no better than your father.”

“He’s far worse than him, actually,” Elizabeth said with a pointed look at her sister. “Alright, William, let’s go!” She tugged at the rope in a manner not unlike that of a loving master to their dog, but William did not stand, instead jerked his head from side to side, pulling himself towards Mary.

Oh, William. Mary turned away, began walking up the stairs to her room. “Just go with them,” she called. Deepening her voice and thickening her accent, she added, “Tomorrow I’ll set things right with you.” She heard laughter behind her from the sisters, and smiled to herself as she went into her room, collapsing on the bed.

Her followers had been expecting a stream tonight. She knew some of the younger ones would be worried about her, and she’d seen enough theories about her role in her father’s supposed terrorist group (which, impressively, were all correct) to know that there would be speculation about this if she didn’t apologize and come up with an excuse in some hasty post. But she couldn’t even bring herself to do that. Despite all the noise downstairs, she fell asleep.

It was the sound of her door opening that woke her up later that night, or rather in the earliest hours of the morning. She noticed that everything had fallen nearly silent now, the only sound being the footsteps approaching her. She looked up, saw that it was only Maria.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Nothing.” Maria looked around the room with wide eyes as she closed the door and sat down beside Mary. “Marly’s just taken my place on the bed again, and I’m not listening to that. Do you mind if I- if I sleep here, with you?”

Mary shrugged. “I don’t mind.” She stared up at the ceiling as Maria got under the blankets next to her, wrapping an arm and her tail around her. The embrace was as warm and protective as it had been when she was younger, and she leaned into it, giggling when Maria pushed strands of hair away from her face.

“I heard about William,” Maria said.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

“Do you think it is?”

Mary turned away. “I guess I’m supposed to.”

“Right.” The two were silent for a while, long enough that Mary thought Maria had fallen asleep, until she spoke up again. “There’s more devils in here than usual.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mary was too tired to pull Maria away from her tormented little world tonight. Sometimes it was fun to play along with the delusions, the hallucinations, though James never saw the sense in encouraging it.

“Yes.” Maria shuffled closer to Mary, glaring out at some unseen enemy in the darkness. “I don’t know why they’re so angry at you tonight. They’re usually very quiet here.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ll protect you, alright?”

“You sure will.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“You’ve done enough.” Mary smiled over at her. “I don’t trust anybody else with the devils. Go get them, girl.”

Maria smiled back, but in the way that Mary knew meant she saw right through the supposed sincerity and found amusement instead. She was tired of it; well, so was Mary. Her stepmother turned away with a sigh, and Mary let her hand fall from the bed, praying for the devils to take it and drag her down to their realm.

🝰🝰🝰

The sun glared through a hole in the wooden roof, on occasion blinking down at William when a wispy cloud passed over it. He only knew this because the light over his closed eyes would go away for a moment, and then he’d open one eye and it’d be just a little darker where he sat.

His body felt much too stiff now, and every little movement from where his hands were tied, high above him on a pole, sent an angry spark down to his shoulders, his back, all the way to the base of his tail. It was coiled around the same pole, tied higher than even his hands so that the tip dangled just over his head. He wanted to look down, shoot daggers with his eyes at all the Disciples here, but in the position his head was forced up in, the only thing he could see was the sun, on his knees before it like a servant of the Southern Kingdom.

Fucking Anne. It was all he could think in the midst of what might have been delirium or some kind of fever. He felt sweat fall from his hair to his neck, and yet he was freezing, his spine pressed against the cold metal behind him. Having stared at the sky since last night, he thought he was perhaps still caught in a dream.

Damned Villiers girl. Fucking Anne. Fucking Hansi.

Ooh, that was new. Was he seriously going to be mad at Bentinck?

Yes, he decided. In fact, for all he knew his Ally had betrayed him, whether he had intended to or not. He couldn’t believe that of Bentinck, but when he shut his eyes again, all he saw was the way that lovely blue gaze had fixed on Anne. And he knew that Bentinck would die for her, would kill for her.

Was I never enough? I gave you what you wanted. What does she have that’s so much better?

William bit into the gag, hearing his own breaths heavy around it. Bentinck wasn’t stupid. And yet, this was the second time he’d been left behind, left alone so Bentinck could fulfill his private little ambitions with a Disciple he either hated or loved. Did he think William could wait for him to finish?

Bentinck would come for him. He had to, or William would know then that, yes, this was all real, intentional, and that yes, Bentinck was willing to betray everything he’d ever known for one Disciple lover. And he didn’t want to know that.

In the meantime, in his mind he was thinking of all the ways he was going to kill the Villiers girls, but especially Anne for the utter humiliation she had forced him through with the gun. And then he’d get James, and then Mary—

Poor Mary! She had sounded shaken when they brought him in, and he had wanted to stay with her. But, if he remembered correctly what Anne said, it’d been her orders. What did she want from him?

She’ll save me like she did the first time. He’d known, when he was younger, that if there was one thing he would not let his father take from him, it was going to be Bentinck. That was what set him free. And if Mary was anything like him, she would do the same; she would realize that there was no blood family in the world worth losing him for. For all he had shown her, she owed him everything.

He didn’t know why everyone had such a problem with it. This romance shit was easy.

He heard someone yell ahead of him, over the voices of the working Disciples. Out here in the tiny arena, what looked more like an arena for dog fights, all they had been doing was herding dwaallicht spirits back into cages. They would slap spells onto the bars that the spirits would occasionally slip through with enough power, and then the Disciples had to go chasing after them. He saw one run past him out of the corner of his eye, kicking sand up towards him.

“Ugh, I’m sick of doing this shit,” he heard another Disciple say, kicking a spirit back into its cage and throwing it into the truck. “Back at the club, the spirits never escape, and James doesn’t even use any spells!”

“It’s because they’re so scared of him,” one replied. “That’s what I’m thinking. They smell the six lives on him. And it was the same with Charles too, Ferocity rest his soul.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice? So feared and respected you just can’t be bothered?”

“Sounds kind of lonely.”

“We have an Overlifer right here, why don’t we ask him?”

“No, you fools.” It was a deeper voice, speaking with its own streak of authority. “The Villiers ladies said not to take off his gag. They said he had even managed to cast the Louis spell once with no trouble at all.”

“That’s fucked. He can just call up the ruler of the Southern Kingdom at any time, no big deal.”

Yeah, real fucked, isn’t it? William straightened himself up against the pole, and he heard the Disciples gasp as if they expected him to call Louis up with nothing but his fucking eyes.

“I really appreciate it, Mr. Spencer, but I don’t see why James would trust us with, you know, the only other Overlifer in the world,” said the first one that had spoken once they had all seemed to recover from their brief fright. “He’s not going to escape, but like, what if he does?”

“He won’t,” came the self-assured voice again, so-called Mr. Spencer. “We brought him to the very edge of a fine society for a reason. If he slips out, we’ll catch him quickly, like we’ve caught all the spirits.”

Try me. William huffed through the gag.

“Man, I’m bored,” another stranger piped up. “You guys want to call snake’s eye for an eye?”

William froze. They wouldn’t do that here, would they?

Hurry up, Hans! He tugged frantically against the ropes, trying to snap the ones tying his legs down, and a Disciple walked over to him, swinging a cattle prod around on his gleaming red tail. His eyes were not malicious, but curious as he pressed the cattle prod to William’s side.

William jolted, his whole body tensing as the Disciple leaned in, smiling in a sort of disinterested way. It was worse than any smug triumph, but all he could do about it was glare defiantly back at him, biting as hard as he could into the gag to stifle his gasp.

“Boring,” the man remarked, stepping away, and William realized it was Spencer. He let himself fall limp, the tip of his tail twitching furiously as Spencer smiled back at him. “I don’t think he would take very kindly to it.”

“But it’s an Overlifer...”

“When will we ever get a chance like this?”

“Enough,” Spencer snapped, his gaze darkening. “We don’t have James’ permission. If any of you lays a finger on him, I’ll cut it off. Get back to work.”

The Disciples obeyed, grumbling, and William stared at the man in front of him. His dull, pink hair was obscured by a hood of black and red silk, like the ones that Ally servants usually wore, but he didn’t have the rest of the usual attire save for the black gloves. They were, however, marked with red pierced mullets all along his arm, meaning that at the very least he was some sort of spirit handler. His horns were striped in the usual Eastern, black-and-white manner, decorated with rings and chains dangling between them.

“Don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” Spencer asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag from it with the smile back on his face. “Heard you have asthma, among other things. This fresh air must be nice, hm?” He brushed his tail against William’s cheek. “My name’s Robert, but dwaallicht spirits call me Master Spencer.”

Oh, great. William winced, trying to shift his head away from the tail.

“James will be here for you before it’s dark,” Spencer went on. “I have no idea what he plans to do to you. He still has us torture people for information, but...” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone, I just think he wants to do it for fun. It doesn’t work, does it? I mean, it never has for me. Anyway, just be aware you might not be coming out of here in one piece.”

As if he hadn’t already guessed!

The sun was setting when the Disciples began to leave, leaving only Spencer behind. By then William’s breaths were coming out in raspy gasps, and the aching all over his body had faded into the background, though he knew it would return with a vengeance once he was free. More than anything, though, he was bored, and only found entertainment in all the ways he was imagining he was going to yell at Bentinck.

Spencer stepped out of the arena, his gaze fixed on something beyond William. The Overlifer was still for a moment before realizing he was alone here, and he began to toss his head back, trying to use his horns to rip through the ropes. All the while he pulled down on the ropes binding his wrists above him. It burned, and he paused for a moment before feeling the cattle prod shock his tail.

“Ah—!” His eyes widened, and then Spencer was walking around him, flanked by James and Mary.

Mary! William tried to pull his head down to look at her. She stepped behind James, who smiled down at him.

“Finally got a noise out of you,” Spencer said with a shrug. “We’re getting there.”

“It’ll be much more than that when I’m done with him,” James said. “Leave us, Spencer.” His vassal having obeyed him, he walked over to William, his horns blocking the sky above them. “Good afternoon, William. How are you today?” He reached down to stroke William’s horn. “Please don’t be so upset about this. You already know that you should have never been born. I’m sure you heard it many times when you were young, but it only holds more truth now. You were never meant to lead the Devils of Orange-Nassau, and you were never meant to challenge me.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “And now, your fate is to die. Your father really was a fool, but then, so was your mother, for not strangling you before you even took your first breath.” He lashed his tail, and Mary stepped forward, slicing the ropes from William’s wrists and tail and shoving him to the ground.

Now, get up! Fight! But as William lifted his head, his body seemed to lock in place, burning with every breath he took. More than that, he was dizzy with both hunger and a headache, and he let his head fall. Here was a chance to escape, but, miserably, he knew he couldn’t take it.

“Fucking weak,” James spat. “Look at me, up here. Look at me.”

William kept his gaze on the ground, and he was met with James’ foot slamming down on his horn, forcing his head on its side. He tried to kick out as Mary stepped onto his tail and began to tie his hands behind him again. He glared up at the grinning figure standing over him.

“Charles and I saved you, you ungrateful little brat,” James said coldly. “And all we asked was that you never receive your six lives. I truly thought for the longest time after your father died that you still had some sense of honor, that you respected the promise you made to your mother. For that I still held some respect for you, for still fighting me despite knowing that you had only one life to lose.”

You never respected me. William tried to wrench his head free. Certainly, he had made that promise, but it was in the midst of a delusion, a frantic hope, on a day when he thought he was destined to be anything less than an Overlifer. He hadn’t expected James to think he would actually keep it. Even back then, sitting in the car with tears in his eyes, he hadn’t believed it of himself.

“Maybe I would have taken you in,” James went on. “Maybe I could have loved you. Your mother meant a great deal to me, more than even a sister— I would have proudly helped her with her child after all we had been through together. But it was you your father came for; he shot Mary because he had you.”

No. He never cared for me. William’s eyes widened as James leaned in. There was a frightening expression on his face, a hungry enthusiasm he remembered from that horrible night, the last night his mother was alive. When they had fled to James and Charles in the hopes that they could finally escape William’s father. Knowing they would only make him angrier and still going anyway.

“It was you who killed her,” James said, lifting William by his shirt collar and pulling him up. “I still see her in your eyes, the way she would glare at me when she would tell me she wished I was better. The way she looked at me before telling me she was getting married to a man who had raped her just to create you!”

William stared back in horror. How could he bring that up now?

James smiled back at him. “Even before your birth, all you did was hurt her. I know she loved you, and even if I can’t fathom why, I will kill you and fulfill what she would have wanted.” He leaned in to whisper. “She would rather see you dead than fighting me. She was an Easterner, through and through, and only realized her mistake when your father murdered her.”

“No!” he cried out through the gag, and James laughed, throwing him back down on the sand. A shudder ran through William’s body as he landed, his tail twisting inwards in pain.

“Her last words to you made that much clear,” James said. “You know, I can never get that out of my head. How she looked at me, and then at you...a scared little boy...poor little one.” He kicked William in the side, and William clenched his fists so hard that he felt his nails begin to draw blood from his palm.

Her last words. He didn’t remember them. He knew he had heard, and yet the moment he saw her bleeding out in James’ arms, his father staring ahead with those empty eyes of his...all of it had faded. He forgot how to speak, how to understand.

“She was right.” James knelt down to pull William’s head up by his hair. “It should have been you.”

So that was what she had used her dying breath for. To tell him that she wished he was in her place.

He had called her traitor all this time, traitor for trying to escape; he couldn’t say that now. He glowered at James, trying to blink back his tears that came as if he had just lost her all over again.

“Crying already?” James shoved him back and stood up again. “It isn’t even your trial yet. Pathetic.”

William lifted his head defiantly. Behind James, he saw Mary staring in silence. Staring at him. It might have been with pity or horror or both, something so kind as that. And he had no idea why; for all he knew, she had it far worse with someone like the monster before him.

“Well, I hope your father taught you a little something about defeat,” James said. “It’ll pay off now.” He shrugged his shoulders back and smiled. “I look upon you with the eyes of a serpent.”

No! William shuffled back in terror, only allowed to shake his head to express his refusal. In the back of his mind, he realized he had been waiting for this moment with the heaviest dread; he could not let it happen again. Not to him.

He fought desperately against the ropes, holding his tail out towards James to keep him away. He heard his rival laugh above him, and he looked up at Mary as if she could stop him. He knew she couldn’t.

But James merely shook his head, still laughing. “Oh, William. You think I’m serious?” He narrowed his eyes. “I’d rather die than touch you. That’s an honor you don’t even deserve.”

Good, because it’s an honor I don’t want. William brought his head down, trying not to let the terror show on his face. He wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t be, James was leaving him alone. It was fine.

So why was he shaking?

“Spencer,” James called, looking away. “I’m done with him. Do what you like.” He flicked his tail dismissively down at William. “I’m excited to hear much more from you at the trial, and then the execution. Maybe the first one won’t be so much to you, but you can only die so many times before it starts driving you mad.”

“That’s what it did to Charles,” Mary said, and James nodded.

“That was just his problem,” he said. He glanced back at William one last time before walking away, motioning with his tail for Mary to follow him. But she merely watched him go, sitting down beside William as soon as he was gone.

“Don’t say anything crazy,” she said, reaching behind his head to take off the gag. “William.”

“Mary,” he breathed, licking at his lips. He hadn’t realized he’d been drooling so much. He shut his mouth, swallowing gratefully, finding that he had nothing to say after all. He just wanted to sleep.

“I- I had no idea he was going to do any of that,” Mary said. She looked around before leaning in to push the hair from his face. “I don’t know anything about what he just said!”

“It’s nothing...”

“Well, it has to be something!” She helped him sit up, drawing back as if in fear before kissing him. William winced but returned the kiss.

“What are you going to do about all of this?” he asked as he pulled away. “You’re going to have to kill your father.”

“What?” Mary stared blankly at him, and he coughed.

“I mean, that’s what I did. When he threatened to kill Bentinck...” He trailed off, realizing Mary was glaring at him.

“You killed your father?” she said. “By all the stars, William, that’s- I’m not doing that just to save you!”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t I worth more than an abusive piece of shit who-”

“He’s not abusive!” Mary cried. “Devils below, you sound like Anne! Both of them! He- he loves me, and I’m sorry if your parents didn’t, but not everyone is like that.”

“My mother did love me. She was just afraid.”

“Really? Wishing you were dead was love?”

“She thought it was better than the way I lived,” he let out in a rush. He had never said it before, not even to himself nor in his head, as if he had never realized it, but he knew now. “She was wrong, but she didn’t say it because she hated me.” He lowered his voice and looked down as Mary reached out to hold his face. “If- if she did hate me, though...I would not— blame her.” He gasped, realizing he was crying, and Mary wrapped her arms around him.

“Mary, look,” William began, shifting back. “I- I lived through all of that, and I’m here now, where I’ve always wanted to be. You’re already older than I was when I killed my father.”

“Don’t start with this again,” Mary warned.

“I couldn’t have imagined it, either,” he said. “I didn’t have anyone to save me, but you- you have me.”

Well, there was always de Witt. But that was someone no one could ever know about. He swallowed at the memory of the execution and tried to smile at Mary, who now looked at him with disgust.

“You think you’re my savior?”

“I just want to help,” he insisted. “I think everyday of living under my father, and how you live, and I- I hate to imagine it. Mary, you need to get out, I don’t want to have to fight you—”

“Oh, so you just want to eliminate an enemy, is that it?” She only gave him a sad smile this time. “What gave you the right to stay, then?”

“I- I had to lead them—”

“So you don’t think I’ll take over the Disciples after my father dies?” she asked. “Fine, I don’t either. But I love him, and he loves me, and I intend to serve him until the day I die. I’m going to finish what you never could.” She stood over him, and as he looked up at her, his breath caught painfully in his throat.

Ferocity help me!

“I’m going to fulfill my father’s destiny,” she said. “Not rip it away from him. And if that means you have to die, then so be it. I’m sorry, William, I’m really glad I met you.” She smiled at him, her eyes glistening under the rising moon. “I think so, anyway. You and I— did you ever think it was anything worth fighting for? I killed you.”

“You’re not going to save me?”

“You will be saved.” Mary stepped away. “Goodbye. I’ll try to keep an eye on Bentinck for you after you’re dead.”

No! William wanted to call out, but he didn’t want to bring James here; that would only give her trouble. So he watched her go, still searching for something to say, anything that would convince her, before Spencer stepped out under the darkness.

“I feel like I heard more of that than I was supposed to,” he said, and William’s eyes widened.

“Don’t you dare tell her father, you-” He was cut off when Spencer pushed the gag back in his mouth.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I won’t. I have my own secrets.” He laughed in a sort of dismissive, exhausted way as he knelt down to pull the ropes off of William’s legs. “We all do here. If Mary wants to leave, fine by me.”

William was brought inside into the barn full of screeching, hissing spirits. Some of the more humanoid ones were covering their ears, but perked them up when they saw William pass by.

As uncomfortable as it was to lie on the hay in one of the larger cells, where many smaller spirits were sleeping, he greatly preferred it to staying outside in that arena, stinking of blood and death without dignity. He only wished he was untied so he could stretch out; the pain was all the same.

“Try to sleep,” Spencer said, hopping on top of one of the cages. “You’ll want to be wide awake for your trial tomorrow.”

🝰🝰🝰

“My lord, are you in there?” A servant knocked on the door. “It’s almost time and you’re not even downstairs. Do you need help?”

Bentinck groaned and lifted his head from his hands. He might have needed help doing his makeup again, now that he was looking into the mirror, but he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Then they might ask why, and then he had to explain that he’d just lost the only two people in the world who mattered.

“No,” he said. “I’ll be out in a second, hold off the visitors for a little while.”

“If you say so...” He heard the servant step away, leaving nothing but the sound of rippling water to soothe him. He closed his eyes.

He was fine. He was fine, of course, at least his head was, though everyone had thought it was such a horrible shock that one of their beloved Allies was injured, which was the dumbest, fakest thing he’d ever seen. Only Govert Bidloo, William’s ridiculous doctor and spy, had brushed off his injuries, saying he’d be fine the next day, like always— and, much to Bentinck’s annoyance, he was right.

If anything, he had asked more for William, who was definitively not fine. Bentinck had hesitated to tell him, knowing very well how Bidloo would react.

“You left him alone with a Disciple?!”

“Well, I was alone with one too-”

“Both of you, idiots! Unbelievable! I can’t believe this is the man destined to rule the world!”

“I’m going to go get him, and then I’m going to kill those Villiers girls.”

“Oh, that would be very nice, our facility really needs new bodies.”

It had offended him in the moment, but the way Bidloo was speaking to him made him feel something of a whipped dog; he had no inclination to defend William in front of him. For the longest time Bidloo had been the only one able to speak that way about their leader, and no one had said anything about it.

The worst thing was that, once again, he was right. What an idiot Bentinck had been! To believe that these Disciples had ever had anything beyond James on their mind, to ever dare to love one— it was worse than treason! He knew William would forgive him, as in all things, but it was more than he deserved.

And now he had to go save him, killing as many of those damned Disciples as he could on the way there. If he could, he’d kill James and Marly, the arrogant snakes, but it was Elizabeth he was looking forward to strangling the life out of. Treacherous viper!

Then there was Anne, whom he couldn’t do anything to.

He knew she had loved him. It hadn’t been enough, apparently, but she had loved him, of that he had no doubt. And he had loved her too; no, he did love her, despite all the attempts he had made to hate her now, to try to think of how furious William must be and all the things James was doing to him.

What she’d done was unforgivable, and here he was, trying to fix his makeup and go meet his followers, all while realizing that he couldn’t kill the Disciple who had done this. It was pathetic, it was betrayal.

“Ferocity,” he breathed out, stumbling back into the little stream of water in his room. The heat had never made him dizzy, but today it did, and he sat down in the water, looking down at his reflection, blotted out by the dim lights over his head.

There was yet another knock on the door, and Bentinck clenched his teeth. “I’ll be right down there!” he yelled.

“Well, your thoughts are very loud, could you perhaps quiet them down a little?” came the voice.

Ally George! Bentinck swallowed, forcing himself to think of nothing but the water flowing past his fingers. He only realized he hadn’t answered when George opened the door, looking around the room in wonder.

“Oh, it’s beautiful in here,” he said. He walked over to push aside the vines and flowers falling from the walls, examining the posters of old brand deals and photoshoots hidden under them. “Ooh, that one’s pretty— oh, alright, that’s nudity- um-” He stepped away, glancing at himself in the vanity mirror, before stopping beside the flowing stream, running his fingers through the small waterfall spilling over the wall. “Wow. It looks so much nicer in your room.”

“Thank you,” Bentinck said. “Can you leave now, please?”

“You sound very troubled,” George said sympathetically. “I love a Disciple too, you know. Her name is Anne, but this one’s Stewart, not Villiers.”

“I believe I noticed when you first came here,” Bentinck said, sitting back up on the ground. “How much did you hear?” Nosy bitch, he added silently, at which George made a visible effort to ignore.

“I’ve only been up here for a few minutes,” he said. “But when you’re sitting by the waterfall, it dims it a little. I couldn’t hear it from where I was, but the water seems to quiet you down, doesn’t it?”

“I guess.” Bentinck shifted uncomfortably. He’d never thought of it that way.

“So, James has your master? William?”

“Um—”

“Anne told me about it yesterday!” George said, his eyes brightening. “Oh, it sounds like they’re going to have a lot of fun over there. I mean, not fun for William,” he added apologetically, “nor very fun for your Anne, if her love for you is real.”

“It’s real!” Bentinck insisted.

“I don’t doubt it, but it’s hard to tell just through your thoughts,” George said. He shrugged. “I mean, loyalty to the Disciples is a very difficult thing, from what I hear. No one there is happy anymore, not under James— some never were happy. But you stay anyway, you know? It’s so hard to walk away.”

“I would have run from James a long time ago,” Bentinck said, finally letting all his thoughts back out into the open. Everything he tried to hide, he was sure George knew, either through James’ daughter or Marly or through his own observations. And out of everyone who could have had this power, perhaps George was the best choice, after all.

He’s not...technically an enemy. Bentinck sighed.

“No,” George said. “I could never be a Disciple, after everything James has done to Anne.” He leaned in and smiled down at Bentinck. “See, maybe you could run from them. But could you run from William?”

“Of course not, he’s my friend.” Bentinck shook his head, glared back up at George. “How many times do I have to say it to people? He’s not like James!”

“And if he were?”

“Then I wouldn’t love him like I do. It’s not that hard.” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s very easy to say you would leave,” George said. “But you didn’t grow up there. You didn’t see James as a younger man, you didn’t see the lengths he went to protect his daughters, you didn’t hear the promises he made to Marly and Maria. You didn’t hear the promises he made to everybody.”

“You think I don’t know how a cult works?” Bentinck asked.

“One would expect a better understanding from someone who’s in one.”

“The law may say we’re a cult,” Bentinck said, standing up again, “but we know what we really are. We are the protectors of the new faith, a new world that we’ll bring forth when all of you Allies are dead and the Disciples are defeated.” He stepped towards George, who backed away, his eyes widening. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“Yes- yes, very- ah, very well,” George stammered. “But you can’t say any of this is-”

“What? Is what?”

“I’ve looked deep into the minds of both Disciple and Devil.” He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know how any of you can think like this. I don’t know how you can call yourselves good.”

“Must look that way to an outsider,” Bentinck said, watching with satisfaction as George seemed to melt back into the wall. “But James is the only true evil here.”

“Yes.” George swallowed. “Yes, he is.”

“I’m glad we can agree on that.” Bentinck turned away, splashing George with a flick of his fingers through the waterfall. “Maybe we can agree on something else.”

“Please don’t finish that thought.”

“We’ve both lost someone to James.”

“Anne isn’t dead.”

“Not yet, but-”

“Oh.” George’s eyes widened. “Your father.”

What? Bentinck looked at him with bewilderment before realizing who he’d been thinking about mere seconds before, the face that had come to his mind before he’d even known it.

No, it’s not him! That was a long time ago! But the images came anyway.

The flick of a blade in the air, a raised tail, horns gleaming with blood—

There’s so much of it.

A hand running through his hair—

It was all his fault.

Lies woven through promises, told through endlessly black eyes.

Stop listening- I know you’re there— ENOUGH!

George flinched back, and Bentinck looked to the waterfall, focusing on the sound until he thought the blood on his hands had washed away with the water.

“You’re right,” George said gently. “It was a long time ago. I’m sorry.”

“James can’t take William too.” Bentinck thought of nothing but his tongue forming the words. He would not lose William; he wouldn’t even dare imagine it.

“Truly, I would help you if I could. But I can’t say I condemn what James does and then turn around and align myself with William.” At the corner of his vision, George smiled. “I’m only here for Anne, no one else.” Bentinck heard him open the door. “You should probably go down there. Your followers are waiting for you.”

Damn them all, Bentinck wanted to say. Damn them if Anne is not among them any longer.

🝰🝰🝰

Mary wagged a finger at the camera as she spoke, addressing the thirty thousand people watching her. Sometimes, it was hard to love her followers, knowing that many would die when James ruled the nation, and that she deceived them, but having smoked enough tonight from her glass pipe, right now she loved them all equally. And she knew she meant more to them than any Ally. Whatever she said, they would respect her and listen, and slowly, they would find themselves under the world of the Disciples without even realizing.

That’s how we make them ours, James.

“Let me tell you something before I go, chat,” she said, leaning back on her chair. Glancing at the window, she saw that James was getting into one of his cars with Maria at his side, the sun setting over them. There was a strange pang in her chest as she watched them go, but it was only for a second, and then she was smiling back at the screen.

“I worry about the state of Altos Diablos, honestly. I don’t really like to talk about politics on stream, but you hear about the bombings and the assassination attempts...” She sighed at the thought, at how often she’d been at the heart of them. “And you just wonder, will it ever be safe? Grand Cabaret is becoming more and more openly hostile, and it’s looking like it might be war. Real war. And we haven’t had real war on this planet for a very long time.”

She flicked her eyes to the chat. Good, it was working; many said the same thing. A war was coming.

“Alright, I’ll be clear, then.” Now that I have you.

She leaned in from her chair, pushing the stuffed tigers and rabbits and wolves to the side, all of them gifts from either her fans or her father. Her followers adored them, had even helped name them, but there was no room for them now. “I don’t think it’s heresy to criticize our government,” she began. “Allies are chosen to lead us, so why is Master Lucky proving again and again that the devils might have been wrong?”

Yes, yes, yes, this was it— much of her chat was confused, but one by one they began to tentatively agree. She didn’t care if they said it just to please her, it did please her!

“Some Allies are better suited to other things with their fame,” she said. “For example, we would never say Ally Marly is qualified to lead us, right? Just because he’s an Ally?”

Devils below, can you imagine, she saw one message say as it flashed by, and she laughed.

“No, no, it’s unimaginable,” she said. “Lucky should have stuck with his position in the army. Such a military-minded man can’t lead a nation wanting peace! Here’s my idea!” She slammed her hand down on the table. “We get the devils back in charge! Bring back the Four Kingdoms! Summon them like the ancients used to do, get them to solve our problems for us! You know, I hear good things about the Hanoverian devils of the Eastern Kingdom.”

Are you okay? asked a donation as it popped up on the screen.

“Me? I’m great! Why would you ever ask that?” Mary shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, you know, I shouldn’t even answer! That’s not for you to know! I’m perfectly fine!”

They’re going to make you apologize for this later, said another subscriber.

“What? Who the fuck is they? The Allies? The devils?” Mary narrowed her eyes. “You guys? ‘Cause I’m not taking any of this back. Just because my daddy’s controversial doesn’t mean I have to be!” She groaned and leaned back against her chair again, pushing her hair from her face. She was sweating, she realized, and the pounding of her heart was agitating her.

“Just think about what I’m saying!” she yelled as she sat up. “It’s not radical to say the devils would do better! Because they would!”

Now they were getting worried; she was losing them. Some of them liked to see when she was high on stream, others not so much. It seemed like there were a lot of the “not so much” crowd here tonight.

“You’re all going to see one day, and you’ll be grateful for it,” she said. “Good night! I’ll be live later this week, maybe on Friday. Pretend this never happened.” With that, she ended the stream and started to laugh, picking up one of the wolves that had fallen to the floor. She held it close and laughed even harder.

It’s not long now, not long at all. James would fix everything. All the kids who had watched her when she started five years ago were now nearly adults, forming their own opinions of the world around them— and some of them would turn to her father for answers.

It was all going as he had intended. And who could ever suspect her, he liked to say.

“They love you more than I do.”

“By all the stars, Mary, what the fuck are you doing in there?” Her sister’s voice came from outside the door. “Are you high again?”

Mary nodded but didn’t answer. She spun herself around on her chair, humming as she pet the wolf.

“Damnit, Mary,” she heard Anne say. “Hurry up, I need to talk to you about something. Quickly, now that James isn’t here!”

“Ugh, fine, what is it?”

Anne opened the door, and Mary tossed the wolf at her face. Anne caught it rather clumsily, setting it back on the desk and walking over to lean against the window. Her tail closed the blinds behind her.

“You shouldn’t get high in front of so many people,” she said, glowering over at Mary as she searched through the files on her computer. “Are you listening? It’s already caused enough of a scandal!”

“And I’ll have you remember that that’s what got me so many followers,” Mary said, fanning herself playfully. “What do you want, anyway? You never come here. If you wanted to join in on the stream, it’s too late, and if you want drugs, you have to wait for James—”

“I don’t care about your stream or your crack, or whatever it was this time,” Anne snapped. “It’s about Monmouth.”

“Oh.” Mary laughed without meaning to. There was sickness at the back of her throat. “Pretty good fight, huh?”

“No,” Anne said, raising an eyebrow. “Not at all. I don’t care about the fight. I mean, I do, but-” She paused, making an effort to swallow. “But it’s over now. Monmouth is dead, our last hope is- he’s dead.”

“Last hope?” Mary shook her head. “That’s James. They may have the same name, but don’t confuse them with each other. Now that’s just insulting.”

“Our last hope to escape James, I mean!” Anne cried. “I wouldn’t want to see Monmouth rule either, but at least he wouldn’t have kept us here.”

“Escape?” Mary looked over at her, bewildered. “Come on, Anne, why on earth would you want to escape? We’re happy here! We’re safe! We’re going to inherit the world when James dies, and we’ll lead everyone to peace and prosperity, and they’re going to love us— we’ll be their saviors.” She waved her hand about as she spoke. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“I’ve never said I wanted that. And neither have you.” Anne flicked her tail dismissively. “Besides, you don’t just make people love you. You have to earn it. And you’ve done very little to earn it from this nation.”

“They’ll be grateful when they realize,” Mary murmured. She lifted her nails to her lips and nipped absently at them, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, it sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Anne said. “Ruling by fear?”

“No one’s afraid of us.”

“They should fear you.”

“Me?” Mary let out a shaky sigh. “They have nothing to fear from the Disciples as long as they obey.”

“And it’s the same with us,” Anne said. Her eyes were bright in the gathering darkness. “James is fine until he isn’t. You want to call living with him safe? You want to say we’re happy?”

“I’m very happy,” Mary said. She was drawing blood from her nails now; it hurt so bad.

“Mary, quit doing that,” Anne said, walking back over to her. “I know we- we have a destiny. But it could have been fulfilled without everything James has done to us. It could have been fulfilled without fear and pain.”

“No,” Mary breathed out. “Never. It was all necessary. Every drop of blood.”

“Even Charles?” Anne lashed her tail with frustration. “Don’t you see where this religious war got us? We’re losing people, everyone is losing people—”

“Charles was the most necessary death of all.”

“What? Yeah, maybe- maybe to you.” Anne stepped back as Mary stood up. “You’ve always wanted to see James in power.” She hesitated before adding, “He killed him, Mary. James killed his brother. You and I, we’ve always known it.”

“Oh, have we?” Mary laughed. “Why does everyone always say that?”

“Because it’s true. You know it is.”

“Maybe,” she said, glancing to the side towards the drawers under her desk. “But no one knows him like I do. Killing is a great thrill to him, but it all changes when you bring his brother into the equation. Of course he wanted Charles dead. He’d lost his mind, Anne, do you remember that? And he wasn’t even that old! Well, as it was, James saw that the Disciples needed a stronger leader, right? Someone more certain in where their destiny lay.”

“So he killed him,” Anne said. “We all know how it ends.”

“No, no, no, no!” Mary said, clapping her hands. “No, this is where it gets better. He loved Charles, you see. He always did! I mean, I can never understand that— if I had to kill you, I would.”

“What?”

“No, there’s no time!” Mary went on. “What was I saying? Ah, yes, I mean, no. James did not kill Charles! But he did tell me, one lovely night, that he was worried for his brother and for the Disciples. He told me he was so very, very concerned, that something had to pass...”

“He told you about this?” Anne’s eyes widened.

“Oh, he didn’t just tell me. He gave me one fascinating order, just one, but by far the greatest I have ever received—”

“You killed him.”

Mary nodded ruefully. “Should have seen the look on his face. Poor thing.”

“Mary, you-” Anne raised her voice. “You killed him—!”

“Yes. So, you know, in the end, I guess James and I did betray him.” Mary opened a drawer and dug through the tangled wires. “It was out of love, or whatever you want the excuse to be today.”

“You’re heartless,” Anne whispered. “Did you see the state of his body?”

“Of course I did, I’m the one who left it like that.” Mary found what she was looking for and turned to Anne. “So what now?”

“What now?”

“Well, you know, James kind of told me to...kill anyone who found out?” Mary pulled one of her knives out from the wires, twisting it in her fingers and lifting it up towards Anne. “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know why I told you any of this. I guess I thought it would be kind of funny, but now you have to die, so...not really.”

“You’re going to kill me?” Anne stumbled back, holding her hand out defensively. “Right now?”

“Yeah, when else do you want me to do it? When I’m sober?” With that, Mary lunged at Anne, shoving her back against the wall and raising the knife over her head.

Anne gasped and caught Mary’s hand by the wrist, lifting a leg to kick her in the stomach. Mary grunted sharply and fell back, and Anne tossed her head back as hard as she could, her horns shattering the window behind her.

“Fuck, you’re paying for that!” Mary shouted. Frantically, as Anne ducked out of the window, Mary drove the knife forward, managing to pin the tip of Anne’s tail to the wall. She heard the scream come from outside at the same time she heard a snap, and then she was staring at nothing but broken glass and the fluffy, decorated tip of her sister’s tail.

She’ll bleed out! Mary pulled the knife out and thoughtlessly followed Anne through the window, letting out a yelp as she landed hard on her feet, pausing to catch her breath. She saw Anne’s tail disappear through the trees ahead, and Mary ran after her. She hadn’t expected to kill someone today, but she wasn’t complaining.

She wasn’t tired yet, simply winded; she thought she could run forever. Anne certainly couldn’t, Mary thought as she advanced on the lashing tail. 

Just as it came within reach, as her fingers brushed the bloody fur, her foot halted under her, running into what might have been a branch or a lifted root. She let out a cry as she fell forward, managing to catch herself before she landed on her face.

By the stars. She propped herself up against the tree behind her, realizing how loud she was panting. It was the only thing breaking the silence here; sometimes it would be the screams of James’ prisoners, but no one would ever find them here. Anne had already disappeared.

“Oh,” Mary gasped, lifting her head to the sky. She had almost caught up. And then what?

Even if I loved you once...

Of course, she should have guessed. James hadn’t been able to kill Charles, either.

🝰🝰🝰

He was woken by Spencer after a fitful night of sleep, a boot’s heel slamming into the tip of his tail. He bit into the gag and hissed like he had when he was a child, but Spencer wasn’t fazed. He took hold of one of William’s horns and lifted his aching head up, tying a blindfold over his eyes, and then tugged at the rope around William’s wrists, forcing him to stand.

He was pushed back onto a wooden stool, where Spencer tilted his head up with the slightest of touches. He felt something fitted around his neck— a collar. It was made of leather, William could tell. It seemed to tighten around his neck when something was clipped onto it from the front, a chain judging by the rattling sound.

“That will do very well,” Spencer murmured as he pushed the hair out from under the collar, brushing it back with what might have been a comb.

There was the sound of something else clicking and jingling, and William realized there were horn bands being clipped around his horns, the gold chains and assorted gems being spread between them. Then he heard something like scraping above him, his head being jerked back. His horns were being trimmed, but to what extent, he could not guess.

He felt the chain go taut, forcing his head to tilt slightly upwards. The gag was slipped out of his mouth, and he let out a relieved gasp, taking deep breaths.

“What- what’s all this for?” he asked.

There was silence on Spencer’s end save for footsteps heard a distance away. William lashed his tail indignantly. “You do not get to ignore an Overlifer. Is this for the trial?”

“I don’t like it when dogs bark senselessly at me,” Spencer said, his voice coming closer. “Open.”

“For what?”

He was met with a backhanded slap to the face. He stumbled to the side, nearly falling off the stool if it weren’t for Spencer pulling him back up by the chain. The sting became a burn when he felt a gloved hand cup around his cheek, the thumb forcing itself past his lips. William huffed and bit down as hard as he could.

“Fuck—!” Spencer sprung back. “See, this is the thing about all Western spirits. They all bite.”

“Call me a spirit again and it’ll be your throat next,” William growled.

Again, Spencer did not answer. Instead, he felt fingers dig into his hair, pulling him out of the stool and then slamming his face against the wall. William’s teeth came down on his tongue, and as he stumbled back he tasted blood over his lips as well, falling from his nose. He thought he could have fainted. The hanging gems rattled by his ears.

“Oh, James isn’t going to like that look,” Spencer said, the wince evident from his tone. “But I have a feeling the hot stick wouldn’t have worked on you, anyway. Will you behave now?”

“You- you really think—”

William was cut off by his tail being suddenly twisted at the base, where the sharp bend was. He let out a fierce hiss through clenched teeth, and Spencer’s free hand came around his neck, pinning his head back on the Disciple’s shoulder.

“We cannot have a trial and execution without obedience and discipline,” Spencer said. “Count the seconds I hold your tail this way or it will only get worse.” As he spoke, he coiled the tail around and around his wrist, and William gasped, kicking fiercely at Spencer’s legs behind him.

“I will kill you myself—!”

“Common, easy threat,” Spencer said. “But a false one. You will not get out of here to kill anyone ever again. Count for me, little one.”

Little one! William tried to think of any spells that would work without any slip of paper, but that was an ability reserved for Allies and his six life. A life that, if all went horribly wrong here, he would reach soon.

He tried to kick again, but Spencer curled his own tail around William’s legs. His breath was warm beside William’s cheek.

“Go on,” he said. “Just count. It’s so easy.”

“Fuck you,” William snapped.

“So it shall be this way,” Spencer said. He brought his hand back up to William’s hair and pushed his body down against the floor. William winced as his chin came down on it, dust rising up beside him.

Not now! He inhaled sharply and coughed, feeling Spencer’s heel on his back as he tried to sit back up on his legs.

He felt his tail bent over something like a ledge, what might have been a cell door. “Same as before,” he heard Spencer say. “Just say it.” He began to press William’s tail down over the ledge with one hand, the other pulling back on the tip.

William coughed again, a shudder running through his body. He would not count, he would not do anything these Disciples told him to do. Yet it was taking a greater and greater effort to keep his mouth shut, whimpers beginning to form along with his wheezes.

No, no, no, don’t make a sound.

He felt something snap at his tail where Spencer was holding it. He bit his lip hard, failing to muffle a shriek, but Spencer did not stop.

“That’s just a few bones,” he said. “There’s more where that came from. I will go until all of this tail is broken, if I have to.”

“One—!” William cried hurriedly. “Two. Three. Four.”

“Very good. Until ten.”

“Five. Six.” Tears came to William’s eyes as Spencer squeezed his fist around the broken bones. “S-Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten, now let go!”

Spencer dropped the tail, and William curled it in with much effort, trying to catch his breath. He was forced up to his knees by the chain on his collar, cutting away yet more air.

“Now,” Spencer said, “that looks good.” There was another gag shoved into his open mouth, but this time his lips did not close around it. It was his bloody tongue hanging out instead, leaving his jaws open, drool forming there relentlessly. The blood was cleaned from his face, his shirt unbuttoned so his saliva would not stain it. At this he turned away with a grunt of displeasure.

There was the sound of a phone ringing, and Spencer dropped back. “Good morning, sir,” William heard him say, “did you sleep well?”

There was a pause, and then Spencer laughed. “I was just asking. Yes, he’s still here.”

Is he talking to James? William tugged at the ropes around his wrists. He tried to push his tail in between the knots, but the force of it would send a sharp pain from the bottom of his spine all the way to his horns. He shuddered and tried to swallow back a groan.

“Yes, I’ve been doing- yes, I know,” Spencer was saying. “But he’s given me quite a challenge, I-” He stopped, then sighed. “Yes, he will be there. I broke his tail, and maybe his nose, too- oh, please—” There was the sound of something whipping the air; an irritated tail, no doubt. “It’ll be difficult to get him to hold still. I’ve just made it easier for you. No, I haven’t- he’s not dead— fine, give me a moment. I’ll be there soon.”

William jerked his head back in the chain, only for it to pull him forward onto the ground. It was in something of a daze that he realized Spencer was pulling his hair again, dragging him outside, the approving hisses of the spirits fading behind him.

Maybe I will die here. It came to him like a thunderbolt. He should have fought like one, but then—

He recognized the motion all over again, the roughness of being shoved into the trunk of a car. He tried to kick out at Spencer, but his movements felt too sluggish, his head pounding like he was high all over again. But there was no peace here, only a dim sensation of panic as he felt a hand run through his hair.

“I see now why you were granted six lives,” Spencer said.

What? William’s face flushed as he felt the saliva wiped away from his chin again. He heard Spencer step back, and the door was shut over him.

At least his mouth was open this time. With the movement of the car, though, he felt something else begin to drag him below, where the devils lay. They wanted him now. In a dizzying moment he came to the conclusion that his father was among them, and that he had to fight, but he did not want to...the darkness became absolute; what a waste.

🝰🝰🝰

Bentinck’s phone was ringing again, late into the night. He felt as if he’d been on calls for most of the day, scolding the Madams and the bombers and the dealers for their insolence to their Overlifer, who was perfectly fine, thank you very much, he will get back to you in a few days, now stop calling; he’s very busy. Nobody needed to know William had been captured and that he wasn’t back yet.

Well, he would be back tonight, Bentinck had decided, before anyone found out. He wasn’t sure where William was, but maybe stopping by some of the Stewarts’ many residences would give him a clue. Or, better yet, he was already there.

Right now, however, he had to answer this last call. He picked up the phone, his sigh becoming a groan when he saw who it was.

He answered and placed it on the table as he worked on loading his gun. “Hello, Bidloo,” he said. Of course, the one man who William would trust with this information was also the most annoying.

“I’m outside,” Bidloo said.

“What?”

“Outside...your house. Open up.” “I’m sure William would appreciate your concern, but there’s no need for you to come in,” Bentinck said, laughing nervously. He shrugged off the tension on his shoulders and tried to remember what some of the Infernal spells were, in particular the ones spoken in the dialect of the Southern Kingdom. Those were the most useful, but the most elusive.

“I will bomb the place if I must,” Bidloo said. “What are you doing this time? How many men are in there?”

“It’s- it’s just me, Bidloo,” Bentinck said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re planning to go get him by yourself, aren’t you?”

“Well, who else is going to?”

“I could do it. Easily.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Bentinck snapped. “Look, you’re welcome to try, but you know you were never very good at the spells, nor protecting yourself from them. And they all know you well, especially James— he’s got a reason to want vengeance, after all the Disciples you’ve institutionalized.”

“Oh, yes,” Bidloo said, as if he were remembering a fun day of his childhood and not the countless sessions of torture.

“Well, here’s something you don’t know,” Bentinck said. “You don’t care about death. It’s all impersonal to you, isn’t it? Doctor.”

“Oh, you know, it puts food on the table.”

“It would be a waste to let you go out there and kill everyone who stands in your way,” Bentinck went on, “because it would mean nothing. Meanwhile, I have something I need to do over there. Right now, they’ve taken my friend, and when I was a boy, you know James-”

“Murdered my father,” Bidloo interrupted. He barked out a laugh. “So you think only you can kill him. You think it’s only fair.”

“No, William has to do that, but...maybe just one life.”

“You don’t make the death of a person right by killing someone else,” Bidloo said. “You’re just killing more people. Revenge is just a concept, Hansi.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bentinck said, his face flushing.

“In any case, sounds like you’ll get way too caught up in other things that don’t pertain to the mission. Like your emotions.” Bidloo lowered his voice. “You’ll need someone there to orient you. With your power, you could become a truly threatening force to the Disciples. You just need to focus.”

“I’m not going to let you come with me.”

“Why not? I have something that you know you need. You can’t go out there without it.”

“Really? You?” Bentinck snorted. “And what the fuck could that be?”

“Some doll named Anne Villiers,” Bidloo said, yawning as he said the name. “The spy who deceived you. You, Bentinck, she deceived you. Someone who should have seen the motivations of the Disciples in her long before they came to fruition. Alas...your emotions were quite a distraction, weren’t they?”

“You—!” Bentinck jolted. “You have her?”

“She came to our facility, yes,” Bidloo said. “She was asking for you. Silly girl, I took care of her for you, don’t worry.”

Bentinck hung up and walked outside, past his gardens and past his gate, where Bidloo was waiting in his car, poking his cat-like face out of the window. His rather jarring appearance was illuminated by the fluorescent street lamp above; while one horn was huge, striped, curling in towards Bidloo’s head in the typical Northern manner, the other was cut short near the base, the remains of it unevenly spiked.

“Did you kill her?” He felt as if his heart had frozen in his chest, tensing for the answer.

“No, she has valuable information, I’m sure,” Bidloo said. “But she refuses to share it with me. She said she needed to speak to you outside of your meeting hours, but didn’t know where to look— save for our facility, of course, seeing as there’s a Devil running around the place.” He pointed a finger at himself with a chuckle. “She showed me the R and said she could do dreadful things to me if I didn’t help her.”

“She threatened you?”

Bidloo shrugged and rolled down one of the back windows. “Ask her yourself.”

He looked up, refusing to believe that he saw her then, sitting behind Bidloo, her eyes wide as she brought a hand up to adjust the hair around her face. It was that movement that convinced him; it was Anne.

“Hans!” She leaned out the window, accidentally kicking Bidloo as she did so. “I- I thought he was lying, and he was going to kill me, or something— like he has with everyone else. He was kind of rough, I mean—” She paused, looking up at Bentinck’s stunned face. “Oh...”

“Anne,” he breathed. “You did come back.”

She hesitated before opening the door and leaping into his arms, squeezing her own around his neck as if she’d been waiting for it. “I love you, Hans, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” Her voice broke, and she seemed to become smaller, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“You know I would always forgive you.” Bentinck stroked at her hair, surprising himself with the truth. “From the moment I realized, I forgave you.”

“No...” She looked up again. “But that’s what made it so easy, Hans.”

“It was worth it.”

“You- you know, I didn’t want to leave you.” She let out a bitter sigh. “I didn’t want to lie to you, either, but Mary ordered it of me, and James, he- well, you know James.”

“Too well,” Bentinck growled. “This is all his doing, Anne.”

“The truth is, I didn’t do it just for him,” Anne said, her gaze hardening over. “I mean, for Mary, of course I would do anything for her. But after everything you’ve told me about William...I thought that maybe you would-” She stopped as Bentinck leaned in, his eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“You think I would be better off without him,” he said.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Hans.”

“He’s my friend, Anne, for the last time—”

“If Mary treated me like William treats you, I would have already left the Disciples,” Anne cut in. “And come to you. But there’s a reason I’ve stayed.”

“If William treated me like how you say he does, I would have already left, too,” Bentinck said firmly. “I know you mean the best, but- but he’s my friend, and I love him, and now he is in danger because you- because you thought it was good for me.” He turned towards Bidloo, trying and failing to blink away his tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do now.”

“I’m sorry. I knew it would be this way.” Anne’s hand slipped into his.

“Just don’t- don’t get caught up in things that don’t concern you.” He ran his thumb over her hand, though he intended mostly to soothe himself. He felt scars there, near her wrist.

“One last time, then?”

“What?” He turned his head back to her.

“Tonight is William’s trial,” she said, “and his first execution. It may have already started. That’s why I had to find you again. I don’t like him, but things would only get worse if we let this happen.”

“What?” Bidloo spat from the front. “And you didn’t think to tell me that first?”

“Why would I tell you anything? You kind of kidnapped me.” Anne waved him off. “We have to go, Hans.”

“Yes- yes, let’s go.” Bentinck started to step away, but then glanced back at Bidloo. “And I suppose you’d like to take us there.”

Bidloo turned his icy gaze to the Ally. “Why, thank you for the invitation.”

🝰🝰🝰

A hand came down on his head, pulling at his hair and jolting him out of his uneasy sleep. He was still breathing hard, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, becoming more dizzy with every sharp wheeze of his. He deliriously wondered if he had lost a life, and now the cold air that he was breathing in was from the realm of the devils.

“William. Hello, darling.”

No devil could speak like this. He turned his head to the side, and a thumb suddenly shoved itself into his mouth, forcing his tongue down with a sharp nail. He gasped, heard laughing from above.

“He looks like a mess,” came the voice. It was James, William realized, and it made the reality before him more certain. He had to escape or he would die.

No one is coming to save you!

He kicked a leg out, trying to sit up, and the chain on his neck was pulled hard, forcing him up on his knees. He lashed his tail behind him, letting out a heavy sigh at the renewed pain there. He had almost forgotten.

“Come on out, step lively! You’ve been sleeping all day.” That was Spencer’s voice, the voice of a snake as cheerful as ever. There was a gloved hand on one arm, a firmer one on the other, helping him stand with deceitful kindness. He swayed on his feet, wondering if he should run now, but the chain remained taut. He wouldn’t get far.

Or I’ll just fall on my nose. He looked up, trying to make anything out through the blindfold.

“You know, it’s kind of nice, this silence from you,” James said, his voice making William’s head seem heavier. Like a venomous lullaby. “It’s nothing at all, really, but it’s a sound that few are blessed to hear.” The hand came back around William’s head, another one on his cheek, the same one that had been in his mouth seconds before. He recognized the movement, his heart speeding up.

He jerked his head back, but James brought him closer still, slipping his tongue into William’s mouth. It wasn’t a kiss; no, this was the first taste of many that would undoubtedly come later, and some would venture further than others. He stifled a cry, trying to lift his head as James ran his tongue along the roof of William’s mouth, down to his teeth, and finally his lips, where the tongue lapped away William’s drool and replaced it with its own.

Devils below. He shuddered as James stepped back, his breath leaving him when he bent forward and began to retch, the tip of his tail shaking. He might have fallen if it weren’t for the hand buried in his hair keeping him up. He wasn’t sure if anything came out of him, but he could taste nothing at the back of his throat.

“I thought your father would have taught you better than that,” James said, the disapproval evident in his voice. “Well, Spencer, bring him in. I have to make sure everything is ready. I can trust you to watch him again, yes?”

“It’s been my great pleasure, sir.”

What was this place? The heat as Spencer pushed him inside convinced William it was a Hoerenkast, a strange choice for an execution. These places meant nothing to Overlifers, and it would surely be noticed if someone was brought to die here, especially someone like William.

They were all watching, he thought, and laughing. No one cared. He’d kill them all when he got free.

“We’re coming to some stairs,” Spencer said into his ear. “Be careful. We have time.”

Stairs? William could hardly keep himself up when he was still. His legs shook as he was pulled up the steps, his tail held out stiffly behind him in an instinctual attempt to keep him balanced despite the sharp pains near both the base and the tip. Spencer still held on to him, though William was tempted to bat him off. He didn’t need help for this.

He fell to his knees once they made it to the top and he heard a door close behind him, his head still forced up by the chain. The collar felt as if it were choking him, cutting off the air he had already so desperately needed. He hoped he wouldn’t have another attack— Spencer was not the sort to help him.

“Oh, little one,” he heard Spencer say, a tail running under his chin, “we can’t have you passing out in front of everyone. Would you like some water?”

Please! William nodded rapidly. His throat had been increasingly dry these past few days; he had been given nothing to eat nor drink. Eating very little he was used to, often skipping meals since he was a boy, but the pangs in his stomach could hardly go unnoticed now, and water he could not go without. Certainly he couldn’t escape like this.

“I know where I can find your weakness,” Spencer said, his voice low behind William. “You’re very easy, you know.” A sharp heel dug into William’s back then, pushing him down so that his chin rested on the floor. Before him, he could hear the gentle running of water, and realized that they must have been by one of the Hoerenkast’s streams.

“There’s your water,” Spencer said. “Drink.”

This was the water he was offering William? From the warm stream, where countless Allies had sat before? He shook his head, trying to lift himself back up again, but Spencer brought his heel down on his head next, sending a fire down William’s spine. He grunted and narrowed his eyes under his blindfold.

This will be the first and last time you treat an Overlifer this way. Who did Spencer think he was, treating William like a common spirit? Even rival Overlifers deserved respect.

He doesn’t believe in me. He felt his face warming up, whether it was from anger or embarrassment he couldn’t say, but he heard Spencer sigh.

“Are you going to make me regret this? Drink.”

Like a fucking dog? William took a shaky breath, but obeyed, bowing his head further to lap from the stream. It was bitter, bringing no relief with its warmth, and then he realized he couldn’t even swallow with his mouth forced open. He tried again, lapping up more, but he only coughed once it reached his throat, feeling it drip back out of his mouth.

You sly fucking rat. He shuddered as the heel pressed down harder on his head. What had he looked like to Spencer? Like the obedient little spirit the Disciple wanted?

Well, he would never be that. He paused, then sprung up, throwing Spencer’s heel off of him. He turned his head around wildly, when he felt a hand grip his hair hard, forcing his head up until tears came to his eyes.

“Behave,” Spencer said simply, and then his head was pushed into the water. William gasped involuntarily, water filling his throat until he choked on it, his open mouth still refusing to swallow it. He stiffened, spasms running down his back to his tail. His nose was burning; he thought the water might have been boiling—

“Had enough of a drink?” Spencer asked as he brought William back up again.

William was still gasping, coughing with water running from his nose and lips. Inexplicably, he was trying to swallow, but it only made him choke more, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

He heard the door open, a stern, familiar voice say, “Is he ready? James is about to make the announcement.” It was Ally Marly, and even in the midst of this shitshow William felt the fur on his tail stand straight up at the sound. “What are you doing to him?”

“He wanted a drink,” Spencer replied, “so I gave him one.”

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” The chain on William’s collar was pulled upwards, his hair being tugged along with it, and he stumbled to his feet, too stunned to do anything but follow the two Disciples. “James isn’t going to be happy with how you made such a mess of his hair.”

“Cute, isn’t he?”

Marly snorted. “Sure.”

He was going to die for the third time. He couldn’t say it scared him, but with every step his body only shook more, the emptiness in his stomach growing.

🝰🝰🝰

Only the most trusted of Disciples were allowed to watch the execution of their greatest enemy, only the most useful. They were all here, all people Mary knew and hardly liked, just as she despised the looming presence of the Tenth Honor Hoerenkast. She supposed it was all a very symbolic, triumphant thing, to kill an Overlifer in the temple of their most obnoxious rivals, but she couldn’t stand the devils that were watching from the stained glass or the tapestries. At least it was only them, and no one else— Marly had asked all the servants and other Allies to leave the place to him today, for an “event.”

Stupid, obedient Disciples. Everybody here, standing in the largest meeting room where Marly usually met with his starry-eyed followers, waiting for their glorious Overlifer to begin speaking. She didn’t know why, but today, she hated them all.

James was sitting on Marly’s throne, smoking as always, his head leaning on Maria’s shoulder as she stood beside him. They were speaking to each other, and though Mary was closest to them she couldn’t make out anything. It was only when Maria looked up and beckoned for her to come that she heard what James was complaining about.

“Where is your sister, Mary? We can’t start if everyone isn’t here.” He twitched his tail furiously with annoyance. “She’s always doing this shit.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said honestly. She hadn’t seen Anne since she had fled yesterday. She had kind of expected her to return at some point, which made no sense, now that she thought about it. Coming back wouldn’t mean she would be spared, especially if James knew now.

But he didn’t know. Mary had decided not to tell him— she could handle Anne on her own, and when she was dead she could tell James all about it and watch his eyes light up with pride. For now, though, he didn’t have to know, because then Anne didn’t have to die just yet; there was no clock ticking for Mary, urging her to do it now, now, now, kill your sister.

She could do it whenever she liked. She could decide all on her own. It wasn’t deceit or treason, surely, as long as she still did it.

She would do it, of course. She wasn’t like James. For now, she just had to deal with the displeasure on his face as he looked around the room, then sank back into the throne with a sigh, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “She’ll hear about this when she gets back,” he muttered, “I’ll drill it right into her fucking skull.” Oh, Anne. Mary sighed. Always making things worse for yourself.

“And your little Villiers friends?” James asked. “I see Elizabeth, but where is Anne?”

“That...I don’t know, either.” That was a little bit more worrying, though at least this Anne had the advantage of having actually pleased James immensely a few days back. He couldn’t be too harsh on her, could he? She was the reason they were all here.

“I’m starting to suspect treason from your sister,” James said, “and insolence from your friend. Tame that girl, Mary, or I’ll have to do it myself. As I must do all things around here,” he added with a yawn.

I’m sorry, you’ll have to remind me who captured William and who didn’t, came the tempting retort in Mary’s mind, but she only smiled and bowed her head.

“Yes, sir.”

“James, please, today is supposed to be a happy day,” Maria said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mary could see that she was already tense, the tip of her tail stiffly twitching behind her. “Don’t stress too much about it, you’ll make your nose bleed again.”

“I’m not stressed,” James snapped, batting her off. “But can you blame me for wanting my daughter here to witness this victory? This is the longest she’s been out of my sight, and it is at the worst possible time.”

“It’s barely been a day,” Maria said. She reached down to take his hand, lifting it to her lips to kiss it. “She’ll come back. Just get on with it, before William finds a way to escape. The longer we wait, the less time we have before someone inevitably comes and tries to rescue him.”

“We don’t have to wait for them,” Mary added.

James paused, then stood up, kissing Maria on the cheek as he did so. “Very well,” he said. “We shall begin.”

Finally. Mary stepped back, taking her place back beside Elizabeth. She had no regrets over this, none at all; she only wished she could have been the one to capture and kill William, as had been the original plan for years. It was a simpler way for him to go, the way Charles would have liked, without ceremony nor honor. But Charles was dead, and now his brother...

Well, he’s a little different, isn’t he? She took a deep breath and looked up at her father. And William was never meant to go out so easily, by the hands of someone like—

You.

“Welcome, all Disciples, to the first of many trials for our captured Overlifer,” James began. “This is an ancient ceremony, one that hasn’t been performed for centuries. However, today I’d like to bring it back as a celebration of our victory. Our enemies are now on the verge of defeat. We have their leader.”

No one else deserves him. Mary held her hand over her heart. It was going too fast for all the nothing that was going on. So do it, James.

Kill him.

“The Overlifer must answer for his crimes,” James went on. “He must admit that what he did to us was wrong, and that his existence, in reality, holds no meaning. He must acknowledge me as the true authority of humanity. He must beg for my forgiveness.” His eyes glinted, and the Disciples all leaned in with interest. “But it will not be granted.”

At that, the curtains flew open behind the audience, and they all looked back to see William himself, dragged in by Ally Marly and the spirit handler Robert Spencer. At the sight of him the Disciples began to cheer and roar, jeering at him as he walked by each of them.

“Fucking snake! Look at him drool!”

“Half-drowned mouse!”

“We got Spencer on this guy? He must be pretty damn weak!”

“Call snake’s eye for an eye, sir, let him service us!”

“Bring him down!”

“Let him kneel!”

Devils below. Mary’s eyes widened as William came by her. He was in an even worse state now, wheezing through his open mouth as water dripped down his face and hair. The tip of his tail was strangely twisted, his shirt ruffled and torn open at his chest, a blindfold tied around his head. His horns, however, were trimmed into sharper and neater points than Mary remembered, with chains of gold tied in between them.

“Kneel before James Stewart, animal,” Marly said, slamming his heel down on William’s tail. William jumped, hissing under his breath, and Marly pulled on the chain on his collar, bringing him down before the stream running in front of the throne. Spencer bowed towards James, then ducked back into the crowd of Disciples, his eyes flashing as he watched William.

What’s he looking at him that way for? Mary shook herself with disgust.

“Wasted no time,” she heard James say as Marly handed him the chain. “Good boy.”

Marly made no comment, merely sat beside James on the armrest of the throne and smiled down at William.

Self-satisfied cunt. Mary rolled her eyes and fixed her gaze on William. Under the dim light of the candles above he was beautiful, a figure at its finest when it was bound, his wet locks gleaming like his eyes would have had it not been for the blindfold. With his head forced up, he looked as if he were defying James.

“Look at that,” Elizabeth muttered beside her.

“I’m looking.”

James cleared his throat, and the whole room fell silent. They all watched their Overlifer stand, his eyes no longer anything but cold, his lips letting loose gray smoke. He brought the chain closer and stepped over the stream..

“Look upon this blasphemer, this criminal,” he said. “William Henry Nassau; our most persistent enemy, and the most convincing of liars. I shudder to think what deceit he infects his Devils with to ensure their loyalty to the wrong Overlifer.”

Really? Mary could almost laugh.

“When he is dead, the Devils will come under my control, under the right Overlifer,” James continued. He stepped forward, pulling the chain up until William was forced to lift himself off his legs. “They shall never remember you, William. You, who were born through evil, and have led the life that your father wrote out for you from the moment you were born.” He curled his lip back in disgust. “It’s pathetic to watch. You’re just like your mother.”

Why bring that up now? Mary swallowed. He just had to get it over with!

William’s only response was a wide lash of his tail. James glanced at the audience, then pressed his cigarette down on William’s tongue.

The shriek that came from him was what broke the spell; as he fell back, crying out and shaking his head, the Disciples began to laugh again, some of them clapping their hands. Maria’s eyes widened behind James, but she said nothing.

“Our glorious leader has finally gotten a scream out of the imperturbable Defender of the Faith!” Marly yelled, invoking the ancient name for the leader of the Devils of Orange-Nassau. “Long live James Stewart, long live the Restoration!”

The Disciples echoed his call, Elizabeth joining in with much enthusiasm. Mary hesitated, then lifted her head to take up the cry, watching William furiously pull back on the chain. James did not look up, kept his gaze frozen there, upon William. The only indication of life from him was his tail swaying slowly behind him in satisfaction.

He raised his hand, and the Disciples eagerly shut up again in no time at all. James brought his hand down to lift William’s head, untying the gag and pulling it out of his mouth. There was a pause as William swallowed, closing his mouth and then opening it once more, this time to spit at James, “Fuck you!”

Oh, William. Mary shook her head, the gasps of the Disciples audible around her.

“Is that all you can say?” James asked. “Nothing to defend yourself?”

“I don’t- I don’t have to defend anything that I-” William cut himself off with a cough. “That I have ever done. I know who the real Overlifer is here. It’s not you, you- you fucking fraud! Do you think you have any right to treat me this way? If I would ever kill you, th-there would be no ceremony! You don’t fucking deserve it, you piece of shit, fucking creep—”

“Do you realize from where you’re talking right now?” James tilted his head to the side. “I can make your death so much more painful than it has to be.”

“Ha!” William laughed viciously. “You were already planning on that. Sadistic bitch!”

“What was that?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? I knew you were getting old, but you’re hardly in your fifties!” William laughed again. “But you did hear! I called you a bitch and a sadist, both, even—”

James drove his knee upward, striking right under William’s chin, sending him flying back against the floor. He let out a hiss as his head landed, and James snorted, circling him with a flicking tail.

“Had your fill?” he asked. “Insolent brat.”

Mary’s breath hitched as William sat up again. “Never,” he said. “Lying, cheating, arrogant viper, relying on your daughter to do everything for you! Lazy, apathetic—”

It was James’ turn to hiss like a primitive devil. He took William by the neck and forced his head under the water at the stream, bringing his heel down onto it again and again. He took William’s flailing tail and twisted it around his wrist.

“Holy shit,” Elizabeth snorted.

Now he’s really mad. Mary looked down at the floor, her vision blurring before her. It was just as it had been at the fight— this sick uncertainty in her, even without her father’s eyes on her. But they would turn towards her soon, she was sure of it.

“Are you alright?” she heard Elizabeth ask. “Mary, pay attention.”

“I- I know.” Mary inhaled sharply. “It’s just- just the drugs again.” She looked up again, realized with horror that her father was looking straight at her.

“You do not get to say anything about my family,” James growled, nodding once at Mary and then glaring back down at William. “What do you think you would know? Hm?” He pulled William back out, kicking him in the side as he bowed his head, coughing and taking in raspy breaths. Surprisingly, he managed to bite back any noise this time, though he shuddered at the impact.

“Nothing to say now?” James smiled back at the stunned audience, as pleasant as he had been at the beginning. “Very well. Let the trial begin. Like the fight from before, it can only end in one way— death, as many times as it must come to him.” He brought William’s head back up by the chain, speaking over the hacking coughs. “William Henry Nassau is charged with the following crimes—”

“You- you and your fucking theatrics!” William cut in with evident effort. “Flashy bitch! That’s why you have- you’ve got your wife on one arm and an Ally on the other! An affair with an Ally, now that’s fucking rich from an- an Overlifer who claims he’s valid!”

Shut up, William, by the stars! What did he think he could do from this position?

Maria narrowed her eyes and glared at Marly, flicking her tail dismissively at him. James looked between the both of them, then turned back to William, his eyes bright with rage.

“Oh, you never know when to shut up, do you?” he snarled. He lifted William up by his collar and stepped over the water, throwing him back against the throne. “Then let us go through your crimes this way, shall we?”

“I plead guilty to all of them.” William curled his lip back in a sneer, his tail twitching erratically.

“So you admit it,” James said. “That you did send assassins after me, my brother, and my most valuable Disciples.” As he spoke, he drove his fist into William’s face, hard enough for William’s head to bounce back and blood to begin dribbling out of his mouth and nose.

“Yes,” William gasped out. He still bared his teeth.

“That you did kidnap, torture, and execute hostages you promised to return to us unharmed.” James dug his fingers into William’s hair and shoved him back to the ground, keeping his hold on William’s head to land another blow on it.

“Yes.” William bit hard into his lip, making a sound like he was trying to swallow, and James let him fall.

“That you did cause the death of my people in your terrorist attacks all throughout the nation, whether it was intentional or not.” He landed another vicious kick in William’s ribs, then his neck, and finally his head, where a startling crack was heard from his horns.

“Yes.” From where Mary was standing, she could not see his face as he answered.

James took the chain from William’s collar and swung it carelessly around in his hands. This time he did not pull William up, rather he let him stay on the ground, and instead raised the chain behind him and then brought it down against William’s back.

“AUGH—!” William roared, his whole body jolting, and the Disciples leaned in with renewed fascination.

“That you did intercept our lines of weapons, narcotics, Westerners and Northerners, whatever it may be, and caused us a great loss in profit.” James folded the length of the chain in, bringing it down again with more force.

William’s answer came in his scream. “Yes—!”

“That you did disrespect me and my divine authority.” James held his foot over the tip of William’s tail and did the same as before. Mary swore the screams were louder this time.

“Yes!”

James didn’t pause anymore, not beyond a few seconds between each lash of the chain. “That you did murder your mother as a boy.” His voice seemed to grow quieter with every accusation, as if in a nervous anticipation.

“Yes, by the stars— yes!” William was still quick to answer, though Mary thought he might have been choking on his own blood, dizzy with agony even she couldn’t imagine.

“Murdered his mother? What’s all that about?” Elizabeth murmured.

Mary shook her head helplessly. To James, it must have looked that way, and he must have believed in it; therefore he was correct.

“That you did break the promise you made to her before her death,” he went on. He kicked William again, knocking him back down as he tried to right himself under the relentless whipping. The chain made a lovely, unfamiliar sound as it came down.

William let out a long, breathless shriek, breaking off with a retching cough. “YES!”

“That you did murder my brother,” James finished, pulling William closer by the chain and lifting him in the air by his neck. He really was so small. “Three times over.”

William did not answer, and James smiled as he lifted the blindfold from his eyes, revealing the many bruises underneath. But those very eyes were still narrowed in defiance and hatred as they raked over James.

“I-”

“It’s a yes or no question, William, don’t make this difficult for us,” James said, squeezing his fingers tighter around his throat. “It’s the same as all the other ones.”

I’m so sorry, Mary thought, involuntarily, then cursed herself for it. But she saw William’s eyes roll back, heard his breaths begin to quiet down, and thought right then of how needless it all was, every drop of blood spilled to arrive at this moment, every breath stolen away. She wasn’t satisfied at all.

And you, William? Would you do the same? She focused on his quivering lips. He wanted to say something. Of course he did.

“You’re asking the wrong person, sir,” came a firm voice from behind the audience.

Mary turned, along with all the rest of the Disciples, and recognized her sister there, illuminated by the numerous candles near the entrance. Her eyes shone as she lifted her head, and Mary realized that behind her stood what must have been an Ally, if she could guess from his dark eyes. Ally George, she remembered now. A new Ally of New Amsterdam, the one who could read minds.

Does she know him? She winced when his gaze passed over her. Ah, don’t look at me—!

“Anne, my princess, you’re just in time,” James cooed, letting go of William. The latter fell to the ground, gasping sharply, and Marly called a spear from the devils, holding it over William as if to guard him.

“Don’t call me that,” Anne spat. “Liar.”

James raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that? It’s a lot coming from someone who disappeared without notice right before this momentous execution. You missed the best part.” His eyes widened when he saw the Ally standing behind her. “And who is this you brought us?” He twitched the tip of his tail at Maria, whose hand drifted to her gun.

“Why does it matter to you?” Anne asked.

Don’t make him mad again! Mary ducked her head as James stepped over the water, his tail lashing slowly like that of a cat poised to pounce. Indeed, his eyes were the same way— focused on nothing else at all.

“If you bring an enemy right before me, then of course it matters to me,” he said. “Unless this Ally wants to join us.”

“Nobody would want to join you after all you’ve done.” Anne turned her gaze to all the rest of the Disciples. “Your crimes, even as an Overlifer, are excessive. But I’ll only name the one that everyone here cares about. Ferocity knows nobody gives a shit about how you’ve treated us.”

“What are you going on about now?” James rolled his eyes. “Anne, come in here. Step aside from the Ally.”

Anne edged closer to George, and Mary swallowed. Oh, they do know each other. A little too well.

“I confronted Mary a few days ago,” Anne began, and Mary’s heart stopped. “She confirmed something I had already suspected, from the moment I saw our late Overlifer’s body. That James Stewart is responsible for the death of his brother.”

“What?” James turned to glare at Mary.

“I- I wasn’t—” Mary didn’t know what to say that would keep James’ secret any longer. There wasn’t any excuse she could offer other than she was high, but even that made no sense to her. She couldn’t fathom herself, her own reasons, her own life.

The Disciples were staring at Anne with an angry sort of confusion, like they didn’t quite believe her yet, even with the lack of any denial on James’ part— not until she said the next thing.

“Ah, responsible, yes,” Anne said, “but not quite the assassin. I’m sure it comes as no surprise that it was Mary who murdered him, under his orders. She told me this herself with the utmost honesty. But, in case you still don’t believe me, I’ve brought us a mindreader.” She looked to George expectantly. “What’s my father thinking now?”

“He’s wondering what to say to convince them all that you’re lying, or crazy, or both,” he said, rather pleasantly. “I think you’re neither.”

The Disciples recoiled like swiped flies, letting out shocked hisses and whispers, their frantic gazes darting between Mary and James and then back to Anne. James’ eyes widened, but he said nothing to defend himself.

“Without any remorse,” Anne continued, “it was the both of them that carried out this plan, and they succeeded because none of you could be bothered to look within our own ranks, towards our so-called leader. Do you think evil knows any limits?” She lifted her tail, the once-beautiful tip now bandaged and bloodied. “Do you think James would have been content to die without the glory of his brother? No, he is greater than one life.”

“So he needed six,” a furious voice muttered from within the audience. Mary couldn’t tell who it was, but that was what pushed the quiet Disciples over the edge, finally allowing them to set free their outraged, horrified cries.

“Say it isn’t true! What’s your defense, sir?”

“Mary told her this? How do we know she was telling the truth?”

“How do we know Anne is telling the truth?”

“That’s Ally George, isn’t it? His powers aren’t a lie!”

“Was Monmouth right, then?”

“Did you do it, sir? Did you kill your brother?”

“We can’t be too hasty—”

“Mary, is it true?”

That last one was Elizabeth, watching Mary back away fearfully. There was not hatred nor suspicion there, only a cold certainty.

“I- I must follow his orders,” was the only thing she could manage.

In all of this, James remained silent. He was staring at Anne with something unreadable in his eyes. She stared back, lifting her head as if to challenge him.

“It was William, wasn’t it?” Marly asked behind him, keeping his spear over William. “You loved your brother, you- you wouldn’t have.” He reached out towards James, then drew back when he received no answer.

“You still think Anne would lie?” Sarah hopped over the stream to stand at his side, and he sighed bitterly, looking back down at William.

As he did so, Maria ran over to Mary, taking her by the shoulders. “Mary!” she cried. “I- I told you James had killed Charles, he told me himself, he was so proud of it, but- if you knew, Mary, that it was you— why didn’t you tell me, did you think-” She took a shuddering breath, her eyes filling with tears. “How could you do this?”

“Did you expect me to disobey?” Mary’s voice broke; she was crying, too.

Maria hesitated, as if she were about to say something else, but then James raised his hand, calling for silence. Miraculously, he was obeyed, though Mary guessed it was no longer out of respect, but impatience. They wanted to hear his explanation, his excuse, more of his lies that they would happily swallow up if it meant they could go back to hating the true enemy— William, still lying breathlessly before Marly.

But, for once, he did not lie. “Yes, I ordered Mary to kill Charles,” he said simply. “And she did very well. I never expected her to reveal this information, much less so easily,” he added, in a tone that sent dread through Mary, “but it’s out now. What will you do about it?”

The Disciples did not reply, frozen in terror. James raised his voice.

“I ask you, what will you do?” he shouted. “What do you think you can do to me? I have my six lives now. I was chosen by those trembling devils, scared of my power! Do you hear that? My power! They knew what I had done when I came to them, and they didn’t care. They know an Overlifer must do anything to forward his destiny.” He shook his head slowly, lapping at the blood that had started to run from his nose with his tongue. “Charles had lost his mind. He was not fit to lead us any longer; I freed him, and I freed you. Ungrateful little rats.”

“You really expect nothing to come out of this?” Anne blurted. “He’s a traitor, everyone! Do something!”

James laughed, even as the blood ran into his mouth, staining his golden teeth. “What?” he asked. “What are they supposed to do? As long as I have my six lives, they’re mine and they know it. Their loyalty cannot waver. They realize now that this was not the act of a traitor— this was an act of love.”

Love. Love. What is all this, love? Mary couldn’t even pretend to believe it anymore.

It was a moment before Maria pulled away from Mary to stand beside her husband. “I stand beside James Stewart,” she announced, “always.”

And then, much to even Mary’s shock, the rest of the Disciples began to relent, echoing her promise, bowing their heads as they did so. Elizabeth did the same, and Mary soon followed, hoping it was real enough for James. She didn’t know if it was real enough for her.

Marly was the last one to speak. “I follow James Stewart.” He did not look at the Overlifer.

James grinned at Anne, who looked around at the Disciples in bewilderment.

“Love,” she whispered, then, louder, “love! If that’s your definition, then I love you, too, sir.” With that, she took the gun from her belt and shot her father in the head.

“James—!” Maria caught him before he fell, his body convulsing in her arms. Mary ran to help her as the shouting Disciples rushed beside her, crowding around their leader— desperate to do anything, but knowing they could do nothing when they saw the blood pouring from his shattered face. He was already dead, his first life spilling all over Maria.

Mary reached out to take her father’s hand. She waited for the fingers to squeeze around her wrist, to bring her closer. She heard Maria crying out his name, holding him to her chest protectively as the Disciples leaned in.

You’ll come back. Mary let go of his hand with some difficulty, stepping away as the candlelight swam and blurred around her. She let out an involuntary sob and covered her mouth. 

Just do it soon.

Someone had to die for this, and she knew who. Looking over the crowd, she looked up towards the entrance, towards her sister.

She was speaking to Sarah, Marly at her side, nodding as if he were listening. Anne held a spell out towards him, and he seemed to read it over before nodding once more. Then she looked behind her shoulder, meeting Mary’s gaze.

You killed our father, Mary wanted to scream. But she couldn’t bring herself to pull out her gun.

And I’ll do it again, Anne seemed to respond with her sneer. She turned decisively away with Sarah and George, dropping the spell on the floor. Her lashing tail knocked over two of the candles by the curtains as she left.

What did she—?

The flames of the candles brushed against the curtains, and the fire started slowly...burning away at the stars...flickering over the slip of paper on the ground...and then Mary realized what the spell was for.

“Louis help me!” she uttered in horror before taking one of her own spells from her pocket, praying it was the right one. Slamming it on the floor, she screamed, “Louis le Grand, délivre-nous du tout mal!”

The shadows came up at the same time as the explosion, shielding all of the Disciples. It had never once worked for her before, but now they seemed to embrace her with their protection, as if they’d been waiting for her and not the other way around. It was a strange sensation, and she wagged her finger in a circle almost too eagerly, letting the shadows retreat again.

Thank you, Your Majesty, she thought as she looked around the room, though there wasn’t much to see aside from the smoke, rising high over the flames that surrounded her. Her eyes stung at the heat, and she bowed her head, running back towards Maria.

“What- what is all this?” Maria yelled over the panicked exclamations of the Disciples.

“Fucking Anne! And-”

“Western fire spell, it looks like,” Marly interrupted as he ran up beside them, kneeling down beside Maria to brush James’ hair from his face.

“A whole spell was used?” Maria’s eyes widened. “We have to get out, now!” She lifted James in her arms, and Marly began to help her; remarkably, she hissed at him to back away.

That’s right, traitor. Now there was something Mary would have to tell James when he came back. Perhaps Marly had even known what Anne was here to do. Sarah undoubtedly had.

“Up here!” she heard Spencer cry out. She looked back and saw him shooting one of the stained glass windows, the faces of the devils falling before them. He shot out two more and looked expectantly back at the Disciples, gesturing with his tail to follow him out.

William! Mary remembered. She had to get to him before the inevitable stampede did, pushing past her to escape.

“Oh, it’s so hot in here,” Maria panted beside her. “I think I’m going to faint.”

“That would be a really bad idea,” Mary said unhelpfully. “I’m taking William.”

“What? Why not just let him die here?” Maria asked. She looked smaller than ever beneath the towering flames, with her husband slumped in her arms. “We don’t have time to waste on him!”

“Maybe you don’t.” Mary ran ahead to the throne, where, perhaps worryingly, William still lay. The fire was drawing ever closer, she realized, clawing at the windows as if it wanted to follow the Disciples out. She saw tails getting singed on their way out.

It’ll be more than that if we don’t hurry. With the windows shot out, who knew how long it was until flashover?

“William,” she said as she crouched beside the body lying before her, turned away from her with only a twitching tail to indicate its terror. “I’m here.” She lifted him in her arms, perhaps a little rougher than Maria would have.

He was still alive, thankfully, and conscious, though he looked like he was on the way out, his eyes drifting open and shut and his chest heaving rapidly. Mary untied his hands and stood up, grunting at him to hold on to her neck. He had enough strength to obey, but not very well.

“You- you said goodbye to me,” he whispered against her cheek.

“You’re not leaving after this,” she said, and he laughed, shaking his head.

“No. Neither of us...”

Nearly all the Disciples had emptied out, leaving only Maria dragging James out of the window. Marly helped her up, precariously balancing over the windowsill. It was a little higher than what a normal human could jump to.

“Mary, hurry if you’re going to take him!” Maria called. “I’m not leaving here without you.” She hesitated before jumping back down, running to Mary’s side. “Is he heavy?”

“Not- not at all.” Mary was breathing hard; she wondered if it was the smoke she was breathing in. She had to keep her head low.

“Marly, take William,” Maria ordered, taking William in her arms and pushing him up towards Marly. “I’ll help Mary up.”

Marly shook his head. “I have to take James first. William can afford to lose this life.”

“But we can’t!” Maria said. She gasped as the flames seemed to fly at her face, and she stepped back, holding her tail over Mary. “Hurry up, Ally, or we’ll burn alive in here!”

“Just...hold on a second. I’ll be right back.” 

“What?” Maria raised her voice. “Get us up there or so help me James!”

“Our leader cannot die,” Marly said. With that, he took James by his shirt collar and hopped outside, dragging his master with him.

“Fucking Allies!” Maria looked around the room frantically, and Mary held William tighter. The fire rose higher before them, blocking out their last three hopes with its heat and what must have surely been its anger.

“You should have- have left without me,” William said. “You only have one—” He broke off, his body shaking all over with the force of his coughs.

Oh, that was right. She was going to die here. It wasn’t such a bad way to go, but oh, so woefully dishonorable, at the hands of traitors.

Traitors like Marly. He wasn’t going to come back, of that she was certain.

“We don’t have time to wait!” Maria pressed closer to Mary, her tail flicking with terror. “Do you have any protection spells left?”

“Not ones that can stop fire.”

“Oh, no,” Maria breathed, looking up at the ceiling. “Even the devils are fleeing. No...”

“Now’s not the time, Maria.” Mary only wished she could make this death less painful for William. She didn’t know what was worse; being beheaded or burning alive.

“Mary.” She felt Maria’s hand on her wrist. “Please- please don’t be afraid.”

“What?” “The only thing that scares me more than this is losing you.” Maria blinked, and her eyes seemed to flicker through the smoke, the only soft light among the flames and darkness. “When faced with that, you’ll see this is nothing at all.” She raised her voice, and shaking as it was Mary only felt more afraid.

“Maria—”

Maria screamed something in an ancient tongue Mary didn’t know, wrapping her arms around both her stepdaughter and William. Mary closed her eyes as the heat all around them might have killed them, when the darkness was lit by the endless blaze tenfold.

But she realized she could still think, she was still awake, and when she looked up she saw Maria still holding her, the massive white wings from her back being the only thing shielding them all from certain death.

  🝰🝰🝰

There was smoke in the distance, Bentinck noted as he rested his head against the window of the car. Bidloo was driving rather recklessly at this point, cursing drivers under his breath, but all of Bentinck’s thoughts were on William, now that Anne was back with him.

“Is that the Hoerenkast?” he heard her ask from behind them.

“Why would they burn anything for an execution?” Bentinck turned his head sharply towards her. “Are they—?”

“The first execution wouldn’t be so brutal,” Anne rushed to reassure him. “James said that he’d drag out the suffering even more each time. Maybe...maybe it’s something else.”

“What would a first execution look like?” Bentinck knew that was the wrong question to ask, but he couldn’t look away. He had to know what he was facing, what would happen if they were too late.

“Just the usual, I think,” Anne said. “Slit his throat. Let him bleed out.”

Well, we’ve seen countless of those, haven’t we? He’d seen how the blood ran out, how the prisoners choked on it, how their eyes widened when they saw their life spilling on the ground.

But, of course, neither William nor Bentinck had ever been on the receiving end.

He had already convinced himself that it wasn’t the Hoerenkast that was on fire, so when they stopped in front of the building and saw the smoke rising from the windows, from the open balconies, it felt as if his breath had been knocked out of him.

Like William’s breath surely would be if he was in there. He began to open the door, but Bidloo held a hand over his shoulder.

“Are you trying to get hit? We’re still on the street!”

“You’re not seriously asking me to wait!” Bentinck argued. “William is in there!”

“Nobody knows that,” Bidloo said. “So at least try to look calm, alright?” He hesitated before adding, “I’ll let you off here, just don’t do anything stupid. But get out now, we’re causing traffic!” He shoved Bentinck towards the door, and the Ally opened the door and stepped out into the street. He looked back as he crossed, realizing Anne was following him.

“I didn’t even have to ask.” He smiled down at her as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “I knew you’d be with me.”

“And I knew you were going to attempt something stupid,” Anne said. She looked up at the Hoerenkast, speaking over the distant sirens approaching. “Back here again, huh? Well, you’re not going in there this time, Hans.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Bentinck shook his head. “You know that nobody in there is going to save him!” He began to walk towards the entrance, where it didn’t look like the fire had reached yet, but Anne took his hand.

“Mary- Mary might.”

“You’d risk his lives for might?”

“You’d risk your life for William?” Anne glared at him, pulling him towards her. “You’re powerful, but you’re not invulnerable. You can’t just walk through fire.”

“Maybe the fire hasn’t even reached him yet,” Bentinck said. “Anne, I have to do this. I’ve explained to you before how much I need him, and how much he needs— me.”

“You don’t need anyone in your life, Hans, you just think you do.” Anne lifted a hand to cup Bentinck’s cheek, taking a sharp breath. “But I want you to be happy.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be happy if you’re dead. So just—” She kissed him then, and he shut his eyes, nearly forgetting everything else. He couldn’t allow himself to, but he let her warmth slow his heart, ground him in this reality, where he could have her and William and they could all be happy.

“I trust you to survive,” she said as she backed away. “I know you won’t let me go with you, so at least take that.”

“With pleasure,” Bentinck said. He looked up, realized with alarm that there were Disciples he recognized crowding the sidewalk, some of them with singed tails or horns, most of them coughing. They were coming from the back of the Hoerenkast, glaring up at it as if they were questioning the audacity this heretic structure had to dare to burn with them inside of it. And yet...among them, he could not see James, he could not see Marly nor Mary, and, most importantly, he could not see William.

“Go with them,” Bentinck said to Anne. “Don’t let them see you with me.”

“I love you,” she said, turning away from him.

And I love you. He didn’t need to say it out loud to know that she knew. Ducking away from the crowd, he waited until they were all looking either at each other or at the street to dart inside the building, shutting the door behind him.

It was remarkably calm here at the lobby, where a servant was usually there to greet him. He wondered if Marly had the place cleared for the execution; he had the authority to do so, and no one would have questioned him for it. It would just be an event for the pleasure of the devils, surely. William had Bentinck do it all the time for his own events.

They really don’t even have fire alarms in here? Bentinck looked up, seeing faint wisps of smoke on the ceiling. It was the oldest Hoerenkast in the city, yes, but there had to be some sensible upgrades made along the decades.

He knelt on the floor, sending his senses out everywhere around him, letting himself melt into the distant sounds and smells. He was the smoke, he was the flame, he was the aura—

Who’s there?!

He jolted out of his focus, his head jerking up in terror. Never once had he heard a voice interrupt him. But he recognized it, knew where it was coming from, and that was enough for him to go on ahead, the air becoming lighter and hotter around him as he advanced through the winding halls.

As he turned a corner he found the source of the fire; one of the meeting rooms, the largest one here, where Ally Marly always met with his followers. The whole of that hall was beginning to catch on fire as well, with the tapestries hanging on the walls burning away. It was through the haze of smoke that Bentinck saw the aforementioned figure step forward.

“It was you,” he said to Marly as he approached. “I thought you would have left with your Disciples by now.”

“I had to come back in,” Marly hissed. “Trying to hurry this shit along.”

“So you want this place to burn down?” Bentinck asked. “It seems needlessly dangerous to do it while everyone is inside.”

“Makes it more believable,” Marly said. “Just another one of those terrorist attacks.” He yawned, and that was when Bentinck saw that he dragged a limp body in one hand, dangerously close to the flames spreading around them.

William? He leaned in with narrowed eyes, only for a spear to come up in front of him, nearly slicing through his eye had he not jumped back at the last second.

“Why does he matter to you?” Marly held the body up. The head, torn open and bloody, was nearly unrecognizable, but the jagged horns convinced Bentinck of its identity.

“James,” he breathed. “He’s dead.”

“Once, maybe.”

“Did William do this?”

“William! Ha!” Marly grinned. “He is already dead as well.”

“What?” Bentinck shifted his glare back to him. “Where is he? Is he in that room there?”

“You’re not going there.”

So he is! Bentinck bared his fangs, raising his hand to call the claws of the devils to help him. They came to him like they never had when he was a boy, and as he brought his hand back down he shot them forward, glowing little blades heading towards Marly’s neck.

Marly leaped up with impressive speed, high above Bentinck, still holding James. He landed on one of the windowsills and tore a tapestry down easily, with strength that Bentinck thought might have failed him in this heat. He waved it in the air, the subsequent winds fanning the flames back, letting them move faster towards Bentinck.

Go now! Before it gets worse! He would not stay here to fight Marly, not this time. He ran forward, jumping as high as he could over the flames, waving the smoke away with minor Northern wind spells and keeping his head bowed. He could breathe in smoke like the devils could, but he didn’t know for how long, and that didn’t stop his eyes from stinging both at the brightness and the ever-increasing heat.

He heard glass shatter once, twice. Marly was breaking more windows, more oxygen was being let through. He stepped forward, trying to make anything out through the smoke, only for something to burn at his legs.

“Ah—!” He sprung back, but stopped short when he felt heat touch him there too. He could not move from his place. Were his clothes on fire already? He rolled back on the ground, kicking his legs out to try to put it out.

Oh, shit. He looked up desperately, seeing glowing eyes glinting at him through the smoke, a flippant hand waving it away as simply as if it were a bird. There was Marly, walking through fire, now holding James in both arms with more care than Bentinck thought that man deserved.

“There will always be someone more than you,” Marly said. “The devils have chosen me.”

“They chose me too!” Bentinck cried, his breath hitching and breaking off with a cough.

“Ah, Lord Portland, dripping poison onto everything he touched,” Marly went on. “A fearful beast in his time. But Lord Marlborough bested them all; the commander of fire and thunder and power ruined every devil that came his way! You’ll have no such privilege.” He looked almost manic, with his wide, red eyes and the sweat dripping down his hair. “My lord.”

“You think you’re the only one who can survive this?!” Bentinck spat. “You’re not any more powerful than all the other Allies.”

“With James at my side, I think I rather am.” Marly lifted the limp head in his arms, leaning in so that he almost kissed the bloodstained lips. “I didn’t want this to happen. I wish I could be happy with him. I wish I didn’t—” He paused, his voice breaking. “I wish I didn’t feel like I could hate him everyday. Like I could kill him. How can you be happy with him?”

With him? Bentinck began to crawl forward, muttering the wind spells again. It was a very narrow path to drag himself through, and he had to curl in on himself as the fire would begin again behind him. He bowed his head, praying he knew where he was going.

“I wish I could just let him die. And you can do that so easily right now. So why don’t you?”

“I have never known fear like you, my lord.”

“I hope all four of you die here,” Marly said at length, and then there was silence behind Bentinck, nothing but the roaring of the fire to fill Bentinck’s ears.

All four of you? Well, who were the other three? He looked up dizzily.

“William!” he called. “William— please!” He didn’t know what he was begging for. He knew he was in the room when the darkness was replaced by nothing but orange, orange, orange, everywhere around him, where even the wind spells couldn’t help him.

I can’t go in there like this! He could call King Louis, the only spell that could protect him now— if the king decided to listen. And nine times out of ten, he never did, even to the most skilled of Allies.

I have to try. He rested his head on the ground, shutting his eyes and pounding his fist on the floor.

Louis le Grand, délivre-nous du tout mal.

He didn’t dare believe, but then he felt the heat begin to draw away from him. He could still hear crackling, wood creaking; had it worked? William said everything was silent among the shadows. He cautiously looked up and gasped.

It was not shadows, but James’ wife, Maria Beatrice, with that blinding aura of hers. Maybe she was someone whom Bentinck should have feared, but she never joined the fights, never went out to kill. She was always beside James, his quiet, perfect little love.

Now she stared down at him with majestic, feathered wings held up defensively over his body to keep the flames away. Clinging to her was Mary, swaying like she were about to fall (and indeed she might have, seeing the exhaustion and confusion on her face), and in her arms she held William.

William! His head lay against Mary’s chest, his tail and arms hanging limp.

“No,” Bentinck blurted, stumbling to his feet. Maria watched him warily as he leaned in towards William.

“I knew you would be here,” Mary said simply. “Do you want him?”

“That’s not even a question,” Bentinck snapped. He held his arms out for William, and Mary handed him over as she leaned back on Maria’s wings. Bentinck didn’t know of any spell that gave anyone wings as big as these, especially ones that rendered Maria impervious to fire, but he couldn’t be bothered to ask right now.

“William,” he said, his voice shaking as he moved the hair from William’s bruised face. There was blood all over it, still falling from his nose and lips. It had made a mess over his neck, where there was a curious collar strapped there. “What did he do to you?”

William didn’t answer. He was wheezing sharply, and dangerously, and Bentinck decided that talk could wait until later.

“I don’t suppose you’ll walk me out,” he said to Maria.

“James would be so very, very happy if you died here,” she said. “Don’t you want him to be happy?”

“N-No, not really.”

Maria hummed thoughtfully. “I let you go the first time Mary killed him, and he didn’t even look my way. You know, there always has to be someone to stop him.”

“Yes.” Bentinck bowed his head. He had no idea where she was going with this, but maybe if he agreed with her they could hurry this along. William wouldn’t last long here.

If he has lasted at all. William had grown eerily quiet in his arms.

“We’re not letting him go after this,” Mary coughed beside Maria. “We can’t, not now that we have him after all this time.”

“There can only be a proper confrontation between them at the end of the world, when the trumpets of the apocalypse sound at last,” Maria said. “It’s no good trying to force an execution. No, both Overlifers are greater than that.” She nodded at Bentinck. “Stay under my wings.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He still didn’t know what she meant, but followed her as she walked through the fire, as unbothered by it as Marly had been. Perhaps she was an Ally too, albeit one that James had kept secret, but Bentinck couldn’t see black in her eyes.

“What apocalypse? What the fuck are you talking about, Maria?” Mary was hissing. “I’ve tried to be nice about it, but you know how James feels about letting your delusions affect the way we do things. If you let him go because of this, he’s going to kill you. And I don’t want that for you.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Maria asked.

“No, but—”

“Then we have nothing to worry about. Trust me...he’ll be pleased when the time comes.”

They ran into the firefighters on their way out, who were rather startled to see the generally unharmed group, especially Maria, who had not even a hint of soot on her face like the others. She folded her wings in behind her as they stepped outside.

“Is everyone okay? Somehow?” asked the one firefighter that had followed them out. “What spell did you use, my lady? It might be useful for us inside.”

“It’s not a spell anyone else could use,” Maria said. “I’m sorry. I wrote it myself.”

She did what? Bentinck turned his head sharply towards her.

“Oh- well—” The stranger glanced back at Bentinck through his mask, then stepped towards William in alarm. “What about him? Is he conscious? Come, let me take a look at him.”

“That- that won’t be necessary,” Bentinck said, backing away and holding William closer.

“What? But look at him, my lord, he’s not—”

“I’ll take him to a hospital myself, thank you.”

“But he needs to be checked over now.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Bentinck insisted again. “I promise, I know what deadly looks like, and this isn’t it. He’s under my- my divine protection and preference. He’ll be fine, at least for a little longer.” It was bullshit, but most people seemed to fall for it. He hoped this man was also most people.

The man paused, then bowed his head. “Very well. But I advise you to make it quick, my lord. It looks like he inhaled a lot of smoke.”

“I’ll be going now, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

He could tell he hadn’t made an entirely convincing argument, but what else was he to do? He was right, after all; checking over William wasn’t necessary, and nobody could look at him now without revealing the dangerous secret.

Because you’re already dead.

He nudged William’s horns, watching the head roll slightly to the side against his chest. He hadn’t imagined it; the labored breaths had stopped.

Aren’t you?

“Hans!” That was Anne calling for him. He turned away as she approached, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You actually got him.”

“Thanks to Maria,” Bentinck muttered. “No one else.” Could he have saved this life if only Marly hadn’t been there to stop him? Or was William already losing this one when he got inside?

He must have known. He must have thought I left him there. He ran his fingers through William’s matted hair, strangely wet and dry at the same time. He could smell the blood all over him, and he tried to imagine what it was that had caused him to bleed so much, what kind of pain he’d felt before he died.

“I’ve never wanted to do anything else but save you,” he said, trying to smile down at the body. “I’m sorry.” He blinked rapidly, but he let his tears fall once Anne wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing up close behind him.

“He lost a life?” she asked.

“His third,” he said, finally allowing himself a sob. “Already his fucking third. Six lives are supposed to last you, Anne, but everyone- everyone wants him dead. He must have been afraid. He must have been so afraid.” He took a shaky breath and bowed his head, burying it in William’s neck. “I would have lost him that first time.”

“He would have lost more if you hadn’t come for him,” he heard Anne say into his ear.

He didn’t have to lose any at all. If it weren’t for the deceit of the Villiers sisters—

No. He looked up, turned towards Anne. She had to follow orders. She was afraid.

“I- I suppose it had to happen,” he said.

She nodded. “And he’ll be all the more powerful for it. You were very brave to go in there, Hans.” She lifted a hand towards his face, then drew back with a nervous laugh. “But you need to get cleaned up, seriously.”

“Bentinck!”

They both looked up then, seeing Bidloo run towards them with his head bowed, like a charging bull. Under the red lights of the fire trucks, he looked more like a vengeful spirit as he approached, peering down at William in Bentinck’s arms.

“Why aren’t you getting him checked over?” he asked. “What if he-”

“He’s dead, sir,” Anne cut in. “There’s nothing more we can do for him. And there’s nothing we should do for him— we can’t make it known to anyone else here.”

“Dead?” Bidloo stumbled back, his eyes widening. “What- but you— no, Bentinck, let me look at him.”

“I’m sorry, Bidloo, I tried,” Bentinck said. “But it was too late, he couldn’t breathe—”

“It’s always too late for you!” Bidloo shouted, startling the Ally. “You can never get to him on time, you can never be at his side when he needs you— why do we even have an Ally if he’s fucking useless to us? His power means nothing! You put yourself through this for nothing!” He glared at Bentinck for a moment, then turned away with a huff.

“Come on,” he said as he walked away, his voice ominously low. “I’ll drive him to your place.”

Bentinck swallowed and turned his head up to the sky. He couldn’t make himself follow, not yet.

“He’s right about that last part, though,” Anne said.

“Not helping.”

“Maybe if you—” She cut herself off, and Bentinck looked down again to see both Elizabeth and Mary walking over to them.

“What now?” He glared pointedly at Elizabeth, who laughed and waved at him.

“You will remember that Maria saved your life,” Mary said.

“She did?” Anne asked. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t even know how she did it,” Bentinck said, shaking his head helplessly.

“I wish she hadn’t,” Elizabeth said with a dismissive flick of her tail. “Anne, have you been with this guy all day? I was waiting for you at the execution! Why haven’t you just knocked him out and taken William back yet?” Her eyes glittered. “It worked well enough the first time.”

Bentinck opened his mouth, an excuse for her ready in his mind, but Anne held her hand up to silence him.

“I’m going with him,” she said. “I’m not coming back here. I’m done with James, and you and Mary, especially Mary— you should be, too.”

“You are?” Bentinck couldn’t stop the delight from springing onto his voice. “Anne—!”

Elizabeth’s tail furiously whipped the air behind her. “I said he wouldn’t love you.”

“Even if he didn’t, I would have left, anyway,” Anne said firmly. “I didn’t know where I would go without him, but I know now. I’m not going to serve the man who has abused his whole family, my best friend—”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Mary said, clearing her throat, and Anne turned to her, her gaze softening.

“Mary, please,” she said. “Come with me. I don’t want to leave if I don’t know that- that you’ll be safe.” She reached out and took Mary’s hand, squeezing it in her own.

“Trying to steal the princess away right from under our noses!” Elizabeth hissed. “I don’t care what happens to you, Anne; James will be hearing about this.”

“You will not be telling him, Elizabeth,” Mary said, batting her on the shoulder. “That’s an order.”

“You’re just letting him go? Letting both of them go?” Elizabeth gestured at William. “We are so close, Mary. Do you want to make your father furious when he comes back?”

“When he comes back— is he dead?” Anne asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“Yes, for a little while, anyway.” Mary shrugged like she was pushing off the memory of however her father had died. Bentinck wondered if it had been in the fire as well. “You can go, Anne. Watch over William for me.”

“You’re not coming?” Anne tilted her head to the side. “Mary—”

“I just can’t,” Mary said with a bitter sigh. “He doesn’t need to lose two daughters in one night. I have to stay, I have to believe that things can get better. I’ll never be safer than I am with him.”

Does she really believe that? Bentinck couldn’t imagine William ever saying that about his own father.

Anne glanced at Bentinck, then ran into Mary’s arms, refusing to let her out of the embrace.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking.

“They’ll never make us enemies,” Mary promised. “Neither William nor James.”

“I love you. Please take care of my sister and- and yourself.” Anne pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

“I’ll do my best.” Mary turned towards Bentinck, though she kept her gaze on William. “You can take him now. Just remember what Maria said— he can’t keep running forever.”

Bentinck gave her a slight nod. “William will be the last one standing. Thank you, and...thank Maria some more for me, too.”

“She doesn’t want to hear it,” Mary said. She whisked away, back towards the Disciples, but Elizabeth stayed longer, her gaze becoming harder by the moment.

“I’ll kill you both myself,” was all she said before she turned to follow Mary.

The ride to Bentinck’s house was mostly quiet, with Bentinck trying to shake the soot and ash off his hair, face, and clothes. William could get cleaned up later— certainly he didn’t mind waiting at the moment. He noticed Anne staring at him with an amused glint in her eye, visible even in the darkness.

Bidloo was the one who carried William inside, setting him on Bentinck’s bed, which Bentinck suspected was intentional. But he didn’t object, instead sitting down beside William and fiddling with the burnt tail. He noticed it was twisted unnaturally near the tip.

“I still wonder what they did to him,” he said. “This is broken.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell us himself when he wakes up,” Bidloo said, keeping his gaze on the ground.

If he wakes up, Bentinck added to himself, though he knew William would. It was only his third life. And then he would be on his fourth...three more deaths and then Bentinck could really say his friend would never wake up again.

And he lost the first three so quickly...

“Don’t let him die again,” Bidloo said, as if he’d just been thinking the same thing. “He’s burning through these lives.”

“I know.” Somehow Bidloo saying it out loud made it more real.

“I can’t- I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I’m going to protect him, Bidloo, I promise.” Bentinck reached a hand towards Bidloo’s shoulder. “Nothing else will come first. I failed before, but- it won’t happen again. No Disciples will ever get their hands on him after this.”

Bidloo snorted. “Some promise.” He glanced at Anne.

She had stayed quiet this whole time, staring at William with an unreadable expression. The white light trickling in through the windows shone upon her tiny horns, her glossy, dark hair, giving her the appearance of a woman made of ice with how still she lay beside Bentinck.

She looked like she could shatter, he realized. There had always been danger with the Disciples, certainly, but there was no one more wanted in the world than a traitor.

🝰🝰🝰

No one could know who had died.

No one could know he was dead.

It was a hope of nonsense, a hope that would be disappointed by morning. But it was still there, as heavy as the body that Marly dragged along with him.

He had to take it to Anne. Or he had to tear James apart himself. And then that hope would be reality.

But “reality” is so boring.

He saw the car waiting in the distance. There was no one else here, watching him from the shadows. It was just him and James. Him and his— master. The love of his life.

A lie. She was only up ahead.

John, don’t do this to me.

He was imagining it.

I gave you everything.

That didn’t make that any less true.

He lifted the body up, bringing it towards his face so that the head came to lean against him. He felt the lips press to his neck, like they always did. The only difference was that James did not sigh against him.

Is that it, sir? Do I take your breath away? Marly leaned back, smiled up at the empty eye. One seemed to have been shot out, or there was too much blood to see it; no matter, there was still the other one left, sightless and beautiful.

He bowed his head and met James in a kiss. How many times had James kissed him awake, he thought wryly; how many times had he lay there in a petrified daze and James had kissed him anyway?

In the end he turned away. He could have left him to die here, but—

I have never known fear like you.

[kaseyskat]

“Brother, you look like death.” Lark remarks as he carefully weasels his way into the bedroom, balancing a bowl of soup in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

It isn’t often that one of them gets sick without the other. In fact, Lark can only think of one singular time where he had been rendered useless for an entire week from the flu- and though Sparrow somehow had never caught it, he had spent the entire week at home, fretful and worried.

Lark couldn’t understand that before, but he understands it a little bit more now as he watches Sparrow shift in the pillows, staring blearily at him with puffy wet eyes.

“I brought you some food,” he offers when Sparrow makes no attempt to respond to the comment, still just staring at him strangely. “Think you can keep it down?”

Still no response. Lark frowns, and he sets the soup and the water on the nightstand so that his hands are free as he perches on the edge of the bed. “Sparrow?” he prompts, leaning over his miserable brother and placing a hand on his forehead.

Sparrow’s forehead is sweaty and far warmer than Lark had expected, and he makes a sad little whimpering noise at the touch, like he’s only just now noticed that Lark is there. At a closer look, his eyes are unfocused, and they flutter closed as Lark’s frown deepens.

He’s never seen his brother like this before: Sparrow, despite his weaker mindset and dedication to using love to combat violence, has always been strangely resilient to illnesses and injuries. Lark doesn’t quite know what to do, how to help, but something tugs in his chest hard at the sight.

As he gently wipes at the sweat pooling on his brother’s brow, Sparrow makes another low whine, and his eyes flutter open again, hazy and unfocused even as he squints in Lark’s direction. “Larky?” he rasps, giving a shuddering exhale.

“Welcome back to lucidity, dear Sparrow,” Lark greets, and he leans in a little further so he can gently smooth back Sparrow’s damp bangs, a fond chuckle escaping him as Sparrow leans into the touch. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I lost a fight,” Sparrow says weakly, and he shivers. “And I’m so cold… can I have another blanket?”

Lark frowns again. He knows that sweating out a fever is probably the smartest option, but…

“…here, allow me,” he nudges his way into the bed, propping himself up on the pillows. It’s an invitation, one that Sparrow immediately accepts, curling into the open arms Lark offers as soon as he’s able.

He’s still so warm, almost uncomfortably so, but Lark finds he doesn’t mind. This is his brother, after all, his twin, his other half- and he knows that Sparrow would do the same for him.

“There, better?” he asks, tugging Sparrow further into his arms so that his brother’s sweaty head is nestled against his chest, far enough up that Lark can reach the blankets and tuck them back around them both.

“Mhm,” Sparrow sighs contently, and he curls both arms around Lark’s torso, his breathing ragged and hoarse.

“Good. Now please, go back to sleep. You need the rest, and I don’t want to babysit you any longer than necessary.” Lark snips, though his tone gives way to sincerity in a way he hadn’t expected; figures if anyone could turn him into a sap, it’d be his brother.

Sparrow doesn’t even respond; his eyes are fluttering, and his breathing evens out as much as his sickly body can muster, and despite it all he’s still just as adorable as he is all the time, the light of Lark’s life.

Lark spares one last helpless glance at the soup he had brought, and then he sighs, curling his arms around his brother and settling himself against the pillows- he might be here for awhile.

(Later, the door creaks open. Lark was, after all, supposed to return the bowl used for Sparrow’s soup, and Henry could only hold himself back for so long.

He isn’t sure what to expect - Lark had stubbornly insisted on being the one to tend to his brother through the illness - so he peeks inside the bedroom cautiously, fully prepared to be snapped at for interfering.

Instead, he finds his sons both peacefully asleep on Sparrow’s bed, Lark snoozing against the pillows with Sparrow fully entangled in his arms. Henry stops at the doorway and smiles, taking in the sight and committing it to memory: they’d never forgive him for taking a picture, no matter how much he yearned to save it forever.

He’ll be back to check on them with more medicine for Sparrow later. For now, he closes the door as gently as he can: they clearly both need the rest).

[darling-gemini]

35, Wyler!!!!

35. Future Perfect (Pass the Mic) by Enhypen

"No, just--stop it, let me talk."

Wednesday falls silent as the words leave Tyler's lips, his voice raised along with his hands. She does then, her fire momentarily put out as she stares with a rage filled gaze. They'd been fighting for the better part of thirty minutes and things were coming to a head. To anyone looking in, it may look like they wouldn't make it through the night.

"This is so stupid," Tyler mutters under his breath, bringing his hands up to his face to rub at it. He turns away from Wednesday then, his back to her, and takes a few steps in the opposite direction. "This is so stupid, we shouldn't be fighting like this."

It was true, it was likely pointless to get into a shouting match when they'd been through so much together. Still, Wednesday stands with her fists clenched together, withholding her anger as she waits for him to talk, to get to his point.

"Look, I--" He starts only to interrupt himself with a sigh. "I need you to stop protecting me, Wen. I want- I need to stand on my own feet sometimes. And it's not like I don't appreciate you looking out for me, I do, always, but this... This isn't helping me. You're hurting me, Wen. Please, I'm asking you to just stop."

It's this that takes the wind out of her sails. Wednesday's shoulders fall slowly and then all at once, and her fists turn to open palms as she watches him, waiting for him to turn around, to face her. He does, only a moment later, tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm asking you to stop because if you don't, I'll leave, and... And I don't want to leave." He says with a world-wary sigh. "I wanna be with you. I want to be with you until we're old and gray, but I can't just--I can't keep pretending like this behavior is okay. It's uncomfortable, and it's weird, and--and not in your usually loveably weird sort of way. I need you to let me find my own voice, and be there for me to lean on, but I don't need you defending me at every turn. I'm a big boy, I can protect myself, I promise."

"And what if you can't?" Wednesday asks, her voice cracking with emotions she hadn't felt this extent of in years. "What if there comes a day when you need me, and I'm not there?"

"You're always there, though." He points out, taking a step closer. "You're like, impossible to get rid of. You're like--you're like a cockroach that way."

Wednesday crinkles her nose and says, "I hate that line," which earns a laugh followed by sniffles from Tyler.

"My point," He says, taking yet another step closer, reaching out to take her hand, "Is that I believe that you'll be there for me when I need it. I know that can put my weight on you, and you can put your weight on me. That's how this works, this... Relationship stuff."

"Do you swear by it?" She asks, her usual edge making its way back into her voice.

"I swear that no matter what comes at us, no matter what life puts in our way, I want us to build a future together. It may not be perfect, but it'll be ours. You just have to let me build out my own life first, in whatever shape that takes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Okay so this turned out way different tonally than the song that inspired it, but the bolded words are taken from the English translation of the lyrics so as to tie this whole thing in somehow!! Hope you enjoy💕

[cartoon-girlz]

only preview i'm giving of the first chapter

[izzy-b-hands]

Technically now for SFerguson Sunday vs Ferguson Friday, but! The fic I was working on is finally edited to my liking. Will go up on AO3 when I have the spoons for it, but wanted it on here for now at least! Fic is below the cut.

Stealing my description of it from last night bc it actually wasn't terrible lol:

Ferguson/Izzy, au that puts us in the time period of the former's show, with a vague plot that by fucking Ferguson maybe it'll help Jack out of a particularly bad charge that he may or may not have actually done. Also, additional ed/izzy with a final hint of ed/izzy/ferguson 👀.

“I mean, I'll fuck him,” Izzy shrugs. “He's not bad looking. Actually, he looks a bit like m-”

“Don't remind me,” Ed blushes, dropping his head into his hands. “He looks a lot like you. Enough that I asked if he knew you or was related to you.”

“While he was arresting you?”

“Was there going to be a better time?!”

Izzy sighs. “Maybe not. So, what exactly am I convincing him not to do?”

“They let me go because ultimately, they claimed they didn't have enough to prove I was working with Jack and I wasn't worth the paperwork,” Ed replies, lifting his head enough for Izzy to see how miserable he looks. “But Jack is-”

“Oh, Eddie-”

“Come on! You like Jack too! You fuck him nearly as often as I do, at least!”

“Yeah,” Izzy finds he's suddenly all tired sighs, a well of them, seemingly endless. He leans back in his chair, and studies the newspaper clipping photograph of the man. “So I'm meant to waltz into the station, ask for…whoever this is-”

“DCI Ferguson,” Ed interrupts as he raises his head fully and sits up in his chair. “Or Trevor.”

“You get his phone number too?” he smirks, knowing full well that if Ed managed to get a first name out of the man, then he surely got more. 

“Only his office number, but he blushed pretty hard over that, so I didn't want to push it,” Ed pulls a scrap of paper from his trouser pocket and gently moves it across the kitchen table to Izzy. “So actually, you'll call him, set up a meeting to discuss Jack's charges as his acting legal counsel-”

“Jackie is an actual lawyer,” Izzy interrupts as he takes the paper. “Why are we not calling her to deal with this?” 

“Because she'll get him something lesser,” Ed's eyes meet his, and the notes of teasing and flirting drop from his voice. “But we need to get him out. I don't care how, and I'll make sure he lays low or find him somewhere else to stay for a few months elsewhere if need be after, but he can't…”

Ed pauses, voice breaking, breath hitching in his throat. “He didn't do it.”

Izzy moves the paper aside so he can reach over and take Ed's hand. “What did he do?”

“I didn't see it either way, but I know he didn't. I wouldn't lie about this.”

And Ed probably wouldn't. And Izzy doesn't think he's lying now, but if he didn't see whatever happened…that hardly matters. “Ed. What's he charged with?”

“Murder.”

---

“You don't look like legal counsel.”

“You don't look like you should be a cop,” Izzy replies as he strides into the yellow-tinged office. As much trendy colour scheme as effect from the cigarette smoke in the air and the nearly full ashtray on Ferguson's desk. Not that he can judge, and it might benefit him in this circus act he's enacting for Jack's sake.“Do you mind if I-”

Izzy slips his own pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket, and gestures. 

Before Ferguson can reply, he's got two out, one held out to the detective in offering. 

“Wouldn't have said no even if you weren't sharing,” Ferguson takes it, his fingertips lingering briefly on Izzy's as he does. “I'm not counting this as a bribe.”

“Who said I was here to bribe you?” 

Ferguson crosses the room to his desk, motioning for Izzy to sit in the chair in front of it. “No one. But I think I've got you and your two friends figured out.”

“Have you?” Izzy settles into the chair, seemingly designed to be the exact opposite of comfortable or ergonomic. “And what have you figured out about us?”

“You're too nice.” There's a flash of flame as Ferguson lights his cigarette, a matchbox already out on the desk. “And that's a shame. You don't need to go down for this just because he's your friend.”

“I don't know that Jack's done anything,” Izzy shrugs, reaching for his own matches in his pocket. “He's an idiot, sure. Makes poor choices, yeah. But murder-”

“I know Mr. Teach claims he saw nothing,” Ferguson interrupts as he exhales smoke across the desk. “And that may well be the case. But even if he didn't see it, someone else may have-”

“May,” Izzy cuts him off, still fumbling for his suddenly hiding matchbook. “May have seen him? So what evidence exactly is he being held on?”

“The dead man's body, and being covered in blood for a start,” Ferguson replies as he walks back around the desk. He leans down, close enough to light Izzy's cigarette with the tip of his own. “And that he was the last person heard in the area per everyone living there that agreed to an interview.”

“You shouldn't be telling me half of this,” Izzy smirks. “Almost makes me think you don't think he did it.”

He takes a drag and watches Ferguson watching him. Leaning back against the desk now, cigarette balanced in his lips, looking entirely too tempting for a cop. 

“That's the bit I definitely can't tell you,” Ferguson smiles as he takes his cigarette from his mouth and walks back around the desk to sit. “But I can say that whatever you're planning to do here, to bribe or convince me to just let him go…you know I can't. And I'll let you walk out of here now, no trouble, no charges, nothing. I can't guarantee that if we start something though.”

“We?” Izzy leans back in his chair, legs stretched out. “Thought I was the troublemaker in this equation. Here to distract you from your…noble duties, to win your favour and-”

It's lucky that the blinds covering the office's internal windows are already pulled closed, and maybe that's why Ferguson moves so fast. Cigarette shoved into the ashtray, then around the desk to lean down and kiss him exactly as roughly as he likes. 

Not every day that someone gets that right on the first try, and it's enticing. “We indeed.”

Ferguson nods, stammering. “I'm not. I shouldn't be doing this. It's not going to get your friend out-”

“I know,” Izzy interrupts gently. “I told Mr. Teach, Ed rather, as much too, if you want to know. He still asked that I come and try.”

He stands up slowly, moving Ferguson with him until he's got him backed up against the edge of the desk. “I think he knows full well it won't work, but we wanted to see how far I'd get.”

“Go lock the door and I'll show you just how far.”

It's later in the day, and the station could be busier than it is. Even so, there's a wonderfully desperate thrill in knowing someone might hear them. 

A desperation that's hard to suppress when Ferguson slows things down, just a bit. Takes his sweet time stripping Izzy of his jacket, the borrowed dark purple t-shirt cut nearly too short by Ed. 

The entire time, seemingly just as desperate in every achingly slow kiss and hickey he presses to Izzy's lips, his neck, his chest-

“Mr. Teach said a lot about you,” Ferguson's voice cuts through the haze Izzy's fallen into. “Mentioned in particular how pretty you look on your kne-”

He doesn't let Ferguson finish the word before he shoves the chair back, and drops to his knees. Mouth open, tongue out, sitting back on his feet. 

“He wasn't lying,” Ferguson murmurs warmly, nodding when Izzy reaches for his belt. 

There's a twinge there, and it nearly throws him off his game for a moment. While he's in here letting a detective fuck his mouth (and more, if they can manage it without alerting anyone else), his cunt getting wetter and cock harder by the minute, Jack's locked up, presuming and hoping he'll be freed soon. 

“Look, if he really didn't do it,” Ferguson sighs softly, a hand reaching down to toy with the earring in Izzy's ear, flicking the silver hoop gently. “Then…it might all work out. I'm not making any promises-”

Izzy lets Ferguson's cock pop from his mouth. “I know, Trevor. I'm not asking you to. And I…I want to think he didn't. I really do.”

Ferguson's hand is cradling his face now, a thumb softly rubbing his cheek. “But you can't say for sure he wouldn't.”

Izzy nods. “Can I go back to sucking you off now? Far less depressing, that, in comparison-”

He's cut off as Trevor pushes his head down, not too roughly, but enough to make him moan. 

“I'll give you two whatever updates I can,” Ferguson murmurs, his fingers twining through Izzy's hair. “Whether I should or not. And I really fucking shouldn't-”

He moans around Ferguson's cock, and suddenly he's back on his feet. 

“I don't have,” Ferguson stammers, peering towards his desk. “I mean, why would I have anything for this in here, but-”

“I've got us covered,” Izzy steps away from him long enough to retrieve the small bottle of lube and the few condoms he'd hidden in his inner jacket pocket. “Figured we might want it.”

“Can I ask you something?” 

He cringes internally, but nods. “You want to know who did the surgery on my chest?”

Ferguson blinks. “I. I suppose I'd wondered, but I didn't mean. I meant to find out if you'd prefer ass or-”

“Oh!” The tension that had filled him deflates as he drops his trousers and leans over the desk. “That's different, kind of you to ask, actually. But any and all holes are up for it if you are. We might not get this chance again soon, so you might as well have most or all of them.”

It's one of the lines he's not had a single man refuse, and it doesn't fail him here. Trevor has him pressed down against the desk, hips moving against Izzy's ass, cock teasing his cunt and ass in turn. 

“That's mean,” he sighs happily as he lets himself lift up and lean back into Ferguson. “I like it.”

“I'd tease you longer,” Ferguson purrs into his ear, leaning close even though Izzy can hear his hands busy with a condom, the telltale crinkle of foil.“But I've another meeting, and she'll be here soon.”

“I'll make sure I don't tire you out completely then, for her sake.”

He chuckles as Ferguson finally slips inside his cunt, hard and warm and already twitching. “Is that really how it is between you and her? Who is she? Another ‘lawyer’ like myself-”

Ferguson thrusts hard, shoving him forward, but a hand reaches around to help hold him up. A mindful one, not messing too much with his top surgery scars, but still tracing gently there now and then as he leans into it. 

“Wouldn't you like to know,” and there's another thrust, paired with a slightly needy moan. “She isn't, as it happens. She has actual credentials-”

“Does she know you're meeting me?”

Izzy can't help but ask. It'll be ten times hotter (and he's already sweating as he fucks himself back on Trevor's cock, in rhythm with him) if it turns out she knows, and knows exactly what they're getting up to as well.

“She does, or she should,” Ferguson's other hand is between his legs, gently teasing Izzy's cock. “Was on our fucking schedule for the day, though not that I'd be doing this with you.”

“Work mates then? Work mates with benefits, rather.”

Ferguson moves a hand, then both, to hold Izzy on his cock, keeping him from moving. 

“Did I strike a nerve?” Izzy teases. “I'm not judging. I've wound up fucking plenty of the people I've worked with too. Nothing wrong with it, as long as everyone is on the same page about it.”

One hand is at Izzy's cock again, rubbing harder, Ferguson's hand slick with how wet Izzy is. He's relentless in it. 

“If I keep asking questions about her,” Izzy pants as he lays on the desk, still trying to fuck himself onto Ferguson’s cock, though he can feel that he's already in deep. “Will you keep doing that?”

“Why don't you find out?”

It's a teasing, warm challenge that has Izzy's thighs shaking. “I wonder if she would help with Jack's case, if she got to watch something like this.”

Trevor groans into his neck, still working Izzy's cock hard, his other hand gripping Izzy's hip tight. 

“Ed and I could come back together,” Izzy continues, trying to ignore his own cracking voice and gasps and moans as he feels himself dripping onto Ferguson’s cock. “As Jack's legal team. Meet up with you and-”

“Denise.”

“Denise,” Izzy says softly. “She sounds lovely. You moving your hips would also be lovely.”

“Come for me first,” Trevor murmurs. “I know you're close. I can fucking feel it, jesus christ-”

Izzy nods, focusing on the fantasy taking on a clearer picture in his head. “We meet up with you two here, close the blinds and lock the door and then-”

That pushes him over the edge, coming hard on Ferguson’s cock, a hand hurriedly shoved over his own mouth for the moans he knows he can't quiet or stop. 

“More,” he gasps out when he's got a glimmer of his mind back and his legs under him again, shaky though they are. “Can we-”

“Hang on,” Ferguson slips out of him, and with a chuckle and a huff of breath, gets onto the floor on his back. “If your knees can take it-”

“I'll make them,” Izzy turns from the desk, and gets onto the floor, straddling Ferguson's hips. “Please. I don't even care if you could actually do anything for Jack, I just need-”

It's not that he minds tending towards topping with Ed. He's always joked he was happy to be an emergency top for the people he liked and/or loved best, and Ed is at the top of that list. But it's nice to take a turn on the other side of it, and to let himself be needy and subby on top of it all. 

“I've got you,” Ferguson's hands wander, helping hold Izzy steady as he settles onto his cock. “Good boy.”

“Say it again,” he's begging, and this is a bit pathetic, but at times like these it feels stupid good to grovel. 

“Good boy,” Ferguson mumbles happily, smiling as Izzy bounces and grinds on his cock. “Such a good boy, taking it so deep, making such a mess on me.”

He reaches back carefully, until he can feel the soft, velvety skin of Trevor's balls. “Yeah? Can I come on it again?”

He toys gently with them, adjusting his touch in tune with Ferguson's moans. “Hm? My come dripping down to your balls, making a mess of us both.”

There's the urge to tell him to pause long enough to take the condom off, but he knows better than to risk it. Even if he wants so badly that it makes him ache to feel Trevor coming bare inside of him. 

Coming inside while covered by the condom will have to do though, and at the very least the one they used is thin enough that he can feel most of the twitching and pulsing that feels as good as any thrusting. 

He switches from grinding to bouncing as one of Trevor's hands moves to tease his cock again. “Tell me. Tell me I can come on it.”

Trevor nods, then gasps it out. “Come for me.”

He lets himself go, hands on Ferguson's warm, hairy chest to ground himself as he fucks himself through his orgasm. He can feel Trevor pulsing inside him, though he's stifled his own moans with a hand clapped over his mouth. 

Izzy leans down to lay against him after a moment, whimpering desperately when he feels Trevor slip out of him. “Would I be too forward to ask for your number? Home number, not your office line, in case anyone can listen in on that. Just to keep in touch about Jack, of course.”

Trevor nods in between kisses, hands back at Izzy's hips, holding him close. “And to set up our next meeting. For any…in person updates we might want.”

He's already thinking of Ed in his cunt, and Trevor in his ass, laying across the desk. Utterly boneless and feeling cockdrunk, but happy to move as needed as Trevor rouses and moves about the office. 

There's not really anything to clean up with, but it's not the worst state he's left somewhere public in. And Trevor handles the majority of things: disposing of the condom, tossing Izzy his shirt and jacket, and most importantly, scribbling his phone number on a slip of paper.

---

“Home number?” Ed plucks the folded paper from Izzy's hand. 

He nods. “He'll be updating us whenever he can. But Jack's not getting out right n-”

“I know,” Ed bumps into him gently, the closest touch they can afford while standing on the sidewalk in front of the station. “But it was worth a try, and even if this one didn't get us anywhere, any future attempts might. Besides, seems like you enjoyed this quite a bit.”

“Next time, he suggested we might both come by to talk about Jack's options,” Izzy smirks as he motions Ed down the sidewalk and into the nearest alley, pondering exactly how well-fucked and messy he must look for Ed to comment on it. There, he can finally, potentially safely kiss him. “As his unorthodox-looking legal counsel-”

Ed smiles into the next kiss. “Think we could sneak the harnesses underneath our clothes without anyone noticing? Probably, almost definitely, yeah? I don't want to somehow make this worse for Jack-”

“I don't think it can get much worse for Jack,” Izzy interrupts. “Short of a conviction and prison. We'll see.”

“You don't think he did it,” Ed's eyes light up. “Wait. Does the detective think he didn't-”

“Tell you more when we get home,” Izzy can feel a set of eyes on them, and sure enough there stands a cop at the end of the alley. A woman, watching, but thankfully not making any moves towards them. Maybe she didn't see the kiss. “I can give you a reenactment of my valiant attempt to free Jack in there, if you're willing to put on a tie and button up to set the mood.”

“Do we own a tie between us?” Ed mutters. “Doesn't matter, I'll put on whatever we have that's closest.”

Izzy keeps an eye on the cop as they walk away, peering back to make sure she doesn't follow. 

She doesn't. But she doesn't turn away either. For a moment, he wonders…Denise? 

But Ed is getting ahead of him. He doesn't dare head back towards her.

[kintrash413]

Summary: A very helpful step-by-step guide on how to build Decked Out 2, written by Tango himself! Full fic under the cut.

Step 1: Have several years of experience.

You don't need to understand redstone, but you do need the experience. You don't need to know how the base components work, only that they do. With enough time, you can trial and error your way through anything.

Step 2: Cut yourself off from your friends and stop attending events.

This is going to take a while, you need to accept that before you even start. Your friends will understand at first, just keep telling yourself that it'll be worth it in the end. Eventually your friends will grow worried that you're not eating or sleeping and ask you to take a break. The best time to take a break is never. Consider that step 2.5.

Step 3: Realize you're always hungry.

At first you'll think your friends are right, that feeling is normal. You might even indulge in a short vacation and redownload that app on your communicator reminding you when to eat. But eating won't satiate your hunger, and eventually you'll realize it grows worse the longer you spend away from Decked Out 2. Remember step 2.5.

Step 4: Efficiency isn't nearly as important as just getting it done at all.

There will always be the temptation to make things more efficient, more compact. If you indulge that temptation you'll never finish your work, and you're already missing your friends.

Step 5: Those thoughts aren't your own. This hunger isn't your own.

You keep staring at your friends and wondering what they'll look like as they're overwhelmed by their own panic. You want to see the fear in their eyes as you kill them. You wonder what their blood tastes like.

(This isn't really a step… repeating the points of step 3? Cut out.)

Step 5: Fear you might've created something alive.

The redstone keeps shifting without your intervention, and the very walls breathe as you pass by. You certainly didn't mean to create life, maybe you should've studied redstone better back in step one. What will happen when the season ends? Can it feel pain? Does it cry out when you break it? You should really be more concerned about yourself.

Step 6: Kill your darlings.

Don't be afraid to tear out old redstone that isn't working! The time lost is painful, but the better systems make you stronger.

Step 7: Turn off your communicator.

Your friends are calling you constantly. They're worried for you, and they're worried about the way you look at them. It's important to minimize distractions while you're working.

Step 8: You can't tell the difference between Decked Out 2 and yourself. Your heart beats with every redstone pulse (you're always on the verge of a panic attack). You can feel the bugs in your code like an itch, and you're always itching. The blue in your fingers from building the first floor isn't going away. Look into a mirror and realize you don't recognize your reflection.

Step 9: Invite your friends to enjoy your work!

Willing victims crowd the front door and you couldn't be happier (so why don't you feel free?)!

[poohbea]

Hey pooh. I saw your tags on ship your moots post. Would be really bad if I asked you about your selfship with him? I mean I love Suguru 😌😍 and I wanna hear about your selfship. Pls?

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏: 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐇 𝐗 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

ship name: poohguru (omfg how cute is that) trope: strangers to lovers/ work colleagues to lovers where we met: at my job (childcare) content: extra super duper fluff, cheesy shit, tattooed!geto, he's young here (maybe a few years older than I am), also this is my version of sugu - so deal with it hahaha

Now we know Suguru loves kids, but when he first arrived to work we were all a little shocked at how good he handled them. They often comment on his hair, asking to touch it and play with it since it's so long, something he doesn't mind all too much. Him and I were often paired together with the older kids, he just had a knack of keeping them under control, stern but reasonable.

He'd often keep them entertained with art and stories of his travels. Whenever he wasn't around they'd be so sad, they missed their favourite educator. I've got to say I was a little jealous, but I guess that's what helped cultivate our relationship.

It wasn't rare for us to steal glances at each other, playful teasing and banter included. We sort of became that iconic duo around the service, practically inseparable after a few months. He's mischievous in his tactics to say the least, using the kids as leverage for his flirting.

"You look pretty today, Pooh." He'd start, to which I'd respond with a suspicious side eye.

"Okay, what do you want." I chuckle while setting out the food for the afternoon.

"What? The kids were telling me how nice you look, so I thought I'd let you know."

"Gee thanks, Sugu."

And little by little he'd rope the kids into this little game. "Are you and Geto dating?" I'd get asked every second day, immediately searching for the man in question to find him staring right back at me while helping his small group with mixing paints.

"No." I reply, with the shake of my head, throwing him a playfully serious look. "Geto and I aren't dating, my love."

"Would you want to?" Was her next question, one that I didn't have answer to right away. "I think you like each other."

"What makes you say that?" I say finally breaking my staring match to look down at her.

"You're always together, and he said he likes you... like, like likes you." She giggles while looking back at him, thankfully he was focused on his art.

And it would go on like this for a whole year, pictures painted of us, jokes and playful teasing, until one day.

"Poohhhh!" A group of them yell as they run around the corner.

"Woah, woah, don't run on the pavement. What's going on?"

"Geto wants to talk you!" They had the most frantic expressions on their little faces, grabbing and pulling me out the door.

"Is he okay?" I ask, playing into their dramatics. They giggle and keep guiding me, all the way to the assembly hall, that's when I noticed the flower petals on the floor. "Guys..." I begin but they soon release me and bolt, disappearing around one of the classroom blocks.

So I follow this path of flowers, till I get to the doors, silently opening it. And when I tell you the gasp I let out, the gasp to match all gasps. There he stood, on stage dramatically under a spotlight that was conveniently lit, dress shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled (just because he knows how much I love his tattoos) and bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Really?" I laugh, shutting the door behind me.

He smiles as I approach, offering a hand to help me up onto the stage. "Really." Was his only response.

We stood in a comfortable silence for a moment, before I placed a hand on his chest, closing the already small gap between us. "What's your plan now, Mr Geto?"

"Well, first to give you these." He hands me the bouquet, lilies, my favourite. "And next, I have a question."

With a soft sniff of the flowers I sigh, lashes fluttering as I look at him. "Ask away."

"You know, ever since I started working here I've had a crush on you, okay that's a lie it took a few months, you were a bit of a hard ass- ow!" I laugh as I hit his chest playfully, shaking my head with a smile. "Am I wrong though? Wait no I'm sorry!" He cowers as I go to hit him again, this time catching my wrist before laying a kiss to my palm.

"A real romantic aren't you?"

"It's a part of my charm."

"You're on thin ice, Suguru."

"Okay, anyway. Like I said, I've liked you for a long time and with this job and the kids and spending so much time with you, I might more than like you."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you, Pooh. And if it's not too forward, I'd like you to be my girlfriend."

"I think we're past forward, Sugu." I reply with a giggle.

"So is that a yes?"

"Yes, of course I'll be your girlfriend."

He can't stop the cheesy smile that forms on his lips, letting his fingers lace through my hair to pull me into a kiss.

And the rest is basically history, we got married three years later and here we are today.

[kissmejusttokissme]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson, background steddie - Relationship Characters: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, Background Steve Harrington - Character Additional Tags: I ask for forgiveness but I will accept punishment, Grief, Death, Angst, Genuinely this is pretty sad, Discussing the afterlife?, ghost - Freeform, Terminal Illness, no beta we die like 👀👀👀 Series: Part 2 of Graveyard bench Summary:

Wayne and Eddie have one last conversation.

[bitterflames]

is this what they call "fuck around and find out"

[kentopedia]

nightly rituals

ft. dazai, chuuya, sigma, ranpo, fyodor

summary — little things you do together before going to sleep

contents — very sweet, domestic moments !! sfw.

notes — another subpar short piece from me while i finish up some wips. i wrote this kind of quickly so pls forgive any errors !! :(

₊˚⊹♡ DAZAI + reading

“osamu.” you glanced up at him from under his book, drawing his name out as you rested your head on his lap.

until that point, you’d been scrolling through your phone, hoping he'd be annoyed by the lack of your attention. instead, dazai picked up the book you'd been reading together, and started from where you left off.

your ridiculous ploy for his affection had turned on you, and now, you were the one that was desperate to hear his voice.

dazai looked down at you, his eyes playful as he smiled. “what?”

you stared back at him, disgruntled by the fact that he’d so quickly figured out your silly little game and made it his own. "nothing."

dazai twisted a piece of your hair on his finger, patient, and shrugged, returning to the novel, looking far too interested in the pages.

you groaned, poking him in the stomach. “you’re just going to read ahead without me?”

“you didn’t seem to mind when you were on your phone instead.” he frowned, though most of his disappointment was feigned, and amusement lingered at the edges of his expression.

“you were in the shower!" you scoffed.

dazai laughed, and shifted the book to his other hand, and leaned over to kiss you softly. “i'm not anymore.”

though you usually indulged him in his antics, you were tired, and just wanted to close out the night with another chapter of the story you'd been so invested in. it was much better when it came straight from his lips.

“i can see that.” you rolled your eyes, frowning. “are you going to read to me now, osamu?”

dazai brightened, proud of himself for finally getting you to admit what you wanted. "well, you could've asked a little nicer, but since i love you..."

he flipped to the previous page, the one you'd both been at the night before, and you realized he hadn't even been reading at all.

you huffed out a laugh, burying your head further into his thighs, but dazai didn't start reading. he remained staring at you with a pointed expression.

"what's the matter now?"

"you didn't say it back." dazai's lips drew down theatrically.

you sighed, and pulled at the collar of his shirt, stretching your waist to kiss him, lazily, missing his lips by a mile. "you already know i love you too, osamu. that's the only reason you get away with annoying me all the time."

dazai, finally satisfied, let you fall back against him, and began reading the next chapter to you.

though you'd wanted to stay awake for a while longer, the minute he began, you were already dozing off, so warm in his arms.

“your voice is so nice,” you said sleepily, closing your eyes as he read. “like a lullaby.”

dazai laughed quietly, but he softened, smiling as he read. he held the book in one hand, and massaged your scalp with the other, delicate fingers threading through your hair until you fell asleep.

₊˚⊹♡ CHUUYA + skincare

“let me do it this time, chuuya," you said, staring him down with the sweet eyes of yours that you knew he could never resist.

chuuya could have easily stolen the tub of moisturizer away from you, but he let you hold it far out of his reach, his smile soft. “but i like doing it.”

“yeah, well, you do it every night. i want a turn.”

chuuya said nothing for a moment, his gaze sharp. then, he relented and sighed. “fine.” he leaned against the counter, resting his weight on it. “think you can ask me for whatever you want, and i'll just give it you, huh?”

you laughed, smiling as you unscrewed the lid. “i think we both know the answer to that.”

though you were only teasing him, chuuya softened, kissing your forehead. he placed his hands on your hips, drawing you closer and closer.

“you’re right,” he said, his eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks as you slathered the moisturizer over his smooth skin. “i can’t say no to you, baby.”

you shook your head, amused, and massaged his cheeks lightly. chuuya relaxed into your touch, the tightness in his jaw alleviating.

"don't fall asleep," you teased, running your thumb over his full bottom lip.

"'m not," he said, letting out a small breath. but his eyes were glazed when he opened them again, far too tender for such a powerful man. "your hands just feel so soft."

"i can't carry you to bed," you warned. "you'll have to sleep on the cold counter."

"you wouldn't let me stay here all night long." he slid his hands over your hips, down your back, grinning. "you hate sleeping in that bed without me."

₊˚⊹♡ SIGMA + making tea

“do you want honey in it, love?”

you hummed a yes, squeezing your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter from behind. his hair was soft against your cheek as you rested your head on his back.

sigma poured the water, letting the tea steep.

you leaned your weight on him, yawning. “how was your day?”

he craned his neck to see you, but didn’t move otherwise, letting you get comfortable as you waited for the tea to finish. “it was alright.” he laced his free hand with yours, shifting. “a little stressful. better, now that i get to see you.”

you smiled, kissing a notch in his spine, too lazy to move any further. “why'd you leave before i could say goodbye this morning?”

though you didn't really mind, sigma seemed genuinely apologetic, and squeezed your hand. “sorry. i had to be in early today. did you see my note?”

you smiled, and nodded, listening to the rhythmic beat of his blood pumping, the very sign that he was just as human as the rest of you.

"i did. it was sweet." with a sigh, you straightened your back to look at him completely. for the first time since you’d gotten home, you realized how tired he was, how drained he’d been this entire week. you ran your fingers through his hair gently, your voice like a purr. “you need to get some rest. i've barely seen you this week.”

“i have work to do.” he frowned. “they need me there.”

“i know." you watched as sigma took out the tea bags, throwing them into the trash. “i need you too, though.”

sigma paused, momentarily, as he stirred the honey in, before shaking his thoughts and blinking back at you. “i didn’t realize—”

you stopped him before he could spiral into another apology, the tension in his brow obvious. "i'm not upset." when the small tangles had been brushed out, you began braiding a small section of his hair, the strands silky in your palm. “just promise me you’ll take care of yourself too.”

sigma stared from over his shoulder for a moment more before acquiescing. he handed a steaming mug to you, turning around to surprise you with a gentle kiss. "okay," he said against your lips, the touch so tender. "i promise."

₊˚⊹♡ RANPO + video games

“you’re so bad at this.” ranpo threw another handful of candy into his mouth, watching your avatar on the screen as you continued to fail.

frowning, you pressed another button vigorously, not quite sure if it was the right one to achieve your goal.

of course, nothing seemed to happen, and instead, you’re barraged by the enemy, your health going down to a level that seemed almost irrecoverable.

you leaned back into ranpo’s chest, pinching your eyebrows together. “i don’t play this as much as you do.” you said from where sat between his thighs, still trying to figure out how to win his favorite game. “cut me some slack.”

ranpo laughed, his breath tickling the lobe of your ear as he leaned forward. he slid your thumb to a different button, brushing your skin lightly. “try that, sweets.”

it seemed to be the obvious solution, and you made a face at him, momentarily distracted. "your genius never fails to amaze me."

though, when you glanced back at the screen, you’ were back to where you started, all your progress lost. “ranpo,” you said, his name coming out on the edge of a whine. “what happened?”

he took the controller from you, not even giving you a moment to try again. quickly, he moved towards the next checkpoint, knowing exactly where to go, a seasoned professional. “you got killed. too busy staring at me.”

you sighed, reaching for the controller, but he held it out of your reach, grinning at you mockingly.

“let me try again, ranpo!”

“i’ll get you to the next part. you’ve tried this three times already.”

it wasn’t as fun watching as it was playing, but you sighed, and let him take over. as he went through the remaining quests, you rested your head back onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

ranpo made it through the rest of that level in mere minutes.

“here, it should be easier now.” though when he went to hand the game over to you, you’d fallen asleep in his lap, your breathing even and light.

₊˚⊹♡ FYODOR + playing the cello

“you play so beautifully.”

fyodor opened his eyes, watching you from under dark lashes. though his hands didn’t stop moving, the beginnings of a smile formed on his lips.

“i wish i could play an instrument,” you continued mindlessly, stretched over the couch. your head rested on the throw pillows, side aching from how long you'd been laying there, listening to the cello.

fyodor was across the room, relaxed completely in the chair he always played in. beside him, he was surrounded by evidence of his hobby. sheet music, scribbled and messy, rested on the table, stained with coffee rings. candle light flickered through the room.

he hesitated, the bow softly coming to a stop across the strings. “i can teach you.” fyodor's pause was brief, and he began playing once more, slower this time, like a serenade. a piece of hair fell over his face, between his eyebrows, distracting you.

you shivered, mind filled with thoughts of him standing behind you, directing your hands towards the right movements, whispering instructions in your ears.

but you shook your head, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “maybe,” you said, your smile wistful. “but i won’t be as good as you. i’d rather listen.”

“alright.” he let out a short laugh, blinking his eyes shut again to return his attention to the piece. he came to the last few measures, approaching the conclusion. “is there any piece you’d like to hear?” fyodor said, his voice softer than usual, almost like he didn’t want to disturb his own playing.

you thought back on everything you’d heard him play before. he’d told you the names, but it was hard to remember. so many of them sounded the same, titled by numbers and words you didn't understand.

it didn't matter, though. you thought everything he played sounded beautiful. often, he was even better than any recordings you’d ever heard.

“something that makes you think of me,” you said in a hushed whisper, placing your chin on your arms to see him better. "if that's alright."

fyodor, then, smiled more fully, his eyes full of an affection that eclipsed his otherwise gloomy features. “there are many things that make me think of you,” he said, slowing once more to transition into a richer, smoother melody. one that would, inevitably, put you into a deep, peaceful sleep. “but, perhaps this one fits the moment best.”

i haven't written for fyodor, sigma or ranpo before, so i hope this is okay !! im trying to get over my fear of making sure every single action & dialogue is perfectly in character :,)

[sempersirens]

iuvenalis

part one of strangers in the night

a joel miller au

main masterlist

author's note: welcome to part one of strangers in the night! this is going to be a six part anthology of joel x reader meeting throughout different lifetimes. expect a lot of angst, pining, and yearning. i'm so excited for each and every era i have planned. they will all be different kind of stories but will pretty much be heartbreaking across the board. thank you for reading and don't forget to follow my updates blog @sempersirenswrites as i don't have a taglist!

warnings etc (spoilers): [historical fantasy au] no outbreak (yet...), ancient rome, reader is a vestal virgin, implied misogyny/sexism/patriarchal society, angst, punishment for sexual transgression is being buried alive (not graphic), historically accurate, no smut, no use of y/n, this has not been beta read pls forgive any errors!

Rome, 216 BCE

The door creaks as it opens. 

You know this dance by now. You should’ve anticipated the wooden shrill beneath your toes alerting the entire household of your deviltry one final time.

The walls hold their breath as you descend to the floor below, the warmth from the hypocaust crawling up your shins.

Yet, all remains still. Not even the feral cats who roam the cobbled streets stir from their slumber. 

Tomorrow they will march you down this road; praetorian guards brushing your bare shoulders with no fear of corruption.

But dawn is yet to break and your palms yet to dampen with fear.

“Iuvenalis?” The muggy air clamps around your throat as you speak for the first time in days.

You know his footsteps as intimately as you know the beat of his chest. Months moving in darkness, knowing one another only under the veil of the night. You’d recognise the weight of his step if you were robbed of each and every sense.

“Mea columba.” 

You shut your eyes as his sweet, misplaced worry fills your ears.

“Iuvenalis.” You breathe his name, surrendering to his hands desperately finding their way from your waist to your cheeks.

“You are too trusting of these streets, mea columba.” My dove. You hadn’t seen him the first time he saw you. It had been the day of your inauguration; he says he mistook your hair for a dove in flight. Wild, white, and too soft for the wind tangled within it.

“These are streets I played in as a girl. They have treated me well.” 

“But, tomorrow-,”

“Tomorrow is a far-off thought, corculum. Be with me as I am now. That is all I ask.”

He nods. You know he disagrees, but tonight he swallows any indication of contention as he silently takes your hand in his and leads you toward the walls of the city.

You can see the Colosseum from here. You always hated the wretched thing. Slaves and beasts banished to Tartarus simply to divert the eyes of Rome far away from treaties signed in the stands.

You hated how as a daughter of Vesta, your presence was expected at each game. As a girl, your father had once caught you squeezing your eyes shut as two lean slaves delivered their final blows to one another's pink flesh.

“You think me naive to have taken up the post, do you not?”

His brows pierce into his forehead as he considers your question.

“I think your family cruel to sentence you to death from girlhood. I think the Gods merciless for requiring such sacrifice.”

"You are brave to speak of the Gods so recklessly." You scoff. Part of you feels guilty; he was devout when he found you. All soldiers must be; how could you believe in nothing as the enemy charges toward you?

It didn't take long for you to become his temple. You replaced his exaltation; the ripples of your thighs his temple; your stifled moans his prayer.

You had corrupted him just as much as he had you.

"Let them hear me. I would sooner accompany you to Elysium than press my head to the altar of these false prophets."

"You don't know what you speak, Iuvenalis."

His grip finds your arm, turning you to feel his breath against your forehead.

"You are dimidium animae meae, there is no punishment I would not endure to remain by your side in this life and the next."

"What a wretched soul you must have for that to be so."

His fingertips find your cheek before you even notice the tears falling.

"We could still flee. I would grow old in the slums of Carthage if it meant I could watch your hair turn grey."

"Traders would recognise a Vestal Virgin as far as Babylonia."

"Then we will go farther."

His beard scratches beneath your palm.

"I will not lament any longer, corculum. Tomorrow, you will walk beside me, and then I beg you turn and do not look back. I can't bear to think of you watching."

For the first time this night, a smile creeps across his cheeks.

"You forget the man with whom you speak. I will be at your side until they drag me from you."

The crowds in the street do not look at you as you walk.

Your mother wails somewhere behind you, but she is blocked by a procession of praetorian guards. She does not weep in sorrow, but in shame that her only daughter approaches the grave unchaste.

He is there, beside you. The guards that encircle you owed their lives to his leadership in a battle on foreign soil.

Your fingertips brush against one another as you walk. You are already ruined, you think, what more could they punish you with?

You think that if not for his presence, you would fall to your knees in the street. You would claw at your skin and the cobbles beneath you, leave scratches in the road and beg to be forgiven.

But he is there, and you will not leave the world as you came into it.

The priest waits at the end of the procession. Iuvenalis' fingers weave between your own, and he squeezes three times as the water is brought forth. Enough to last you a day; their hands are clean if they keep you alive for a little while.

A final prayer is read, and the crowds turn their backs. His hand squeezes tighter; you fear he will not release you.

"No," you mutter, loud enough for only him to hear.

The guards herd you both forth like cattle, the marble descent to your tomb the only viable path for you now.

But he is still here.

Your palms grow damp as the men flock closer.

"No!" You shake your head, searching the faces of the praetorian for an answer.

"It's okay, mea columba. It's going to be okay."

The realisation sinks into your skin like a tick; he never intended for you to enter your grave alone.

The light grows dim as you both are forced into the chamber, and silence rings out above you. Soon, everything goes dark.

You weep and beat into his chest, engulfed almost entirely by darkness. Slim arrows of light beat across his face, and he is here, smiling down at you.

"Why condemn yourself?" You choke between gulps of grief.

"You think I would wait to walk the fields of Elysium by your side? There is nothing for me on this plain of existence without you. Dimidium animae meae. You are half of my soul, I will follow you anywhere. Even into death."

Under the darkness you began, in the darkness, you would end.