#it struck me recently that as much as my immediate friends and family were right

[lafortis]

Goodnight gamers I have no plan I'm just a dude

[thebroccolination]

Krist's Thai Fans

My favorite thing about Krist's Thai fans is how kind they are. As long as you're respectful when you ask, they're more than willing to answer questions about him and clarify the past to people who are looking for context. That's what I've always done, and it really speaks to the kind of bond that exists between him and them that although interfans have happily tried to destroy his reputation overseas for years, his Thai fans are able to be this patient dealing with the same misinterpretations of his character over and over.

And a lot of them have been fans since SOTUS. I've spoken to some who attended the filming of SOTUS. Some have known this man since he was a teenager, and since he wears his heart on his sleeve, they know him better than most fans would know the average celebrity. At the BMF finale event, he started crying when he saw a fan he hadn't seen for months. He thought she'd lost interest, but it turned out she'd just gotten busy with work and had been donating to his food support for months instead.

Before I went to Thailand, my friend told me he'd been to a bunch of BL actor events and he said of all the fanbases he saw, Krist and his fans seemed the most like actual, genuine friends. And then I attended the BMF finale event and Krist's solo concert, and my friend was right. At the fan benefits portion of both, Krist not only recognized his fans, he had unique ways of interacting with each of them. One woman opened her arms and ran at him with a yell, and he grinned and yelled back. One guy walked up to him with a beaming smile and Krist lit up and hugged him. It wasn't a, "Hey…you!" thing, he knew these people well enough that he immediately recognized them and matched their energy.

Two friends, a guy and a girl, took a 3:1 photo with Krist, and it was clear from his nervousness that it was the guy's first time meeting Krist. He lingered after, said something to Krist, and Krist beamed and took his hands. The guy walked off the stage barely keeping it together, and his friend turned around and waved at Krist with a knowing smile.

Then, during a group photo, a woman and her friend told Krist that she'd been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and she would likely never meet him again. She was smiling, and he gave her a long hug. She passed away recently.

The reason I'm so enthusiastic about Krist as a person is because I saw firsthand the amount of energy and devotion he reserves for the people who care about him. Friends, family, coworkers, staff, fans. He could easily give half of what he does and it would still be admirable. The fan benefits for the second day of his solo concert went on until at least eleven at night, and the concert started at three. And he was there rehearsing from early morning after doing another concert with benefits the day before. And he was sick. He got through both days using steroids, and he was violently ill from them afterward.

And like, every time I think about this bond with his fans, I'm moved by how immensely kind his Thai fans specifically have always been to me. They've been through so incredibly much with the weird witch hunt against Krist spearheaded by international fans. He was tormented off social media in 2020, but his long-time Thai fans were still there. Watching as western people arrived in this fandom for the first time and started cheerfully spouting death threats at someone whose language they didn't even speak. These people saw one screenshot and an inflamatory TikTok or two and rather than ask anyone why Thai fans weren't also baying for his blood, they decided they knew best and that his fans must just be simps or idiots.

When I visited Thailand last year, it struck me how humble and kind most of these actors are. Be it because they have perspective from working other jobs (doctor, chef, etc.), and if they're like Krist and only work in the entertainment industry, they might just see their fans so often and at such close range that it's probably impossible to want to maintain an Aloof and Mysterious Distance from them. Maybe it's cultural, too. Here in Ireland, Irish people famously don't give a toss when they see Irish celebrities. I saw Hozier on the corner in my neighborhood a few weeks ago chatting with an unhoused man and no one at all reacted.

All this to say, since KristSingto will be active this year, and they'll likely have a series announced at the showcase, please encourage people to do more research than skim through a YouTube video called PROBLEMATIC BAD PEOPLE IT IS ACCEPTABLE TO BE MEAN TO. If not for Krist, then for his queer Thai fans who are, I can confirm, extremely tired of international fans coming into fandom with sanctimonious and cruel intentions that make the entire experience dramatically worse.

I promise you if Krist had ever been perceived as homophobic by his Thai fans, who know him far better than we do, then his queer Thai fans would still be saying something. He also wouldn't have primarily queer friends. Like, it's not one or two. Most of his friends are queer. The industry is queer.

Anyway, y'know. Another day, another casual effort to stamp out this nonsense so we can all enjoy KristSingto time in peace.

[mayfast]

Hello! I Just recently started developing Spider brainrot and I'm just now starting to interact with the fandom. I haven't even considered Aocorro as a thing before but can I just say that your series had me HOOKED? amazing, wonderful series, I'm loving it.

Greetings!

Sorry it's taken me forever to get back to you. But thank you so much! I'm really glad that our interaction wasn't a traumatizing one. This fandom can get a little scary sometimes.

Honestly, this pairing struck me over the head so randomly one day, and I immediately became obsessed. My poor roommates had to listen to me prattle on about my theories about Spider and Ao'nung getting together. I think they were just humoring my little delulu self.

I think their dynamic would be so perfectly slotted together. I know Ao'nung's original name was Nu'nung and Spider's was Javier, which had me thinking about Neytiri and Jake's Enemies to lovers trope, and I saw a lot of parallels. A na'vi with some serious distaste for humans or anything human related and an outcast that doesn't fit in anywhere? Um yes please.

But then I remembered the movie. After Neteyam died, I think, (at least I hope), Ao'nung won't be so prejudice against good humans and Avatars. Like his hate for the RDA will SPIKE. He lost a friend, and is overall probably traumatized from the three brothers battle, almost losing his life and his sister's will do that to anyone. But I think he'll give Spider a chance if the Sully claim him as theirs.

More so, shifting to Spider a little bit, Cameron wasn't kidding when he said Spider is the glue. The more I looked at this kid from different angles the more I fell down the rabbit hole. We don't see much of Jake's life on Earth, but we know it sucked, he was an alcoholic reject after he lost everything he had going for him, movie happens, we met Neytiri, a wonderful person and complex character who's lost a lot too but she still got something to fight for. Like Jake, we don't see too much of her life before their meeting. But together the pair make history, however it's also with Quaritch. We don't know about Quaritch and Paz, except that they loved Spider, and maybe just maybe they were trying to make a good life for their baby out there. Couldn't be much worst than the Earth Jake showed us right?

Now, we have a proper history. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, We have the Sully family (which will take on the protagonist roles from A3 and onward) and we have Spider. Their parents took shit away from each other. Spider lost his entire family, and after FoP probably a chunk of sanity after the Neurosect. He's always been the reject. And the Sully siblings lost Neteyam, their grandfather, their ancestral home, their new home, and friends, and way of life.

I say this with no hate to Jake, love this babygirl mwah, but he lied straight to his kids faces and told them Spider would be fine. He's a marine, like Ardmore, he know being a kid will not save you if your in enemy hands. Like he's right, there wasn't anything he could do once Spider got to BridgeHead. That would be a suicide mission.

Spider probably doesn't have a lot of trust in the Sully's adults after A2. Like they are on the same side, they want the same thing, but Spider knows they will not hesitant to leave him. (As seen in the comics). (I actually have a theory going that in A3 or A4 once the family start getting chased again, Spider will immediately split from the pack and look to save himself, because in his mind the Sully's will be fine. They will not help me, which will cause Jake to freak out, like where is my SON?). Spider was treated more like a kid by the recoms than the other adults. I think it was Prager or Wainfleet trying to guide/comfort him after Quaritch goes down with Cupcake. (Which I lowkey hope we see some moments of Spider with them. Him with his Auntie and Uncles). Whatever...

My point is, the series is about the kids, them growing up in a time of war, their families hating each other, but they themselves love each other. Like if Romeo and Juliet were the 'only childs' of their familes that found solace in each other as siblings.

The history of their species and families are going to be additonal pressure points in the next couple of movies.

And I don't think there'll be times that they won't blame each other.

"Oh your mother was going to kill me!"

"Your dad burnt my hometree!"

"Did you forget your dad helped him?"

"You saved a monster"

"A monster that saved my life twice, more than anyone else did!"

Moving forward, I genuinely believe these other teens ( The Metkayina, and the wind-trader teen) are going to be a source of comfort for the siblings to express their grief and raging emotions to. We know for sure that going to their parents in this situation would lead to. A bias judgement in which they try to influence their children with their own emotions. Neytiri blaming Spider and Quaritch convincing Spider that the Sullys never cared about him. I know Spider didn't have anyone outside the Sully siblings to express himself too. As a scientist myself, all the other scientist I know aren't the best with emotions, or children. Besides, Spider doesn't want to be seen in a negative light with these pent up frustrations. Again, which is why I think he is going to latch the fuck onto new friends who don't have a judgement on his family history.

So looking at everyone else's interpretations of Ao'nung I see him as a learner of sorts. He's an asshole, sure, but he's starting to recognize he doesn't know people without seeing them. He likes testing boundaries, but has always lived a such comfortable life, that meeting a stray cat like Spider makes him feel serious things that make him mature a little more. Being with Spider is going to let him push and pull boundaries to his comfort level.

Spider doesn't take shit from anyone, but doesn't let himself open up. So I think he and Ao'nung could really balance each other out with their experiences. Ao'nung makes a snide comment that's a little too out of line, Spider's stomping on his toes. Spider refusing to eat or sleep till he feels like he's properly earned his keep? (Because stray cats have to fight a spot to sleep). Ao'nung's smothering him with love or picking him up and dragging him back to dinner.

So sorry with the long winded answer, but thank you. These two have lived rent free in my head for months and its driving me a little bit mad. So I just really want the community to see what I see and make some more fanart/fiction so I can sit back and just read it myself.

What about you? Got any ideas about those two?

[d3coyheart]

call me a lyft, or a black hearse.

helepelpelpeplelp i don't usually post my writing but there's a first time for everything !!!!! i wrote this based off of the song funeral grey by waterparks, the words in italics are references to the song!!! ------------------------------------------------- lawrence didn’t quite know why he had come to this party, it was really not his kind of crowd. loud booming music, the smell of alcohol apparent in the air, and various conversations. sitting with an undrunk rum-and-coke in hand, lawrence questioned whether or not he should just drive home now. he checked his watch. 11pm.

more guests entered the party, including a man who immediately caught the older man’s eye. he was way younger than lawrence, in a faded band t-shirt and baggy jeans, smudged eyeliner clouding around his eyes. he felt captivated by the man, he was curious about his rockstar demeanor. lawrence’s recent divorce made him feel increasingly lonely, he felt the need to have someone to talk to. someone to get to know. so, up he went, beginning his journey toward the man.

pushing past crowds of people, lawrence almost finds himself lost in the sea that is this party, all the walking taking a toll on his good leg. he somehow ended up being led back to right where he began, where the man had seated himself with a bottle of beer in his hand.

”hello,” lawrence interrupts the man from his thoughts, “is this seat taken?”

the man stares for a moment, “uhm… no.” he replied blandly and scooched over slightly.

lawrence sits and shoots him a smile.

”I’m lawrence”, he stuck out his hand to be shaken.

”adam”, the other man smiles as he accepts the gesture.

slowly, they got comfortable with each other. talking, laughing, and telling stories of the weird people they interact with in their separate careers, lawrence as an oncologist and adam as a photographer. turns out, a lot of older men love asking people to photograph them naked. both men might’ve had a bit too much alcohol in their systems, as they both dissolved into shells of their sober selves.

”what’s your favorite color?” lawrence choked out through a fit of giggles.

adam smirked, simply pointing at his waist, a grey zip-up hoodie tied there

”that’s not a color, it’s a shade.”

”don’t disagree with me!!” adam shouts at the older man.

lawrence lets out a hearty chuckle at adam. seeing the smaller man’s grin had his heart doing double time. he wanted to get closer with adam. learn about his family, learn about his hometown, his friends, his hobbies, “I just want you to be my next mistake that I’m gonna make” he’d think to himself as 3am struck the clock.

adam pulled a cigarette out of his pocket shortly after their conversation came to a pause, lighting it and taking a long drag.

”that shit is gonna kill you..” lawrence spoke in a softer tone.

adam smirked maniacally before blowing his cigarette smoke into lawrence’s face, throwing the older man into a coughing fit.

”now you’re gonna die too!” adam responded slyly.

the two men smiled before falling into a mutual big fit of laughter, laughing until their abdomens cramped with pain. every time the laughter dissolved, a giggle would send them back into it. the slew of people still at the party shot them dirty looks, but they didn’t care. they were lost in the moment, lost in themselves and each other.

they both knew they couldn’t drive themselves home in their drunken state, but adam knew a guy who knew a guy, and ultimately the two men ended up in one of the spare bedrooms of the house. pros; they could sober up and drive back to their separate apartments in the morning. cons; this bedroom only had one bed, and sleeping next to someone you just met and barely know is typically a bit unusual.

”I could take the couch downstairs and you can have the bed?” lawrence suggested to the younger man at his side.

”… nah”

adam pulled lawrence into the bedroom, forcing the older man to take a seat next to him. they sat in the silence of the bedroom as the clock struck 4am.

”wanna hit the hay, old man?”

”I’m not that old, adam.”

adam chuckled at his comment, undoing the belt that held up his jeans and yanking them down, leaving him in just his boxers. lawrence was confused by this and furrowed his eyebrows at the younger man.

”what? I’m not sleeping in those uncomfortable ass jeans”

lawrence giggled before taking off his own pants and gently tugging off his prosthetic. he also pulled off the crewneck sweater he had on, leaving him in just his white tank top and boxers.

adam had already laid down and got himself comfortable in the sheets before lawrence picked up the blanket and maneuvered himself under. the shorter man stared at the taller as he got comfortable, before cuddling himself up next to him to lay on the other man’s chest. was this a bit forward of adam? probably. but lawrence didn’t seem to mind, the way he wrapped his arm around adam to pull the gap between them even tighter. adam dozed off quickly, leaving lawrence awake alone to admire him. it was odd of him to feel so strongly about a man he just met in the prior few hours, but the connection between them was instant. nothing felt forced. it was like finding a lost piece to the jigsaw puzzle of life. lawrence’s thoughts soon got cloudy as his eyes got heavier, before he drifted off to sleep along with the smaller man in his arms.

[briarcy]

I recently had the opportunity to travel to Water World Cebu, and I have to say, it was an experience I will never forget. Despite the scorching heat, the beautiful scenery and endless entertainment options made for an unforgettable adventure.

Upon arriving at Water World Cebu, I was immediately struck by the vibrant colors and lush greenery that surrounded the park. The different attractions were spread out throughout the park, making it easy to navigate and explore. I was excited to dive into the fun, and I was not disappointed.

One of the first things I did was take a ride on the park's main attraction, the Lazy River. It was the perfect way to cool down and relax as I leisurely floated along, taking in the sights and sounds of the park. The water was crystal clear and refreshing, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility as I drifted along.

Next, I decided to take on the park's water slides. I have to admit, I was a little nervous at first, but once I got going, it was an absolute blast. The slides were fast, thrilling and provided an adrenaline rush that I couldn't get enough of. I ended up going on them several times throughout the day.

As the day went on, I couldn't help but notice how hot it was getting. But the sun didn't stop me from enjoying the park. I cooled off with a dip in the park's wave pool, and it was the perfect way to escape the heat for a bit. The waves were just the right size, and I found myself riding them again and again.

One of the highlights of my trip was spending time with my closest friends. We laughed, swam and rode the slides together, and it made the experience that much more special. We even got to memorize and have a last song syndrome with Water World's theme song. It was something we will always remember.

The park also had an area designated for younger children, which was great to see. There were several water slides and pools designed specifically for kids, which made the park accessible for families of all ages. I even saw several parents enjoying the park with their little ones, and it was heartwarming to see.

In conclusion, my trip to Water World Cebu was an unforgettable experience. Though it was hot, the beauty and endless entertainment options made for an enjoyable day. I had a blast with my closest friends, and I can't wait to go back and make more memories. If you're looking for a fun day out, Water World Cebu is a must-visit place.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

close friends | t. holland

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warnings: some language, some angst if u squint. otherwise it's just fluff and tom being tom. didn't proofread this. a/n: so tumblr decided to be a little bitch and deleted this t w i c e. so i had to write this t h r e e times. this came up in my head after i got like three notifications that tom posted something on his ig story, and then it turned out he deleted them. as always, english isn't my first language so i'm sorry if this gets confusing bye. also, i was listening to cardigan by taylor swift as i wrote this.

my masterlist

so we all know tom sucks at instagram. that's a surprise to literally no one. no matter how many times you tried to teach him he still doesn't get it, and it was only a matter of time before he finally posted something he shouldn't have.

it was just one of those days, you missed him like hell. he was away filming the third spiderman, and you had to stay behind because of work.

naturally, you relied on face time and texts to survive and fill the void he left behind. you loved talking to him, listening as he rambled on and on about his adventures on set. a love-struck look on your face as you tried your hardest to stay awake despite the urge to close your eyes.

eventually, sleep took over you, and you drifted off with the sound of his voice lulling you to sleep. he stopped talking abruptly when he didn't hear your soft chuckling in reply to the story he was telling.

instead, he saw your sleeping figure, long steady breaths moving your chest up and down. and he cursed himself for making you stay up so late for him. he took one last look at you, taking a screenshot of your sleeping form.

he quickly hung up the video call and opened instagram instead, uploading the screenshot to his story,

'missing my favorite girl, thank you so much for everything you do for me. x @yourusername'

the next morning you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. at first, thought someone had died as one notification after another filled your screen. most of them came from instagram, so you opened that app first.

thousands upon thousands of mentions, tags and new followers. you frowned, and suddenly a text from your friend popped up at the top of your screen.

'omg just saw his story. so happy for u both'

who's story? what was going on?

you refreshed your timeline, and tom's icon appeared, a colorful circle around it. an odd feeling sank in your stomach. you tapped his icon and suddenly your screen was full of... you.

a picture of you, sleeping. tom's smiling form in a small rectangle on the bottom right corner.

oh god. you read the words he wrote, over and over again. your heart pounding in your chest, and a sudden wave of fear ran through your body. but then you read his words once more, and all you could feel was love. pure, unconditional affection.

sure, your families and closest friends knew about you, but you hadn't talked about making your relationship public yet, but there was nothing you could do now.

you sighed, leaning back on your pillows. a small chuckle left your throat.

you grabbed your phone once again, quickly facetiming tom. you knew he had an early call today, and you hoped you could catch him while he was still in his hotel.

it ran once, twice, and then you saw him, hair all over the place, bare chest. hands rubbing sleep off of his face.

"mornin', darling." he said, his raspy morning voice making you smile.

"hi, baby. did i wake you?" you asked, sitting up and crossing your legs.

"yeah but it's fine, princess. i did keep you up last night so it's only fair."

"i'm sorry about falling asleep on you, that was a really nice picture you took last night," you lifted one eyebrow, and watched as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"i thought you looked really pretty, you always look pretty," he said, grabbing the water bottle on his nightstand and taking a swing.

"thanks, i hope the whole world thinks so, too," you declared. leaning your chin on your fist, watching him expectantly.

he did not react like you had expected him to.

his breath hitched as he sipped his water, and suddenly all you could see was the cream-colored ceiling, as you heard him spitting out and coughing.

"tom! oh, my god! are you okay?" you asked, getting on your knees and holding your phone up to your face, "tommy?" you repeated when he finally stopped coughing, you could now hear his heavy breaths.

at last, you saw his curls appear from the bottom of the screen.

"wh-what did you just say?" his voice was rough, his chest heaving.

"are you okay?" you asked again.

"ye-yeah i'm fine. babe, what did you mean by 'the whole world'? did something happen?" he asked, frowning. you echoed his expression, watching him for a second.

“you posted a picture to your story,” you repeated, and he nodded.

“yeah, i posted it to my close friends, i-” he stopped mid-sentence, eyes growing comically wide. “oh shit, did i-” he caught himself off as he threw the phone to one side, you heard him fumbling around for his laptop and you snorted. “shit, baby, don’t tell me i posted it… fuck!” you couldn’t keep it in any longer, you broke out laughing.

“of course this is how the world finds out about us!” you continued giggling until your stomach hurt.

“fuck, princess i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear i- why are you laughing!?”

“tommy, tommy! it’s okay, baby, don’t worry. i’m not mad,” you stopped once you noticed his pouting. “it’s fine, my love, i don’t mind. sure it’s unexpected, and a little sudden but i wouldn’t have it any other way. i knew what i was getting into when we started dating,” you told him honestly, wishing you were there to give him a hug and kiss him all over.

“darling, i’m really, really sorry. i swear i thought i tapped the green button like you told me to” he continued his sulking, nervous eyes glancing back and forth from his laptop screen to you.

“i know, baby, i know this is not your forte, and i really appreciate the sweet gesture, honestly. i love you so much,” you told him as you bit your lip. folding your legs to your chest, wrapping one around them.

“god, i love you. i swear i’ll make it up to you,” he ran his hand through his hair, giving you a quick peek of his bare chest.

“i’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, you glanced to the clock on your nightstand, sighing when you saw the time. “i’ve gotta go,” you said as you stood up and stretched. a wicked idea ran through you head. “i’ve got like five meetings today, so i’ll probably be busy most of the day. just in case i don’t reply or something,” you made up you lie quickly. grabbing your laptop and opening a new tab.

“oh, okay. i’ll be on set until like 1 am, so we’ll talk tomorrow?” he asked, eyes bright. you nodded, biting your lip.

“definitely. i love you,” you blew him a kiss. he smiled, and you felt your heart swelling.

“i love you, too. good luck today!” he said as you reluctantly hung up the call.

you immediately got to work, calling your assistant and telling her you were taking a few personal weeks, and to email you in case of emergencies. next, you texted harry, asking him to call you once tom was busy on set.

you waited for the page to load, and once you had bought your one-way ticket to atlanta you hurriedly threw some pre-planned outfits into two suitcases, just in case. your phone rang and harry’s face popped up on your screen. you quickly answered the call, and let him know of your out-of-the-blue plan. he agreed to meet you at the airport and drive you to set. and because of your recent and sudden rise to fame, he suggested you wear all black and a cap. you followed his advice, throwing on some sunglasses as well, as you had seen tom do many times before.

once you reached the airport and checked-in, you bought some coffee and breakfast, as well as some food for the flight. you opened instagram, seeing all the messages and comments. you had seen how the fans reacted when their favorite celebrities announced a relationship, and you knew to expect the meanest comments, and even death threats. for your own sake and peace of mind, you allowed yourself to scroll until you read three of those, and closed the app.

once the plane took off, you tried to catch some sleep, preparing for the inevitable jet lag, but your mind kept buzzing from one scenario to another. so you took out your book and tried to read some chapters, putting in your earbuds, music playing quietly.

when you finally, finally landed, you stretched your legs and grabbed your bags, putting on the cap and sunglasses again, you spotted a familiar head of wild curls. you quickly approached harry.

“what happened to all black and a cap to go unnoticed?” you asked as he took one of your bags in his hands.

“think about it, two kids wearing black, a cap and sunglasses? people would think we’re up to no good.” he gave you a tight hug, you’d missed him almost as much as you’d missed tom.

he caught you up on everything he and tom had been doing these past months, you shifted in your seat in excitement, the sleep that was slowly taking over you on the plane had now disappeared from your body.

in what was probably a 15 -but to you felt like five- minute drive, you got to the hotel to leave your bags and take a quick shower. harry left you alone in tom’s room, making his way to his own room next door. he said he’d order something for you to eat whilst you got ready to see tom.

you took the quickest shower ever known to humankind, and when you walked out of the bathroom after using tom’s shampoo and conditioner, -you’d missed his smell all over you. the few forgotten hoodies and shirts that were once drenched in the smell of his soap and cologne, were now very faint.- you wrapped a bathrobe around your body, rummaging through tom’s clothes until you found one of his shirts.

you pulled it close to your face, sighing at the familiar scent you’d missed so much. you got dressed quickly, grabbing your now fully-charged phone and the key to tom’s room that harry had left on a coffee table. you knocked on harry’s door and he let you in.

“i just texted tom, he says they’ve got like three hours left.” you sat next to him on the couch, the table in front of you filled with food waiting to be devoured.

“my poor baby, they overwork him,” you pouted, reaching for one of the plates.

“it was his idea, said he’ll do anything that helps finish filming sooner.” you stopped chewing your food.

“wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, you knew tom loved his job, and you found it odd that he wanted to cut his time on set short.

“yeah, it’s been rough for him. not having you around, i mean, after he spent months with you. he’s been pretty distracted lately. messing up lines, he’s been waking up late and missing early calls...” your heart sank at the words. you ate the rest of your food with a knot in your stomach, cursing yourself for not getting there sooner. soon enough, you were back in the car, your leg bouncing up and down. you fell asleep on your way to set, waking up when harry parked the car and nudged your shoulder.

you stepped out carefully, your head turning back every few steps you took, in fear that tom might catch you. once you reached the stage where tom was filming, you flashed the visitor badge harry had given you to the guard and he let you both in. you walked in as you leaned down, your forehead against harry’s back, shielding you from the curious stares. harry told you to hide behind a giant box where they kept some lights whilst he spoke to the director.

although the box was big and tall enough to cover you completely, you crouched down, straining your ears for nearing footsteps. you heard two sets of feet approaching, your heartbeat racing.

you were met with your accomplice, a friendly-looking man behind him. you stood up as they approached you.

“this the girl?” the man asked, and harry nodded, “nice to meetcha, i’m jon.” you shook his hand, “okay, so we’ve cleared tom’s schedule for one week, we’ll need him back fully recharged and ready to work like it’s his first day on set, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, if it means he’ll work better if you’re here you can stay until we're done. i really don’t mind, i just need my guy back.” you blinked at his words, nodding slowly. “we’ve got a couple hours left tonight, i’m all up for some cheesy reunion, but it’ll have to be when we’re finished, i can barely keep him focused as it is.”

with that he left, and harry led you to tom’s trailer, where you caught some sleep while you waited. like that morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing. you reached for it, sleep leaving your body as you read the text.

‘just finished filming for the night, i’m exhausted. miss u, love you. x.’

all rational thoughts left your head, you opened the door to tom’s trailer and sprinted out of there until you reached the set. your eyes finally, finally met his figure, and tears filled your eyes.

your legs moved on their own accord, you mumbled apologies as you crashed into people, but you didn’t care. tom had his back to you, and even though he wasn’t wearing the spiderman costume, you’d recognize that ass anywhere.

“tom!” you called out, stopping a few feet away from him. you saw him whipping his head around, eyes scanning the sea of people. you made your way up to him, “tommy!” you repeated, and he finally turned around.

his mouth wide opened in disbelief, arms twitching, feet running towards you as you did the same. you crashed into each other, your legs wrapping around him, arms around his neck, fingers curling on his soft hair. his hands running all over your back, your hair. pulling you as close as humanly possible.

whispers of ‘i love you’, ‘god, i missed you’, ‘never leave me again’, and ‘i promise’ were exchanged. you tightened your hold on his hair, pulling back to look at him.

“hi,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“hey,” he replied, burying his face on your neck again, pressing small kisses anywhere he could reach. his hands settled on the back of your thighs as he spun you two. you giggled, sniffling as a few tears escaped your eyes.

you could not care less about the people around you, all you could think about was the boy wrapped all over you, your favorite boy. tom led you back to his trailer, where you finally untangled yourself from him. he settled you down and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you again.

you had been starved of his touch for so long, there was no way you were letting him go anytime soon.

after many kisses, touches, tears, promises and more kisses, you left for the hotel. harry had already left, getting a ride from another cast member to leave you two alone. at that moment you swore you’d make him godfather of your firstborn child.

as you waited for tom to step out of the shower -you would’ve joined him, but three showers in a day seemed kind of excessive-, you laid down on the bed, throwing the covers over your body, tom's scent engulfing you. you breathed in happily. you tapped on your phone, replying to some work emails when you received a text from harry.

‘i believe the ball is in your court. you’re welcome.’

next, you received a picture of you and tom. harry must’ve taken the picture when you and tom were too lost in each other to even notice anyone around you. in the picture, your legs are around tom, bodies pressed closed together, your noses touching as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. it was a beautiful picture. and the black and white filter harry had applied to it made it seem like one of those old pictures of wives reuniting with their spouses after the war.

you smiled, heart swelling with emotion as you contemplated your options. you hummed quietly, tapping the instagram logo and waiting for the app to load.

you quickly uploaded the picture harry sent you tagging both him and tom and adding a quick caption before you shut down your phone. you were drifting off to sleep when you felt familiar arms around you.

you leaned into tom’s touch, your back resting against his chest, legs tangling with his as he interlocked his fingers with your own.

“thank you so much for being here, my love. i love you,” tom whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“i’ll be here whenever you need me. i’ll always come back to you.” you turned around, facing him. you kissed the corner of his lips, and he cupped your cheek, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss, filled with emotion. your fingers played with his fingers as you moved to straddle his waist. “i love you,” you broke the kiss reluctantly. as much as you both wanted to make love that night, you’d made it your top priority that tom took his time off to rest as much as he could, and that included that first night.

you gave him one last kiss, going back to your previous position. the familiar and comfortable weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

the peaceful environment you had created suddenly burst like a bubble as tom’s phone pinged over and over again. you heard him grunting, arms reluctantly leaving you.

tom chuckled, putting his phone on do-not-disturb and throwing it somewhere on the bed.

“you’re perfect for me, my favorite girl.” you smiled, leaning into his touch as he kissed you all over. sleep quickly taking over both of you.

tom swore his heart stopped when he’d seen the picture you posted. you’d never looked more beautiful than when you were staring up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth. the words you wrote as a caption were the last thing on his brain as he finally succumbed to sleep.

‘i said, “i bet you can’t keep this a secret for five months.” he said, “darling, i won’t make it past three.” @ tomholland2013 it’s been 10 months, who won?’

edit: i just saw henry cavill's ig post and omg what is my life. pls respect celebrities' privacy and relationships.

[queenshelby]

The Judge’s Daughter (Part One)

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Virgin!Reader

Words: 8,700

 Warning: Angst, Blood, Gore, Mention of Suicide, Mention of Miscarriage, Drugs, Racism, Smut

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal  @chrisevanshoeee  @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse  @captivatedbycillianmurphy  @fookingshelby  @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x

………

 Challenging Times

In early 1930, times were hard. The Wall Street crash in 1929 caused many men to lose their fortune. Your family had also lost money on the stock exchange. A lot of money.

Your father was a wealthy judge and now, he was just a judge. Your family home had to be sold and your father moved into a medium sized apartment in London with one of his maids.

Since your mother had passed away in 1920, your father had often sought comfort in his employees. There was one maid in particular who was of interest to him. Her name was Catherine and she was 10 years your father’s junior.

You accepted his relationship with her but soon felt uncomfortable to live with them in the London Apartment.

But your father wasn’t the only family member who lost his fortune in the stock market crash. Your brother had also lost a lot of money. So much money that he could not repay his gambling debt to one of London’s most notorious criminals.

As a result, your brother committed suicide. His mental health had always been troubled ever since he’s been to France, fighting for England in the First World War. Your brother was much older than you and it was almost a miracle when your mother fell pregnant again and gave birth to you after three miscarriages.

Your brother adored you and protected you whenever necessary. He was kind hearted but, unfortunately, got himself involved with the wrong people on several occasions which is when he began gambling.  

Following your brother’s death, your father struck a deal with the man to whom the gambling debt was owed, releasing three of his gang members from prison.

The debt was forgiven and you inherited your brother’s small cottage north of London.  Regardless of your father’s actions, he began to despise criminals who involved themselves in illegal gambling activities. Your father was known to be particularly harsh when it came to offences of this kind.

He once told you a story about a man who used to be a prominent criminal who made his fortune through race fixing and illegal gambling activities. That man was now a member of parliament and your father despised him.

Being Jewish, your father’s hate for this man increased even more when he became the deputy leader of the British Union of Fascists.

The man’s name was Thomas Shelby and you met him once at a gala organised by the socialist party in Westminster. He was a smart man but he was also extremely rude and insulted your father at the gala following a dispute they had earlier in the day.

Your father threatened him and told him that, one day, he will ensure his downfall. It was your father’s mission and it was dangerous.

With that threat in mind and heated political events unfolding around the country, your father asked you to move to the countryside. Take up your brother’s cottage and lay low until things were taking a turn.

It took you quite some time to build up the courage to move into the house where your brother took his own life. But, you eventually did, taking up your brother’s work at the property while attending nursing school every second week.

The cottage was free standing but behind a larger house owned by wealthy Londoners. Their wealth seemed to have been unaffected by the stock market crash and, just as your brother did, you attended their yards and animals on the small farm in exchange for a wage and free food from the produce.

You also spent some time renovating the cottage which was rather dated.

The cottage had two bedrooms, one of which you converted entirely to a studio for your paintings. You enjoyed painting and you were quite good at it.

The other bedroom you redecorated with your own furniture.

The downstairs area consisted out of a small living room with a fire place and a small kitchen and bathroom.

It wasn’t much, but it was a place you could call your own. It was home.

Initially following your move, you would travel to London occasionally to visit your father and his mistress. You wondered when he would finally propose to her. She had been waiting for years.

When you visited, you would often sit in one of his open hearings. You were quite interested in the political and legal situation in the country especially following recent events.  

Notably, it has been six weeks since the assassination attempt on Oswald Mosley, the leader of the British Union of Fascists.

Being Jewish yourself, you, just like your father, despised fascism.

The event at which the assassination attempt occurred was visited by many Jews, protesting against the establishment of the party and their obscure ideas. Despite your father’s instructions not to get involved, you were one of the protestors on the day and, although not openly, you have been associating yourself with the communists.

Your newfound friend Jesse Eden had since led several more protests you attended. Being only 20 years young, you believed that you could make a difference and convince people that their support for fascism was wrong and immoral.

The problem was that your father was at the centre of it all.

Following the assassination attempt on Oswald Mosley, two Jews were arrested and appeared in your father’s court. The prosecution didn’t have enough evidence for a conviction and the men walked free.

No one really knew who was behind the assassination attempt. There were no witnesses and everyone who may have witnessed the attack had since been found dead.

Regardless of this, for some reason, the leaders of the British Union of Fascists seem to have believed that a Jewish man by the name of Alfie Solomons was behind the attack. But there was one little problem, Alfie Solomon was dead. Or wasn’t he?

The men that were arrested used to work for Alfie Solomons and took the fall until your father set them free for lack of evidence.

A week after this decision, a Jewish owned factory was bombed. The factory was owned by the men who were set free by your father and a company owned by a Trust.

Ten men were killed and, following some arrests, it became evident that Jimmy McCavern was behind the attack.

Jimmy McCavern was the leader of the Billy Boys and, over the course of another week, your father was able to make a connection through some documents admitted to evidence between Jimmy McCavern, Alfie Solomons and a man named Thomas Shelby who was the deputy leader of the British Union of Fascists.

An arrest warrant was issued against Jimmy McCavern and Thomas Shelby by the London police following your father’s advice to them. Since, apparently, Alfie Solomons was dead, no arrest warrant could be made against him.

Thomas Shelby was the first member of parliament who was subject to such warrant and your father may have just, like this, gotten himself a lot of enemies.

The men he had against him now were not only the Billy Boys but also the Peaky Blinders and it was too dangerous for you to continue to visit him in London.

Unfortunately, little did you know that the danger was about to lurk just in front of your doorstep.

An Unexpected Visit

It was a Wednesday evening at 8pm that you heard a rather loud knock on the front door of your cottage.

You didn’t expect anyone and approached the door with your loaded gun. It’s not that you had ever shot a gun, but you bought yourself one two days ago just in case you needed it.

‘Who is it?’ you asked from behind the closed door.

‘It’s Jesse Eden’ you’ve heard from behind the door and you immediately recognised Jesse’s voice.

You put the gun aside and unlocked the door.

To your surprise, Jesse wasn’t alone and your chin dropped as you saw the man standing right in front of you. You remembered him. He was the man who stood beside Oswald Mosley during his speech in Birmingham and you had met him before at a gala at Westminster.

His name was Thomas Shelby.

‘I think we have met before Miss Rosenberg’ Tommy said.

‘Yes, we have Mr Shelby’ you said nervously and frightened at the same time. You immediately wondered whether Jesse was under duress by him. Why otherwise would he be here with her you wondered.

You invited them both inside after Jesse made the request to come in. She wasn’t sure whether they had been followed.

To your surprise, Jesse soon told you that she required your help. According to her, Thomas Shelby had to lay low due to the arrest warrant issued by the London police.

If Thomas Shelby was to be arrested, he may be killed in prison before a hearing could be conducted.

Accordingly, Jesse asked you to hide him at your house until the charges against him are dropped.

‘You mean until the chief of police has been bribed enough to drop the charges?’ you chuckled in response to her request.

‘I wish it would be that easy Love’ Tommy said as he looked at the pictures on your living room wall. His hands were in his pockets and he almost looked unbothered by the situation.

‘You cannot be serious Jesse. You seriously want me to hide this man at my house?’ you said in disbelieve.  

‘I am afraid I am serious Y/N’ Jesse responded.

‘Well, a fascist hiding at the house of a Jew, how ironic’ you said angrily, still unsure why Jesse was helping him.

‘I know we have gotten off on the wrong foot at the Westminster gala Miss Rosenberg, but I would greatly appreciate your help’ Tommy said, recalling his argument with your father in your presence in late 1929.

‘You think Mr Shelby?’ you chuckled. ‘You insulted my father and my entire family’ you said.

‘And for that, I apologise’ Tommy said politely but firmly.

‘Jesse, you need to explain to me why you are helping this man. I do not understand it’ you said.

‘I cannot give you more information Y/N. You just need to trust me on this, alright?’ Jesse asked almost fearfully.

‘Alright, but why me?’ you pondered.

‘Because you are the daughter of the judge hearing this matter. No one will think to look for me here, at your house’ Tommy explained.

‘Jesus’ was all you could respond with to Tommy’s comment.

‘Y/N, trust me, please. It’s for the cause’ Jesse said.

‘I find this hard to believe, but alright, he can stay’ you responded.

Not long after you agreed to house the deputy leader of the British Union of Fascists, Thomas Shelby, Jesse made her way back to Birmingham. It was a three-hour drive and she had to hurry before anyone became suspicious.

‘You will have to sleep on the lounge. Please help yourself to any food, water and drinks’ you said while you walked into another room to fetch a blanket, pillow and change of clothes for Tommy.

You still held on to your brother’s clothes which should have fitted Thomas just fine.

‘I thank you for your hospitality Miss Rosenberg and I apologise for intruding your space. I should be out of your hair within the week’ Tommy said as you came back to the living room and handed him everything he needed for his stay.

‘I am doing this for Jesse, not for you Mr Shelby. Although I do not quite understand why she is helping you’ you said just before you sat down in one of the arm chairs.

‘Let’s just say, we had a thing once, eh’ Tommy smirked.

‘I didn’t think that she would fall for a man like you’ you said.

‘A man like me, eh?’ Tommy chuckled.

‘Yes, a socialist turning to fascism. It’s rather disappointing’ you said.

‘Sometimes we do what we have to do Miss Rosenberg’ Tommy said.

‘Yes, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be staying here, trust me’ you said before excusing yourself.

You made your way to your studio, painting and drinking wine. It was what you enjoyed most and you wanted to space from the stranger now living with you in the small cottage. A man you had literally nothing in common with and who you despised.

While you were painting, Tommy made use of your telephone and enjoyed some of your late brother’s whiskey.

It was obvious to you that he was struggling with being cooped up in your cottage and, just as your thoughts got lost in your paintings, you heard some a cracking noise near the door of your studio.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked as you noticed Tommy walking into your studio, looking through your many paintings.

‘You are talented. These paintings are extraordinary’ Tommy said.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby’ you said with surprise. Had he really just complimented you?

His presence and closeness sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t that you were frightened but you were clearly intimidated.

‘What are your plans, Miss Rosenberg?’ Tommy asked as he kept looking through the paintings.

‘My plans?’ you asked.

‘Your plans for the future? What are they?’ Tommy asked.

‘I am studying to become a nurse. Perhaps, one day get married and have children. The usual’ you said shyly.

‘Well, let me tell you, marriage is overrated’ Tommy chuckled before he asked how old you were.

‘I am 20’ you responded.

‘Still young with a life of opportunities ahead of you. Don’t waste them on the cause’ Tommy said.

‘Coming from a man who wastes his political career on fascism’ you said, causing Tommy to chuckle.

Your comment instantly sparked a political debate between you and Tommy which soon erupted into a heated argument.

During the argument he told you that you were too young to understand, ignorant and naïve and you were keen to throw him out of your house right then and there.

But, you bit your tongue and reminded yourself of the promise you made to Jesse.

You couldn’t stand him and his arrogance any longer and went to your bedroom, leaving him to debate about politics with himself.

Things Must Change

The next morning, you woke up early to attend the garden, ignoring Tommy as you left the house.

But, it wasn’t long until Tommy joined you in the garden. It was obvious to you that he was clearly bored.

‘What happened to the people who lived at the large house over there?’ Tommy asked as he walked outside to have a cigarette. You didn’t allow him to smoke inside the house.

‘They are in France for their annual vacation. Apparently, their fortune was unaffected by the stock market crash’ you responded.

‘Lucky them eh’ Tommy grinned as he grabbed some of the leather gardening cloves and a bucket from the side of the house.

Wearing his expensive suit and with the bucket in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth he walked over to the berry bushes where you were standing.

‘I might as well make myself useful eh’ he said jokingly as he began picking some berries.

‘Uhm yeah…but these aren’t ripe’ you giggled as you observed Tommy picking off some of the raspberries.

‘Right. Well, I usually don’t garden’ Tommy chuckled.

‘I couldn’t tell’ you laughed, causing Tommy to smile back at you.

This was the first time you noticed him smile. It was a gentle smile and it suited him.

Tommy helped you in the garden for the remainder of the day. It wasn’t like he had something else to do other than make phone calls to his brother and someone by the name of Kent.

You managed to keep your arguments to a minimum and you started to worry that you were slowly beginning to enjoy his company.

Later that evening, following dinner, you even sat down together in front of the fireplace in the living room to drink whiskey and wine and make some conversation.

‘I have been checking on your calls, contacting the directory because I wanted to make sure that I am safe with you being here. I have been told that the last call from my number was made to the Crown Investigations Office’ you said with surprise as you poured Tommy a glass of whiskey. After everything that happened in the past, you still didn’t trust him.

‘That’s correct’ Tommy said.

‘The only reason I could think of as to why you were talking to an officer of the Crown while you have an arrest warrant against you is if you were working for the Crown yourself. Otherwise, you would be mad tipping them’ you said.

‘I was just trading information that might be useful. In exchange, I am hoping for the arrest warrant against me to be dropped’ Tommy explained.

‘Mr Shelby, do you actually believe in fascism? I have not heard you speak about your party’s ideals since you’ve been here. We spoke about politics but you still seem to be a socialist at heart. So tell me, why do you follow this mad man Mosely? I am curious’ you said.

‘The thing about political parties is that they take the course into the direction in which they are steered. Much like a car. But just like with a car, if you fill it with the wrong fuel and the engine breaks down as a result, you will be going nowhere’ Tommy said as he took a drink.

‘And you are the fuel Mr Shelby?’ you asked with curiosity.

‘Yes, I am the fuel Miss Rosenberg’ he said.

‘Your intention is to undermine Mosley on behalf of the Crown. Jesse knew and this is why she helped you, isn’t it?’ you said after pondering on about what Tommy had just told you.

‘And now that you know this as well, it makes you my accomplice. I might be able to use your help Miss Rosenberg’ Tommy said.  

‘If it helps to end fascism, perhaps I am willing to give it’ you said with a smile. ‘But I am curious now Mr Shelby. Was it you who initiated the attack on Mosley?’ you asked.

‘I rather not answer Miss Rosenberg’ Tommy said.

‘I understand. Also, you can call me Y/N now that we aren’t enemies after all’ you said.

‘Alright Y/N, then I insist that you call me Tommy’ he responded.

After some more conversation you decided that it was time for you to make your way to bed. It was late and you had to get up early to attend the animals.

Nightmares

Falling asleep that night was easy. You felt much safer now despite Tommy’s presence. You knew he wasn’t going to harm you.

But just as easy as you had fallen asleep, you were woken up by a loud noise coming from the living room at 1am.

‘Tommy, are you alright?’ you asked worryingly as you walked downstairs in a haste, wearing nothing but your silk nightgown.

‘My apologies, I didn’t intend to wake you’ Tommy said as he sat on the lounge, covered in sweat.

You initially thought that he might haven gotten sick until you saw a small empty bottle on the living room table. Your brother used to have one just like it which he carried around everywhere. It contained Liquid Opium and helped him sleep. He took it every night until, one day, he stopped. The withdrawal was barely manageable and his addiction soon rebounded.

You knew what this was. You had seen it before.

‘I will make you some tea to help you sleep’ you said kindly as you observed Tommy’s struggles.

‘I don’t think that tea will help me sleep Love’ Tommy chuckled.

‘My brother used to have nightmares after France. When he returned home, my mother made this for him and he managed to get at least some sleep. It’s worth a try’ you said with a warm smile. You knew Tommy had been to France. You had spoken about it when you spoke about your brother earlier that evening.  

‘I suppose why not, eh’ Tommy said as he walked to the bathroom to clean himself off with a cold wet flannel.

After you put on the kettle, you walked to the studio and grabbed some more of your brother’s clothes.

‘These should fit you’ you said shyly as you handed Tommy a clean plain shirt and pants.

‘Thank you, Y/N’ he said as he took the clothes.

This was the first time you saw Tommy without a shirt and, despite his level of exhaustion, it was quite a sight. He certainly was a very attractive man.

After Tommy had gotten himself changed, you sat down next to him and handed him the cup of tea.

‘Do you want to talk?’ you asked.

‘It’s the middle of the night Y/N, you should get some sleep’ Tommy said.

‘It’s alright. I am not tired’ you said with a warm smile.

That night Tommy spoke with you about everything. About France and his late wife Grace who visited him in his dreams. He didn’t know why, but he felt as though he could talk to you and trust you.

At 4am, you eventually fell asleep on the lounge next to Tommy which is where you woke up the next morning covered with a warm blanket.

The fire was lid and there was a note on the coffee table as you woke.

‘Borrowed your hunting rifle, will be back by 8’ the note said.

You didn’t know how to hunt and had been telling Tommy how your brother shot bucks whenever you came to visit him at the cottage from London. You would then prepare it with veggies from the garden just the way your mother had shown you.

You thought that, perhaps, Tommy was better equipped than you when it came to hunting. You struggled enough even just to slaughter a chook from the farm and your intake of meat was clearly lacking as a result.

Attacked

With Tommy gone, you decided to attend to the horses. Grabbing your shovel and rake, you walked into the stables.

But, just as you walked inside, you could hear a loud noise from behind the barn.

You wondered whether it was Tommy and approached the back area of the property carefully. After all, he had a loaded gun and you certainly didn’t want to get shot accidently.

Just as you walked to the side of the property, you saw a strange man.

‘Hello Love’ the man said, cocking his gun.

‘Who are you and what do you want?’ you asked holding on to your rake tightly.

‘We’ve got a dispute to settle with some Jews Love. Now be a good girl and put down this rake would you’ the man said firmly.

You obliged and the man approached you slowly.

‘Now Love, we will be having a good time and then we will visit your father’ the man said just before he called for another man who was at the back of the barn.

Within an instant, the man grabbed your wrists and pushed you against the outer wall of the barn.

‘Such are pretty thing aren’t you’ the man said as he aimed to cover your mouth while moving away your skirt.

But, just when the man’s hand reached your mouth, you bit him firmly just before yelling for help.

‘You fucking bitch’ the man said as he reached for his gun.

In this moment, you heard a shot. The other man was hit, but barely and went to check out where the shot came from.

With both men distracted, you ceased the moment and pulled out the gardening scissors you were carrying in your thin jacket. Within an instant and without thinking, you rammed the scissor into the neck of the man who was still standing right there in front of you.

This was all it took for the man to fall to the ground. You couldn’t help it but scream as your hands and blouse were covered in the man’s blood.

You were besides yourself, sitting on the ground next to his dying body in shock, unable to do anything.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw Tommy approach you, making his way through the veggie patch carrying your hunting rifle and covered in blood himself.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ he asked as he kneeled down next to you, comforting you.

‘There is another man Tommy, he walked to towards the berry field’ you said.

‘I know. He’s dead now and so is the third man who was driving them here’ Tommy said.

‘Did you kill them?’ you asked.

‘Yes, I did’ he said and, just in that moment, you threw his arms around him.

This is when you realised that he had been injured and was in agony himself.

‘Tommy, you’ve been shot’ you said with worry as you saw blood staining through his white shirt.

‘Yes’ was all he managed to say at this point as he was losing blood.

‘We will get you to a hospital’ you said in a haste.

‘No hospital Y/N. I will be taken into custody if I set foot in a public place like this until the arrest warrant has been dropped’ Tommy said.

You could see the agony on his face as he held onto the side of his chest. He was in pain. A lot of pain.

‘You are nurse, aren’t you?’ Tommy asked, breathing heavily.

‘I am a student nurse Tommy. I have not practiced on a life person’ you said worryingly.

‘Well, it’s about time then eh’ Tommy chuckled.

‘Tommy, you can’t be serious’ you said.

‘I am serious Y/N. I need you to do this, please’ Tommy said.

‘Alright, common’ you said nervously. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Tommy was bleeding a lot and his wound needed attention immediately.

With haste, you walked inside with Tommy and placed a towel over the lounge and got your first aid kit as well as a bottle of vodka from the dining room.  You then went to the bathroom quickly to get a bowl of clean water and more towels.  

While you were getting everything ready, Tommy made a phone call to his brother Arthur, giving him your address. By that point, Tommy was barely able to stand up.

As you returned from the kitchen, you helped Tommy to remove his blood-soaked clothes.

You gasped for a moment. You weren’t sure whether the blood or the sight of his naked body took away your breath.

‘You’ve got whiskey?’ Tommy asked.

‘Tommy, I don’t think it matters which alcohol I use to clean out your wound’ you said as you got everything ready on the table.

‘To drink. Trust me, I’ll need it. I am out of Opium’ he said, his breathing still laboured.

‘Yes, of course’ you said before you poured him a large glass of whiskey and handed it to him.

He drank all of it in an instant before lying down.

‘This is going to hurt’ you said as you cleaned your hands and the tweezers from your first aid kit with some of the vodka.

‘I know’ he said, taking in a deep breath.

‘You have to stay still’ you went on as you reached for his wound which was still profusely pouring blood.

‘I know’ he said again before closing his eyes and holding on to the edge of the lounge in anticipation.

As soon as you entered the wounds with your fingers and the tweezers, all that you could hear was a loud grunt.

‘Fuck’ Tommy screamed as your fingers went in deeper, retrieving the bullet from his wound. By this point, you were breathing as heavily as him.

‘I’ve got it Tommy, don’t move now’ you said as you carefully pulled the bullet out of his flesh.

Tommy took in a deep breath and, with another loud grunt, you dislodged the bullet.

It was intact and you sighed with relief while Tommy opened his eyes, looking at you in agony.

‘Now I will clean up the wound and stitch it, alright?’ you asked, causing Tommy to nod.

He let out another loud grunt as you poured some of the vodka over his wound before handing him a clean towel to apply pressure to the wound while you prepared the stitches.

His face was expressionless when you placed the stitches. You knew that the worst pain was over but, nonetheless, you were surprised by how well he had handled it.

This was when you noticed several large scars across his chest and arms. Almost too many to count.

‘You have been shot before, haven’t you?’ you asked while Tommy looked almost relaxed when you placed the sixth stitch.

‘Just a few times’ he smirked.

While you placed the last stitch, you could hear a car pull up in front of your door.

You opened the door quickly before applying a bandage around Tommy’s chest.

‘Fucking Hell Brother’ Arthur shouted as he walked into the living room with Isiah.

‘Arthur, this is Y/N’ Tommy said by way of introduction.

You quickly shook Arthur’s hand by which he was rather surprised.

‘Who the fuck did this?’ Arthur asked.

‘The Billy Boys. But they weren’t after me. They were after her’ Tommy explained.

‘Why?’ Arthur asked.

‘Because she is the daughter of the judge hearing the McCaven matter. I assume they wanted to send a message’ Tommy said.

‘Did they see you?’ Arthur asked.

‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter. They are dead’ Tommy responded.

‘Alright, what do you want us to do with the bodies? Send a message?’ Arthur asked.

‘Burry them behind the property. This never happened. They just disappeared and never made it here. By the time McCaven finds out the arrest warrants will be dropped and I can deal with the situation and Mosley’ Tommy instructed.

Arthur and Isiah attended the bodies as instructed by Tommy. You were surprised how quickly and efficiently they made the bodies disappear without any evidence whatsoever. It was clear to you that they had done this kind of thing before.

Before they left, Tommy gave Arthur a note to give to Jesse Eden and a note to give to a person named Kent.

In return Arthur gave Tommy three guns, a change of clothes and a bottle of opium.

After Arthur and Isiah had left, you made sure that Tommy was resting. After all, he had lost a lot of blood and you didn’t want him to pull a stitch.

Tender Moments

‘Do you have any more of that tea?’ Tommy asked as he held on to the bottle of opium that Arthur had given him. He starred at it, but didn’t open it.

‘Yes, sure. I will make some’ you said.

You were surprised by Tommy’s request but didn’t dare to argue.

You sat down next to him to have some tea while he placed the bottle of opium on the table in front of him.

‘Tommy, don’t’ you said.

‘Don’t what?’ he asked.

‘The opium, don’t take it’ you said.

‘Well, then put it away somewhere I cannot find it eh’ Tommy said as he handed you the bottle and you obliged with his request.

Tommy knew he would be regretting this soon, at night when his nightmares would wake him once again. It wasn’t the pain he couldn’t handle, but rather it was Grace’s visits in his dreams and dreaming about France hat destroyed him.

He was afraid of going to sleep but he needed sleep badly especially after today and so did you.

‘Are you not going to sleep?’ Tommy asked as clock struck midnight and you were still there with him talking about matters which he never talked to anyone about. He felt like he could confine in you and, despite your young age, you understood and you cared.

‘I don’t think I can. Not after what happened today. Not after what I have done’ you said as tears were building up in your eyes for the third time that evening.

‘Y/N, listen to me, alright?’ he said, caressing your face gently.

‘What you have done saved your life. These men were here to hurt you and now they can’t. You are safe now’ Tommy said as tears began to run down your cheek.

‘I killed someone Tommy’ you said in disarray.

‘You killed a bad man’ Tommy said as he used his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

‘It’s still a man Tommy’ you said before pressing your head against his chest. ‘Will the picture of him ever leave my head?’ you asked.

‘No Y/N, it won’t. But your guilt will, that I promise’ Tommy said. ‘Now, let’s get you some rest, eh?’ Tommy said.

‘Will you come with me Tommy?’ you asked nervously, knowing that your question was somewhat unusual.

‘Come with you? To bed?’ Tommy asked with surprise.

‘Yes, just to sleep by my side. I am scared Tommy’ you said.

‘I never had a woman ask me to join her in her bed simply for the purpose of sleeping, but alright, I suppose I can do that’ Tommy smirked before he followed you upstairs.

As Tommy lied down next you, bandaged up and wearing not much more than his white undergarments, you could feel something unusual. It was almost like some sort of warmth which was flowing through your chest.

‘Do you want me to turn off the light?’ Tommy asked as he got comfortable on the large white pillow, facing you and starring into your dark eyes.

‘Not yet. Perhaps we could talk for a little longer’ you said as you looked into his comforting blue eyes.

‘Alright, what you want to talk about?’ he asked and this is when you brought up his current wife Lizzie and his children.

‘What about your wife and children, where are they?’ you asked.

‘They are in Scotland, where, apparently they are safe from all this and from myself’ Tommy said with some disappointment.

‘From yourself? But they are your children’ you asked with some confusion.

‘They are, but they are indeed safer without me until I sort things out’ Tommy explained.

‘Do you miss your wife’ you asked.

‘No, I do not miss my wife. She filed for divorce six weeks ago’ Tommy said.

‘You do not seem upset about it. Why is that?’ you asked.

‘Because I know that it’s the right thing to do, to keep her safe. Our relationship was never one made of love. I never loved her the way a husband should love his wife. But, she is mother of my daughter and she cares deeply for my son. I trust her. She’s always been loyal to me and to the Company’ Tommy explained.

‘That’s nice…to have someone like this in your life’ you said.

‘It is indeed. Now you should get some rest eh’ Tommy said as he turned off the bedside lamp.

To his surprise, as soon as he turned off the light, you leaned over towards him carefully and rested your head on the uninjured side of his chest.

He let you and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close until you drifted off to sleep.

This was the first time for Thomas Shelby since he came back from France that he shared a bed with a woman other than his wife who didn’t have any sexual interactions with. To his surprise, despite the pain after having been shot, he slept better than he had expected. In the absence of nightmares, he was well rested until, after five hours of sleep, the next morning you heard a loud bang on the door.

Taking a Turn

You walked downstairs again with your loaded gun in your hand.

‘Who is it?’ you asked as you approached the door carefully.

‘Jesse Eden’ the person said and you quickly opened the door while Tommy came walking downstairs, out of your bedroom.

‘I actually just came here to make sure you didn’t kill each other but it looks like you’ve managed to become acquainted’ Jesse giggled.

‘It’s not what it looks like’ you said as Tommy walked out of your bedroom wearing nothing but his undergarments.

‘I assume Tommy has informed you about our past relations. But, for the record, I no longer have any interest in the man, so it’s quite alright with me if it is what looks like Y/N’ Jesse laughed.

‘You are no longer interested, eh?’ Tommy said to Jesse with a cheeky smile.

‘Unless you have forgotten, you ended up marrying someone else’ Jesse said.

‘Should I give you two some privacy?’ you asked as you felt uncomfortable being caught in between their conversation about old times.

‘No Y/N, there is no need eh Jesse?’ Tommy said with a laugh.

‘No there is not. Arthur came to see me last night to give me your note. But he hadn’t said anything about you having been injured’ Jesse said.  

‘It’s alright, she’s a nurse. I got lucky’ Tommy chuckled.

‘Well, I am glad because I have information from one of my informants that will be of interest to you now that you are still alive. The Crown prosecutor was removed from the case and so was the chief of police. Apparently, it was found out that they both involved themselves with illegal prostitutes at some of your brothels’ Jesse said.

‘Now that is interesting, isn’t it?’ Tommy smirked.

‘You obviously knew and blackmailed them. The man in charge of the matter is now your friend Lawrence Staghill who, I believe, is filing for a motion to dismiss for lack of evidence in front of the judge who still owes you a lot of money. So, it looks like that everything is going to plan for you once again Thomas Shelby OBE. You should be free to leave after the next three days. The case is to be heard after the weekend’ Jesse said.

‘You hear that? Three more days and I will be out of your hair Y/N’ Tommy said.

‘I can’t wait’ you said cheekily and with a hint of sarcasm.

Jesse stayed for a little while longer before heading back to Birmingham and you made sure that, for the entire day, Tommy rested.

It was hard for Tommy to rest. It was almost like he needed to do something at all times. He wasn’t a man who could ever just sit still and, say, read a book. His mind had to busy constantly and he loved to be challenged.

For you, the day went by quickly and looking after Tommy was almost like looking after a child who refuses to listen.

Gone Too Far

‘I see you made yourself a bed on the sofa again’ you said as you noticed Tommy putting the blanket and pillow on the sofa.

‘Whilst I enjoyed our pillow talk, I figured that last night was an exception. Unless you think you might have difficulty sleeping again’ Tommy smirked.

‘I think I just might’ you said with a smile as you finished brushing your hair.

‘Alright, I will take my pillow and blanket upstairs then eh’ Tommy said.

‘Alright, see you up there’ you smiled, causing Tommy to chuckle.

This was strange indeed, but he figured that, at least, the bed was more comfortable than the lounge.

‘So, what do you want to talk about tonight, eh?’ Tommy asked as you walked into the bedroom with a glass of water and two white pills.

‘I went to the chemist today. This should prevent infection’ you said you said as you handed him the glass and the tablets.

‘Thank you’ Tommy said as you lied down next to him.

He swallowed the tablets and waited for you to say something, start a conversation of some sort.

But you didn’t. You lied there quietly, your dark eyes gazing over his half naked body.

In this moment, he didn’t know what came over him but, just as he leaned to lie on his uninjured side, he ran his hands through your hair and his eyes met yours.

‘I haven’t met anyone quite like you’ Tommy said.

‘Why is that?’ you asked.

‘I am not sure. There is something about you that intrigues me. That doesn’t happen very often’ Tommy said and, just as he did, you leaned forward and your lips met his.

His lips were soft and still tasted like whiskey.

Reluctantly at first, he returned the kiss, gently but passionately.

It was a short kiss and your tongues never touched by the time you lips drifted apart.

Once your lips separated you starred at each other, questioning in your mind what had just happened between you.

With embarrassment, you pulled away and turned around quickly.

‘Goodnight Tommy’ you said after you turned around. You turned off the night light and pulled your blanket over you tightly.

‘Goodnight Y/N’ Tommy said with a slight chuckle, still facing into your direction.

Despite the fact that Tommy had been on your mind now for days, you were surprised by your own actions and wanted to pretend that the kiss between you just moments ago didn’t happen.

You knew about his past, the killings, the illegal businesses, everything. He was a man you knew you shouldn’t get involved with. He was also still married and, at least in the eye of the public, he was a fascist.

You tried very hard to ignore the fact that he was lying next to you, half naked. The fire was lightening the room slightly and you simply couldn’t close your eyes, starring to the other end of the room.

For ten minutes you tried to lie still, but couldn’t. You fidgeted and kept starring up and then to the side again.

‘Do you want me to help you go to sleep?’ Tommy asked as he noticed your restlessness, which instantly broke the silence between you.

‘Help me go to sleep?’ you asked with some confusion and without turning around to face him. You were still to embarrassed to look at him.

‘Yes’ Tommy said as, suddenly, you could feel his body moving closer towards yours but still separated by your individual blankets.

‘What do you mean by that Tommy?’ you asked with some ignorance and, just when you did, you could feel the back of your blanket lift slightly.

Within seconds, Tommy’s fingers trailed over your bare shoulders downwards over your small breasts which were covered by nothing but your silk nightgown.

Your nipple turned hard instantly at his touch and you let out a deep sigh.

‘Tommy, I have never been with anyone before’ you said, allowing his touch but worrying about what he was intending to do to you.

‘Don’t worry Love, I am not going to fuck you. At least not in the conventional way’ Tommy chuckled as his fingers circled over your hard nipples.

You had no idea what he could possibly mean by that. Did he not find you attractive? What was he going to do to you then if not that?

‘So, you don’t want me?’ you asked curiously while small moans escaped your lips as the tips of his fingers continued to run circles over your nipples.

‘I want you alright. But I am not keen on tearing my stitches’ Tommy said as his hands began to take hold of your breasts harder.

You moaned at his touch and felt a strange and unfamiliar sensation build up in between your legs.

It wasn’t long until you felt his fingers move downwards over your stomach until they finally began teasing the top of your mound through your panties.

‘Tommy, I don’t think I will be going to sleep with you touching me like this’ you said with heavy breath.  You wondered how on earth this was actually going to help you go to sleep.

‘I hope not’ Tommy laughed quietly. ‘But once I am done with you, you will sleep very well, that I promise’ he whispered into your before biting your earlobe gently.

You took in a deep breath and moaned quietly. The feeling of his hot breath was intense.

‘So do you want me to continue?’ he whispered.

You couldn't say yes. But you also couldn't say no. Instead, all that escaped your lips was another soft moan.

‘I need to hear you say it Love. Tell me you want me to keep going’ he said.

You whimpered under his touch, your hips now rocking to meet his hand. But he held firm.

‘I...it feels really good’ was all you could manage to say.

‘And you want me to continue?’ he asked as his fingers moved a little lower, over your panties, expertly brushing over your clit.  

‘Yes Tommy, please continue’ you moaned and, just like that, Tommy slit his hand beneath your panties, running his fingers directly over your wet slit, dipping only the top of them into you gently.

He then began to rub his wet finger tips over your clit, circling around your hard nub with light pressure.

‘Oh my god Tommy’ you moaned as you never felt anything just like that.

After a minute or two, Tommy gently slid one finger into you, looking out for any cues from you to ensure that he didn’t hurt you now that he knew that you were a virgin.

You were so tight, it was almost too much to start and he could feel the resistance of your hymen within you. But he kept going, carefully and gently thrusting his finger in and out of you at a slow pace.

You moaned softly and Tommy loved pulling a reaction out of you. It was almost like it was his goal to break your normally stoic composure.

Tommy wanted to know that you were enjoying what he was doing.

He began sliding his finger in and out of you all the way slowly at first, but not long after he started to build speed.

You enjoyed the alternating feeling between emptiness and fulness inside of you and were making the most delicious noises now. Your eyes were completely closed and you were moaning louder.

Suddenly Tommy slipped a second finger inside of you just to give you a little extra jolt and you reacted better than he could have expected.

It was slightly painful at first but the mild pain soon subsided and turned into pleasure.

‘Tommy, oh god...fuck’ you moaned as you began squirming just slightly and moaning a bit louder.

As his fingers kept thrusting in and out of you, your breathing became heavier and your legs began to quiver.

His thumb soon gave extra attention to your clit while he kept up with the movement of his middle and index finger.

Your moans kept getting more frequent now and you were certainly getting wetter too as Tommy kept going faster and harder.

You couldn’t believe how good he was making you feel with his fingers but you also didn’t know what to expect when an overwhelming sensation of warmth and tingling overcame you slowly.

‘Tommy, I don’t know if this is right. It feels strange’ you moaned as your legs began to shake and you couldn’t control your movements.

You tried to squirm away as the feeling was too unfamiliar to you. But Tommy persisted, pushing his hand firmer against you and his fingers even deeper inside of you.

‘Does it feel good?’ Tommy asked, knowing already what your answer would be as he could feel your walls tightening around his fingers.

‘Yes Tommy’ you managed to let out in between moans.

‘Then its right Love’ Tommy smirked. ‘Just relax and let go eh’ Tommy whispered.

You moaned once again, louder than before, and gave into the sensation.

It was intense, so intense that you had to clench onto the sheets and, just like this your orgasm washed over you.

You were a shaking mess and Tommy kept up the speed with his fingers until your orgasm slowly began to subside.

‘Fuck, what the hell just happened?�� you said once you began to calm down and while Tommy still stroked the outside of your now soaked mound.

‘Did you never have an orgasm before?’ Tommy asked surprised and with curiosity.

‘Like this? No. Never’ you said. Of course, you pleasured yourself before but the sensation was different, way less intense than what Tommy just managed to do to you.

As Tommy removed his hand from you, you turned around, your cheeks flushed. It was almost like you were embarrassed to look at him after what had just happened.

‘Feeling relaxed now?’ Tommy asked with a grin on his face.

‘Yes…uhm…thank you’ you said shyly.

‘It’s my pleasure’ Tommy said with a smile before giving you gentle kiss. You could have spent all night just kissing him. He was good at it and his lips were full and soft.

‘You should get some sleep now, eh’ he said after your lips drifted apart and he caressed your face.

‘Is there anything I could do to return the favour?’ you asked shyly, feeling somewhat guilty about the way he made you feel with nothing in return.

‘No, not tonight Love’ Tommy said as he pulled you closer. Whilst he had the desire to be with you that night, he was still not well enough after his injury and felt as though he should give you time. You were inexperienced and this was new territory for you, possibly overwhelming. Just like this, you had awoken the soft and gentle side of Thomas Shelby and that, in itself, brought him out of his own comfort zone.

He did not know what to do or how to act. The only woman who had managed to do this to him after he’s fought in France was his late wife Grace and he was certain that he would never meet another woman like this again. A woman he would care for in the same way he cared for Grace. Having met you changed everything for him that night and he struggled with the idea to accept his fade, especially with a woman half his age and who was the daughter of the man who tried very hard to bring him down.

Thus, as you leaned your head against his chest carefully, making sure that you didn’t lean against his wound, he couldn’t help but stare at you and ponder about what had brought him to you. Perhaps it was meant to be.

‘What’s wrong Tommy?’ you asked as you began to notice his eyes being fixated on you as he ran one of his hands through your hair gently.

‘Nothing, just enjoying the moment’ he said.

‘Me too Tommy’ you responded before closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Change of Heart

The next morning, when you woke up, Tommy was not by your side. His side of the bed was empty.

But, when you walked downstairs you could see him, sitting in the dining room area with a pen and paper.

You weren’t sure what he was writing and you weren’t sure how to approach him after last night.

You decided to go with a kiss and, just after you said good morning and leaned in to kiss him, Tommy pulled away.

That was unexpected and you looked at him, full of questions.

‘Last night was a mistake Y/N for which I apologise. I should not have been temped’ Tommy said.

‘A mistake? Right’ you said as you walked over to the kitchen bench to boil the kettle. Small tears were running down your eyes and you tried hard to hide them from Tommy.

You had begun to care for him and you most clearly were developing feelings for him.

‘Y/N?’ Tommy said as he noticed you being upset.

‘Tommy, please just give me some space alright’ you said as you walked into the studio with your cup of tea.

You were embarrassed and you felt weak. Yet you wanted to be strong.

Were you too naïve, failing for a man like him?

[scotianostra]

Happy 60th birthday to The Proclaimers Charlie And Craig Reid born on 5th March 1962.

The twins were born in Leith's Eastern General Hospital but It's not known if the sun was shining at the time.

Growing up in Edinburgh, Cornwall, and the Fife town Auchtermuchty, they listened to early rock & roll and country, gravitating toward artists like Jerry Lee Lewis and Hank Williams. After playing in various punk bands during their school years, they formed The Proclaimers in 1983 and quickly developed a regional fan base with a particularly devoted following in Inverness. As an acoustic duo singing -style harmonies in the mid-‘80s.

After touring with the Housemartins the Scottish duo were signed by Chrysalis records, they were immediately compared to the Everly Brothers. Considering their energetic, melodic folk-rock, the comparison made some sense, even though the Proclaimers didn’t really sound like the Everlys. Instead, the band was a post-punk pop band, aggressively displaying their thick accents on sweet, infectiously melodic songs about love, politics, and life in Scotland. After two albums in the late '80s,This Is the Story and Sunshine on Leith, the second featured one of my fave songs by the twins, My Old Friend The Blues, a Steve Earle song about depression.

The band disappeared for several years, suffering from personal problems and severe writer’s block. When their 1988 song “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” was used in the 1993 film Benny & Joon, the duo began to receive massive radio airplay in America, sending them into the Top Ten in the U.S., as well as the rest of the world; it was their first taste of worldwide success.

Luckily, the band was close to completing their third album at the time, Hit the Highway, leaving them in a position to capitalise on their success. The single Let’s Get Married received little attention, and the band pretty much disappeared in the eyes of the general public, but diehard fans like myself knew they were special and still had loads to offer.

They made various contributions to several movie soundtracks – Dumb & Dumber and Bottle Rocket – during the latter part of the decade, but family priorities took full scale.

The new millennium gave us a much more fresh sounding Proclaimers. They inked a new U.S. deal with Nettwerk, and Persevere marked Craig and Charlie Reid’s fourth album, and my favourite. It was a return to form; singing about the grim and glory of their native Scotland, but also a sign of the prime of life, my pick of the album being Scotland’s Story which drew parallels between historical migrations to Scotland and arrivals of more recent immigrants. The song list included the beautifully crafted My Act of Remembrance, which paid tribute to their late father, if you haven’t listened to it please do on the YouTube video I have posted.

Arms of steel, hair of gold Royal blue eyes, with a rebel soul You scared me, you still do But I loved you More than you ever knew…. The band’s fifth effort, Born Innocent, appeared on their own imprint Persevere in February 2004, produced by fellow Scot Edwyn Collins, Restless Soul followed a year later, the song When Love Struck You Down is another strong song by the brothers. Life with You in 2007 gave us the song of the same name which is a karaoke favourite in Scotland. I sing the older songs from the 80’s myself.

The Proclaimers have given us 11 studio albums and they tour worldwide, my favourite wee anecdote from the Reids is regards their song Throw the R away. The record companies who were keen to sign them told them unless they ditched the Scottish accents they would not be successful, the song tells us

You say that if I want to get ahead The language I use should he left for dead It doesn’t please your ears.

In an interview a couple of years ago Charlei commented “it was a conscious thing, because we were singing about where we live, our experiences and it just felt stupid to sing in an English or American accent.” Quite right too.

In 2020 Craig and Charlie are amongst fellow Scots Bill Paterson, Rebus writer Ian Rankin, and bizarrely Irish-American actress Saoirse Ronan, who have lent their voices to a new audio guide for Edinburgh Castle. I have never used the guides myself, but may do so on my next visit to see how they sound.

This year will see The Proclaimers heading into the recording studio to record their 12th studio album, followed by festival appearances in the summer and a 35-date UK & Ireland tour from October to December.  

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 19 - ao3 -

Time passed, as it had a tendency to do.

After Cangse Sanren left, Lan Qiren remained in seclusion for the next two months, reviewing texts on the Lan sect rules regarding reciprocation, filial respect, and loyalty, and occasionally playing some new pieces – he’d started composing music as well as simply learning it, and that was a finicky business. Not only did he need to worry about the musical composition itself, like any normal musician, but there was also interweaving the spiritual energies and figuring out the way the song could be used as a spell, which was a completely different and often completely contradictory set of rules.

Moreover, the most powerful song-spells, he knew, were the ones that incorporated and drew on emotion, and he’d always had difficulty with those. Like most of his clan, Lan Qiren cleaved towards the more intellectual melodies, difficult but cold and distant, yet if he wanted to be truly innovative, he would need to find melodies in his heart.

Not long before he went to the Nightless City he had been inspired in a dream with a half-snippet of sound, which he had been painstakingly building up into a song in fits and starts, but recently he had found that whenever he played it the only image that came to mind was that of pearls scattered amidst blood-red mud.

The song was good, though, although it felt unfinished and incomplete. After he emerged from seclusion, he played it for his music teacher, first without qi and then with, demonstrating the suffocating and asphyxiating feeling of it – a heavy stone sitting in the midst of his chest, all his misery and anxieties wrapped up into musical notes – and his music teacher had been thrilled.

“You were born to write tragedies, child,” he said, examining the score proudly. “This is not only good but innovative, a new style with unexpected effects. I look forward to seeing you refine this further, and to your future works.”

Lan Qiren saluted deeply.

Music was just about the only thing that was going right for him at the moment.

The other disciples had been lured back into gossip by his presence, consumed by curiosity, and the teachers had come down on it hard, breeding resentment; even his few friends had been made tired by the whole fuss and only wanted it to die down. The rumors went by swiftly and quickly, anything to do with the Wen sect or the Nightless City almost immediately spread around everywhere, reaching his ears almost immediately upon his exit from seclusion.

One in particular caused him alarm, suggesting that Madame Wen had been discarded or even killed immediately after successfully bearing a son to her husband, but Lan Yueheng had convinced Lan Ganhui, always good at making friends, to write to the Wen sect disciples he’d become friendly with in the Nightless City to find out the truth. In the end, it turned out that Wen Ruohan had merely grown more distant from her, instructing her to go into seclusion for the birth a little early, and had perhaps sarcastically sent her a few treatises on the subject of a wife’s duty to support her husband. In the end, Wen Ruohan was an ambitious and ruthless man who encouraged his sect to take him as his model - as he himself had remarked, Madame Wen’s viciousness in fact demonstrated how she was an excellent match for him.

Lan Qiren hated that he was relieved that Wen Ruohan had not taken out his rage at what had happened on his wife, who had instigated the incident. He hated even more his suspicions that Wen Ruohan might have refrained from doing so not out of morality but out of the thought that Lan Qiren himself might disapprove - he wasn’t sure if that thought made him happy or sad.

At any rate, he soon didn’t have time to worry about things like that.

Lan Qiren’s refusal to explain in any detail what had happened at the Nightless City that had sent him fleeing and retreating into seclusion was largely not accepted by his curious peers, especially when someone had jeeringly pointed out that he’d probably told Cangse Sanren the whole thing already, and he refused to go to his teachers to complain, as he had in his youth.

His brother hadn’t accepted it, either.

He’d given Lan Qiren ten days after exiting seclusion, clearly expecting him to come and report on what had happened. When Lan Qiren had not done so, he had finally grown impatient and found him, demanding to know what it was that he had done that had caused such a fuss.

Lan Qiren had knelt and declared that he was unfilial and disobedient, that he had broken the rules, and requested that his brother punish him for his wrongdoing.

His brother had stared at him for a long time before realizing that Lan Qiren was serious – that he would rather be punished for intentionally breaking the rules against honoring and obeying his elders than tell what he had done or what had happened. Even when he was dragged to the hanshI, his collar pulled tight in his brother’s fist until he was thrown down to kneel in front of their father the sect leader, Lan Qiren did not object; he knelt without complaint, and even pressed his forehead to the ground in deference, but he did not speak.

The punishment his father decided upon for him was harsh, but Lan Qiren accepted it willingly. By the rules of his sect, an accepted punishment expiated a breach of the rules; once punished, he could no longer be persecuted for what he had done to earn the punishment. It would be over and done with.

Of course, there were always ways around that.

Technically, Lan Qiren’s breach was not in refusing to tell what had happened, but in disrespecting his elders by so refusing. A few days after he recovered from his initial punishment, his brother, still furious at having been denied, asked him the same question, with the same result. Their father looked disapprovingly at his eldest son – deliberately exploiting loopholes was not good etiquette – but again imposed a punishment.

Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and endured.

Lan Qiren’s brother did not bother him a third time, but by then it was too late; their relationship continued to deteriorate. Lan Qiren sought to avoid his brother whenever possible, and his brother’s disappointment in him grew; although he did not explicitly complain or impose punishments directly, he made his views clear. Those disciples and teachers that most admired him were, as always, more than willing to follow his lead and fill in the gaps, and for one reason or another Lan Qiren spent more time in the discipline hall than ever before. 

Eventually, noticing the division, others in the sect sought to reconcile them – their teachers, in the most part – but Lan Qiren rebuffed them, having noticed that their requests to be more considerate and free-minded were always aimed at him and never to his brother.

After poor Lan Yueheng, who never cared about anything but his alchemy and his mathematics and, possibly, the particularly indulgent outer-sect female disciple that guarded the stockroom of the ingredients he used to make things explode and regularly looked the other way when he came to get an extra helping, got roped into trying to tell Lan Qiren to be more forgiving, citing rules about fighting within families leading to nothing with a miserable and bemused expression on his face, Lan Qiren went to the teacher in question and rather acidly pointed out the discrepancy.

“He’s your elder,” the teacher said.

“Do not disrespect the younger,” Lan Qiren retorted.

“He’s your family –”

“Am I not his?”

The teacher sighed. “It’s not the same, with him. You know how he is – how he’s always been.”

Lan Qiren knew. Still, he said, “If you can identify where my conduct does not live up to the rules, please do so, and I will consider if my conduct requires modification. At the moment, I do not.”

“Qiren…”

“Why must I always be the one to yield?” Lan Qiren demanded. “I didn’t answer one question, and I took the punishment for it, as was my right. He is the one who is insisting on making a fuss, not me – why come to me? I don’t want anything from him.”

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t fight so – why this, why now? You’ve always yielded to him before.”

Lan Qiren said nothing.

“He’s still your elder brother, Qiren. Soon, he’ll be your sect leader.”

“Do not fear the strong; do not bully the weak,” Lan Qiren said. “Being sect leader makes him more responsible, not less.”

“Qiren –”

“I have been a good brother to him for nearly twenty years, honored teacher. Perhaps not the most promising, perhaps somewhat embarrassing, but devoted in my own way. I have not changed so much. I am still loyal, still filial; I still do all that I am asked…the only thing that changed is that I expect nothing from him.”

Not even his love.

Lan Qiren knew better, now. He’d seen what a brother could be, what it should be - he’d experienced, however fleetingly, having someone genuinely care for him, listen to him and indulge him and take joy in his company; no longer would he accept his brother’s barely concealed disdain as an adequate substitute.  

“Qiren –”

“Has my father said anything?”

His teacher fell silent.

Lan Qiren bowed his head, having expected nothing better. His father was growing more and more distant from the world, less and less interested in the minutiae of everyday life; he could still stir himself to care for his precious eldest son, the child of his heart, but his oft-forgotten and overlooked second?

Unless Lan Qiren’s brother had complained about him, his father was unlikely to remember that such a person as Lan Qiren even existed.

“Does father hate me?” he asked, emboldened by his misery. It was the question he had always wanted to ask and had never dared to, and his teacher flinched as if struck. “Is that why he never saw me?”

“No,” his teacher said. “No – it wasn’t…”

“Does he blame me for my mother’s death?”

“He blames himself,” his teacher said, and sounded tired unto death. “From the very first. He thought that if he had not been sect leader, they might not have lost their children; if he was not sect leader, it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d had only one child left. But he couldn’t blame the sect, so he blamed himself – you don’t know how bad it was, Qiren; you don’t know what we all went through back then. When your mother died, he even lost his mind for a time.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lan Qiren demanded. His hands had clenched into fists at some point, his knuckles pale and white. “If he blames himself and not me, then why did he – he never –”

He barely even saw me, he wanted to say. I am his son, just like my brother, yet it’s as if I don’t exist.

Why couldn’t he love me, too?

“You were very young,” his teacher said, his voice suddenly very distant as if he were remembering something. Lan Qiren looked at him in surprise. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but...she had just died, and he had lost his mind; none of us had realized the extent to it, thinking it merely grief. You were young, you didn’t understand. You ran to him, seeking comfort, and he nearly – he couldn’t risk having such a sin on his conscience, Qiren. You should not blame him.”

“What are you saying? That he neglected me and held me at arms’ length to console himself for nearly murdering me?” Lan Qiren asked, and thought back to all the times he had found himself afraid of his father’s glacial voice, terrified for no reason. If his father had tried to kill him in a rage, as his teacher suggested, shouldn’t he have been more scared of the heat than of cold?

Unless - his brilliant and accomplished father, who always acted as the rules said he should but who had lost his heart along with his wife - unless he had knowingly - 

Perhaps it had been the sect that had ordered their separation, not his father. Perhaps his father, who had spent years going through the motions of leadership and caring only about the son that reminded him of his wife’s joy and not the one who reminded him only of her death - his father, who led their sect and raised his eldest son and in so doing taught them all to be like him, overly partial to favorites and overly harsh to those that did not meet expectations - perhaps he had not objected to that arrangements. Perhaps it had been the elders that had set the rule of meeting only once a month, rather than not at all.

Perhaps they had thought that it had been for Lan Qiren’s own good that they had done so.

Perhaps they thought it was for his own good that they encouraged him to yield now to his brother’s temper, to humble himself despite having done nothing wrong, and all for the sake of familial peace.

That was not the conduct mandated by his family’s rules. Not the ones he followed, anyway.

It’s his fault, Lan Qiren thought suddenly. He saw the path we were walking down, my brother and I, and he did nothing to stop it; he loved my brother too much and me too little, and ruined us both through his negligence and indifference. He made my brother think he deserved the world that he then had to hold up on his own, while he made me think I deserved nothing...he could have done better by us. He should have done better by us.

Finding that his teacher had run out of things to say, Lan Qiren saluted him once again.

“I will be filial and loyal, as the rules require,” he said simply. “I will respect and honor my father and brother. Do not doubt that.”

He said no more. Instead, he returned to his quarters, wondering if they thought he was happy about how things stood between him and his brother, who he still loved.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He thought miserably to himself that he had been happier living in denial, pretending to himself that there was brotherly affection between them, that his brother’s coldness was only because Lan Qiren had spoiled things somehow by being inferior than his brother would have preferred. When he could love his brother whole-heartedly and think to himself that his brother secretly loved him back, when he suspected but did not know that that had only ever been a lie he had concocted for himself. He had been far happier back then than the way it was now, when even the paper-thin one-sided façade of love was gone.

The saddest part of it all was that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, his stupid Lan heart as inexorable as a mountain avalanche already set in motion. He just didn’t much like him.

He did like Wen Ruohan, the brother that liked him back and might even have loved him if a man such as him could recognize such a tender emotion, but that wasn’t really relevant.

Lan Qiren knew his duty, whether to his sect, to his brothers, or to morality. He knew what he had to do.

For his part, Wen Ruohan waited over a month and a half after Lan Qiren’s exit from seclusion before trying to reach out again by mail. No doubt conscious of his dignity and ego, the powerful sect leader that no one ever really denied, his letter talked around the subject in Wen Ruohan’s usual high-handed manner and evaded either apologies or explanations; from his tone, it was likely that he expected Lan Qiren to respond in anger and denial, or even not to respond at all. Instead, Lan Qiren wrote back obediently, reporting dully on his daily life. When pressed, he even wrote a short summary of his ongoing projects, copying the words precisely from the submissions he made for his teachers to avoid excessive enthusiasm.

Wen Ruohan’s letters developed a certain level of concern after that, which Lan Qiren ignored in favor of continuing to respond politely but unenthusiastically; a filial younger brother, just as he was to his own blood brother, and nothing more. At the next discussion conference, he saluted Wen Ruohan to the exact degree required by their relationship and called him xiongzhang as a respectful younger brother ought; Wen Ruohan had an expression on his face that suggested he had bitten into a sour lemon and stepped in dog shit at the same time, and his eyes followed Lan Qiren around for the remainder of the afternoon.

Lan Qiren was concerned for a while that Wen Ruohan would try to summon him once night fell, forcing the issue, but he was saved through an unexpected twist of fate – namely, that Jiang Fengmian had, like all the others, completely misinterpreted Lan Qiren’s relationship with Cangse Sanren. The Jiang sect heir marched up to him not long after the opening ceremonies had been completed and asked him, stiffly, to swear that he had no interest in the lady and would not communicate with her in the future. Lan Qiren, thinking primarily of their friendship, refused, and then Jiang Fengmian punched him right in the face.

Lan Qiren might be cold and standoffish as a rule, but he did have a temper, and that temper did not hold with being assaulted over things that weren’t even his fault – neither of them were even involved with Cangse Sanren! – and having been so thoroughly goaded he had no choice but to hit back.

In the end, Cangse Sanren had slapped Jiang Fengmian silly and Lan Qiren’s brother had sent him to kneel in disgrace all night, reminding him no fighting without permission and with his eyes silently promised additional punishment when they returned home.

Wen Ruohan didn’t disturb him that night, and Lan Qiren was able to persevere. Indeed, Wen Ruohan troubled him much less than he’d feared, opting in his hurt pride to instead turn to Lao Nie and stay remarkably close by his side – Lao Nie was the one who looked apologetically at Lan Qiren and tried to find time for him, whether to invite him on outings or to scold his brother for the apparent breakdown in domestic tranquility. For his part, Lan Qiren ignored Lao Nie and didn’t hold it against him even when he started showing up to the discussion meetings with distinctive red marks on his throat.

All right, he held it against him a little.

How Lao Nie had such bad taste, Lan Qiren had no idea. Surely he, unlike Lan Qiren, had known enough to realize that Wen Ruohan was an evil man…?

Probably he had; it was only that he didn’t much care. Lan Qiren had promised to try to stop lying to himself about people he liked, and that meant he couldn’t pretend that Lao Nie wasn’t a remarkably callous man at times, ruthless and careless with anything that was outside his sect – even his friends. There could be no doubt that he loved them, sincerely and honestly, and yet…

Lan Qiren was a little disappointed, but not much, knowing that he, too, was irrevocably bound to such a man as Wen Ruohan. He couldn’t blame Lao Nie for the same thing he himself had done. 

Mostly he was just pleased that his suspicion regarding their relationship had been confirmed, even if somehow – unbelievably – no one else seemed to notice it.

In fact, he thought it might mark the very first time in his life that he’d figured out something interpersonal before other people had. Normally he would report it to someone at his sect as soon as he noticed that they’d overlooked it, wanting to do his best for them, but the sensation was too novel and his relations with his sect a little too cold at the moment; he hugged the knowledge to his chest instead, enjoying the brief warm feeling of knowing something other people didn’t.

He intended to tell them, of course, once they returned back to the Cloud Recesses, only they had barely brushed the dust of their journey off their shoulders when they were summoned to the gathering hall for what everyone had now expected for years: Lan Qiren’s father, eyes blank, made the announcement that he was officially setting the date for which he would be retiring as sect leader and retreating from the world, going into seclusion to try to break through the boundaries of cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound or else die in the attempt.

Lan Qiren’s brother, naturally, would inherit.

He was as fresh from the road as the rest of them, but with his hands behind his back, standing beside their father, he looked as fresh and untouched as a new-bloomed orchid, as beautiful as a polished piece of jade. His eyes reflected the dichotomy that Lan Qiren had learned governed his brother’s life: pride, for the power that he was going to inherit and the accomplishments that everyone agreed made him worthy of that inheritance, and envy, looking at his own father with jealousy, longing also to withdraw from the weight the world had placed on him and do what he could on his own, unburdened by others.

Lan Qiren’s brother, Lan Qiren had learned, saw everything in his life through the prism of himself – did others have something he wanted, did he have something that they didn’t, how did he compare, was he being compared…when he got something into his mind, he cared for nothing else but how to achieve it, no matter the cost, and most of the time he was successful, too. He was fundamentally self-sufficient, requiring nothing and no one but himself, and so was capable of performing miracles – if he was motivated to do so.

Lan Qiren was much less capable. He was lacking in cultivation, lacking in social skills, lacking even in a similar degree of independence, longing as he did for the company and acceptance of his peers even as his introversion demanded sufficient time to himself. There was no way in which he was superior to his brother; in every respect, he was inferior.

And yet, sometimes, he thought that his brother was jealous of him, too.

(Their father retreating into seclusion meant that they would both be losing him – but it was really only Lan Qiren’s brother that lost something. For Lan Qiren, what he mourned was only the absence of what had never been there, and he had finished mourning for that already.)

In the end, the main change occasioned by the impending change in leadership was that Lan Qiren’s brother grew too busy to pay much attention to Lan Qiren, much to his relief. Relations between them grew…not warmer, no, but less fraught, and although Lan Qiren knew he ought to celebrate, he mostly mourned that the cause of it was not a real mending of fences but rather his brother simply forgetting that he existed, just as their father always had.

Lan Qiren took the first opportunity he had to get out of the Cloud Recesses, even attending a party to celebrate sworn brother’s new son with relatively little issue. During the visit, Wen Ruohan ignored him in favor of sticking ever closer to a strangely distracted Lao Nie, almost as if he were deliberately slighting Lan Qiren for having been cold in their last interaction and for not answering his letters the way he wanted. Lan Qiren briefly felt hurt at having been put aside and forgotten so quickly - assuming that he had been forgotten, which he wasn’t sure of, as Wen Ruohan ignoring him sometimes seemed almost performative - but then reminded himself that this, like his poor relationship with his blood brother, was only the results of his own actions, and those of others.

He didn’t – regret it, not really. He’d lived his life by the Lan sect rules, and he didn’t regret doing so now, no matter how lonely the results might make him feel.

Instead, he returned to the Cloud Recesses and began to plan out in earnest his plans for departing the Cloud Recesses to travel the world as a musician, the goal he had set since he was young and was finally, impossibly, on the verge of satisfying. He would need to stay for his brother’s ascension to sect leader the next year, he thought, and perhaps for a year after that – just because their relationship wasn’t good didn’t mean he was entitled to do things that would let other people talk about it – but after that…

After that, he would go.

He would make new friends, or not. He would learn new things. He would see what the world was like.

Sooner than he thought, Lan Qiren turned twenty, thereby finally becoming an adult. The event took place with little fanfare, and Lan Qiren sent back the gifts he received from both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie unopened with a polite note indicating that he was unworthy of such attention, and Cangse Sanren’s with a much more emphatic note reminding her that he was largely uninterested in sexual matters and therefore had no need for these sorts of implements. 

His brother got him new guqin strings, the same gift he always gave – Lan Qiren had once been very happy to receive it before he realized that it was the storeroom distributing the gift in his brother’s name – and Lan Qiren returned that as well. Lan Yueheng was the only one who successfully managed to give him a gift by virtue of sneaking the fancy brush he’d bought for him into his table in such a way that Lan Qiren utilized it before realizing it was new, and then refused to take it back on the basis that it had already been used. He looked so pleased with himself over his little trick that Lan Qiren didn’t have the heart to scold him.

Time continued to pass: day by day, night by night, season by season.

And then she arrived.

[simultaneously-sick-and-calm]

»pairing: Man from the Railroad!Atsuhiro x fem!reader

»word count: 3.2k

»Part 1 | IS IT A GOD INSIDE YOU, GIRL? (1st OGoA AU piece by @get-shiggy-with-it )

»summary: A deal is struck and a desire indulged.

»a/n: part two!! Thanks to my beloved @get-shiggy-with-it for beta reading for me. I hope you enjoy!

»warnings: Appalachian folklore, piv sex, fingering (f receiving), monsterfucking (if you squint), implied tragedy (mine disasters, death of workers/children), some reader backstory, historical AU 1800's mining town, Old Gods of Appalachia podcast AU, 18+ MDNI

The Man from the Railroad was no less intriguing when he returned one evening weeks later to meet with your brother. Just as you'd suspected, he’d practically leaped at the opportunity to cut a potentially lucrative deal without the ever-present gaze of your father looking over his shoulder. For years he had been trying, and failing to make dear old dad believe that he was ready to take over the company. Much to his chagrin however, it was clear that while your father didn’t really trust anyone with the specific ins and outs of the business; the man had seemed in recent years to bristle just a little less when approached by your soft questioning voice, over the harsh cut of his son’s.

This time upon entering the parlor room Atsuhiro took your hand in his own immediately, bringing it once again to the soft plush of his lips in greeting. The heat under your collar seared up the length of your neck, settling once again on your cheeks. “My darling lady! How lovely it is to see your enchanting face. A sight for sore eyes, indeed.”

“Why thank you, Sir. Once again you’re proving to be far too kind.” You brother failed to stifle a huff, clearly irritated that you were distracting his mysterious benefactor. The noise of it shook you back from the daydreams threatening to pull you under.

Pushing from your mind the thoughts of hands at your waist...or how his lips might brush over more of your skin in that same gentle way they caressed your fingers; you guided Atsuhiro’s attention to your brother, finally introducing them. “Henry, this is the Man from the Railroad who asked to see you the other night.”

“Yes, of course!” came your brother’s too jovial attempt at making himself appear likeable. Guiding your guest away without so much as acknowledging your presence. “I was so pleased to hear that you’re interested in our little family affair, kind Sir. Please follow me and we can speak more privately in the office.”

“That sounds just delightful. Lead the way, my friend.” Casting one last glance over the shoulder of his perfectly pressed suit, Atsuhiro winked and followed your brother through the office door.

And just like that, you were once again left standing alone at the desk, consumed by the lingering heat of his lips against your skin. And oh lord above you were hungry for it. It wasn’t an overly familiar feeling, admittedly, but you were no stranger to this kind of desire...to this yearning that threatened to burn you up from the inside whenever you caught wind of him. Which had been often over the last several days.

Since his appearance it seemed as though he was everywhere. Word spread of groups gathering in the large fields just outside town, all to listen to him speak. He promised them purpose, good and honest work that would better not only their own lives but those of all who surrounded them.

Fathers and sons.

Wanderers and vagrants.

All were welcome to join him in working for the Railroad. There was a place for every good, hard-working man among his ranks, and every voice who whispered about this black-suited man with the green bolo tie seemed almost as smitten as you.

Even as all the rumors and the chatter flowed like the streams at the base of the mountain. As the other young women in town flushed and swooned at the sight of the hat sitting proudly above the group of men that surrounded him; you held on to one small thing. The way that his given name tasted on your tongue. It was bitter and sweet, rolling over the plush of your lips with an uncertain kind of hope. For all the tongues that wagged about his sudden and overwhelming appearance in your small hometown, none of them referred to him by any name at all.

Only you had been bestowed the privilege--no, the honor, of having a name to breathe out into the darkest moments of night when every beautiful slope of his face occupied your mind. Those fleeting seconds when all you could hear was the gentle tone of his whispering in your ear, imagining the way that it might deepen and rasp under your kiss. The way it would feel to have your fingers intertwined with his own, or trace them delicately over the sharp line of his jaw and the gentle turn of his grin. All of a sudden the ornate handle behind you turned, startling you once again from your daydreams.

Henry’s voice, followed immediately by the soft floating drone of Atsuhiro’s were just on the other side. You caught just the tail end of their conversation as the door swung open. “Well, Henry my friend, I am simply delighted at the prospect of our future endeavors together. I think that with your manpower, and my connections we can truly turn the tide in this battle. Industry is the path to the future, and we must move along with it. Ever onward and ever forward, as they say, hmm?”

“You’re absolutely right, Sir. I think this is the start of a great partnership.” Henry hadn’t sounded so enthusiastic about anything, aside from maybe a free round of drinks at his favorite watering hole, in years. “We have many who would love to be a part of the kind of thing that you’re offering, and I think that my father especially will be looking forward to seeing all your plans come to fruition.”

Fruition. That was quite the word choice for Henry, and you did your best to stifle a chuckle. Usually by this time he was long inebriated past the point where words with a second syllable became a struggle for him. The attempt was admittedly half-hearted, and the smallest of sounds slipped out before it could be reigned back into the confines of your chest.

Thankfully, Henry was already in the midst of pulling a coat from the rack, and making his way out after a hearty handshake with his new partner. “Wonderful to meet you, and I’m sorry that I have to run out so quickly...I, uh have another meeting to get to.'' He tipped his hat in Atsuhiro’s direction and added a muffled “Sister. I’ll see you in the morning. Please make sure that the good gentleman has all of the information that he needs before you go.”

The both of you murmured farewells in return as he hurried out--no doubt late to boast about his success to the usual crowd of drunkards and fools with whom he spent most evenings. And with his hurried exit, you felt the heat under your skin creep back into its former home. Warming your face in what must have been a world record time. Absently you lifted a hand to brush a stray hair from your eyes, hoping in vain that the action might shake you out whatever state these daydreams had thrust you into. A beat passed in silence, and then another before you felt Atsuhiro’s eyes find you across the small space. He was so much closer just an hour before and still you felt like you’re burning up from the inside out at his attention.

Steeling yourself against your own hesitation, you turned to face him and tried to find your voice among the rabble of butterflies that currently occupied all of the space that used to cradle your lungs. “Henry, seemed to be rather taken with you, Sir--”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you refer to me so formally, my darling girl. You are well aware of my name.”

His hungry stare could have consumed you. In fact, the longer you stood there, with just a few steps holding the rigid distance between you, the more of you became quite certain that it would do just that. Every quip that you might have hoped to throw back sizzled away on the molten heat of your usually sharp tongue. “Y-yes, I am aware of it.”

“Then why,” three smooth strides closed the distance between you, bringing him impossibly close, “my dear, do you seem so insistent on forgetting it just when I want to hear it the most?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know a great many things. Things that others do not, and could not know. Like the way that your lips curl so lovely around my name in the stillness of night. It's a tantalizing sound my dear, and I am eager to hear more of it."

He was so close as he spoke, the way his breath danced over your lips was astounding. Being so close to him felt similar to the way you had imagined in the several days since he last filled the space around you, but there was also something altogether unexpected about it. Everything about him seemed to surround you, compressing into a space far too small for any physical being to occupy.

The heady smell of him had you intoxicated, clinging to every inch of skin that lay exposed in the cool autumn air that rolled through the open door. His very presence was heavy, like the blankets of fog that clung for far too long at the mouths of caves, or the last sticky days of summer heat that always lingered on the mountain air.

As a child you could recall the way it felt to taste air like tonight’s on your tongue. The way that it invaded your senses, and bit back as if it had teeth all its own sharp and jagged, in their futile attempts to keep the turning seasons at bay. If it weren’t for the way Atsuhiro’s fingertips burned a path along your cheek as they moved smoothly from temple to jaw, you might have been lost to its chill.

He knew.

He knew everything.

More than just the way you spoke his given name. More than the flicker of hope that melted away at the wax seal surrounding your heart. More than the way you melted into his embrace in the same way now.

The glint in his earthen eyes gave way to something more than human, a sum of parts greater than just the man himself who now pressed his body so close to your own. And in that moment, every story your grandmother shared, every warning weaved intricately into the design of the tales came back to you. Along with one other...

Your grandfather didn’t often indulge in storytelling, but he made sure to tell you one. The one about the man from the company with a green bolo tie and sharp silver tongue, that he had met as a younger man. The man who never shared his name, but worked beside him for years to open the mine. To set your family's legacy on its path, one which would eventually lead to this great reaping of the effort he had sown generations ago. You hadn’t ever figured out if the tale was laced with warning like all the others. Honestly, you couldn’t remember any other details, but now you were quite sure that it would make no difference.

You were certain of just one thing. What he needed, and what you wanted were one and the same.

What he sought from you was an opportunity for indulgence. The shred of his humanity that remained among whatever else made up the mass of him was wavering. Flickering like the prayer candles adorning every window in every home as they mourned the things he and his revolution stole from them. He knew that you understood what he was -- what he wasn't, really, and that you weren’t afraid. The weight of your acceptance seemed to settle on his shoulders, and he crumbled into you.

“Atsuhiro...” You whispered into the lips that ghosted over your own.

He tasted like the first crisp breeze of the season. Sharp, and tinged with inevitability, but heavy with understanding that the death of all things familiar lay in wait at its heels.

Desperation overtook him, painting a new color on his usually monochrome pallet. Teeth and tongue fought hard to remain in control, and he won. Licking into your mouth and sighing beautifully when finally you relented the battle of wills and allowed him to consume you completely.

The hands that moments ago were caging you in, now began to roam. Kneading, sliding, savoring every pliable part of you. Hooking a hand beneath one of your knees, Astuhiro lifted your leg, guiding you so shift backward until you found yourself seated on the desk. You used the leverage to lock your legs around his waist and pull him into you, the action bunching your skirts around your waist. Mewling when your hips were finally pressed fully together, you felt the smirk return to his face. Finally you felt him, hard and hot, even through the few remaining layers of clothing that kept you apart.

He pulled away then, tilting your face to look up at him and relishing in the way you groaned at the loss of his heat. Not to say that he was faring much better, it had been so long since he allowed himself this small pleasure, and you were so willing. He was surprised at himself, really, for managing to hold it together this long already. “This is not the first time you have been touched like this, is it, my pet?” He purred into your ear as fingers traced a soft line up the length of your leg, halting to knead the soft flesh just inches away from where you both wanted him to be.

“No, it’s not--hmmm, please…”

He could practically feel the pulsing, the soft wet heat of your waiting cunt. The pretty sounds you made going straight to his cock, and he wanted more. He needed to hear you cry out his name in strangled ecstasy. “Please what, my darling girl? You’re doing so well for me already. Tell me what it is that you need?” he crooned, relishing in the way you preened at even the smallest bit of praise.

“I think,” you began, once again finding the bravery within yourself that his presence seemed to pull out of you, “that it is you who needs me, Atsuhiro.”

He was, for a split second, shocked at the way you took his face in both hands, pulled him to your level and kissed him hard. It was beautiful, this growing fire in you, and as it overtook his senses, he thought for a moment about how he could have loved it--could have loved you--in another life. Or even in his own, back when he was truly just a man. When his name was his own to give freely and did not come with so steep a price.

But now was not the time to linger on such fantasies.

The hand trapped between your bodies made quick work of your underwear, baring your needy cunt to him at last. And Atsuhiro groaned, an altogether animal sound at the slick he found waiting for him there, and he used its abundance to ease first one long finger, then a second, in time into the heat of you. Stroking gently, he explored the soft velvet of your walls until he found it, the spot that made you keen against him. The dark whimper of his given name that fell from your lips when he began to circle the bundle of nerves in sync, was almost more than he could bear. Never in all his time spent on this wretched earth, had he heard something so beautiful.

Now, you were no sweet spring blossom, innocence was something you left behind long ago. But the delicious way he played your body like a violin was foreign indeed. None of the clumsy hands that rushed to lift your skirts had ever made you feel so good.

"Astu--Ah!" You gasped against his shoulder, feeling for all intents like a spring wound too tightly. One hand wound itself tightly in his silky hair and the other blindly searching for the smooth buckle at his waist. Panting, struggling for words between ragged breaths. "Wait! Wait, I--fuck--I want to feel you."

"Yes, of course my dear."

Sliding from your seat on the desk, you beckoned him to follow and settled back into the plush of the sofa. You barely caught the way that his breath hitched as you finally loosed him from the confinement of his clothes. Taking a moment to admire him, you allowed your fingers to trace the lines. Strong smooth stomach giving way to slender hips and and cock that you might even say was pretty. Impressive, certainly, but not in any way that made you fear pain. Rather he looked as though he was made to fit together with you just right.

And oh, how perfect it was.

Atsuhiro trembled as he sank to the hilt into your warmth, and the both of you sighed as he began to move.

Slowly.

Gently.

The moment stretched and was reverent in a way, as though the both of you understood its gravity. He angled and nudged that heavenly spot again, and the way you clenched around him forced a low groan into the air between you.

He looked up with wide eyes, struck again by the reality of you.

Never in any of the handful of times that he'd chosen to indulge in his baser instincts had the object of his fixation been anything more than a pretty face and a warm body, in the end. And he had the small handful of marbles in his breast pocket to prove it. Each one a reminder that he was no longer Sako Atsuhiro. He couldn't risk leaving a loose pair of loose lips with something so powerful as his own name.

But you…

You were something altogether different than the rest. Unexpected. Secure.

He could lose himself in you.

And as you came undone around him with a whimper of his given name, he did just that. Vaulting with you over the precipice. He worked you both through the high, and in return you kissed him deeply.

A while later, still entwined on the old velvet sofa, your name, whispered softly in the surrounding stillness pulled you back from the edge of sleep.

"Hmm?" You asked gently, afraid to disturb the peace. You knew that this was borrowed time.

"You know that I cannot--"

You silenced him with lips against his own. "I know."

"Thank you, my dear."

--

You awoke the next morning to a stack of those shiny cards on the desk, and a note. Scrawled quickly over the surface were just a handful of words.

These are for the men that your brother wishes to send my way. Keep none for yourself. Ever onward and ever forward.

-A

Next to them in the slim vase where you'd left the blue marble, now was only a long white feather. Very much like the one you'd noticed missing from his hat.

[riversofmars]

Interrupting my usual broadcast of DW fic to bring you another British gay mess: Please enjoy my first attempt at Caroline/Gillian! And as if I haven't got enough WIPs on, this is gonna be four parts, as it turns out! I don't know why I'm like this :D Anyway here we are due to popular demand!

Gillian takes Caroline up on her offer of moving in together and pooling their resources. A month has gone by and Caroline is surprised at how easy and comfortable life on the farm has become. The arrangement works for both of them: Gillian's financial struggles are a thing of the past and while it isn’t exactly the traditional family set-up Caroline would have wanted, Gillian turned out to be exactly what she needed in a partner to help raise her daughter. Adding romance to the otherwise perfect set-up is a pipe-dream on the headteacher's part, but the more time she spends with the sheep farmer, the more drawn she is to her. Rating: M (language & sexual themes)

Home Is Not A Place - Part 1: The Dinner

“For goodness sake,“ Caroline groaned, as she stepped out of her SUV and right into a puddle. Resigned to her changed situation, she decided from now on she would have to switch shoes after work, from her favourite heels, to a lesser loved pair. There was no two ways about it. But at least then there would be absolutely no danger of ruining a two-hundred pound pair of Jimmy Choos, upon her arrival at Greenwood farm. Of course she wouldn’t mention this to Gillian, God no, otherwise her Christmas present to her might end up a new pair of wellingtons.

In the open court yard of the farm, the wind was biting cold and encouraged the headteacher to hurry up the stairs to the relative safety and comfort of the house. Caroline cursed under her breath as the wind wreaked havoc with her hair, and the cold crept up her legs, underneath her woefully-inappropriate-for-farm-life pencil skirt. The British weather was really giving its all this year to live up to its reputation. Well in the grip of Winter already, it only took Caroline to stay late at work by an hour - like today - and night had already fallen. Preparations for this year’s Nativity were gathering steam and - being the hands-on headmistress she was - there was no way Caroline would allow the theatre department to shoulder the burden all on their own. Working late would usually have required a lot of planning for a single parent such as herself, but things had gotten a lot easier, recently.

“Hiya Caz,“ Gillian called from the lounge, when Caroline closed the front door of the farm house behind her and smiled at the chipper greeting.

“Hiya!“ She called back and pushed her soaked shoes into a corner. With any luck, Gillian wouldn’t spot them and she could deal with them later. The sheep farmer would only get suspicious if she lingered in the hallway for too long. “Evening,“ Caroline smiled as she stepped into the living room. Flora and Calamity were sitting on the sofa in front of the tv, dressed in pyjamas. She walked over to them, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head and then, for good measure, repeated the gesture on Calamity. The girls were the closest of friends and since Caroline and Flora had moved in at the farm, they had become closer still - almost like real siblings - and Caroline had found herself treating them as such with increasing frequency.

“Wet out, is it?“ Gillian smirked, observing Caroline’s dishevelled head of hair, drawing her attention. The sheep farmer was leaning against the kitchen counter, mug in hand, assessing her over the rim of it.

“What’s this?“ Caroline raised her eyebrows, as she spotted two - and only two! - places set at the kitchen table, complete with wine glasses.

“Girls have eaten. Just having a bit of telly before bed,“ Gillian explained, nodding towards the pre-schoolers that were engrossed in their cartoons. “Lasagne is in oven, thought you might be hungry, with your long day n’all.“

“You made lasagne?“ Caroline asked, though it sounded more bewildered than she had intended. It wasn’t uncommon that Gillian would cook for all of them. She was the one at home, her work was here, it made sense. Caroline was a woman of science, of hard facts, so she liked things to make sense. But for some reason, coming home to Gillian Greenwood - who had cooked for her and looked after her daughter - was still something of curiosity, despite empirical evidence to the contrary. Caroline was still not quite used to it, no matter how much sense it made.

Caroline had managed to convince Gillian of the sense behind them pooling their resources not long after she had floated the idea for the first time. Her and Flora moved in at the farm a month ago, and much to everyone’s surprise - and her mother’s dismay - it worked surprisingly well. This was not the first time she had come home to a cooked meal, it was becoming a regular occurrence, so Caroline was at a loss as to why this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was the absence of Raff and Ellie who - as Caroline now remembered - had been invited to Ellie’s mother’s to parade around the little one. Perhaps it was because there were only two places set at the table. Or perhaps it was the warmth of Gillian’s chuckled as she replied:

“Well, had to make something.“

“You really didn’t have to, I don’t… expect to come home to a home cooked meal every day,“ Caroline felt obliged to state, just for the record, though she knew that Gillian would do whatever the bloody hell she wanted anyway. It wasn’t like Caroline - or anyone else for that matter - had any bearing on what this infuriatingly independent and bull-headed woman did or didn’t do.

“Nice though, innit,“ the sheep farmer shot back with surprising enthusiasm. “Guess that was part of the deal. Least I can do, mind the kids and cook you some tea.“ She gave a shrug like it was nothing; when to Caroline, it was a huge deal. This wasn’t something she would have admitted to, of course; just as she wouldn’t have admitted that there was something very appealing about coming home to Gillian.

“I’m not expecting you to pretend to be my stay-at-home housewife or something, Gillian,“ Caroline tried to brush it off with a joke.

“You better not. Cause that’s not me,“ Gillian retorted with good-natured humour, and it struck Caroline that she was a far cry from the tense, short-fused woman she’d met seven years ago. It was moments such as these, that the headteacher realised how much she had changed. Healing would be too strong a word for it; Caroline couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly heal from what Gillian had been through, but she seemed to be doing, better. She seemed more comfortable in her own skin, and more comfortable with her life. Secretly, Caroline hoped she had contributed to her wellbeing in some small way; even if it was just by giving her the security that she wouldn’t have to give up the farm.

“Don’t I know it,“ Caroline chuckled. “Wine, too, is it?“ She picked up the bottle on the table and checked the label. It was one of her favourites and for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether Gillian had remembered, or if they’d still had that bottle lying round somewhere. “Is there a special occasion? One month since we moved in?“ It wasn’t like she had been counting…well, she had. But only to be able to lord it over her mother about how long they had managed to stay under the same roof, without tearing each other’s heads off…or each other’s clothes…she added as an after thought. But only for her own amusement, not for public consumption.

“I guess I just…wanted to say thank you…for agreeing to this,“ Gillian huffed, suddenly appearing self-conscious, as if she wondered whether she had made a mistake. Caroline felt guilty immediately. For someone with self-esteem as fragile as Gillian, doubts came quickly, and cut deep.

“It was my idea! It’s to both of our advantage. I couldn’t have carried on the way it was, particularly now that our parents aren’t…able…to help as much as before…“ Caroline was quick to assure her. It had made a lot of sense, and she was glad she had managed to persuade Gillian of the proposal’s merit. Even once their parents had volunteered the money to pay for the work on the roof, it didn’t change the fact that Gillian was barely breaking even financially. Certainly not with the sheep that had escaped a few months ago, and once Raff and Ellie moved out - which was only a matter of time - they wouldn’t be contributing anymore, either. Gillian needed someone with her, and Caroline was more than happy to be that person, for numerous reasons. Some of them she cared to discuss, like the practicalities of it, some she would keep to herself, thank you very much.

“Just wanted to say, I do appreciate it, Caz,“ Gillian interrupted and held her hands up, as if she just had to get that out there - and would shut up now that it was said. “And I hope you’re not gonna regret it.“

“Gillian, we’ve known each other seven years now,“ Caroline couldn’t help but point out, as she set the bottle of wine back down on the table. “Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs, but all things considered, I think we’re about as steady as our parents, don’t you think?“ She gave her a soft smile. They really had come an incredibly far way since they first laid eyes on each other. To this day, Caroline was still embarrassed about her behaviour on the day they’s met, and was beyond relieved that with time, Gillian had come to see the funny side of the whole thing.

“Suppose so. Just without the sex,“ Gillian snickered and took a sip of her tea, hiding her grin in her mug as she seemed to relax again.

“I don’t want to think about our parents having sex, thank you very much!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and quickly turned to check the girls hadn’t accidentally overheard. To her relief, she found them still very much engrossed in their tv show.

“God no. I don’t know if they still can, I mean, at their age…“ Gillian huffed, matter-of-factly. “And with his heart too, better mind his blood pressure hadn’t he… Mind you, probably wouldn’t be worst way t’go. Right in throes of…“

“Yes, right. That’s it, change of subject please!“ Caroline shook her head vehemently and Gillian laughed.

“Go and get changed, didn’t mean to ambush you, it’ll keep.“ She gestured to the oven. “I’ll get little ones in bed.“

“If you’re sure.“ Caroline glanced at the clock. She hadn’t realised how late it was. “How about bath time?“

“All this fun stuff you miss out on when you work late. It’s done and dusted. Go on. You don’t wanna be throwing lasagne down that fancy blouse o’ yours,“ Gillian observed, nodding towards her cream blouse.

“Right.“ Caroline gave a soft smile and watched the sheep farmer gulp down the rest of her tea, before sitting it down in the sink.

“You want me to make you a cuppa first?“ Gillian asked, seemingly confused as to why Caroline hadn’t taken her up on the offer yet, instead lingering in the kitchen.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll have wine if that’s going,“ Caroline answered quickly, snapping out of her moment of marvelling at how bloody perfect life was right about now to retrieve the corkscrew.

“Well, you know where everything is by now, don’t you. It’s your home too,“ Gillian observed, with an ease that astounded Caroline, that Gillian didn’t seem to think anything of. She just headed to the sofa where she put an arm around each of the girls from behind. “Right you two monsters, show’s over, off to bed wi’ you,“ she announced, leaving Caroline to forget all about the wine. She just watched the display of perfect family life in awe.

——

“Is it bad that I’m sort of looking forward to Raff and Ellie moving out?“ Caroline mused, watching Gillian’s reaction over the rim of her wine glass. “With the baby and everything, the walls aren’t exactly thick.“

“You knew that before moving in,“ Gillian pointed out. She wasn’t unkind about it, she was amused if nothing else.

“Yes, and I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think I’d be doing this still, at gone fifty, I mean…I’m just glad Flora is through the worst of it now.“ Even now, there were still times where Caroline wondered whether she was too old for all this. She had two grown up sons, starting again with Flora and doing it all on her own had been tough. Thankfully, finally, she wasn’t alone anymore. It wasn’t exactly the traditional family set-up she would have longed for, but she knew Gillian would be everything Flora needed in a second parent. She could also be everything Caroline needed in a partner, but that was just wishful thinking on the headteacher’s part. She would content herself with the way things were, as it was shaping up to be everything she wanted, just sadly minus the romance.

“Nowt saying William or Lawrence couldn’t have started early,“ Gillian retorted and Caroline laughed:

“William? Please!“ They were on their third glass of red and Caroline was feeling warm and relaxed. Her reactions had lost the restraint and reservedness she usually maintained with people, even the ones closest to her. “And Lawrence needs to seriously work out whatever he is doing with his life. And with Angus!“ She had often wondered about his relationship with his best friend. At this point, things could go either way.

“Fair. Not much of a chance of getting knocked up there,“ Gillian chuckled.

“Raff’s done alright though, hasn’t he. Becoming a dad so young and still seeing through his education and getting a good job at the end of it, it’s quite the accomplishment,“ Caroline smiled and delighted in the way Gillian’s face brightened with pride.

“He’s a good boy, our Raff,“ she commented, and Caroline was determined to push the matter over the finish line:

“That’s a credit to you. He couldn’t have done it without your support,“ she added kindly, as she put her cutlery down. Dinner had been a delight, but then by this point, Gillian could have probably fed her anything and she would have thanked her with a dreamy eyed smile. Caroline felt the warmth radiating from her cheeks; a combination of wine, the fire going in the adjoining room, and her own conflicted feelings towards her step sister. For the sake of her own sanity, she refused to refer to her as that whenever possible, particularly in her own head.

“More like in spite of me,“ Gillian huffed, her mood swinging like a pendulum. She had been much more steady in recent years, but that wasn’t to say she was free of the crippling self-doubt that always chose the most inopportune moments to rear its ugly head. “Never would’ve happened wi’ someone else. Not like your boys went and knocked up their girlfriend, is it.“

“Don’t be ridiculous,“ Caroline cut in quickly, but Gillian just downed the rest of her wine and carried on:

“You know it’s true, ‘as bad as his mother’ is what they were saying, and if they weren’t, they were thinking it.“ She gave a bitter laugh that stood in stark contrast to the carefree atmosphere they had enjoyed.

“You have many flaws, Gillian, it’s part of your charm, but being a bad mother? That’s certainly not one of them.“ Caroline was quick and decisive, in intervening. There had been times where she had been quite happy to shoot a snide comment her way herself, but not anymore.

“Hm.“ Gillian’s response was minimal, which indicated to Caroline that she hadn’t listened or taken in what she’d said.

“It’s not!“ She insisted firmly.

“Alright!“ Gillian exclaimed, exasperated.

“Do you think I’d have come here, to live with you, having you help look after my daughter, if I didn’t think you were a good mother and a good person?“ Caroline leaned forward onto her elbows, regarding the farmer with a stern look that she had perfected in many years of teaching.

“’suppose not.“ Gillian folded, just as one of Caroline’s six-formers would have done.

“Well then.“ The headteacher straightened herself up again and proceeded to divide the rest of the bottle in between their two glasses.

“Their faces. When you told them.“ Gillian suddenly burst out laughing and Caroline grinned, recalling the conversation in vivid detail. The pendulum that was Gillian’s emotional well-being, had swung back around.

“Of all the stupid, stupid videos Lawrence has done… that would have been the moment to capture,“ she shook her head to herself, remembering how comical and surreal the whole thing had been.

“It was your Mum more than me Dad, that face she pulled!“ Gillian couldn’t stop laughing; it was infectious and prompted Caroline to launch into a scarily accurate imitation of her mother:

“Caroline, you can’t really be considering moving to a farm, and HER farm of all places. Is that any way for Flora to grow up? What if she…catches something or…“ Caroline could hardly breathe for laughing. “Honestly Mum, what is she gonna catch? Fresh air?“

“Touch of the common farmer, more like,“ Gillian grimaced, but she didn’t seem to care, not really.

“Like she’s never stayed here herself.“ Caroline rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy.

“I think she was more concerned with me, than the farm,“ Gillian pointed out, taking a deep breath to calm herself down - but her face continued cracking up and gave her away.

“Well obviously.“ Caroline just waved it off. They were both used to her mother’s strong opinions, and readily chose to ignore them.

“What will you be doing with Gillian around all the time?“ Gillian tried herself at Celia’s accent which caused Caroline to launch into another laughing fit.

“I don’t know, Mum, maybe we will have a wild sapphic love affair,“ she reprised her witty response with tears of laughter in her eyes.

“You nearly gave her a heart attack an’all,“ Gillian snickered.

“Well, it’s none of her business.“ Caroline took a deep breath, regaining some small measure of self control. “And really, she only has herself to blame. If she hadn’t been on at your Dad about lending you that money, and then telling me they wouldn’t be picking up Flora anymore, none of this would have happened.“

“So really, we should be thanking her, shouldn’t we.“ Gillian grinned after brief contemplation. “To your mother.“ She raised her glass and Caroline toasted her:

“I’ll drink to that.“

The evening wore on, and just as they contemplated opening a third bottle, Raff and Ellie returned with the baby, who was sleeping soundly in his car seat. Thank God for small favours, Caroline thought. They had cleared up from dinner and were lounging on the sofa with the telly on.

“Mum. Caz. Alright?“ Raff greeted them.

“Had a good evening?“ Gillian asked, looking around.

“Yeah great thanks,“ Ellie smiled in response and made her way up the stairs with the little one.

“You watching University Challenge, Mum?“ Raff asked, bemused, as he noticed the program they were watching.

“Through no fault of my own!“ Gillian was quick to point out. She shot Caroline a look who was sitting to the other end of the sofa.

Caroline considered it a safe distance, but not as safe as the other sofa would have been. It was one small thing she allowed herself. It was innocent enough, and Gillian didn’t seem to think twice when their legs intertwined on the two-seater.

The sheep farmer carried on explaining their television agreement to her son: “We compromise, see, she gets to watch something she wants and then I get to watch something I want.“

“Trust her to chose the most obnoxious thing she can possibly find, just to wind me up,“ Caroline interjected but without averting her eyes from the screen. She mumbled the answer to yet another obscure question under her breath.

“Sounds about right,“ Raff chuckled and Gillian leaned over the back of the sofa to slap her son’s arm.

“Remember, it’s a school night,“ she pointed her finger at him.

“Bit rich coming from you.“ He eyed their empty wine glasses. “I feel like the alcohol consume in this house has sky rocketed in the past month.“

“Yeah, well, got to knock ourselves out somehow between the baby crying and you two going at it,“ Gillian quipped, and returned her attention to the television as well.

“You’re just jealous cause you haven’t go a fella right now,“ Raff teased.

“Yeah well, I’m over that for the time being,“ Gillian gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Think you’ve finally gone through all the eligible bachelors in West Yorkshire?“ Caroline saw an opportunity to jump in and tried her best to keep the smallest twang of jealousy from her voice.

“And some of the ineligible ones too,“ Raff added, with a smirk.

“OI!“ Gillian exclaimed, shooting him a glare and kicked Caroline’s leg for siding with him.

“I’d better see if Ellie needs some help…“ Raff was quick to make his escape.

“Yeah, you’d better,“ his mother shouted after him.

“I have to say, you have come a long way since we met. From having three blokes you’re shagging staying over in this place,“ Caroline couldn’t help but comment, recalling the fateful night their parents had gone missing and they had stayed at the farm with Gillian’s three merry men - Paul, John and Robbie - all crammed onto these sofas.

“Bet you wouldn’t have come to stay then, would’ya,“ Gillian hummed, her voice surprisingly neutral.

“Could have joined that exclusive club,“ Caroline smirked, the alcohol loosening her tongue enough to make a joke, one too close to the truth for comfort. She forced herself not to think about what else she could be doing with her tongue right about now.

“Caz!“ Gillian exclaimed, and the headteacher couldn’t quite tell whether she was offended, self-conscious or flattered.

“It really is easy to tease you,“ Caroline back-peddled to safer waters.

“Yeah well, you’re living with Yorkshire’s greatest slapper so jokes on you,“ Gillian huffed. “Watch your f-bloody University Challenge.“

“Hm, yes, what will people think,“ Caroline chuckled and did as she was told.

[tsutsumi-kaina]

Theory: AFO Gave Tomura Decay (Part 1)

This was initially posted on my main, but I rearranged/rewrote some parts that went off track and decided to repost it to my BNHA blog instead.

I wanted to talk about one of my favorite theories for a bit-- namely, the theory that AFO slipped Tenko “Decay” in an effort to facilitate Tenko’s descent into villainy. It’s a pretty popular theory, and one of the main arguments in favor of it (i.e. manga!Tenko was seen being escorted home by a man with AFO’s build and similarly atrocious fashion sense) has already been discussed to death-- so instead I’ll touch on points that I haven’t seen talked about as frequently, but still seem to hint at some foul play surrounding Tomura’s quirk.  

Warning: This post has spoilers for both the most recent chapters of MHA (up to ch. 316) as well as spoilers for Vigilantes (up to ch. 109).

1. The Itch

Putting this first because it’s often the point I see cited most frequently as evidence of Tenko being born with his quirk, while I personally feel it’s the biggest piece of evidence we have in favor of his quirk not being natural.

imo the idea that Tenko has some sort of autoimmune disorder that activated in response to having a quirk forced on him isn’t actually all that far-fetched-- because AFO himself  invites us to consider the medical implications of quirk transfers when he compares “quirk transplants” to organ transplants (which, by the way, are notorious for being rejected by a recipient even if they are a 100% match. Organ recipients usually have to take Antirejection meds that suppress their immune system for the rest of their lives-- b/c when left unsuppressed, the immune system will view the donor organ as an invading pathogen and will try to crazy murder it. That being said: One of the more benign signs of rejection after a liver or kidney transplantation is pruritis, a.k.a. severe itching).

Basically: Tenko’s body is trying to reject the unsuitable/transplanted quirk-- and it manifests as an allergic reaction which, like most immunity-related illnesses, gets worse when stressed.

Pictured: 50% Panic Attack 50% Shrimp Allergy

Another point in favor of this interpretation is that Decay seems to trigger something eerily similar anaphylaxis when it goes out of control. Tenko is suddenly unable to talk, his itch is the absolute worst that it's ever been, his eyes are visibly bloodshot, and he begins to audibly wheeze-- as if his throat is swelling up. Yes, hyperventilating can be a symptom of a panic attack (and he very much is having a massive panic attack on top of everything else that’s going on in this scene), but having your airways appear to constrict to the point where you are wheezing and can no longer talk is not. Let’s move on!

2. Decay’s first actual manifestation occurs during the --happiest-- moment of Tenko’s life: Right after finding out his grandma, Nana Shimura, was a hero.

This particular sequence always struck me as…. strange, to put it mildly. Like, really strange. It also blatantly contradicts the commonly accepted explanation for Tenko’s “itch.” 

“You have within you an impulse to destroy that even you can’t control. It’s bursting out of you, and the itching is your body letting you know.” - (AFO, chapter 237)

But if this is really the case, why do we see it first activating during what’s likely the happiest moment of Tenko’s life? If Decay is truly fueled by hate/anger and required sufficient hatred to build up before manifesting, then what exactly is fueling it during this scene and why did it activate at this specific moment? So let’s ask ourselves-- who, other than Kotaro, would be pissed off that little Tenko found out about Nana and wants to be just like her?

*jazz hands* This guuuuuy!

Let's assume that AFO was able to watch the Shimura family drama unfold from inside Tenko-- This would explain why decay suddenly activated after Tenko found out about Nana, despite Tenko being completely over the moon at the time.  Which brings us to our next point. 

3. The Unique Property of AFO's Vestiges (plural!)

The fact that Tomura has never seen a vestige is often  brought up as a point against the idea of Decay being someone else’s quirk-- however, we get a fairly probable explanation for why Tomura has never seen Decay’s vestige in the recent chapters of MHA: Vigilantes.

The main antagonist of Vigilantes, Number Six/Rokuro, is in possession of a quirk called “Overclock” that was gifted to him by AFO. Overclock initially belonged to the hero “o’Clock” before AFO stole it, and initially we’re led to believe that Rokuro is able to see o’Clock’s vestige.

Except, it turns out what he’s seeing isn’t o’Clock’s vestige at all.

What time is it? It’s AFo’Clock!

The above more or less implies that AFO’s vestige is A) Able to masquerade as the “original” vestige of any quirk that he steals (that, or he fuses with their vestige and then overwrites their personality completely with his own) and B) Exists as a pseudo-vestige in pretty much every quirk that he passes down (and there’s evidence of this in the core series, too-- AFO somehow knew of Nagant’s betrayal instantly and immediately activated the bomb quirk he snuck inside her despite his actual body being nowhere near her at the time.  Plus, AFO-Prime heavily implies that he is able to at least sense the actions/thoughts of TomurAFO to a certain degree, even before the prison break occurs). 

In other words, Tomura has never seen a vestige of Decay’s original owner because AFO literally saved over their vestige with his own. 

Additionally: If we're gonna vehemently insist that Decay 100% belongs to Tomura "bc no vestige!" we have to acknowledge that characters like Nagant and Machia never seem to see the original quirk owners in vestige form, either, despite possessing quirks that were gifted by AFO.

At any rate-- We can assume a pseudo AFO vestige present in stolen quirks isn’t nearly as strong as the vestige that’s present within the AFO quirk itself, which is why AFO can’t simply take over anyone that he gifts a quirk to. What the pseudo-vestige seemingly can do, however, is:

Possibly influence emotions/personality like the brain tumor he is (see: his whole monologue about organ transplants being able to influence tastes and personality, which implicitly means quirk transplants can do the same since he is explicitly drawing comparisons between the two)

Possibly force activate their quirks (see: Nagant’s bomb, and likely Tenko’s first incident of decay)

Monitor people from the inside and somehow relay things like their emotional state, situation, and location, back to Prime-AFO. 

Speaking of “monitoring situation/location”...

4. The Key To Heroics (And Villainy, Apparently) Is All About The Timing!

"AFO added you to Find My Friends! Let AFO see your location? :)"

Folks have already talked about how obviously orchestrated this scene is and how it points to AFO having played a part in the Shimura family tragedy, so we'll leave things at that and move on.

Continued in part two (link!)

[kalee60]

Kalee. Kal. Hi. Hello.

So I recently got a Tiktok because all the kids these days are doing it and my sister keeps sending me videos 🤦🏼‍♀️🙄 I know.

Anyways

There’s apparently this challenge.

Kalee.

It’s a kiss your best friend challenge.

And all I can think is:

Steve and Bucky.

It could be canon verse. It could be an au.

But like imagine. If you haven’t seen the videos it’s super cute but also cringy because like what if it doesn’t go over well, it would be awkwardddd! They basically just film themselves hangout with their best friend and then try to kiss them and see if they’ve secretly been pining too.

Imagine.

Claire - my gorgeous pocket rocket from the Big Apple 🍎

This ask (that you sent eons ago) could not just be answered with a simple - 'omg, yes - I know right - it's the perfect Stucky scenario - someone should write it'... Because well - I guess somehow it turned out that I could write a little something...

I hope you enjoy this, because without your cheerleading, your throwing of pom poms and generally screaming at me in comments and on here - well writing wouldn't be half as much fun.

So for you Claire - enjoy this little story of two boys, a kiss in the making and a TikTok account 😘

~*~*~*~*~

Nerves rode Bucky as he placed his phone down into the perfect position; camera at the ready, not pressing record yet - but waiting for the signal. Steve was doing the exact same with his phone, only from a slightly different angle, setting it up for their parkour trick - something they were going to post to TikTok later. But although Steve was under the impression he was about to perform a flip off Bucky’s shoulders to grab hold of a tree branch then scale the fifteen foot wall beside it - Bucky had other ideas.

He’d seen a new TikTok challenge that week, it was plastered all over the platform and filled his suggested videos, and since the first time he’d watched one, then devoured another fifty straight away, he’d secretly wanted to do it. Wanted to throw all caution to the wind and seize the moment.

Today was that day.

Bucky Barnes was going to kiss Stevie Rogers right on the lips. His best friend since middle school, the boy, now man that he’d secretly loved for over a decade - and although Bucky could have thought of a million different ways to show Steve how he felt - he’d just never had the courage. At least if the video bombed, he could still put it up as a laugh and hopefully Steve would see the joke and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship - hopefully.

So Bucky waited for Steve to finish fiddling with his phone and camera positioning, which was taking him longer than usual to set up, trying to not let the butterflies in his gut take over.

Steve finally looked up, face flushed red like he’d already performed the stunt and Bucky was struck dumb, staring at how beautiful Steve was in the afternoon sunlight. He became lost in the way the shadows from the trees created patterns across Steve’s tightly toned body, the slight wind whispering to Bucky to take his chance, to not mess it up. And Steve stood before him like a golden god, nervously splaying his fingers, cracking his knuckles while staring back at Bucky with an unreadable expression on his face. Was he worried about their trick?

“You okay, Pal?” Bucky asked, his voice faltering with the knowledge he was about to change everything - or nothing.

Steve nodded, eyes wide and bright, darting over Bucky’s face, and Bucky took a moment to bask at being in Steve’s full attention.

“Yep,” Steve popped the ‘p’ and ran a hand through his hair, blonde strands sticking up comically, but Bucky didn’t laugh, he’d never seen someone as breathtaking as Steve did in that moment. 

Steve was Bucky’s true north, a steady and unrelenting force at his side - but it went both ways. They’d been through family deaths, relationship fallouts, fights and everything in between, but the one thing that was always unbroken - was they were in it together. No matter what life threw at them, Steve and Bucky were as solid as rock. Unshakable.

And Bucky was probably about to screw it all up.

They closed in on each other, coming to a standstill until only a foot separated them; Steve’s huge blue eyes darted quickly between Bucky’s; there was something different about the look, intense, and Bucky wondered if his own nerves were obvious and Steve was suddenly unsure about the acrobatic feat they were attempting.

“You still want to do this? Haven’t changed your mind?” Bucky asked to make sure, and was surprised when Steve licked his lips and shook his head emphatically.

“No, I’m sure - more sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

Bucky smiled, Steve being dramatic about their parkour tricks was not unusual, but the way Steve’s cheek twitched and how his foot tapped on the ground was not normal behaviour. And Bucky couldn’t help but start to worry that his idea to surprise-kiss Steve wasn’t the greatest one, wasn’t something he should be trying, as it seemed Steve was janky - wound up.

“Alright, Stevie. If you’re sure.”

Resolve filled Steve’s features as they both turned on their cameras, and once set up, Steve took an almost hesitant step forward.

Bucky held his breath.

It was the moment of truth. 

They’d practised the trick so many times, had to start toe to toe for it to work, Steve pushing off Bucky to sprint to the wall, running vertically up the side of it, to twist around and jump off Bucky’s shoulders and flip onto the tree branch, shoving off it then using his momentum to run up the rest of the wall. Finally gripping the lip and climbing over it. 

They’d gone over it at least thirty times.

No injuries as of yet.

But this time, just as Steve pressed forward, Bucky yanked him in - at the exact same time as Steve flew forward, completely catching Bucky off guard as he was heading in the wrong direction than expected, he was moving towards Bucky instead of pushing away - and their heads slammed together with a loud thud.

And instead of taking the defeat of the moment graciously, Bucky was in too deep, had waited too long, had it all planned out - and so as Steve rubbed his forehead looking as mortified at what had transpired as Bucky, Bucky once again leant forward. Only to find Steve pitching towards him too, and for the second time in less than three seconds their skulls cracked against the other.

“- holy shit, Barnes. Are you going to let me kiss you or not?”

“- Steve you fucking menace, I’m trying to kiss you!”

The silence was deafening as their words mingled together and wide ocean blue eyes met stormy silt infused grey-blue ones in shock.

“- what did you…?”

“- did you just...?”

Once again talking at the same time, they both trailed off, and the words started to sink into Bucky’s fried brain. Steve was trying to kiss him. Him.

Slack jawed, he could only stare at Steve whose expression mimicked his own, clearly having come to the same realisation about Bucky. He managed to swallow the obscenely thick lump in his throat and with a small tremor in his hand, reached up to place it on Steve’s forehead where a red mark was forming - rubbing the spot gently with his thumb. Steve’s eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

With the last tendrils of fear slipping away, Bucky trailed his fingers down the side of Steve’s face before reaching behind his head, gripping the base of Steve’s neck. Then stopped.

Steve’s breathing laboured, coming in sharp and Bucky tightened his grip, loving the way Steve’s eyes fluttered half shut before they opened again, trying not to lose contact with Bucky’s.

Steve was stunning, so responsive and Bucky licked his lips, loving how Steve’s attention snagged on his mouth immediately.

“Can I?” Bucky husked, and Steve nodded jerkily when Bucky’s fingers played with the silky strands of Steve’s hair as he leant in.

The first meeting of their lips lacked the pain of slammed heads and teeth - but it was perfect in every way. Steve’s lips were plush, soft and pliant under Buckys as Bucky took control of the kiss, pressing forward into Steve’s heat. Bucky’s other hand came up to cup Steve’s face tenderly, unable to express how it felt to be kissing his lifelong friend after so many years of yearning for it, Bucky almost at the point where he thought it could never happen. The fact Steve kissed him back - enthusiastically, made his heart thump louder and harder until it was all he could hear in his mind.

After a moment, Bucky pulled away, resting his forehead on Steve’s, mindful of the tender place they’d cracked heads minutes earlier, and couldn’t stop the rasped laugh that escaped.

“You laughing at the way I kiss, Barnes?” Steve sassed with a smile in his voice.

Bucky chuckled, “no, not at all.” He paused a second to gather his thoughts, “I just can’t believe I set this up to kiss you on camera for TikTok, so damn nervous the whole time you’d freak out and punch me - and you were doing the exact same thing.”

Steve grinned and pulled away enough so that he could stare into Bucky’s eyes, the emotion shining from his beautifully clear expression stole the breath from Bucky’s lungs.

“How long?” Steve asked with a whisper. And Bucky wanted to lie, to tell him it wasn’t long, that he’d only just realised if only to stop himself looking too much like a sap.

He didn’t lie.

“The day you punched Deon Franklin when he asked me for a tongue kiss while calling me those terrible names.”

Steve’s stunned look spoke volumes, “Bucky. We were sixteen.”

“And…?” Bucky winced at Steve’s incredulous tone.

Suddenly Steve laughed hysterically, and Bucky started to back up, but before he got too far, Steve grabbed his biceps stopping him in his tracks. “Oh no you dont. You do know why I punched him right?”

“Because he was a dick?”

“Well apart from that.” Steve said wryly and took a deep breath, letting Bucky go. “It’s because he upset you. And I was desperate for your attention - wanted that kiss he so crudely demanded as a joke.”

“What…” Bucky stammered out, “You wanted me back then too?”

Steve smiled indulgently at him. “You didn’t think I stuck around just for your personality did you?”

Bucky roared with laughter, elated at the turn of events and grabbed Steve, slamming their mouths together, and soon the kiss morphed from chaste and exploratory to something meaner, something heavier. Pushing Steve up against the tree, the small noise from Steve’s throat as the bark dug into his skin set something feral off in Bucky and he kissed deeper, shoving his tongue further until both of them struggled for air.

A loud beeping infiltrated Bucky’s hearing and he reluctantly pulled away, adoring the slack jawed and glazed look in Steve’s eyes way too much. Wanting Steve to look up at him with that exact same expression but with a lot less clothing and a lot more privacy in place.

“Want to do the trick still?” Bucky questioned as he walked over and grabbed his phone to stop the alert that he was running out of video. When Steve didn’t answer he looked back over his shoulder and almost dropped his phone.

Steve was leaning limp against the tree, clearly half hard and staring after Bucky like he’d just gifted him the world. When in actual fact, it was Steve who’d done that for him.

Bucky stalked back over, gripping Steve’s chin, kissing him soundly one more time, and Steve immediately went pliant under his touch, oh boy, they were going to have so much fun.

“How about instead, we go back to mine and see what other tricks we can come up with?”

Steve’s breathing came in faster and harder and a broken ‘yes’ worked its way out of his throat, Bucky catching the word in his mouth as he kissed Steve again.

Bucky smirked as he pulled away, helping Steve stand upright.

“But, only on the condition that we tape it.” Steve said in a voice deep and rich, and Bucky was suddenly on the back foot when Steve smiled deliciously at him, eyes full of dirty promises.

Dry mouthed and vibrating from anticipation, Bucky followed Steve to his car, walking in a slight daze at what had transpired in only twenty minutes.

And all Bucky was certain of, was that although his TikTok kiss hadn’t gone to plan - everything else would fall into place.

Just the way it was meant to.

[fakecrfan]

POV: You wake up in the TMA universe at the start of season 1.

You find yourself on the streets of London, cold and confused.

You try to figure out what happened and get home. You discover the place you lived no longer exists. The place you worked no longer exists.

You try to call the numbers of family, friends, anyone you knew. Baffled voices that you don’t recognize answer you, and then hang up.

As you're wandering around the streets getting increasingly terrified, you pass by the Magnus Institute. Then, everything makes sense.

You hurry in and blurt out: "I would like to make a statement"

Rosie smiles politely.

“Alright, let’s get you the proper forms then.”

She tells you that the Archivist, Jonathan Sims, will see you in a moment. As you are waiting for him, you recall what happens to people who give statements to Jonathan Sims. Unceasing bad dreams. Unrelenting panic attacks. Enough that Jess Tyrell stopped being able to go out in public.

"Ah," you think. "I will not do that then."

You leave in a hurry. Outside, you realize:

oh, I'm the only one who can stop the apocalypse now, aren't i

You shiver. That thought can wait, you think. For now you need to find... somewhere to stay. You are effectively homeless. No, not effectively. You are straight up homeless.

You pull out your wallet to pay for food. Your card is declined. You try to use cash, only to be told it’s counterfeit. Everything is just a little too much to the left of your reality for you to navigate.

Finally you find social services of some kind. They ask for your information, including your NIN. you aren't surprised when they say the info they have on file for that number is.... not you. You are disappointed though.

They help you to a homeless shelter. You sit on your cot and cry self-pityingly for a bit, and then that pressure comes back to your mind:

The world is going to end. You know the world is going to end. You're the only one who can do anything about it.

You turn over and decide that's something you can deal with in the morning.

----

The next day, you think about it again.

"That's something I can deal with when I have an apartment," is what you think then.

So that becomes your next project. Finding your footing as a displaced person. Social services helps but it's... sporadic. It takes months for you to get more stable housing.

When you lie down on the couch of the new, well, new associate you've made, you once again remember that the world is going to end. That you are the only one who can do anything about it.

"I'll think about that when I get a job"

-----

Time continues to pass. As you are trying to get on your feet, you make feeble attempts to... start something.

You go to the Magnus Institute a few times. But it's hard. You've always had terrible social anxiety,. And everyone there seems so cold. You can feel eyes on your back: staring, watching your every move. Normally that alone is enough to make you quit for the day.

A lot of times, the main cast you remember is out doing research. When they are there, you are about to walk up and speak to them when the anxiety hits you again.

What if Elias sees you talking to them? What if he kills you?

You decide to retreat for a little while, then. Just to think of a better plan.

You spend the next month getting your first job in this new world. You start a timeline of when you think the apocalypse is going to happen, but remembering the canon dates is hard. It's not a very helpful timeline, and so you give it up.

Eventually you think the best thing to do is to wait until Elias has been arrested and then talk to the others. When Elias is in prison, he can't murder you for revealing your plans.

This means Sasha and Tim will die. But--they might have died anyway, even with your intervention. Who’s to say? Anyway, you’re not the one who will kill them. It’s not your fault.

You scan the news every day for things about the Magnus Institute, particularly the head of it getting arrested.

During this time, you do a little better. You have a nice apartment now, you think. Nice by your own standards, at least. You decorate the place a little. Get some video games that you like--or well, they aren't the same ones as in your world, but close enough you think?

Months pass.

One day it hits you that maybe the papers would never actually report on Elias being arrested.

Oh shit, you think.

You go back to the Magnus Institute then. By this point, Rosie recognizes you. She grants you the same expression one grants a wayward alley cat. You ask who the current head is. You are told "Peter Lukas."

Shit.

"Can I make a statement?"

Rosie looks nervous. "Um, the Archivist is on medical leave."

"Okay can I talk to one of his assistants?"

Rosie gets this very tired look in her eyes.

"I'll... ask."

Rosie phones the archives extension

it rings

it rings

it rings

"They've all really been through it recently," Rosie tells you. "They don't--like to talk to anyone else, now."

"I have to talk to them," you say. "Um, can you--can you tell Martin Blackwood specifically that I need to talk to him? That it's about Jon?"

Martin is--you like Martin. Martin will be nice and safe. He'll be easier to talk to than Melanie at this point, or Basira. Still, Rosie looks tired again.

"I'll have a chat with him," Rosie says. "How about you go home for now, and I'll call you when I've talked to him."

"But--"

You're bad at this. You were always bad at this. You can barely sign up for anything on your own. Your mother has done so many calls and filled out so many forms for you.

You never cultivated the skill of standing in a lobby and insisting to talk to someone. Maybe you'll just irritate Rosie and she'll blacklist you if you dig in your heels now. Anyway, you're already so tired from this. You think about going home, and playing some Medal of Honour IV.

"Fine," you say.

You go home. You play the game. You sleep.

You're not giving up, you say to yourself. You're just--biding your time.

Rosie does not call you.

It pains you, but you realize you have to go back in and ask to speak to someone again. You'll go today after work, you decide.

No, wait, you're too tired from work today. You'll go tomorrow.

Maybe on the weekend.

----

You finally go back

Rosie tells you she just--hasn't been able to get a hold of Martin.

"Fine," you say. "Any of the other assistants."

Rosie actually looks a bit worried for you. "Um, they're not--they don't take well to unexpected visitors. Let me wait and chat them up about it."

You do not listen this time.

You march down into the basement level where the archives are. The door is--well. Shit. It's barricaded? You knock. You keep knocking.

"Melanie! Basira!" you say. "I have to talk!"

The door opens too quickly. You barely get a glimpse of Melanie's snarl before she strikes and your vision goes white.

She hits you a few times. No knives, just fists. You hear Basira in the backround, barking for Melanie to stand down. Once there is an opening and you can blearily see again, you run away in terror.

It's not--you didn't intend to run. You were just afraid.

----

You go home, and realize that Melanie didn't even really hit you in a super serious way. Nothing that would warrant a hospital trip, at least. Nothing that has left you with a lot of pain, outside of the immediate terror of physical violence.

You probably could have stuck it out there. You should have.

You think about all the months--no, years now--that have passed without you making any progress.

"But that’s not my fault,” you say.

"I was having a really hard time. I was homeless. I've been struggling with my mental health. I still have to keep the rent paid and feed myself."

"It's not my fault. It's not."

"I will do something. Just--I need some more time."

You sleep.

You decide to wait a bit for your bruises to heal up before going back.

When you do drag yourself back to the Institute, now there is a PTSD reaction to going into the Institute on top of the social anxiety.

You leave quickly. Rosie looks so sad for you.

You do try to go back. You do try to get back in contact with the Archives, or go back when Jon is back up. But there's always something. Not something directly stopping you. Just--

Tiredness. Work. Illness. Doctor's appointments. Panic attacks. The Archives staff being unreachable.

The world is going to end. You're the only one who can stop it.

"That's not true though," you think. "I mean, technically anyone could. I just have a little more information that could help."

"It's never one person's fault," you tell yourself as you crawl into bed after another flight of anxiety struck you as you were about to cross the street to the Institute. "It's everything. It's--a whole system. It's Jonah's fault really. If I don't--I'm not to blame."

“I’m not to blame.”

----

You are playing Medal of Honour V when your phone lights up with a notification that there was an outburst of violence at a place known as the Magnus Institute, and billionaire Peter Lukas has disappeared in the confusion.

You should get up. It’s going to happen, and happen soon. You hand twitches on the controller.

You remember a quote you saw before you ended up here, on Facebook of all things.

"Don't wonder what you'd be doing in Nazi Germany. Whatever you're doing now, is what you would have been doing then."

Because bad things were happening in the world all the time, your preachy Facebook aunt said. There is always genocide, and famine, and war. It’s not some movie fantasy from the past.

You think about that. About the horrors in your world. Those movements that you retweeted support for and occasionally donated $5 to. The protests you awkwardly passed by on your way to work.

You quietly realize what kind of person you are. What you would have been doing in Nazi Germany, or the civil rights era in the U.S., or during the catastrophes in your own world, or right now.

It's what you were always going to do.

And so you get back to Medal of Honour V.

----

You're still dreading the apocalypse of course. It won’t be easy.  It will be around six months to a year of full on torture, specifically designed to be the worst you have ever felt. Something about that soothes you. Something about knowing you are a victim too, or maybe knowing that you’ll be punished.

But--it will end, and then you'll be alright. Everything will return to normal, and you can go back to your apartment and your job and your games. It’s not all that bad.

You feel a twinge of guilt for Martin and Jon, who you could ave intervened for. You feel more than a twinge for the worlds the Entities will infect after. But--maybe it will all work out okay. Maybe the universe is a kind place. Maybe other worlds will be able to handle the fears better.

Who knows! There is always hope!

----

[When the sky turns red and the great Eye opens, when you start to hear the howls of your apartment neighbors through the wall--

Nothing happens to you. You are fine. It does not touch you.

Oh.]

[honeypiehotchner]

Statistically Speaking (a Spencer Reid one shot)

Okay, yes, I know I literally just made a post about being triggered by Criminal Minds, but writing fluff about Spencer has been one of the things that has helped me heal (weirdly enough) and this is one of the one shots that I wrote. It’s all fluff. Enjoy xx.

(Also I’m only on like season 2 of the show so that’s when I’m imagining this is set but it can be whenever idc)

Tagging @breadgenie892​ because she ruined me with her Jaskier x Geralt fluff earlier. This is 100% payback :)

You and Spender Reid — sorry, Dr. Spencer Reid as he adorably introduced himself to you on your first day at the BAU (and scrambled to say, “S-Sorry, it’s Spencer. Just Spencer Reid,” immediately after).

The two of you have quite the bond.

You’re no genius, not in the way Spencer is. Your memory is nowhere near Eidetic, it more resembles Dory from Finding Nemo, but you don’t make that joke anymore. Hotch gave you quite a worried look and called you into his office an hour later to ask if you were alright that day.

But you digress.

Before you met Spencer, Google was your best friend. You ask a lot of questions, and by a lot-- well, just ask Morgan.

On your first day, Morgan said, and you quote, “Oh, God. There’s two of them.”

Whenever you had a question, you Googled it. You researched, you found literary journals and universities that studied what you wanted to know. You found your answers, and sometimes more questions along the way.

But when you started at the BAU, Google was child’s play. Especially when Spencer could give you the answer faster than you could type in the question and hit enter on Google.

It’s one of the things you love most about him. At first, he only answered you because you have a bad habit of asking questions aloud when meaning to just speak to yourself. Spencer didn’t know you were mainly asking yourself, and he launched into a full explanation. You were too mesmerized to stop him, and started asking further questions. It went on and on until you were dazed and he was smiling, and the rest of the team was staring at the two of you like you’d gone insane.

So now, you ask him anything and everything.

Like…

Recently, you called him at almost ten at night. It was storming, but you really needed to take a shower. It had been two days since your last, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey Spence,” you said when he picks up. “Statistically speaking, how likely am I to get struck by lightning?”

“What? Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I need to shower and it’s storming. How do I look statistically?”

“Not good! Don’t take a shower!”

“Spencer,” you groaned, flopping down on your bed.

“Y/N, showering increases your likelihood of being electrocuted. Ten to twenty people on average are struck by lighting when bathing.”

“There’s the stats,” you chuckled. “Fine, genius. I’ll wait it out.”

“Good,” he sounded genuinely relieved.

His concern made you smile. “What are you up to?”

“Talking you out of electrocuting yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be electrocuting myself. The lightning is what would do it.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Are you tired of me yet?”

Spencer laughed airily before he replied in a soft voice, “No. Never.”

As strange as it sounds, things changed that night. Spencer stayed on the phone with you until the storm passed -- you were getting scared after a particularly loud boom of thunder, but you’d never admit that to him. Once it passed and once Spencer checked the weather radar to be sure it was gone, he let you shower.

The next morning at the BAU, you fixed a cup of coffee for him as a thank you for the night before. You were expecting him to take it and move on, but he pulled you into a hug instead.

Thankfully, no one saw it. If they had, you’d both be getting hell for it.

But despite not seeing the hug, the team has noticed things.

Hotch first noticed it when you offered to accompany Reid to the local police station to set things up on a new case. You normally go with Emily to talk to the families or even with Morgan to visit crime scenes. It was nothing against Spencer, you just happened to like being out in the field more than holed up in a station with exhausted law enforcement.

But not this time. This time you wanted to be with Reid. You even turned down Morgan’s offer to go to the crime scene.

Yeah. Hotch knew something was up.

Morgan noticed, too. He saw you pouring a massive amount of sugar into a cup of coffee and jokingly asked if it was for Reid. In your flustered state, you said it was yours. But Morgan watched you hand the cup off to Reid once you were back with him.

Emily’s suspicions were confirmed when you were talking with her one night on the plane. Everyone else was asleep, so you, Emily, and JJ began talking about “girly” things. Tonight’s topic happened to be crushes.

“I can’t imagine falling for someone on the team,” Emily whispered, pulling a face, overdoing it just to get your reaction.

And your reaction was priceless. You shrugged and went completely silent. While you were glancing over your shoulder to check that Reid was still sleeping, Emily shared quite the look with JJ.

Garcia was maybe the last to notice things. She had her suspicions as well (it passes the time, and Morgan made a few comments about it, too), but when she saw the two of you laughing, that was it. Spencer was sitting in his desk chair and you were sitting on his desk. You were arguing about something Garcia couldn’t hear, but the smiles on your faces told her the argument was all flirting.

And she’d be right to think that, too. The argument that day was that Spencer overworks himself, so you promptly sat on top of his paperwork so that he couldn’t get to it. He refused to touch it because it was too close to your ass and voiced this issue, and you told him it sounded like a personal problem. And that you wanted him to get up and walk around, maybe eat something, too.

You’re a bit of a hopeless romantic. That part of you was telling you that Spencer’s flirting was genuine. That there were feelings buried behind it, but you were never sure.

Spencer was officially the last to notice.

“How am I looking?” You asked seemingly out of nowhere.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, turning to look at you, your voice having broken him out of his thoughts. “Uh, good?”

You tilt your head. “No, statistically. I asked what are the chances of me making it to dinner on time?”

“Dinner?” Morgan asked, sauntering over with his blinding smile. “Got a hot date tonight?”

“You wish,” you scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly.

But you didn’t elaborate further, which caused Spencer to go quiet. Realizing you weren’t getting any statistics out of him this time, you gathered your things in your arms and headed out.

Once you made it through the door, Morgan nearly fell to the floor. “Spencer. Pretty boy. What are you doing, man?”

Spencer dumbly looked down at the paperwork on his desk.

Before he could say anything, Morgan said, “No, man, not the paperwork. Y/N. What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing?”

Morgan laughed loudly. “Oh, pretty boy. You have no idea?”

Spencer scooted back from his desk, eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “No idea about what?”

“Reid,” Morgan emphasizes every word. “She likes you.”

The sentence stunned Spencer so much he nearly fell out of his chair. “What?”

“Come on, man,” Morgan groaned. “An IQ of 187 and it didn’t help you see she’s got feelings for you?”

Spencer stood to his feet, grabbing his jacket. You liked him. You like him, and you’re going to dinner with someone else.

“There you go,” Morgan cheered as Spencer practically bolted from the room. “Go get her, tiger!”

“Shut up!” Spencer called after Morgan.

Pushing through the doors, Spencer halted, seeing you standing by the elevator. You’re staring down at your phone, and you don’t exactly look happy.

Spencer approaches you slowly, hand gripping the strap of his bag. “You okay?”

You look up quickly like he’s startled you, and truthfully, he has. “Oh. Um, no. My date-- Well, they canceled. Said something came up.”

Spencer can see you’re hurt by this, but he doesn’t care. “Have dinner with me,” he says, eyes expectant.

“With you?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, a smile coming through when he adds, “please.”

“Okay,” you can’t help but smile, too.

Spencer grins now, stepping over to press the down arrow on the elevator. You wait in silence, stepping on when the doors open, and Spencer presses the button for the ground floor.

All of your hurt is gone from your face now, and it causes Spencer to start thinking. He stares ahead, and then he hears you giggle.

When he looks over at you, he asks. “You didn’t have a dinner date, did you?”

“Nope,” you chuckle. “Got ya.”

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “You got me.”

“So…” You pause, heart racing. “Statistically speaking, how likely are you to kiss me right now?”

Spencer doesn’t even care that the elevator is a few seconds from reaching the ground floor. All he cares about right now is you.

And because of that, he says, “Very likely,” before pulling you in. Your fingers tangle in his hair while his cup your jaw, moving you closer, deepening the kiss, trying to make up for all of his stupidity. As he holds you now, feels your lips, he wonders how he never knew.

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 7

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing

After Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing met, Zhang Yiqing once asked Bai Ming a question. He asked him: "What are your dreams?"

When he heard this question Bai Ming immediately beamed. He met Zhang Yiqing’s eyes and answered earnestly and solemnly, "my dream is you."

At this, Zhang Yiqing was momentarily taken aback.

"I'm seriously asking."

Bai Ming, "and I'm seriously answering."

Bai Ming indeed was serious. Before encountering the doors, he'd already been a fan of Zhang Yiqing, obsessively devoted to that handsome man onscreen.

Bai Ming collected Zhang Yiqing's every movie, every drama, and every commercial. And when he found out that Zhang Yiqing was quitting the silver screen to direct behind-the-scenes instead, Bai Ming went crazy for a good long while.

During that while, nobody in their organization dared to go through doors with him. They all knew Bai Ming was the sort of person capable of doing anything on a bad mood.

Back then, Bai Ming had not yet been the boss of their organization. He had just been a plain and simple door-crosser, though the potential he emanated often gave his fellow door-crossers the sense that he was no small-pond creature.

Bai Ming's family situation was more complicated. He'd lived at an orphanage since youth, and had only been found and brought back home after he turned twelve. Only then did he learn that his father was actually a rich man, and the reason his father brought him back had nothing to do with paternal devotion, but rather because his brother needed a healthy liver.

This sort of bloody melodrama was what befell Bai Ming.

The truth was, prior to actually meeting Zhang Yiqing, the two of them had seen each other once before.

It was at a cocktail party hosted by the Bai family. Bai Ming had stood in a corner, small and thin, and watched as a smiling Zhang Yiqing chatted with his father. Zhang Yiqing had been young back then, and had just recently snagged Best Actor—there was still a touch of youth in his appearance, but the unparalleled splendor of his later years could already be seen.

Bai Ming had stared at him for a long time, many thoughts flashing through his mind. At this point he was already a fan of Zhang Yiqing's movies, but was too nervous to just walk up and start talking to him. He could only gaze from afar.

And later, Bai Ming met the doors, so he'd thought that there was only ever to be the one encounter between he and Zhang Yiqing.

But fate was always an extraordinary thing. After many years of hard work, Bai Ming had staked out quite a position for himself in the world of the doors. One day, a good friend suddenly asked him: "Bai Ming, you like Zhang Yiqing, right?"

Lit cigarette hanging between his lips, Bai Ming vocalized a lazy, "mh."

"He's started entering doors too," his friend told him. "Want to consider taking him on?"

Bai Ming's head twisted to stare at his friend.

"What did you say?"

Looking innocently back at him, his friend repeated himself.

Bai Ming extinguished the cigarette and laughed, "this isn't a joke, is it?"

Of course it wasn't a joke. The moment he saw Zhang Yiqing again, Bai Ming knew that his dream was about to come true.

Zhang Yiqing, who had retreated behind the scenes, was no longer as tender as he'd been in his youth. He was no less handsome, however. Like an aged bottle of wine, he and his charms had not faded with time, in fact had begun to emanate a unique fragrance of maturity.

All competent people have arrogance, and Zhang Yiqing was a proud standout in his industry. He'd taken the laurels for Best Actor four times, not to mention countless other awards, both large and small. The year he turned to directing, the country had even nominated him for Best Director.

The only shame was that after encountering the doors, his fate was forced to take a sharp turn.

"Hello, I'm Bai Ming." The two sat face-to-face, and Bai Ming held a hand out to Zhang Yiqing with a smile. His smile was sincere, and paired with that harmless-looking face, there really was no visible aura of an apex predator about him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Naturally, Zhang Yiqing was fooled by Bai Ming. He took Bai Ming's hand and said, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Zhang Yiqing."

"Oh," Bai Ming nodded. "I've seen your movies."

Zhang Yiqing smiled politely. He likely thought Bai Ming was just a normal fan, or perhaps not even that—Bai Ming may just be an audience who had seen his movies in passing. But much later, when Zhang Yiqing saw that room stacked full of his own works, he would finally realize that Bai Ming was nowhere as harmless as he made himself look.

Of course, at this point, Zhang Yiqing was not aware of anything. He saw the headful of natural curls, the unsophisticated grin, and really took Bai Ming for a gentle-natured young man…

At this point Zhang Yiqing even failed to understand why everybody in Bai Ming's organization was so scared of him, to the point where Zhang Yiqing thought there really must be a misunderstanding…

Inside and outside the doors, Bai Ming did not change much. His personality stayed genial. When confronted with malicious words or even malicious people, he was never even vicious in return.

Sometimes, Zhang Yiqing even thought Bai Ming was being too nice, and would step up to protect Bai Ming.

"You're too well-tempered," was something Zhang Yiqing once said. "Nice people get taken advantage of. Harbor no intent to hurt, but preserve all instinct to caution!"[1]

Bai Ming listened to Zhang Yiqing's reprimand and said, beaming, "Zhang-ge's right to scold me."

Zhang Yiqing didn’t know what went through his head then, but seeing Bai Ming's well-behaved smile, he reached out and gave that head a pat. Only after touching Bai Ming did he realize the gesture didn't seem quite right, and so he coughed once, before explaining, "it just looks good to touch."

Bai Ming just blinked his eyes noncommittally.

Bai Ming's hair was extremely fluffy and truly peak touch quality. Just seeing it made people want to pet it. But there really weren't that many people who’d dare to pet a tiger—Zhang Yiqing was one of few, though at that time, he had yet to discover the fact that Bai Ming was a ferocious beast, and not some adorable kitten.

But fake was fake in the end—Zhang Yiqing was no idiot either. By the time he became aware of the incongruities about Bai Ming's person, the two of them had already grown closer.

Zhang Yiqing had noticed the oddity and even joked about it, saying, "Bai Ming, how come I've discovered that anyone who crosses you gets struck with misfortune?"

Bai Ming batted his eyes at this.

"Don't they deserve it?"

At his smile, Zhang Yiqing froze. Zhang Yiqing had only been joking, but after careful thought, a layer of cold sweat began to dot his back. Because as far as he could remember, ever since he and Bai Ming started entering doors together, those who had wronged Bai Ming were not simply "unfortunate," they were all…dead.

That's right, dead. Dead via various odd accidents. Some things may seem accidental on the surface, but—upon multiple occurrences—could no longer be mere coincidence.

Incidental became inescapable after a certain point.

Having realized something, Zhang Yiqing looked once more to Bai Ming, and found that the young man who was once so easy to read now seemed something of a stranger.

The good thing was, that feeling only lasted for a moment, because Bai Ming grinned and scooted closer again.

"Zhang-ge, come get hotpot with me tonight?"

"Sure," Zhang Yiqing agreed.

The relationship between the two of them was still ambiguous at this moment, but one could die at any time inside the doors. Zhang Yiqing saw clearly Bai Ming's devotion to protecting him, and so the two got closer and closer—until one day, when Zhang Yiqing went to a party.

As a heavy hitter in the entertainment industry, there were naturally many people lined up to take a ride on his coattails. That was why that day, a coworker introduced him to a beautiful young woman.

Though Zhang Yiqing rejected her immediately, Bai Ming, who'd come along for fun, still saw everything.

Oddly enough, against Bai Ming's gaze, Zhang Yiqing felt a sense of guilt. The party hadn’t even been over when Bai Ming pulled Zhang Yiqing alone into a break room. Zhang Yiqing wanted to resist at first, but discovered that he wasn't at all Bai Ming's opponent—he was picked up and brought along as if he were a sack of rice.

"Does Zhang-ge have someone he likes?" was what Bai Ming asked him.

Zhang Yiqing said, "no."

"No?" Bai Ming said. "Then what's the deal with her?"

Watching Bai Ming's expression, Zhang Yiqing had the thought that the person before him seemed a bit drunk. He licked his lips, and spoke hoarsely: "I don't like her."

"You don't like her, but you'll still have her?" Bai Ming asked.

Zhang Yiqing opened his mouth, wanting to explain. But when the words got to his lips, the pride in his bones was for some reason set off by Bai Ming's accusatory tone. He lifted his chin and, with a cool expression, forced down the anxiety deep in his chest.

"So what if I will?"

Bai Ming pressed a hand to his lips, got closer, and hummed, "but I'll get angry."

Zhang Yiqing's brow furrowed.

Bai Ming, "I'll get very…very…angry."

Zhang Yiqing was just about to ask and so what if you get angry when Bai Ming shoved him onto the break room sofa. Bai Ming's fingers picked apart the first button on his shirt, and the man looked down at Zhang Yiqing from high above. His voice when he spoke was colder than anything Zhang Yiqing had heard from him.

"I don't want to wait anymore."

Zhang Yiqing's eyes went wide. This was the first time he became aware that Bai Ming and that harmless youth he thought he knew were two completely different people.

"Zhang-ge," Bai Ming said. "I like you. Do you like me?"

Zhang Yiqing swallowed, and he didn't answer Bai Ming's question. He only said, "calm down a second…"

Bai Ming watched him. "You also like me, right? You just don't want to admit it…But even if you don't admit it, that’s alright." He smiled, as handsome as an incubus. "It's fine as long as I like you."

Everything that happened after that was unspeakable.

By the time Zhang Yiqing once again regained consciousness, he was limp all over. Bai Ming had him wrapped up in blanket and was placing him into the car. Seeing him wake, Zhang Yiqing beamed.

"Zhang-ge, you're up? We're headed home now."

Zhang Yiqing wanted to speak, but found his voice nearly gone. He recalled something, and a smudge of red appeared over his cheeks as he grated out: "Animal."

Bai Ming batted his eyes. "Zhang-ge, are you calling me big?"

Zhang Yiqing, "…" He surrendered.

Bai Ming, "no worries, it's only 3AM. There's still plenty of time when we get back."

Zhang Yiqing wanted to retort, so Bai Ming caught him by the lips. Bai Ming's kiss was rough enough to turn his mouth an evocative red.

Zhang Yiqing went dizzy with the kiss. It was only then that he had the faint realization that he…seemed to have caught the attention of someone incredible.

Translator’s Notes:

害人之心不可有，防人之心不可無; idiom that literally means, “you can’t have intent to hurt people, but you can’t not be guarded against people.” The two phrases have parallel rhythms Chinese (note the four middle characters are identical), so coming up with a translation that mirrors that to some degree is both fun and difficult.

[Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(3)] | [Extra: Tan Zaozao]