#like when she mocked Tommy for being old fashioned and asked him if he thought it was 1807

[divinekangaroo]

When Diana says ‘I prefer the liberated Elizabeth instead’

I hadn’t heard ‘liberated Elizabeth’ before so I googled it to see what came back. Turns out there’s a lot of swingers couples around with a “liberated Elizabeth” involved. And some pornography. I don’t know what I was expecting, really.

[smelted-applejuice]

okay apple! here's my drable/hc request:

Wilbur sister! reader xTommy

(ccs not dsmp lol)

because can you imagine the chaos? and also I just love the idea of it ended with Wilbur being ready to pull his hair out by the end of it :)

Paring(s): cc!Tommyinnit x Reader, cc!Wilbur Soot x Reader (FAMILY) Pronouns: She/Her Desc: After losing her stay-alone privileges, [YourName] goes on a theme park adventure with her brother, Philza, and Tommyinnit.

SO I MADE IT INTO A FIC... -

[YourName] checked herself in the mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time before rushing down the steps. She wore a tank top, a mesh long sleeve shirt, and white overalls; perfect for crashing Tommyinnit’s video. “Alright, mum, I'm ready.” [YourName] said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. “Alright, dear! Grab the keys and start the car for me, please!” [YourName]’s mother called out to her “Okay!” she replied, taking her presence outside. 

[YourName] is a seventeen-year-old girl, born and raised in the UK.  She lost her stay-at-home privileges about a week ago, as a result of a personal plight. Her mother’s work won’t allow her to stay there, so her older brother was more than happy to take his sister on a classic Tommyinnit adventure. 

The drive to Wilbur’s flat was silent, though [YourName]’s mind wandered. She wasn’t nervous, as she was a pretty outgoing girl, but she still had a little voice in her head telling her she wasn’t wanted around. 

Soon, the car stopped, ripping [YourName] from her thoughts, “Alright, be good for Will, alright?” her mother requested. “I will be, I love you, mum” [YourName] replied, stepping out of the car and making her way into the apartment complex.

“Welcome to my humble abode, little sister!” Wilbur greeted as he swung the door open.  This startled [YourName], as she was just about to knock. [YourName] jokingly scoffed as she entered the home, “We’ll leave in a few, I just need to finish something up” Wilbur said “Alright!” she replied, taking a seat on her brother’s couch. 

[YourName] was excited to go on this adventure, so when Wilbur claimed the Uber was ready, she popped right up and raced her brother down the stairs. Wilbur ended up last like the loser he is.

The ride to the theme park was full of many questions aimed at the Uber driver (asked by mainly Wilbur), [YourName] hitting her brother’s arm because she didn’t want her older brother pestering the driver, and speculation as to how excited Tommy was gonna be to see [YourName] again. 

Last time she saw the blonde, they were both 16, lacked common fashion sense, and [YourName] was not exactly thrilled to be with him. 

Phil and Tom were Will’s friends, not her’s, but then the arcade came around and she grew close to the fellow teenager in seconds. He was loud and annoying, but so was [YourName]. After that, the two exchanged numbers and played imessage games, updated each other on life, and became very good friends. 

The uber pulled up to the theme park, and [YourName] noticed Tommy and Phil waiting there, talking. Wilbur got out first, “Guess who’s babysitting today because someone lost the right to stay home alone?!” Wilbur said as [YourName] got out of the car. “[YOURNAME]!” Tommy yelled, his face lit up with joy, “TOM!” [YourName] yelled, bringing the boy in for a long-awaited hug.  The laughter coming from the two caused the adults around them to smile.

Soon after the reunion, the group headed into the amusement park.

[YourName] had no part in making fun of Tommy, but rather cheered him up. Getting him excited for rides while Philza and Wilbur mocked him, calling him ‘scared’ and ‘a coward’. [YourName] scoffed, “You two are so rude, at least he’s going on the rides. I bet you won’t get on a single one, Will.” she teased, making her brother gasp dramatically “I will!” he replied. 

Soon, the four found the sky car, where Tommy would be ridiculed again. [YourName] sat next to Philza while he filmed Wilbur and Tommy’s interaction, “So what’s the biggest reason you want to hit ten million?” Wilbur questioned the boy he saw as his little brother “Uhh, for a girl.” Tommy replied. Philza and [YourName] both laughed, “Do you think she would be impressed by rollercoasters?” Wilbur asked, causing Tommy to chuckle, “Maybe” he shrugged. Then, a light bulb went off in [YourName]’s head, “Why don’t we call her?” she suggested. Philza pointed the camera at the girl, zooming in on her. “What?! No! No! Maybe later. Maybe.” Tommy said, sounding panicked.  Philza moved the camera over to him. “Okay then, what rollercoaster should we conquer last? Something big- something… magnificent!” Wilbur said, throwing his hands in the air for dramatic effect, “The Smiler!” [YourName] squealed out. It was her favorite ride.

“Great idea, little sis!” Wilbur replied, stepping off the sky car’ “The Smiler?” Tommy mumbled to himself, “Yes! The Smiler!” [YourName] repeated, joy laced in her voice. “I don’t know about this Wilb-” Tommy began, but was cut off by Wilbur, “Let’s start off with this one! ‘The Blade’!” Wilbur said, grabbing ahold of Tommy’s hand. In a nervous manner, the blonde boy reached for [YourName]. 

After finding the ride, Wilbur, [YourName] and Tommy got on while Philza held onto [YourName]’s purse and recorded the three. Tommy settled between Wilbur and [YourName], as the three of them sang ‘Roadtrip’ by Dream. 

The ride started and eventually, the small group began screaming, [YourName] and Wilbur hugging Tommy as he clung onto the bar in front of him. 

Once they were off the ride, [YourName] got her purse back and Wilbur was taunting Tommy. “That was nothing compared to the Smiler” Wilbur said, the thought of anything worse than that caused Tommy to cringe “Stop teasing him, Will, he needs to build up his tolerance!” [YourName] defended. They passed the ‘Blade Grabber��� where Tommy attempted to win a stuffed dog. After one play from Phil and one more from [YourName], Tommy did not win the dog. The four of them began walking again,Tommy recording this time.  He had a glum look on his face, so [YourName] questioned, “What’s the matter, Tommy?” she asked “I’m fuckin’ miserable!” he replied. “Why’s that, Tom?” [YourName] asked once more, Tommy rolled his eyes “Because your brother is forcing me to go on all these rides” he said, shoving the camera into [YourName]’s face. She simply giggled “Seems like someone wants to go straight to the Smiler!” she teased.  Tommy’s eyes grew wide with panic and he immediately rejected the idea. 

The camera was then handed over to Wilbur to record as they entered their next ride, ‘Duel.’ There was a LOT of screaming, laughing, and cussing on that ride. 

After that, the 4 headed to the gift shop, where both Phil and Wilbur rejected Tommy’s efforts to get ‘Clarence.’ [YourName] stayed behind as the others walked out the door.  She bought ‘Clarence’ for him as a surprise. “Tom! Tom!” [YourName] yelled, rushing toward him and her brother after she made her purchase. “What?” Tommy replied “I bought ya something!” she said, shoving Clarence into his hands. “No you didn’t” Wilbur said, [YourName] nodded, a mischievous smile on her face. The joy on Tommy’s face was unbeatable! He scooped [YourName] up into his arms and expressed his gratitude through a bunch of incoherent words. 

Their next ride involved lots of water. [YourName] loved this ride, “Ya spin!” were the two words she used to describe it, causing the three males to laugh. “Great details, will Tommy die?” Wilbur asked “No?” his sister replied. Philza immediately went father mode and scolded Wilbur for making Tommy more nervous than he needed to be. For the duration of the ride, the four friends were giggling and yelling about the water splashing on them. Wilbur even did a little promo for how safe the theme park actually was before trying to get a selfie with everyone in it

After getting off of the ride, the group passed a candy shop, but Phil made sure [YourName] and Tommy understood you guys weren’t getting anything. “Just a little?” [YourName] begged, “No” Philza said sternly. Tommy then began begging his father-figure for just the slightest amount of candy floss. “[YourName]! Tommy! Look, look!” Wilbur yelled, rushing out of the candy shop with an arm full of candy floss in his arms. “Oh my god!” Both teenagers said, grabbing some, and running away as they shoved it into their mouths. “My god, they’re like gremlins” Philza said as he recorded them. [YourName] laughed as she pushed some pink candy into Tommy’s mouth.

After that whole shabang, they went on their next adventure. The ride they came upon after that consisted of multiple loops and a huge drop. It even made [YourName] nervous. The girl sat next to Tommy, who sat next to Philza. “I’m kinda nervous about this one.” [YourName] admitted. Philza laughed while Tommy grew anxious. “Is this what girls like, [YourName]? What happened to flowers?” Tommy asked as he strapped himself in. [YourName] laughed and shrugged. Soon, the ride started. The view the tall ride provided was absolutely amazing before it dropped. Philza, Tommy and [YourName] all screamed bloody murder as they plummeted toward the ground. After it was all over, Philza, Tommy, and [YourName] got off the ride and began walking to Tommy’s final roller coaster before he would be conquering The Smiler. “This is a two person ride, so I’ll go with Tommy,” [YourName] suggested. Philza and Wilbur agreed. Tommy and [YourName] got situated on the ride and began vlogging. “This is it, Tommy.” [YourName] said looking away from the camera and toward the male, “It’s this, then the Smiler.” she stated. Tommy nearly whined, “Oh god!” and the ride began. The two were enveloped in screams and a fit of laughter, “TOMMY, I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW YOU’RE AN AMAZING FRIEND!” [YourName] yelled, Tommy looked over at the girl, “YOU MEAN THAT?” he yelled back. “THIS MIGHT BE THE END, SO I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW!” she laughed. 

After the two got off, they were extremely dizzy and had to take a second to regain their balance and sense of direction. After they recouped, Wilbur gave [YourName] her purse and they began the walk toward Tommy’s doom; the Smiler. “Are you guys scared?” Tommy asked, hoping that someone was sharing the same level of fright he was. “Not at all,” [YourName] lied At the end of their journey was The Smiler.  [YourName] was put on the edge next to Tommy, where she overheard Tommy and Wilbur talking about how Tommy should ask the girl out. “Show her the footage!” [YourName] suggested. “You’re a genius!” Tommy said. So, throughout the ride, Tommy was talking to the camera, trying his best to give good reasons as to why the girl should date him. “DO IT” [YourName] shouted at the camera, throwing her hands in the air before screaming along with the other people on the ride.

After the ride ended, the four got off and found a bench to sit on. “Alright, okay, okay!” Wilbur said, running his hands through his hair, “Call her!” Tommy groaned, the fear of rejection coursing through him. “We went on all of those rides, you need to call her and prove that you’re a man now!” Wilbur explained as if it was the clearest thing ever. Tommy grumbled, but took his phone out and scrolled through his contacts. He then pressed on the girl’s phone icon and placed his phone on speaker while it rang. [YourName]’s phone began ringing in her back pocket.  “Oh, I bet that’s Mum,” she said, taking it out and answering the call, “Hello?”

“I rode the smiler, so, will you go out with me?” she heard Tommy’s voice say.  Philza, Wilbur and [YourName]’s jaws collectively dropped.

That’s where the vlog ends.

(part 2)

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

The Dos and Don’ts of Writing Smart Characters

Since I started this blog, one of the most common questions I’ve received has to do with the portrayal of intelligent characters.  This is also one of the most difficult to answer -- excluding questions about characters with specialized knowledge sets, which are fairly easy to answer with source compilations.  Most of the questions have to do with:  how do you portray a smart character believably?  How do you make the audience relate to them?  Can I still make them likable?  How do I avoid the pitfalls of popular media?

Well, I’m finally here to answer, utilizing examples from some of my favorite (and occasionally, not-so-favorite) media.  Let’s jump in to the dos and don’ts of smart characters!

1.  Do let the audience follow the character’s thought process.  

As demonstrated by:  Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders

Albert Einstein allegedly once said, “If you can’t explain it to a five-year-old, you don’t truly understand it.”  And the sentiment rings true:  true genius doesn’t need to dazzle with big words and technobabble.  Instead, it makes the complex appear simple.

The same rings true for brilliant characters.  BBC’s Sherlock (more on that later) ceased to satisfy in its later seasons because it began to rely too heavily on visual glitz to avoid actually explaining its mysteries and how they were solved.  Similarly, the biggest complaints with block buster franchises -- Star Wars, The Avengers, Game of Thrones -- is that they became obsessed with “subverting expectations” cleverly instead of leading the audiences to their most logical and satisfying conclusions.

Meanwhile, the smartest and most satisfying media dazzles not by staying over the audience’s head, but by illustrating how simplistic the solutions can be.

Let’s start with my boy Tommy Shelby, the charismatic, swaggering protagonist of the charismatic, swaggering crime drama Peaky Blinders.  Using only his intelligence (and complete disregard for his own life/suicidal tendencies, but that’s not the point here), Tommy claws his way up from the near-bottom of the social ladder (an impoverished Romani in early 20th century Birmingham) to being a decorated war hero, to being the leader of a feared razor gang, to dominating the race track business, to becoming a business mogul, to becoming a member of parliament and trying to assassinate the leader of the fascist party. He’s also one of the paramount reasons why I’m bisexual.

So how can such a drastic social climb be conveyed believably?  Because Tommy -- as the viewpoint character -- is placed in seemingly inescapable situations, and then proceeds to demonstrate that the solutions to those situations have been there the whole time.  I recently watched a brilliant video on how this is done, which can be viewed here.

Early in season one, for example, he responds to aggressive new methods by the police by organizing a mass-burning of paintings of the king, and uses the press this garners to publicly shame the methods of the chief inspector who’s been antagonizing him.  In the next season, he talks his way into a deal by bluffing that he planted a grenade in his rival’s distillery.  My personal favorite is in season four, when he responds to being outgunned by a larger, American gang by contacting their rival -- none other than an Alphonse Capone.

All of Tommy’s victories are satisfying, because they don’t come out of nowhere -- we have access to the same information he does, each victory is carefully foreshadowed, and we are reminded at every turn that failure is a very real possibility (more on that later.)  So when he wins, we’re cheering with him.

Other examples:  Mark Watney from The Martian, who explains science in its most simplistic terms and with infectious enthusiasm.  He would make every character on The Big Bang Theory cry.  

Also, Miss Fisher from the AMAZING Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries.  The dazzling, 1920s, female Sherlock Holmes of your dreams.  I cannot recommend it enough.

To apply this to your own writing:  Remember you won’t dazzle anyone if you smack them in the face with a “brilliant” plot twist.  They want to take a journey with your character, not be left in the dust.  

Also, for everyone in my askbox concerned that they’re not smart enough to write intelligent characters, just remember how simple the problems confronting smart characters can be.  Put them in a difficult situation, and provide them with a means of getting out.  Then, just let them find it. 

2.  Don’t assume the audience is too stupid to keep up (or try to make them feel too stupid to keep up.)

As demonstrated by:  Sherlock Holmes from BBC’s Sherlock.

Say what you will:  there were reasons why everyone was so captivated by this show during its first two seasons.  It felt fresh.  People had yet to become frustrated with the inescapable thirst for Benedict Cumberbatch.  The writing was sharp, and the editing clever.  And it wove a tantalizing web of mysteries that demanded solution.  The problem was, there weren’t any.

The most frustrating for many was how Sherlock faked his death at the end of season two, after which devoted fans spent two years creating intricate theories on how he might have pulled this off.  The creators responded by mocking this dedication in the opening episode of season three, by showing a fan club spinning outlandish theories (one of which included Sherlock and Moriarty kissing.)  This might have been laughed off -- at the time, many seemed to consider it quite funny -- if the creators had bothered to offer their own explanation of how Sherlock survived.  They didn’t.  And so began a seemingly endless loop of huge cliffhangers that promised -- and consistently failed to deliver -- satisfying answers.

The most egregious examples occur in season four, which provided answers to questions no one asked, and withheld answers for things everyone wanted to know.  For example, did you know that the real reason Moriarty engaged Sherlock is because he was hypnotized by Sherlock’s secret evil sister?  The same one who killed Sherlock’s best friend, whom Sherlock convinced himself was a dog?  Yes, that was a real plot point, in the climax of the series.  It’s an effort to befuddle the audience with brilliant and unexpected writing, but instead pulled them out of a story they were already invested in and made them far more critical of its pre-existing faults. 

It’s pointed out in the brilliant (if bluntly named) Sherlock Is Garbage, And Here’s Why that Moffat can be a great writer, but is a consistently terrible show runner, because he’s more interested in dazzling the audience with cleverness than actually telling a satisfying story.  The video also points out that the show often implied Sherlock’s brilliance, without ever letting the audience follow along with his actions or thought-process in a way that DEMONSTRATED his brilliance.  

I highly recommend giving the aforementioned video a watch, because it is not only a great explanation of how Sherlock Holmes can be best utilized, but about how writing itself can be best utilized.

Other examples:  The Big Bang Theory.  As Wisecrack points out in their wonderful video on the subject, the punchline of every joke is “oh look, these characters are smart nerds!” which is repetitious at best and downright insulting at worst.

How to avoid this in your writing:  Treat the audience as your equal.  You’re not trying to bedazzle them, you’re trying to take them on a journey with you.  Let them be delighted when you are.  Don’t constantly try to mislead them or hold intelligence over their head, and they will love you for it.  Also, cheap tricks do not yield a satisfying story:  readers will know when you went into a narrative without a plan, and they won’t appreciate it.

3.  Do remember that smart people can be kind and optimistic!

As demonstrated by:  Shuri from Black Panther.

Yes, brilliant people can be unhappy and isolated by their intelligence, or rejected by society.  But remember that intelligence isn’t synonymous with a cantankerous attitude, or an excuse to be a pugnacious ass to those around you!  

Part of the reason why Shuri of 2018′s Black Panther was such a breath of fresh air was the fact that she subverted almost all preconceptions about how a genius looks, acts, and regards the world.  And it’s not just the fact that she isn’t a sullen, middle-aged white man that makes her stand out:  Shuri has an effervescent attitude, and genuinely loves contributing to her country and family.  She referred to sound-proof boots as “sneakers” (and then explained the pun when her brother didn’t get it.)  She’s fashionable.  She teases her older brother, and cries when he is apparently killed.  She’s up on meme culture.  This makes her unlike pretty much every other genius portrayed in the MCU.

Except maybe the Hulk.  He can dab now.

Shuri is also allowed to take pride in her genius, and can be a bit insufferable about it, which makes her more enjoyable and rounded.  But she is an excellent example of how genius can be explored and portrayed in fiction, and I will forever be embittered that she was underutilized in Infinity War and Endgame.

Why, for example, are all geniuses portrayed as arrogant misanthropes?  Albert Einstein battled depression, but he is also said to have enjoyed blowing bubbles and watching puppet shows.  He was kind to those who knew him.  Similarly, Alan Turing behaved little like his fictional counterpart, described as “shy but outgoing,” with a love of being outdoors.  Nikola Tesla fell in love with a pigeon.  Why do we have to portray these people so damn gravely?

Other examples:  Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds.  Also an excellent portrayal of an intelligent person on the autism spectrum, as he struggles to interface socially but cares profusely for his fellow human beings.  He is brilliant, and completely precious.

Also, Sherlock Holmes -- the original version, and all faithful adaptations thereof.  Anyone who thinks Sherlock is an austere, antisocial jerk isn’t familiar with the original canon.  He blushed when Watson complimented his intelligence, for God’s sake. 

Then there’s Elle Woods from Legally Blonde and Marge from Fargo.  Brilliant, upbeat, optimistic geniuses.

To apply this to your own writing:  If you have a smart character who hates everyone around them for no identifiable reason, ask yourself why this is necessary and what this adds to the plot.  Are they angry about injustice, towards themselves or others?  Are they frustrated with an inability to relate to people?  Do they want to protect themselves or their family at all costs, including politeness?  If not, question why your brilliant character can’t also be kind to those around them.

4.  Don’t make your character perfect at everything they do.

As demonstrated by:  Wesley Crusher from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Ah, Wesley.  Some call him the original Mary Sue, and it’s one of the only times I’ve seen the term applied with some accuracy.  He is somehow the most gifted and least qualified person on The Enterprise.  He’s Hermione Granger without the charm, jumping in to answer questions before any of the trained officers in the room have the chance to, always in the right.  His only obstacle?  Why, the boorish adults he’s surrounded with simply don’t understand his brilliance!

As early as the series’ very second episode, Wesley -- inebriated by an alien illness -- forcibly takes over the ship from Captain Picard, only to later save it from a threat with a reverse tractor beam of his own design.  

Wesley was obviously inserted as a means of attracting younger viewers, but failed egregiously, because he was too annoyingly perfect for kids to relate too, and not cool enough for them to be invested in.  I binge-watched the various Star Trek series in my youth for Spock, Data, and my wife Seven of Nine, not to watch seasoned military and scientific officers get lectured by an adolescent.  Even Wil Wheaton, who had the misfortune of portraying this character, expressed a dislike for him.  

Precocious children are great, if you get them right.  But get them wrong, and they can easily become your most annoying character, marring the face of otherwise great media.  The most important thing you can do for a brilliant character is endow them with weaknesses and flaws -- even something as small as Shuri’s fondness for teasing her older brother made her enjoyable, as anyone with siblings could relate to their dynamic.  

But, what if you want a supernaturally talented character who not only fails to be a ray of sunshine, but is something of an arrogant, antisocial jerk?  Can they still work, especially if they also happen to be a child? 

Yes, under one extremely important condition:

5.  Do keep your characters out of their depth!

As demonstrated by:  Number Five from Umbrella Academy.

Okay, he’s not exactly a child.  He’s a fifty-eight-year-old trapped in a child’s body, who’s traveled back in time from a post-apocalyptic future to warn his siblings of an incoming Armageddon.  In other news, Umbrella Academy is a weird show.  Unlike the comics, however, the apes don’t engage in prostitution. 

 The effect, however, remains the same:  a preternaturally talented child who talks down to everyone around him, including his (apparently) older siblings.  So why does he work while Wesley fails so egregiously?

For one thing, it’s demonstrated early on that Five has the skills to back up his sanctimonious attitude, with the delightfully ultraviolent Istanbul (Not Constantinople) sequence.  It also helps that he lacks Wesley’s squeaky-clean moral code, to the point at which he can get drunk in public or kill without remorse.  

But:  the element most vital to his success as a character is the fact that he’s kept completely, and consistently, out of his depth.  He knows the world will end in eight days, but he doesn’t know how this will transpire or how to stop it.  Ultimately, he fails again to stop the apocalypse, and must travel back in time with his siblings for another chance.  

Most authors have the impulse to demonstrate a character’s brilliance by allowing them to succeed against insurmountable odds, but the Umbrella Academy writers show tremendous wisdom in allowing Five to fail.  This allows the audience to empathize with him, and countermands the effects of his arrogant attitude.

This advice isn’t just true for pint-sized prodigies.  Look back over this list, and take notes of how often the most successful characters are allowed to fail, to have flaws, and to ascend past their comfort zone.  

Other examples:  Virtually every successful example on this list.

Tommy Shelby, a character of limitless ambition, conducts a new, perilous climb outside of his social rank each season, which almost always puts him in positions of mortal danger.  He faces threats both external (rival gangs, evil priests, and rising fascists) and internal (hello PTSD, suicidal tendencies, and crippling addiction) but either way, we understand that his fast-paced climb is not for the weak-willed or faint-hearted.  

Mark Watney is a brilliant scientist who has been stranded in an utterly impossible situation for which absolutely no one could be adequately prepared (spoilers:  it’s on Mars.)  We are drawn in by his plight, and how he could possibly escape from it, and there we come to admire him for his courage, optimism, and humor.

Shuri, though not the main character of Black Panther, is allowed to show off both tremendous gifts and vulnerability, as she is powerless to stop the apparent death of her beloved older brother.  She watches Wakanda’s takeover both as an innovator and a young woman, and a large reason for her success is that she is allowed to be both.  

How to apply this to your writing:  When portraying intelligent characters, take stock of how often they fail, their level of control over their surroundings, their vulnerability, and their flaws.  We don’t want to read about flawless deities.  We want to read about characters who embody and personify our humanity.  So remember they need to fall down in order to pull themselves up.

Happy writing, everybody! 

[psycheswritings]

Finally - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Title: Finally

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing (as always) and my bad writing. I think that's it.

Word Count: 1493 (someone stop me, please)

Author's Note: A lovely anon asked me to do something with the prompts 45 and 51 from the kiss prompt list and you can be sure that I'm gonna hella deliver. This is kind of a sequel to "Caught", so I suggest you to read it first.

(Y/N) = Your Name

Prompts form this list:

45. Passionate kiss

51. Public kiss

“Bloody hell, of course you would say something like that to him.” Michael was stretched on the couch opposite from her chair, a cigarette dangling from one of his hands, looking at her as she heard the story of how her and Tommy had been caught by John and Arthur.

“Well, did he?” She took a sip of her whiskey and he looked at her a little confused. “Did he told you something about us?”

“No. Not yet, at least, but he haven’t had many chances.” (Y/N) just murmured a ‘hum’ under her breath, looking outside through the window. Michael noticed the subtle distress in her demeanor and sat up straight. “When are you two going to go public?”

“We never really talked about it.” She paused for a moment, lowering her eyes to observe the drink on her hands, a finger tracing the rim of the glass. “I know he is afraid to because of how it may affect his political career and everything.”

“Tommy Shelby afraid of what people think about his life?” Michael leaned back on the couch, scoffing as he took a drag from the cigarette. “That’s new for me.”

“He is not all wrong you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at me, Michael. I’m not exactly the role model for a politician’s…” She trailed off and the young accountant noticed the panic crossing through her eyes.

“Wife.” (Y/N) frowned at the word. Damn, she wasn’t even sure what they were.

“Whatever. I’m younger, always in confront with social conventions, partaking in protests about women's rights, working as a lawyer and living alone in London…”

“Shaming rich old men in gala dinners.” He smiled, mocking her, and she just rolled her eyes.

“You got my point. I’m not some rich posh girl who will be all smiles and pleasantries while hanging on the arm of a man. I’m not…” Grace, she wanted to say. I’m not Grace. But the words got stuck on her throat, making her sigh. “And, for fucks sake, I’m sounding ridiculous like a fifteen years old girl with a crush.” Michael smiled at the scene - he never had seen her like that. Not even when they were, in fact, fifteen in the country and one of the boys from school had tried to ask her out.

“You are in love, it’s kinda expected.”

“Not from me. I promised myself that I would never let love get in the way of my plans. That I would never let a man change who I am.”  She was exasperated, he could see that by the way she downed the rest of her whiskey, sinking into the chair.

“You know that you can be both a successful woman and a good wife at the same time, don’t you?” That was that word again. She looked up at him, there was a smile on his face when he spoke. “Tommy fell for you exactly for all these reasons you think make yourself unsuited for him. I think I know my cousin well enough to say that he doesn’t need a… what did you call it? Posh girl hanging from his arm. He need someone who knows how to protect themselves, how to hold their ground. With business in the company and politics, none of these woman that you think are a better fit for him would last a year.”

(Y/N) said nothing, she didn’t had nothing to say after hearing him. She always thought off marriage as just one more way to be owned by a man, another way to have her dreams of being a successful lawyer going down the drain. She never thought of it as a partnership, as a way that both people could grow together, helping each other, like he was describing.

“Come on, you’re thinking too much. Let’s go to the Garrison, have some drinks, let the boys cheer you up.” He got up, putting his cigarette out on the ashtray and approaching her, standing a hand for her to catch. She took his hand, letting him guide her through the room, help her with her coat and leading her outside.

They had been on the pub for a while when Tommy arrived and her eyes instantly felt draw to him. She and Michael were sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the Shelby clan, some of the Blinders around them, everyone laughing and drinking. (Y/N)’s mood had lightened up a little after she let herself be distracted by the boys, like Michael had said, but seeing him just made all her insecurities wash over her again. Somebody approached him before he could take another step towards them.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Michael didn’t waited for an answer, he just pulled her from her seat and dragged her to the dance floor. He wasn’t a terrible dancer and by now (Y/N) was more than used to dancing with him. What she was not used to was being interrupted by Tommy putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder and asking him if he could steal her away. Her best friend nodded at his cousin, letting him pull her closer, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“What’s gotten into you?” She asked as he twirled her around and sprawled his hand on the low of her back when pulling her to him. Taking a look around (Y/N) noticed that most people on the pub were looking at them. She kinda expected that, granted that she was dancing with the leader of the Peaky Blinders who never danced with anyone. He didn’t answer her right away, just swaying with her at the ritm of the music and when he did he wasn’t looking into her eyes.

“I heard something interesting today.”

“Really? What was it?”

“About what kind of woman is better suited to be a politician’s wife.” (Y/N) was sure that if he hadn’t been leading her around the dance floor she would have stopped dead on her tracks. He couldn’t have heard her conversation with Michael, could he. “Apparently, they are just decorative.” He looked at her then, piercing blue eyes urging her to hold his stare.

“Aren’t they?” It was kinda of her thing to be able to argue even when in disadvantage, she was a lawyer, after all.

“Well, mine for sure won’t be.” Her mind was having a battle with her heart right now and she was really trying to think rationally but it seemed almost impossible. “You know, when I first met you the first thing that crossed my mind was how much I wanted to have you. Because you were this pretty little thing that looked all innocent at first sight but you put a bunch of old men in their places when they tried to outsmart you and that was… enticing and I just had to have you, I had to know what you were hiding underneath that cold facade. Then Michael recognized you as his best friend and you got closer to the family, I realized that you were so young and had all your life ahead and that you didn’t needed to get yourself tainted by me.”

She was surprised by his sudden confession - Tommy wasn’t a man used to let people know how he felt about things, even his family had to read between the lines to try and figure it out. Now, it seemed like he was really invested in having a heart to heart with her. In the middle of his pub, of all places.

“You were having none of that, though. I really tried to pull it away like it was just sex, nothing more, but I failed miserably and it seems like I failed to let you know that too. But we’re changing that now.” He stopped dancing, still holding her close, and looked at her for a moment before crashing his lips into hers. Her body responded to him before she could register anything - like the fact that they were in a very public place with all of his family a few meters away from them. In a very Tommy fashion he didn’t shy away from any of this factors and lose no time in tangling his fingers in her hair and deepening the kiss.

It took a moment for (Y/N) to register the cheering of the people around them but it didn’t matter for her anymore. All she could think about was him, all she could feel was him and she almost protested when he parted from her, a smirk on his face when he touched her forehead with his, making her smile. He guided her back to the table his family was in, all of them with smiles on their faces, Arthur and John teasing them about the kiss but it was Michael who said what all of them wanted to for a long time.

“Finally.”

[yesloverboy]

Never Let You Go (mgk! Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: Anon

“I have 2 requests but they are completely up to your interpretation anyways, so for one like tommy taking care of his drunk girlfriend or friend or whatever you want and then another request would be tommy (lol love my tommy) where like the reader and tommy are friends and they’re at a bar and readers ex is there and shit goes down. Hopefully those make sense, do what you want!”

Note: Listen, I know it’s been a hot minute but my love for Tommy and Crüe will never die so thanks for being patient! Love y’all bunches and I will be posting about my updated writing schedule shortly. 

word count: 2,712

[Warnings: blood, violence, cheating, toxic relationships, swearing, and alcohol mention.]

permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3

mötley tags: @lauravic 

tommy tags: @chlobo6

 After your breakup, you were almost certain that not even all the alcohol in the world could drown your problems. Heartache left an unfillable void in your chest that wanted to suck every last bit of your happiness deep down inside, never to be seen again. Luckily, your best friend, Tommy, was determined to spend the entire weekend proving you wrong. According to Tommy, alcohol can drown any problem if you’re with the right people– and he just so happens to be your favorite person in the entire world.

 If someone were to ask you weeks– maybe even days –ago, you would’ve claimed that your boyfriend Kyle, of three and a half years, held the position of favorite in your heart. That is, until you found him grunting and thrusting into a woman that most definitely wasn’t you. Hell, she wasn’t even a woman you knew. As it turned out, your beloved boyfriend had been fucking other women on and off since they day you’d met.

 Teary-eyed and utterly brokenhearted, you went to the only person you knew who could hold you together at a time like this– Tommy. In his usual fashion, Tommy had greeted your desperate raps on his door with a goofy grin and open arms. However, once his blue eyes met your red-rimmed ones, his chipper mood quickly dissolved into concern.

 “Hey button, what’s the matter?” Tommy asked, using his long arms to envelop you in a tight bear hug. Button had been his nickname for you ever since grade school. Tommy had always been bad with names, and the rainbow buttons of your first-day-of-school overalls sealed your place in Tommy’s memory from that day forward.

 You had prepared what you were going to tell Tommy on the cab ride over but, the moment he uttered your nickname, everything fell to pieces. Big, fat tears welled up in your eyes, dripping onto Tommy’s shirt like heavy rain. To your relief, he didn’t press any more questions your way. Instead, he shushed you softly and tucked you through the doorway with a protective arm.

 It wasn’t long before Tommy had you curled on the couch, wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket with your head resting comfortably in his lap. He gave you time to cry out the rest of your frustration as he ran his long fingers through the snags in your hair. Tommy didn’t say much, even if seeing you in crisis mode devastated him to the core. You were always the strong one of the two of you, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to keep it together while you crumbled at his feet.

 After a while, your sobs eventually devolved into pitiful sniffles, allowing you to catch your breath enough to finally speak. When you finally mustered up the courage to tell Tommy what your boyfriend– well, ex-boyfriend – had done to you, his blood began to boil incessantly beneath his skin. Tommy wanted Kyle dead. Hell, deader than dead. If you hadn’t just been sobbing in his arms for the past hour, he’d already be on the phone with Nikki to plot your ex’s demise.

 Tommy physically couldn’t comprehend how a slimeball like Kyle could possibly have it in him to cheat on a girl like you for so long. You were patient, kind, and positively beautiful in Tommy’s eyes. For most people, a guy like Tommy is a lot to handle, but you never asked him to shrink himself in the presence of other people. You loved Tommy’s ‘too-much-ness’, as you affectionately called it, and wanted nothing more than to bottle it up and save some for the rainy days. Unfortunately, this day had been the rainiest of them all.

 Although he would never admit it, you were Tommy’s dream girl, and he would do whatever it took to make you feel like your old self again. Even if it were only for a few, fleeting moments in between bloodshot eyes and broken cries.

...

 It’s that same desire to make you happy that has Tommy dragging you to some sleazy new wave club halfway across town. You and Tommy are renowned metalheads in the L.A. music scene, but you can’t deny the way that the heavy synth and pounding bass lifts your spirits from the inside. As much as you despise its trendy nature, the appeal of cheap pop music isn’t entirely lost on you, and going to the last place anyone would expect to see you is exactly what you need right now.

 The club is packed full of patrons, each demonstrating new and interesting ways to incorporate nylon and neoprene into their glowing ensembles. You and Tommy undoubtedly stick out like sore thumbs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as he takes your hands and swings you across the dancefloor. You Spin Me Round blares through the sound system, causing the light-up floor to vibrate obnoxiously beneath your feet.

 Tommy picks you up and begins spinning you around in his arms at a dizzying pace, causing you to erupt into a fit of cringes and laughter. The two of you haven’t even made it to the bar yet and you’re already giggling and shoving each other like a pair of carefree idiots. Tommy’s childlike sense of fun and comforting grasp bandaids the gaping hole in your chest for a moment, but the fear of your all-encompassing sadness leaking out again makes you shiver beneath the strobing lights.

 As if he can read your mind, Tommy’s roughhousing ceases so he can stop and look at you. His dark blue eyes scan yours for any sign of an imminent breakdown on the horizon, but you quickly plaster on a brave face. You have no reason to hide the wave of sadness passing through you, but figure there’s no time like the present to practice looking fine in front of those you love.

 Before Tommy can ask if you’re okay, you bounce on your tiptoes and grasp at his shoulder for leverage. “I’m going to get us some drinks, okay?” you project your weak voice into Tommy’s ear, practically yelling over the pulsating music.

 Tommy seems to get the idea and offers you a weak smile as you turn towards the bar. Stay here, you mouth and Tommy shoots a reassuring thumbs up in your direction. With a shaky breath, you maneuver your way through the energetic crowd, doing your best to scout out the farthest available bartender. Initially, the crowd and the noise did a great job of clouding your memory, but now you needed a little extra help from some good, old fashioned hard liquor.

 You belly up to the bar, relieved that the music is just quiet enough in this corner of the club that you don’t have to strain your voice as much. Giving the bartender your best fake smile, you order yourself a double vodka soda and a Jack and Coke for Tommy. It feels like it’s going to be a long night, and you could use all the help you can get to even dream of keeping up with Tommy’s excessive drinking.

 Just as you’re about to grab the glasses and search for your lanky companion, you sense an all too familiar presence at your side.

“Y/N? Baby, is that you?”

 You suck in a breath, the sickly sweet tone of Kyle’s voice driving an icy stake into your palpitating heart. No, no, no, no, you flounder, this can’t be happening. You turn around, mouth running dry as soon as your eyes meet the confident gaze of your ex-lover. It was a look you had seen a hundred times before, and yet the familiarity of it all is exactly what’s bringing you to your knees.

 Kyle takes a step forward and you immediately find yourself taking an instinctive step back, the base of your spin quickly bumping harshly into the bar’s edge. Kyle rests a casual hand on the bar next to your hip, not exactly pinning you to the spot, but making it more than apparent that he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

 “Thought that was you, sweetheart, I’d recognize that tight ass anywhere,” Kyle purs, looking down on you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, “Miss me yet?”

 The ice in yours and Tommy’s drinks rattles in its glasses, giving away the tremor in your nervous hands. You want to yell, scream, cry– anything, but you find yourself frozen to the spot. The memory of Kyle on top of that mystery woman in your shared bed replays in your head like a threat, reminding you that he never really loved you at all. Feeling small and pathetic in front of the man that abused your trust for so long, you silently pray that the floor might swallow you up.

 You grit your teeth as hot tears blur your vision, but do not speak. A sob starts to build in your throat and, before you’re able to release it, a flash of movement catches your eye. Looking past Kyle, you’re relieved to find Tommy storming over to the scene with bared teeth and clenched fists.

 “Hey asshole!” Tommy growls, jerking Kyle’s shoulder back in an effort to yank him away from your trembling form. The look of overwhelming fear and anxiety in your eyes fans the fire in Tommy’s chest, and it takes all of his strength not to drag your ex to the floor right then and there. In all your years of knowing Tommy, you never imagined he could ever look this furious and you find yourself getting scared.

 You aren’t scared of Tommy, no, you could never be– you were scared for Kyle.  

 Kyle just laughs and brushes at his lapels for show, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Easy there, man. I was just about to ask my girl if she wanted a ride home, is all. Isn’t that right, hon?”

 The cockiness in Kyle’s voice turns your stomach as he looks back at you expectantly, silently willing you to comply. Your eyes dart between him and Tommy, and you can already picture how the next couple of minutes are going to unfold.

 Tommy steps directly into your ex’s personal space, the visible height difference making Kyle shift his jaw nervously. To anyone passing by, Kyle probably appeared to be in total control, but you knew him well enough to recognize the look on his face. He’s in deep shit, and he knows it.

 “Funny you call her that, Kyle,” Tommy spits, his voice dripping with venom as he presses an accusatory finger into Kyle’s chest. “Make no mistake, I heard you had a girl– actually, a long list of girls. But Y/N? Yeah, she ain’t one of them. Never was.”

 Kyle laughs nervously, puffing out his chest in a weak attempt to seem taller. “Is that right? Then what is she, then? Your girl?”

 “And what if she is? What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

 Tommy’s face is only a few inches away from Kyle’s, the tension in the air so palpable that even the bartender across the way seems to be frozen it. The bass from the dancefloor thumps ominously in the distance, its hollow thud matching the heaviness of your heartbeat.

 To your surprise, Kyle is the first to relent. Casting you a bitter glance, he shoves Tommy’s chest away from his and begins backing slowing out of the room. His eyes never leave Tommy’s, watching him with the same caution as a zookeeper getting ready to feed a hungry lion. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it comes far too soon.

 “Fine, have her,” Kyle hisses, “she’s a lousy lay, anyways.”

 The moment the insult left your ex’s lips, his fate was sealed. Tommy’s restraint melts away as he lunges forward, his fist swiftly connecting against Kyle’s nose with a sickening crack. Blood spurts out from Kyle’s face and onto the glowing floor like a broken spigot, instantly causing your stomach to flip queasily. Even in the low lighting you can see splotches of ruby red seeping into the fabric of his stark white shirt.  

 Kyle stumbles backward, falling disoriented to the floor. He cries out in agony but Tommy continues to stalk forward, relentlessly hunting him into a corner like some kind of feral animal. You know it can only get uglier from here and, as much as you’ve enjoyed seeing Kyle eat his words, you really don’t want to add bailing Tommy out of jail to your to-do list.

 Before Tommy can cock back his fist for another hit, you catch his arm. The glasses you were previously grasping in your hands clatter noisily to the floor, the watered down alcohol and soda pooling lazily at your feet.

 “Tommy, that’s enough,” you warn, but the words are cushioned by tenderness you feel for him. All ever Tommy wanted to do was shelter you from all the bad things in the world, and you’d be lying if you couldn’t admit that he did it well.

 With an angry sigh, Tommy begrudgingly allows you to pull him to your side. Snaking his arm protectively around your shoulders, he frowns slightly as you shiver beneath his touch. It pains him to see you this way, shaking with anxiousness in the presence of a man you used to give all your love to– a love that he didn’t even deserve. Without thinking Tommy presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the touch so faint you almost miss it.

 “I’ve got you, button,” Tommy whispers, his voice barely audible over the music. Your heart somersaults in your chest as you gaze up at Tommy, your watery eyes connecting with his soft blues. Even panting and red-faced from his encounter with your ex, he still has the same happy face that drew you to him all those years ago.

 Without a second thought, you lace your fingers with Tommy’s, holding his arm in place as it rests on your frame. “Let’s go home,” you sniffle, nuzzling his bruised knuckles with the side of your tear-stained cheek.

 You lead Tommy out of the club, leaving Kyle moaning pathetically in a pool of his own blood. Not even a bartender or a bouncer cared to bat an eye at his pitiful display, and you can’t help but wonder if he would look the same after suffering a broken nose. Kyle may have left a permanent stain on your heart, but Tommy made sure he wouldn’t be able to so much as look in the mirror without remembering what he had done to you.

 The summer air is balmy outside the club as you and Tommy await the next available cab. You stand in comfortable silence, your form still pressed firmly against his side as he puffs on a cigarette absentmindedly. Tommy’s free hand curls around the ends of your hair, the small, intimate gesture causing you to blush.

 “So,” you say finally, breaking the silence, “your girl, huh?”

 Tommy’s eyes widen, his blue irises swimming in orbs of white. “Oh, uh, that? That was nothing– just, uh, don’t worry about it–” he stammers, his face flushing pink with embarrassment.

 With a grin, you rise to your tiptoes and place a gentle kiss on Tommy’s cheek, stunning him into silence. “Someday,” you whisper, “Maybe not today, but someday soon.”

 Your words tumble through the night air like a promise, intertwining with Tommy’s ever visible heartstrings and grasping tightly. Tommy always fell for girls hard and fast, but with you it was different. His love for you only grew with each passing moment, embedding itself in every look and every action until it all culminated into a single punch. You were what he had always been looking for, and he was exactly what you had been missing all along.

 Tommy holds you tight for the rest of the evening, playing with your fingers on the cab ride home to eventually tangling his legs with yours as the two of you collapse in a heap on his couch. No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes– Tommy would be yours forever, and forever isn’t nearly long enough.

Masterlist

[crue-sixx]

A Study in Vampires

Title: A Study In Vampires

Author- tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary: A sequel to my Vampire!Reader where she falls in love with Nikki and turns him into a vampire, based on @crue-sixx's vampire headcanons.  So the reader is taken away by a scientist to be studied to see if the vampire legends are true and if so, why.  Nikki is pissed.

Warnings: Swearing and violence.

When you woke up in a quarantined room with the bare minimum-a rock hard bed, a toilet in the corner and a table and chair set you were very confused.  You felt around for Nikki, but he wasn't there,  you took in your surroundings outside your room to see a laboratory setting, complete with monitors tracking your every move and people in lab coats processing your results.  "Where the fuck am I?!" you banged on the glass, but upon hitting the surface your skin started to burn.  You screamed and recoiled, the smell of your burning flesh surprised you.

A man with a full beard came forward and looked at you with astonishment.  You knew this man, many moons ago.  You were shocked to see him alive after at least 150 years.  You couldn't smell the decay of vampire on him, but he was Abraham Van Helsing all the same.  Yes, THAT Abraham Van Helsing from Bram Stokers Dracula some parts were embellished for dramatic effect, but the basics were true-there was a young lady who was entranced by a male vampire, who had somehow overcame her desires and granted him what he longed for-death.  You glared at him and asked "How are you still alive, Van Helsing?"

He chuckled and answered "I've discovered the Fountain of Youth, dear Y/N" he put his hand on the glass to offer a gesture of false kindness, but you didn't fall for the bait.

"You've coated the inside of this cell with holy water, didn't you?"

"Indeed" he conceded "I'm so glad to see that it worked!"

"How did you do it?  You're younger than I remember you being but I can smell that you're a plain human with a hint of embalming fluid" your fangs started coming out of your gums-you were hungry and knew this madman wasn't going to feed you.

"That's a story for a different time, dear" he pulled a lever and your cell started rotating on it's own.  You could see the ceiling open up and the sun shining brightly through.  Your rage then turned to fear as the sunlight was creeping ever closer to you.  You were only given a small corner where the light couldn't touch you and you needed to stay there or the sun would burn you.

"What's the matter?" Van Helsing laughed "Afraid of getting a tan?"

"Shut the Hell up!  Why're you doing this?!" you pressed yourself close to the corner, but not touching the glass.

"For science, of course" he grinned and pulled the lever to close the ceiling again "I want to see if the vampire legends are true and if they are then why are they so effective?"

"Whatever you did has rotted your brain!" you shouted "Once Nikki finds out, it's game over for you, asshole!"

"What can that little pup do?" he mocked you "he's not even fifty years in the blood!"

"My blood is among the strongest there is" you spat "he's stronger than most who've been vampires for centuries!"

"No need to lie to me, dear" he pressed a button and a mist began to form in your cell.  It stung as soon as the moisture hit your skin, and you realized it was more holy water.  So this is how he keeps the inside coated you thought to yourself.  If luck was on your side, you'd be able to send a telepathic message to Nikki for a rescue.  The trouble was that you didn't know your exact location, but he could follow your scent trail to find you.  But at the moment. you couldn't do anything-it wasn't searing pain like when holy water was thrown on you, but more like being exposed to a light corrosive chemical.  You had blisters over your skin and would heal and re-blister.  You just had to wait it out until it stopped.  You knew Van Helsing wouldn't let his new test subject die so quickly.

The mist stopped and you were left alone.  When you were sure that nobody was close to you, you sent a telepathic message to Nikki.  "Get up.  I've been kidnapped.  Don't know where I am.  Need help"

The message hit him like a bag of bricks, he was feeling around for Y/N when he felt nothing but old concrete.  You and him had taken to a crypt right before dawn to replenish your strength and cuddled in his arms.  How could he have not felt you being taken away from him?  He did feel a little groggy, like he used to when he was human and had a hangover.  That was a feeling he did NOT miss in the slightest.

"You alright?  What's going on?"he got up and sniffed the air for your scent.  Once he picked it up, he had to wait until dusk to do anything.

"I'm fine for now" you answered back "it's this old bastard that I met a century and a half ago, he's a mad scientist and he's experimenting on me to see if the vampire legends are true.  He's going to see how long it takes for me to die of starvation and along the way he's going to try to expose me to sunlight and holy water."

Nikki stiffened in rage, you having told him that most of the vampire legends were true, but ones like a vampire needing to be invited inside a building were false.  In his sleep, he'd stirred with a stinging sensation like thousands of bees were attacking him.  That must have been holy water "Just try to hold out for me, baby.  I'm coming to get you..."

"Please hurry"  your voice in his mind sounded desperate and feeble, something he'd never heard from you before.  It made his heart ache to know that you were suffering.  He would make that mother fucker pay for hurting you.

When dusk came he erupted out of the crypt and got on all fours sniffing the ground like a blood hound.  He had found your scent trail and followed it for a few hours, in what would take days if he were a human.  You two had taken to the crypt in New Orleans, and he followed the trail to L.A. where his old band still lived.

He crept up on the building that was well lit from the outside with fog lights.  He tried to barge right in, but he was stopped when the lights turned out to be solar UV lights that simulated the sun.  He recoiled and cursed-he would need human help, and he knew just where to go.

He approached Tommy's house and knocked on the door.  Despite the legend about not being able to come in uninvited being false, he didn't want to violate his best friend's privacy.  When the drummer came to the door, his face went ghost white and called to his wife "Hey Pam, I'm just gonna sit on the porch and have a smoke okay?"

"Yeah, whatever" the female said in a tired voice.

"It's been a long time Nikki..." he marveled at his friend's unchanged appearance while he was older and slightly worn. "About 20 years?"

"Yeah man" he tried to smile.  You and him had made social calls to his friends dozens of times over the years and it never ceased to amaze them how young and fit you both looked.  "I need your help..."

"What's up?" Tommy was on the alert now, neither of you having to ask any of your human friends for help until now.  He knew you must have been in dire straights, or you would have been with Nikki.

"Y/N's been taken by a mad scientist.  I followed her scent trail to a building deep in the mountains but they have it all covered with UV lights so a vampire can't get in or out..."

Tommy contemplated this and asked "How would I get IN though?"

"Leave that part to me" Nikki grinned, his fangs glittering in the lamp light.  "They were anticipating a vampire, not a whole bunch of his familiars" you had given him training on how to control animals to do his bidding, and he was now an expert at it-even better than you.

"Alright, so while the animals are creating a distraction, I go in and shut off the lights and security?" he asked.

"Bingo, T-Bone" he always loved calling Tommy T-Bone.  Tommy Lee was his ride or die friend to the end.

Tommy opened the door and called to his wife "Hey Pam, I'm gonna go out for a bit.  I'll be back later babe!"

There was a sigh from the kitchen as she said "Okay".  She had assumed that he was out cheating on her like he supposedly did with his wife Heather.

When they got to the facility, Nikki took a deep breath and let it out, a red mist flowing out of his mouth like cigarette smoke.  All the animals in the area inhaled and their eyes turned a blood red.  "Surround the building and kill the guards.  Make a lot of noise, draw them out and away from the doors..."

A whole herd of mountain lions, bears and wolves surrounded the area and approached the open grounds.  The fools didn't think that they needed a gate of any kind.  The guards were patrolling the perimeter when a pack of wolves pounced on one and began devouring him.  His screams alerted the other guards and they were attacked by the bears.  The remaining guards had radioed for back up before being mauled by the mountain lions. 

All the blood the familiars were drinking was going straight to Nikki, who only got stronger with each drop that was being taken.  One of the responding guard units had left a door open and Tommy knew that it was his cue to go in.  A wolf accompanied him on his journey to protect him, the thing tackling a guard and Tommy shouted "Where's the fuckin' control room?!"

The wolf had it jaws on the man's throat and he pointed to a door to the right of them.  Tommy turned to go and disable the systems while the wolf tore apart the man's neck.  He looked at all the complicated buttons and wires, him not knowing which ones controlled what.  So in classic Motley Crue fashion, he pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall and dosed the control panel with the foam.  Everything shorted out and the lights went off.

Nikki went in, stronger than he ever was and mowed down the guards that came in his path.  He was upon your cell when he saw you huddled in the bed under the thin cover to try and shield yourself from the holy water mist.  It wasn't working, and only served to spread the blistering over a wider area of your skin.  He punched a hole in the glass door and the entire frame came undone. 

"That was quick" you complimented from under the wet blanket.  You didn't want him to see you like this, and you felt him pick you up and take you out of the cell.  He ignored his own sizzling skin to take the blanket off of you and looked like he was about to cry, knowing you endured much pain while you were trapped here.

"Not quick enough, baby" he growled "You've been hurt so bad you need more than you normally take to heal..."

Then Van Helsing appeared behind you and said "You, sir are an excellent specimen!  I think I'll keep the both of you for observation!"

"Fuck you, dude" Nikki hissed, then the whole of the animal herd burst in and ripped the man to shreds, him screaming in pain all the while.

He carried you to a nearby cave, taking you deep inside so the light couldn't touch you.  "Drink, Y/N" he offered his neck to you "I have more than you need to heal..."

You bit down on him, he gasping as your fangs pierced his skin.  All the lives of the men that had died that night, including Van Helsing's flowed from Nikki to you and you knew how he was able to stay young for so many years.  He had figured out how to snatch bodies in his studies, and had his original body embalmed while he switched over the years until he was able to find a vampire to experiment on.  It was then that you remembered the very first thing your maker had taught you.  "Blood is lives".

"What?" Nikki asked, a little drained from you feeding off him.

"Blood is lives" you repeated "Every life a vampire takes, their blood tells their life story.  So in a way, their spirit lives on in us.  You had healed yourself and gotten your strength back, you cuddled with him and heard his heart slowly beating.

"So if we kill our friends and family, they will be with us for all time?" he raised an eyebrow, the blood from the bite in his neck drying and the holes closing up.

"Yes" you answered, knowing that Tommy was back with his wife in his house and currently fighting with her over something trivial. "But I don't think I'd like having Tommy, Vince and Mick all in my head telling me what to do"

"Hell no" he laughed and bought you in for a kiss.  After he broke it off, he said "If it came down to it and they were dying, I'd rather snap their necks and end their suffering..."

You nodded in solemn agreement, knowing that death was inevitable.  The least you could do was make it painless.  "We could remember them in our own way" neither of you knew what that way would be, but when it came to it, you'd know what it was.

[hunnywrites]

Sixteen Candles: Part Three

Summary: It’s the day that Vivian has been looking forward to nearly her entire life: her sixteenth birthday. But between her sister’s wedding overshadowing her big day, and praying that her crush Billy Hargrove will finally notice her things aren’t going too well for her. If she can just survive the under the sea dance at her school and avoid the really weird and creepy Tommy H her night might be salvageable. Maybe.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

Sarah, Kevin and Vivian’s parents had left for dinner about twenty minutes ago. Since Enzo’s was the nicest, or really the only nice restaurant in town, they were hoping it would impress Kevin’s snooty parents. It probably wouldn’t. Now Vivian’s grandparents were left in charge. Which meant they would be eating dry meatloaf for dinner and her grandma would remind them over and over of the dangers of underage drinking and premarital sex. Vivian almost put her fork through her eye. 

She hadn’t gotten a dress for the dance. She had been holding out until the last minute hoping that her mother would decide against forcing her to go. Instead Sarah lent her a dress that she didn’t want anymore because it was “totally out of style” and wouldn’t be caught dead in. Vivian didn’t really get why. It was a cute dress. It was a deep red, velvet dress with a Bardot neckline that stopped just above her knees. It was a little bit ill fitting. Sarah was practically waifish and Vivian had wider hips and a bit more of a fuller figure like their mother. The dress ended up showing off that “nice little figure” her grandma had told her she had a little bit too much for her liking. But if she threw her leather jacket over it it wasn’t so bad. 

Her hair had won the battle of Vivian trying to tame it. She’d cut her curly red hair about a month ago to her shoulders, hoping that it would make it easier to manage. It didn’t. She guessed it made her look cool. Casual. Like she didn’t really care that much. Plus, after Carol started pounding on the bathroom door and threatening her, she didn’t really have much of a choice but to give up. 

Now it was time to wait for Tommy to show up to drive them to the dance. Carol was back in her bedroom getting dressed and singing loudly and very off key along with Madonna to Burning Up. Vivian was in Sarah’s room, standing in front of the full length mirror hanging on the back of her door. She didn’t feel like she was sixteen. She didn’t look any different than when she had been fifteen. But had she ever felt different after her birthday? Had she always been too wrapped up in all the cake and presents to notice?

She let out a soft huff and turned to the side. She felt ridiculous in Sarah’s dress. Like she was trying too hard almost. There was a brief moment when Vivian wondered if Billy would like it. Maybe that was the change. Worrying so much about what a boy thought of her. Or catching herself day dreaming way too often about all the things she wanted to do with Billy that always made her cheeks grow all hot. And then there was being faced with the fact that absolutely none of those things would happen in a million years. Vivian let out a groan. Growing up sucked. 

“Girls! Thomas is here!” Vivian rolled her eyes at the sound of her grandma’s voice. No one called Tommy H Thomas. It made him sound way too mature when really he had the mentality of a thirteen year old. Carol poked her head out of her room and yelled down that she would be out in a minute. Which in Carol speak meant more like ten. Vivian reluctantly made her way downstairs to the living room where Tommy was waiting by the front door. He gave her a slow once over and grinned at her. Vivian suddenly felt like little red riding hood trapped in a room with the big bad wolf. 

“Lookin’ good, Viv. That a new dress?” Vivian plopped down onto the couch and instinctively turned her body away from Tommy. She hated having to be alone with him.

“Uh, not really. It’s actually Sarah’s.” she tugged at the end of her dress in an attempt to cover up a bit more of her legs. Tommy didn’t hide the fact that he was looking at them. Vivian had never understood what Carol saw in him. They’d somehow been together since Vivian was in elementary school. It made the fact that Tommy almost relentlessly hit on Vivian any time Carol wasn’t around that much creepier. Of all the boys in Hawkins to be interested in her, why did it have to be Tommy H?

Tommy moved closer to her and perched on the arm of the couch. “Hey, how come you don’t have a date to the dance?” usually Vivian would have some sort of biting remark. Sarah was always telling her that she was much too comfortable being sarcastic. But with Tommy she kept the comments she wanted to say to herself and kept things as short as possible. He wasn’t entirely bright enough to understand sarcasm. Or much of anything. Usually he would just seem to think she was flirting back and it would be impossible to escape the conversation. 

Plus, she didn’t really want to open the can of worms that was wondering why no one had asked her to the dance. “...I just didn’t want to go with anyone, I guess.” she finally said with a shrug. 

“Oh...well, that’s okay. You wanna be my date? I’m sure I can juggle you and Carol.” that grin was back. Vivian didn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

“How about you ask Carol how she’d feel about that arrangement?” Vivian asked, fluttering her eyelashes with a sweet smile. Tommy’s grin fell. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Vivian’s grandmother walking in. Tommy nearly jumped up from the arm of the couch. 

“Would you like something to drink, Thomas? Are you hungry? I made meatloaf. The girls weren’t really hungry so there’s plenty left over.” they were plenty hungry. The meatloaf was just awful. Vivian almost hoped Tommy would accept her offer. 

Tommy only smiled what Vivian assumed he thought was a charming smile. “Oh, no thank you ma’am. My mom made a pretty big dinner so I don’t really have room for meatloaf.” he patted his stomach.

“Consider yourself lucky. A dog wouldn’t even eat that meatloaf.” it was Carol. She came practically stomping down the stairs in her strapless, light pink chiffon dress that she had begged and pleaded with their dad to buy her for the dance. Vivian usually felt self conscious next to her older sister, but she felt even more so now. Carol looked like she had just stepped out of an issue of Cosmo. 

Their grandmother frowned over at Carol. “Now, young lad-”

Carol rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “We gotta run, grandma. Don’t wait up. Mom says curfew’s at one,” that definitely wasn’t true. The girls had a firm eleven o’clock curfew on weekends. But Vivian kept her mouth shut. Carol grabbed Tommy by the arm and pulled him towards the front door, Vivian close behind. Their grandma followed with a reminder of the lovely talk they’d had at dinner. The three teens practically bolted for Tommy’s car. 

“God, she never shuts up!” Carol groaned. “No sex before marriage!” she said in a crude, mocking voice. “Jesus doesn’t like tramps! Please.”

“Don’t forget that story about her friend Judy and how her grandson died from drinking a beer at a highschool party.” Vivian laughed as she slid into the backseat. Carol threw her head back and let out a cackle like laugh.

“That’s right! He’s not even dead! He got shit faced on tequila shots and got a dui and his dad sent him to boot camp!” if it was one thing Vivian could bond with her sister over, it was what an absolute fruit loop their grandmother was. 

Tommy was grinning again. “You know, she’s a little too late with that no sex before marriage thing, Car.” Vivian’s nose scrunched up in disgust. So not what she wanted to hear. Ever.

Carol let out a loud snort and shoved Tommy’s shoulder. “Shut up, ass.” and just like that, the sisterly bonding was over. For the rest of the ride to school Vivian ceased to exist to Carol and Tommy. Which was pretty alright with her. Especially when it came to Tommy.

The Hawkins High gym had been transformed into an under the sea fantasy. Well, as much of a fantasy as the dance committee had been able to pull off. Blue lights hung high above the students dancing and mingling, giving them all an odd and almost otherworldly pallor. Silver streamers hung from the doorways, food tables and sporadically from the gym’s ceiling mimic what Vivian assumed to be seaweed. In one corner there were large cut outs of crudely drawn sea creatures along with a mermaid and merman as a photo op for the students and their dates. 

Carol quickly dragged Tommy over to have their photo taken. “Oh, see ya later, sis! Have fun!” Vivian muttered to herself as she made her way over to the bleachers where Robin was sitting and looking bored. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” she said with a heavy sigh as she sat next to her best friend. 

“Likewise,” Robin said with a grin. “I dig the dress. It’s gonna be hard for Billy to ignore you in that.” 

Vivian rolled her eyes and waved a hand at Robin. “This so isn’t for him. I didn’t have anything to wear so I had to borrow it from Sarah. Tommy hit on me while we were waiting for Carol to finish getting ready,” she pulled a face. Robin and Vivian both looked over to where Tommy and Carol were posing in front of the photographer for their dance photo. They both groaned. Vivian scanned the room quickly. “...Have you seen Billy?” she asked casually. 

Robin smiled and shook her head. “Not yet. I’m imagining Cheryl’s gonna turn up fashionably late. You want some punch or something?” Vivian only shrugged. Robin patted her knee and stood up. “Be right back.” Vivian watched Robin head over to the snack table and let out a sigh. This was probably gonna be a long night. And adding the fact that she was going to wait around for Billy like a little puppy definitely wasn’t going to help.

“There she is!” Vivian groaned. Her night just kept getting worse. Tommy had spotted her. He was dancing along to the music and headed her way. Carol wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Been lookin’ for ya, Viv!” he took her by the hands and pulled her to her feet. Vivian watched in near horror as Tommy continued to dance in front of her. 

“Uh, Tommy? Where’s Carol?” 

He didn’t stop dancing. “She went to the bathroom with Cheryl. Come on, girl! Don’t leave me hangin’! I love this song!” he took Vivian’s hands in his again and tried to get her to dance with him. Vivian harshly pulled away from him. She didn’t really know who she was more embarrassed for. Tommy and his awful dancing, herself for having to be seen with him, or Carol for thinking Tommy wasn’t an absolute creep. 

“You know, I’m not really much of a dancer. Maybe you should just go find Billy or something,” she took a step back from Tommy hoping it would keep him from grabbing her again. “Have you seen him anywhere?” 

Tommy was still dancing. “I think he’s outside having a smoke,” Vivian thought that she hid her disappointment, but apparently not as well as she thought. Tommy grinned at her. “You sweet on Hargrove, Viv?”

Vivian felt her cheeks burn. “Of course not. I didn’t even...I gotta go find Robin.” she rushed around Tommy and disappeared into the sea of dancing teenagers.

A few moments later Billy waltzed back into the gym. He shoved the sleeves of the black blazer he was wearing up his arms and gave an unimpressed look around the gym. Susan had given him the blazer right before he left to pick up Cheryl. It was his dad’s. “It’s a dance, Billy! You have to look your best for your date!” she had said, running into her bedroom to fetch the coat. 

Cheryl hadn’t really cared about what he was wearing. She spent the entire drive fixing her makeup and bitching about how her parents refused to buy her the dress she had wanted because she had failed two classes that past semester. As soon as they arrived at the dance Cheryl and made a beeline for Carol and the two had run off the the bathroom. Billy headed back outside for a smoke and to sneak a few swigs from the flask he’d stashed on the inner pocket of his blazer. 

When he’d made his way back inside Tommy was dancing over by the bleachers. Alone. Billy rolled his eyes and walked over to him. “They’re still not back yet?” he asked, scanning the crowd for Cheryl and Carol. 

“Nah, man. I bet they’ll be gone for awhile,” Tommy finally stopped dancing and looked at his friend with a mischievous grin. “You’ll never guess who was asking about you, dude.”

Billy let out a heavy sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers playing mindlessly with his lighter. “I give up.” he said with a bored tone. 

Tommy threw an arm around Billy’s shoulders and turned him towards the snack table. Vivian was standing by the punch bowl with Robin. She looked good. Amazing, actually. But with the way she kept pulling at the bottom of her dress and shifting uncomfortably showed that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the new attention she was getting. Billy watched on with an amused look. 

“You think you can maybe talk to her? Get me an in?” Billy frowned and looked over at Tommy.

“...The hell are you talking about? Aren’t you with Carol?”

Tommy looked around to make sure that no one was listening. He grinned wickedly. “I don’t see her around, do you?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Christ, Tommy. You’re even dumber than I thought.”

Tommy frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t try to fuck your girl’s sister. They tell each other about that kinda shit. You need to get some tact, man,” not to mention he was fairly certain that he would see pigs flying before Vivian ever agreed to willingly sit in a room alone with Tommy. There was a moment when Vivian turned and met eyes with Billy from across the gym. Her lips twitched. Like she wasn’t sure whether to smile at him or not. The corner of Billy’s mouth turned upwards in a smirk, and Vivian’s cheeks turned a deep pink before she turned back to Robin. “...I’ll see you later, Tommy.” he patted his friend on the shoulder and started off towards Vivian.

“There you are!” Billy stifled the groan he wanted to let out at the sound of Cheryl’s voice. He stopped in his tracks, turning to face his date with a thin smile. “I was worried someone might’ve stolen you away,” she said with an overly sweet smile. Cheryl straightened out the front of Billy’s blazer before she placed her hands on his chest. “Carol told me that Tommy’s having a party at his place after and I said we would go.”

Billy could think of about 900 completely awful things that he would rather do than go to a party with his friends. “I’m not really in a partying mood. I gotta get to the pool early tomorrow.” he lied. 

If looks could kill, Billy would be dead. Cheryl’s hot pink nails dig ever so slightly into his chest as she glared up at him. “Well, I already told Carol that we would go. And it’ll look bad if I go by myself. So you’re going to come with me, and you’re going to have a good time.” she said through her teeth. 

A mistake that Billy had made early on with Cheryl was deciding not to argue with her. It gave her the sense that he was a pushover that would do whatever she wanted. That she had power in the relationship. Usually it was just easier to do what Cheryl said. No matter how much he hated it. It was never worth all the dirty looks and all of her bitching. “...Whatever, Cheryl. We’ll stop by for a few minutes. I’m gonna go have another smoke.” 

He didn’t care that he was ditching her. He didn’t care about the way she was calling after him in that fake, sweet voice that she used in front of other people. He wanted to get away from her. Away from this stupid under the sea dance. 

He shoved the gym door opened and collided hard with someone on the other side. “Christ, watch where you’re goi- oh, Billy!” it was Vivian. The door shut loudly behind him, and the two were left out in the quiet hallway. 

“Sorry…” he muttered, fidgeting with the lighter in his pocket. Vivian waved him off and adjusted her dress. He couldn’t help but give her another once over. “I like the dress.”

Vivian’s hands went still as she looked up at him. She blinked a few times. “...What?”

Billy chuckled and motioned to her outfit. “The dress. It looks good on you. You get it for your birthday?” 

He expected her to blush again. To freeze up like she usually did when he complimented her. Instead she rolled her eyes dramatically and scoffed. “No. I didn’t get shit for my birthday. My family forgot all about it.” there was a shocked look on her face almost like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Billy raised an eyebrow. “They forgot? How’s that possible?”

“My sister’s stupid wedding. I keep telling myself that I’m over it, but every time I bring it up I get pissed off all over again,” she shook her head. ��It’s not really a big deal. Anyways, having fun with Cheryl?” there was a bit of bite in her voice that made Billy smirk down at her. 

“Tons,” he said cooly. “She told me Tommy’s having a party at his place after the dance. You should come. Bring Robin. We’ll call it your birthday party.” that shy look of hers was back. Billy couldn’t help but smile. 

“I don’t know…” she scrunched up her nose. “I’ve kinda had my fill of Tommy for one night. Robin and I were gonna head to the movies and see Red Dawn,” Billy honestly wished he could join them. “Maybe next time.” she offered. He knew that was a lie. 

Billy smiled slowly at her and nodded. “Yeah, maybe next time. Well, I guess I’ll see you around Birthday Girl.” Vivian tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as her cheeks turned pink again. Her lips twitched again, like she was fighting to keep her cool. She mumbled a “bye” before rushing back into the gym. He knew that Vivian thought he couldn’t see her now. He placed a cigarette between his lips as he watched her hurry across the dance floor towards Robin. 

She was talking to her friend animatedly and pointing back to the gym doors. Robin looked on with an amused smile at her friends ranting. Billy let out a short laugh and lit his cigarette. He didn’t really know why he was so interested in Vivian. Aside from her obvious good looks, Vivian was a good girl. Billy had never really liked good girls. Maybe Cheryl had made him realize it was time to try something new. 

He decided once he was sure that she was home from the movies that he would call her and ask her out. What could go wrong? 

[vincess-princess]

(And here finally goes my hogwarts au. The description below is for the whole fic, in the future I’ll be posting charters without it)

Title: Magic of insanity

Author: arnold-layne

Fandom: Harry Potter universe, Motley Crue, occasionally Guns N’ Roses, W.A.S.P., Led Zeppelin and some other bands

Characters: Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Blackie Lawless, Jimmy Page, etc.

Genre: slash

Rating: Adult content (specifically for some episodes which I’ll mark)

Warning: contains ust, angst, descriptions of violence, underage, obscene language

Description: Nikki Sixx is a sixth-year Hogwarts student with unhealthy high interest in Dark Arts, sex and weed and unhealthy low interest in studying. At first the new school year seems to him just as usual as all previous years had been, but oh, how mistaken he is...

Charter 1.

Word count: 1548

Putting on heels was a mistake, realised Nikki, standing in front of a subway entrance and looking hopelessly at the endless stairs leading under the ground. Not that he hadn’t faced this obstacle before - when you are a London lower-class misfit, subway is usually the only mean of transportation you can afford, - but he definitely didn’t have to carry a huge and hella heavy trunk with him then. The opportunity of calling a taxi was still tempting, but he remembered that if he wasted his money now, he would have nothing left for the trip to Hogsmeade, and shrugged the thought off. Then Nikki tightened his grip on a trunk’s handle and started his long journey down.

There were a few free seats in the train, but after Nikki noticed that not a single one of them was near some pretty girl or guy, he preferred to remain on his feet. As always, he’s got his share of sidelong glances and scowls, but now he wasn’t sure if it was because of his appearance or an enormously huge trunk with something obviously moving inside… oh shit, his igneous lizards must have found their way out of the jar, he realised. He gotta put them back, or his clothes will turn into ashes by the time he arrives to Hogwarts, thought Nikki with horror. Or at least start smelling like smoke, which was no good either.

Once a woman’s voice announced his station, Nikki hurried out of the train only to realise that the stairs down wasn’t even an problem comparing to what he had to face now – the way up.

Ten minutes later, sweaty and out of breath, he finally reached King’s Cross and slipped through the barrier after some family with a visibly shaking first-year whom his parents had almost to carry through the wall because he refused to walk with his own feet. When you were his age you were no better, reminded Nikki himself, but still couldn’t help chuckling. He wasn’t that confused and scared first-year anymore; he was surrounded by wizards, young and old, weirdly dressed or almost indistinguishable from Muggles, and that – that finally was what he really belonged to. Almost nobody stared at him now, assuming, maybe, that he just mistook men’s clothing shop with women’s. It can happen with anybody, though, these Muggles have such weird fashion!

He noticed Tommy almost instantly, for he was towering over the crowd, having almost reached 6’ at his incomplete fifteen years. The boy’s gonna be taller then Nikki in the future, thought he with slight annoyance, but when Tommy noticed him and waved enthusiastically, all his annoyance disappeared. Nikki pushed his way through the crowd, using his trunk as a ram, and only when he approached him, he realised that Tommy was not alone here – of course, his family had come to see him off, just like all normal families do.

Even though they’ve been friends for about four years by now, it was the first time he met Tommy’s family. His mother, as he expected, was thin and beautiful, even after having two kids and god-knows-how-many miscarriages, and Nikki caught himself on not a very friendly thought that he would fuck her if he had a chance. Well, it was no wonder, she was Miss Greece once, remembered he. His sister Athena, a shy fourth-year girl, took after her mother and in the future was going to become just as beautiful. But now she was just a clumsy teenager with acne problems, and only her long wavy hair, just a little longer than Tommy’s, gave that away.

And there was his father. He looked strangely small near his son, and Nikki had to remind himself that 5’9’’ for a man is not that bad, but that didn’t give Tommy any advantage. They wore almost identical suits, but Tommy looked in it so awkwardly that it was obvious he’s been forced to wear it, whereas his father wore it with dignity, even loftiness; Tommy’s hair, even in ponytail, looked like a mop, whereas his father’s haircut looked so neat you couldn’t find a hair sticking out even if you tried; Tommy, always being the tallest, used to slouch a lot, and his father’s proud posture could belong to a member of a royal family. Nikki disliked him immediately.

“Mum, father, - said Tommy with tense, his eyes fixed on him, looking both anxious and hopeful, - meet Nikki”

The moment of shocked silence followed. Tommy’s mother raised her eyebrows in astonishment, and it was noticeable that only her manners prevented her from openly staring at him; however, she nodded gracefully and said amazingly polite, not giving away her emotions even at slightest, “Nice to meet you, Nikki”. He smiled warmly to her as an answer.

“So that’s the young gentleman who Thomas calls his best friend” said his father, squinting his eyes contemptuously and somehow managing to look down upon Nikki, even being a few inches shorter. But even his icy, disdainful tone didn’t manage to make Nikki feel diminished – in fact, it did otherwise, because now he was going to act as ill-behaved as he could, throwing away all that was left from his almost non-existent manners. He caught Tommy’s eye and winked almost unnoticeably – don’t worry, it’ll be alright. “Or should I say «young lady»?” his father continued sarcastically, obviously referring to Nikki’s four inches high heels. Putting them on definitely weren’t a mistake.

“I’m sorry that me wearing heels makes you question my sex” said Nikki, on purpose distorting his slight American accent to an almost unrecognizable level. “But nobody before you had a problem with that” he wasn’t even trying to hide mocking intonations in his voice, “mr. Lee”. Tommy glanced at him with both admiration and fear written on his face.

Mr. Lee’s face whitened with rage. “Well, all these people must have been not of a smart kind” he managed to keep his voice calm when he answered. “I’m quite surprised that you were placed in such honorable house as Slytherin. It seems the Sorting Hat does make mistakes sometimes”.

“Oh, I don’t think so”, Nikki pretended not to notice the hint. “I’m sure it suits me just right”.

“Then, sadly, Slytherin is not what it used to be back in my days” said mr. Lee, pursing his lips. “Anyway, I shall get to the point now, as the train leaves in ten minutes. Thomas is on his fifth year now, which means he’s going to pass his Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations this year. I do hope his results will live up to his family’s standards, but, considering how poor they were before, he’ll have to work hard. I’ve already arranged with some of the teachers, who I happen to know personally, that they’ll take care of him, so there’s only one problem remained: your so-called friendship”

Tommy winced behind mr. Lee’s back. This definitely wasn’t the first time he had to listen to all this - and if mr. Lee decided to talk to Nikki personally, then all these attempts obviously were in vain.

“I’m not going to mention how destructive, scandalous and disreputable I consider it to be…” mr. Lee went on, but Nikki interrupted him.

“You just did that”

“Did what?” mr. Lee was slightly confused, maybe more because he didn’t expect that someone would actually dare to interrupt him than because he forgot what he just said.

“Mentioned that. About our terrible, destructive… how’d you say? – disreputable - friendship. Very nice description indeed, I’ve heard worse”

“How dare you…” started mr. Lee indignantly, but at that moment Hogwarts Express whistled, signaling that there were only five minutes left before departure, and he had to put off the rant about Nikki’s bad manners. “Alright, we don’t have much time left. Thomas, Athena, get on the train now, and I shall have a quick word with mr. Feranna”

Tommy gave him a supporting look and took both his and Nikki’s trunks to get on the train which seemed to irritate his father a lot, though he had to hold back his opinion on that.

“It’s not Feranna anymore��� said Nikki “it’s Sixx”

“Nevermind. Well, I’ve heard you’re quite good in certain school subjects so I hope you’re smart enough to understand the importance of my words. I ask you kindly and politely to leave my son alone once and for all. Your friendship does only bad for him, he doesn’t study, doesn’t think of his future, of his family’s honour, even of his inheritance, which is unacceptable. If you back off him, I’ll be quite grateful and maybe even drop a hint to some high-ranking wizards in the Ministry about one gifted student from Slytherin… if not, I shall warn you that I’ll have to take certain actions”

The train whistled one more time. Somebody shouted “Hurry up!”, but Nikki took his time to answer.

“I shall say” answered he finally, “that it’s only Tommy’s business who to be friends with, not mine and definitely not yours. And it’s only up to Tommy to decide, what’s more important to him: friendship or your O.W.L.s and your shitty inheritance. See ya, mr. Lee” and he jumped into the train that already started to move.

[peakyblinders1919]

Business Liasons- Part 2

Part 2

@delusionsofnostalgia doing it again!

Lorenzo and another guard Santino took their places outside the large wooden door as you locked yourself and Tommy Shelby inside your hotel room. 

“Would you care for a nightcap Mr. Shelby?” You were curious to know why he had walked you back, Tommy Shelby didn’t seem like he did anything arbitrarily. 

“Tommy please.” 

You didn’t answer but threw his coat, your shawl and gloves all haphazardly on a sofa, handing him a whisky and moving to stand on the other side of the room, one arm wrapped protectively around yourself. 

“Afraid of me?” Tommy raised an eyebrow referring to your distance. He sat with a light sigh, leaning back on your sofa looking more comfortable in the hotel room than you felt. You cocked your head to the side at the question, you weren’t used to people being so straightforward with you, no one dared. You were always the quiet type and none of Al’s men would ever have the nerve to ask you to directly answer them. You felt a frown contract your eyebrows but you moved towards the opposite sofa and sat down smoothly, not missing the piercing blue eyes that followed the fall of your dress over your bare legs. You flashed a bit of thigh briefly, noticing the slight engorgement of his pupils- so that was what he was after? 

“Don’t like me much do you love?” Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette and drawing it to his full mouth, one arm balanced artful on the sofa arm, cradling his whisky. 

“I don’t have to like you to do business with you Mr. Shelby.” you stated.

“Business? Is that what you came here to do? I was under the impression that I had made an agreement with your cousin, the real boss.” He looked away from you, pretending to be interested in his cigarette. You knew he was trying to draw some emotional reaction out of you, any emotion could lead to a fuck, you knew that well enough.

You leaned back, a smile forcing the corners of your mouth upwards. 

“Does this routine usually work, Tommy?” you stressed his first name with a wicked twinkle in your eye. He didn’t falter but stared at you, cold blue blinking very slowly; he was re-calculating. 

You got up again, walking over to the window to stare out at the winking lights of the night. 

“Look, Mr. Shelby, you don’t know me, but I’m not the type of woman you’re used to dealing with,” you turned back to face him, his eyes never leaving you, the rest of his face was blank, he was good, but not a match for you, “I don’t want you to romance me, I wont succumb to those blue eyes and sharp cheekbones that you wield so well. I’m not the type to be swayed by shows of power and I certainly won’t vouch for anyone just because I’ve fucked them.” You saw it then, a flash of uncertainty in those pale eyes, that had been his plan. You almost laughed at the obviousness. 

You moved quickly and sat on the same blood red sofa as him, so near to him that your dress brushed his thigh. He turned only his face towards you, his body still angled away. 

“So what is it that you want then? Everyone has a price Ms. Capone.” You smiled a genuine smile then, his use of formality letting you know you’d hit a nerve, he’d lost some of his cockiness. You didn’t know that he had just learned something about what you craved most; respect. 

“Not me, I’m afraid,” you took the cigarette out of his hand, leaning across him to do so, and leaned back with a deep drag, “Did Al tell you I used to fuck Luca Changretta?” Tommy looked you over then, a different emotion in his eyes, and you smiled again, “Yes, he was older.” you answered his unstated question. “Every young girl likes some danger right?” you grinned and shrugged your shoulders. Tommy was looking at you with interest now, not knowing exactly how to read you. 

“I didn’t know.” He shifted to sit a bit straighter and glanced for his coat. 

“You won’t need your gun Mr. Shelby, I’m not here on some mission of vengeance.” you laughed. “It was me who gave the order to kill him, I knew he might pose some competition with our New York associates once he was back in America.”  You didn’t know it but you gained some respect in Tommy’s mind with that statement. 

His body turned towards yours and his large eyes ran over you once more.  “Is that why you won’t let anyone near you?” Tommy’s hand reached up and brushed a stray hair out of your face. “Had your heart broken too many times and now the only man you’ll ever have loyalty to is the one that you have to love because he’s family?

  You drew your eyebrows down again and you almost flinched from the unexpected contact as Tommy ran a thumb between your eyebrows and down your nose, gently grazing your lips. His other four fingers easily stretching from your temple to just beneath your jaw. 

“I wish you didn’t frown so much, I am sorry that I keep causing you to do it,” he paused, his eyes running over your face, “I think we could have liked each other very much…in a different world.” 

He drew away from you just as quickly, reaching for his coat, and making towards the door.

You stood surprised by the change in his tone, and without thinking you blurted out, “does that mean you don’t like me Tommy?” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, staring down for a beat before turning back to you, you felt the hot blush spread over your cheeks, not knowing where that question had come from, or rather choosing to ignore what had made you ask it. 

He smiled at you, a devilish smile, with his face turned downwards but his blue eyes bright, and walked out without another word. 

You woke the next morning with a dull throbbing behind your eyes as you flipped over with a groan on the almost too luxurious bed. You had drank more when Tommy left, not quite sure what you were feeling but knowing that he had managed to pull down walls that you had built up a long time before. 

When your parents had died, you were so trusting of everyone and then Al had taken you in and you had learnt the hard way that in love and friendship, you could trust no one but family. Luca had just been one of the men you had found entertainment in for a while but none of them made you frown, unsure of yourself and your thoughts the way Tommy Shelby did and no one ever read you that well, not even Alphonse.

There was knocking and you sat up in bed drawing a silk robe around your scantily lace-clad body, “Come in!” you threw yourself back against your pillows expecting one of your men to lumber in. What you did not expect was a fully dressed Polly Gray strutting in, swishing and smoking a cigarette, followed by a stunned looking chamber maid pushing a breakfast cart. 

“Good morning.” She smiled at you, surveying your room.

“Good morning Polly,” you replied dryly. 

“Tommy wants us to take you out, he seems to have some strange idea that you don’t care for him very much.” She let her words hang in the air as you began to chew your toast. 

“I’ve never seen him smile like that since Grace you know,” you looked at her inquisitively, you knew about his wife who had died but you didn’t know what Polly meant. 

“A real smile.” she said quietly, answering your question, “when you put Arthur in his place.”

“Now Grace I didn’t like,” she continued, “but you, you’re strong, intelligent, loyal, not easy to sway as I guess Thomas found out last night,” you two shared a conspiratorial grin, “A woman like you would be good for him, good for the family.” 

“I live in America Polly. Is that why you’re here? to matchmake? I barely know him.”

“And yet you can call me Polly but have a hard time calling him Tommy. Is that old fashioned respect? Or are you afraid to get too close? To like him? I expect you don’t get that sort of liberty in your line of work, but we look after our own.” You shake your head good-naturedly at her words.

“It takes one to know one eh Pol?” you ask her, not missing the flush that touches her neck, “never letting anyone in.”

“Aye,” she stood,moving to look at your dresses, “And look where it’s left me. A lonely old maid cleaning up her dumb nephews’ messes.” She turns sharply on you again. “Your cousin Alphonse already has children no?” You don’t miss her meaning. 

“You Shelby’s, it’s only been a few days.” You mumble under your voice as you begin to get dressed. You couldn’t deny feeling safe and welcome with them, like you had the acceptance and respect you still fought so hard for in America. 

You had had a day with Ada and Polly, and they had grown on you. You didn’t really have female friends back in Chicago, most women not wanting to associate with you and your cousin.

You three had sat down to dinner in a club that you knew used to belong to Darby Sabini but now belonged to Tommy. 

“I enjoyed today.” You said jovially, the champagne kicking in, Polly and Ada happily smiling with you. 

“We’re glad. We thought you were going to punish us all because Tommy had tried it on with you.” You looked at Ada sharply.

“Oh c’mon Y/N, didn’t he bat his eyelashes, stare at you with those big blue eyes,” Ada mocked him and you an Polly erupted in giggles. “We know, he thought you’d be a soft touch like other women, I warned him you’d be hard to win over.” 

“I like him well enough,” you admitted quietly into your flute of bubbly, neither Polly or Ada missing your little smile, “but I go back in a few days, I just have to sample the gin and all this will be over. But Ada, I hope you’ll come visit me in Chicago so I can repay this kindness,” you motion to the dinner and alcohol that filled your shared table as the young Shelby nodded profusely, her curls bouncing with her. 

There was a hush over the general din and all heads turned towards the door, Tommy, Arthur and Finn Shelby had just walked in. Tommy’s eyes cast over the entire place and rested on you briefly before he nodded to the band and the chaos resumed. The men made their way over to your table and Tommy pulled out a chair next to your own, sitting close to you but never sparing you a glance. 

“Had a good day then ladies?” He asked with that low voice like cut glass. Polly nodded once at him. 

“C’mon Finn, let’s dance.” Ada pulled Finn up by arm and dragged him towards the floor, just a few feet in front of your men who were eyeing everyone suspiciously. 

“Buy your Aunt a drink Arthur?”  Polly questioned and then they too moved off toward the bar, leaving you and Tommy in an awkward silence. 

Tommy motioned to a nearby waiter who scuttled away only to return in a second with two tumblers of clear alcohol. 

“They don’t let up do they?” Tommy said looking at your guards. 

“It’s their job. Al would have their heads if something happened to me.”

“And what if you wanted something to happen to you?” You turned your head sharply to stare at Tommy’s profile and didn’t miss the glint in his eyes or the smirk on his full lips. 

“You talk a big game Mr. Shelby, but you’re just like me, we just handle it differently. I don’t go around fucking out my frustrations but we are just as closed off. I’d like to see what you’d do if someone actually tried to break down those walls around your heart.” You looked him dead in the eye, taking in his high cheekbones and sharp jaw, you would have loved to bury your face in his neck, smell him, breathe in the whisky and smoke. 

If he saw desire in your alcohol clouded eyes he didn’t show it. 

“This is my gin.” he stated, handing you a tumbler and you brought it to your lips expecting swill.

Instead you were met with pleasant floral notes. 

“Hmmm, not too sweet, not too bitter. Not bad Mr. Shelby, not bad.”

“How many times do I have to tell you love, it’s Tommy.” He grabbed you around the waist and hoisted you up, you fell against his chest, bracing yourself against him, feeling the muscles under his perfectly pressed suit. “Shall we dance?”

You frowned yet again, you should be mad at him for taking the liberty, but somehow you weren’t. You nodded and he whisked you around easily and you smiled up at him, he returned it, “Glad you’re not frowning anymore love.” He confused you, this tough man who seemed soft somewhere underneath his angry, steely composure. 

Before you could reply there was a blast and your alcohol slowed senses took a second to realize it had been a gunshot. You saw your men barrel towards you to barricade you in. Arthur was making a mad dash for the door, blinders flying to his side. It was only when you were completely surrounded by your own men that you realized; there was blood on your dress, you reached down, it was sticky and hot, drenching your fingers and you looked up as Santino frantically searched you for a sign of a wound. 

“It’s not mine Sonny,” you said, your voice calm and even. You pushed through your men. Ada and Polly were both kneeling over a paling Tommy. 

Everything passed in a blur. The noise of the ambulance, the white corridor of the hospital, Polly holding your hand and you comforting Ada. 

[caddyxjellyby]

Alcott Readathon 2018: An Old-Fashioned Girl (1869)

Alcott’s third or fourth depending on how you count Good Wives novel, featuring cane-shaking, a menage a trois, and America’s favorite fighting Frenchman. Polly Arrives Fanny tells Tom to pick up Polly from the station. Tom says "She'll think you cared more about your frizzles than your friends, and she'll be about right, too." Fanny says "If I was the President, I'd make a law to shut up all boys till they were grown; for they certainly are the most provoking toads in the world." I wonder what Tom means by wearing a thingumbob? A veil maybe? The naughty boy tells Polly the hack-driver is tipsy so he won’t have to sit with her. It boggles my mind that a fourteen year old would refer to herself as a “little girl.” I suppose back them children didn’t have to bend over backwards to be taken seriously. That is, if you refer to yourself as a little girl people won’t take you seriously. But if they just do it as a given you don’t bend over backwards to earn it. Polly sings for Madam Shaw, the grandmother, and they talk about how they were brought up properly unlike the Shaw siblings. Madam Shaw doesn’t approve of children calling their father Papa. What the fuck. I bet “the old man” would make her spontaneously combust. The girls see a vulgar play; Polly doesn’t understand half the jokes, and the girls on stage are dressed as jockeys, which I think means wearing trousers. Scandalous. Madam Shaw praises her innocence.

New Fashions

Apparently eyeglasses were trendy in 1869. Polly follows Fanny to school, where the girls gossip about Carrie who ran away with an Italian music teacher.

Fanny: "I like to read about such things; but it's so inconvenient to have it happen right here, because it makes it harder for us. I wish you could have heard my papa go on. He threatened to send a maid to school with me every day, as they do in New York, to be sure I come all right. Did you ever?"

Belle: "That's because it came out that Carrie used to forge excuses in her mamma's name, and go promenading with her Oreste, when they thought her safe at school. Oh, wasn't she a sly minx?"

Trix: "I think a little fun is all right; and there's no need of making a talk, if, now and then, some one does run off like Carrie. Boys do as they like; and I don't see why girls need to be kept so dreadfully close. I'd like to see anybody watching and guarding me!" GO TRIX KEEPING GIRLS THE SLIGHTEST BIT “CLOSER’ THAN BOYS IS PSYCHOLOGICALLY HARMFUL AND DISRESPECTFUL. ...I have a lot of feels about gender and child-rearing, okay? Okay. The constant ads for the Blockers movie keep bringing it to mind. (Kathryn Newton, the most recent Amy March, is in it.) The Bostonians gush over some exciting novels; Polly doesn’t know them. Polly: "My mother says a real gentleman is as polite to a little girl as to a woman; so I like Mr. Sydney best, because he was kind to me." I want that embroidered. “Polly was not a model girl by any means” Sure, Louisa. The kids say ain’t a lot. Creosote sent my mind straight to Discworld. Polly’s Troubles Polly wished the children would be kinder to grandma; but it was not for her to tell them so, although it troubled her a good deal, and she could only try to make up for it by being as dutiful and affectionate as if their grandma was her own. Awww. The fact that they name their sleds is adorable. Me, I’ve never been a person to name inanimate objects, other than occasionally referring to something as the precious. Fan reads Lady Audley’s Secret. "I shouldn't think you'd make him laugh, when he's always making you cwy," observed Maud, who had just come in. Good one, Maud. Little Things Polly is a perfect child who can do no wrong, except spend some money on bronze boots instead of presents for her family. We learn that she has a dead brother named Jimmy. They studied Latin together so she helps Tom with his. Tom falls off his new velocipede and hits his head. Polly holds it while a doctor gives him stitches. Scrapes AFTER being unusually good, children are apt to turn short round and refresh themselves by acting like Sancho. For a week after Tom's mishap, the young folks were quite angelic, so much so that grandma said she was afraid "something was going to happen to them." I kind of loathe this line of thinking? If you want children to be good, don’t insult them by not trusting them. Polly, if you’ve never had to lie to your parents then you know you have good parents, and not everybody is like you. A boy sends Fanny flowers and that’s unacceptable. “I'll send you to school in a Canadian convent,” says Mr. Shaw. Oh boy. Tom dresses up in Fanny’s outfit, then they and Maud look at Polly’s journal, which is full of sketches of the family and friends, and Polly’s thoughts on Fan. If she would be as she was when I first knew her, I should love her just the same; but she isn't kind to me; and though she is always talking about politeness, I don't think it is polite to treat company as she does me. She thinks I am odd and countrified, and I dare say I am; but I shouldn't laugh at a girl's clothes because she was poor, or keep her out of the way because she didn't do just as other girls do here. I see her make fun of me, and I can't feel as I did; and I'd go home, only it would seem ungrateful to Mr. Shaw and grandma, and I do love them dearly." Grandma Tom was reposing on the sofa with his boots in the air, absorbed in one of those delightful books in which boys are cast away on desert islands, where every known fruit, vegetable and flower is in its prime all the year round; or, lost in boundless forests, where the young heroes have thrilling adventures, kill impossible beasts, and, when the author's invention gives out, suddenly find their way home, laden with tiger skins, tame buffaloes and other pleasing trophies of their prowess. The Shaw kids find Polly up in Grandma’s room, listening to her stories. They’re like you never told us that story and Grandma’s like you never asked. "At eight o'clock on the appointed evening, several of us professed great weariness, and went to our room, leaving the rest sewing virtuously with Miss Cotton, who read Hannah More's Sacred Dramas aloud, in a way that fitted the listeners for bed as well as a dose of opium would have done.”Surprisingly snarky Grandma. "Wait for your turn, Tommy. Now, Polly, dear, what will you have?" said grandma, looking, so lively and happy, that it was very evident "reminiscing" did her good. "Let mine come last, and tell one for Tom next," said Polly, looking round, and beckoning him nearer. Oh come on now Polly. Tom wants to shoot cats? Okay. Polly asks about a glove; Grandma tells the story of Lafayette kissing the glove with his picture on it and then kissing her on the cheek to avoid that. Grandma’s Aunt was married to John Hancock, just like Abigail Alcott’s grand-aunt was married to him in real life. Also she thinks leg o’mutton sleeves are beautiful and becoming. Let’s not hold it against her. Colonel May, that’s LMA’s grandfather. Next we go even further back in history - Grandma produces a letter “written by Anne Boleyn before her marriage to Henry VIII, and now in the possession of a celebrated antiquarian.” How she acquired this letter is not explained, and it does seem to be the original letter and not a copy. Good-by [sic] We get it, Louisa, you think fancy clothes are sinful. They hold a going-away party for Polly, inviting some girls to keep Maud out of the way and Tom’s school-friends, Rumple, Sherry, and Spider. Polly and Tom open the redowa; he’s bad at keeping time to the music, like me. She doesn’t know how to dance the German so she plays with the little girls in the library. Aww, they snuck presents for her family in Polly’s trunk. Six Years Afterward "WHAT do you think Polly is going to do this winter?" exclaimed Fanny, looking up from the letter she had been eagerly reading. She’s returning to Boston to teach music. Mr. Shaw respects her for being independent. Tom says she’s pretty in a moment of foreshadowing. Madam Shaw has died. "Where did you learn so much worldly wisdom, Polly?" asked Mr. Shaw, as his wife fell back in her chair, and took out her salts, as if this discovery had been too much for her. "I learnt it here, sir," answered Polly, laughing. "I used to think patronage and things of that sort very disagreeable and not worth having, but I've got wiser, and to a certain extent I'm glad to use whatever advantages I have in my power, if they can be honestly got." What is this, the Shaws doing something good for once? Holy hell! “You must come and see my pets, Maud, for my cat and bird live together as happily as brother and sister," said Polly, turning to Maud, who devoured every word she said. "That's not saying much for them," muttered Tom, feeling that Polly ought to address more of her conversation to him. Geez, Tom, entitled much? Tom is engaged to Trix. Polly keeps bees at her country home. It must be so nice to be able to clean without the paranoia that you’re going to get mocked for doing it wrong. All hail living alone! Lessons Polly finds her drudgery a bit harder than she expected but her pupils love her. She found Fanny enduring torment under the hands of the hair-dresser, who was doing his best to spoil her hair, and distort her head with a mass of curls, braids, frizzles, and puffs; for though I discreetly refrain from any particular description, still, judging from the present fashions, I think one may venture to predict that six years hence they would be something frightful. The problem with writing books set in the future. Polly comes home one day to find her landlady, Miss Mills, sewing a dress for Jane, who also lives in the boarding-house and tried to kill herself because she couldn’t find work that paid enough for the rent. Polly goes to visit Jane. Brothers and Sisters Polly’s brother Will visits her every Sunday and they’re BFFs. Tom hates being called Carrots; I want an Anne of Green Gables crossover. Maud informs him that Polly thinks he’s handsomer than Mr. Sydney. "Don't make such a noise, my head aches dreadfully," said Fanny, fretfully. "Girls' heads always do ache," answered Tom, subsiding from a roar into a chuckle. Um, fuck you Tom. He suspects Trix of wearing makeup because she won’t let him kiss her cheek, only “an unsatisfactory peck at her lips.” That’s less satisfying than the cheek? Whatever you say, Tom. Fanny confirms it. He doesn’t approve. Will arrives to take Maud to Polly’s; LMA gets a dig in: “They were very good friends, but led entirely different lives, Will being a "dig," and Tom a "bird," or, in plain English, one was a hard student, and the other a jolly young gentleman. Tom had rather patronized Will, who didn't like it, and showed that he didn't by refusing to borrow money of him, or accept any of his invitations to join the clubs and societies to which Tom belonged. So Shaw let Milton alone, and he got on very well in his own way, doggedly sticking to his books, and resisting all temptations but those of certain libraries, athletic games, and such inexpensive pleasures as were within his means; for this benighted youth had not yet discovered that college nowadays is a place in which to "sky-lark," not to study.” We'll see more of that when we get to Jo’s Boys. Polly talks better than other girls who are coquettes. Seriously. Jesus Christ. Maud has “a talent for betraying trifles which people preferred should not be mentioned in public” and “a queer way of going on with her own thoughts, and suddenly coming out with whatever lay uppermost, regardless of time, place, or company.” Huh. Needles and Tongues Fanny’s sewing circle meets at the Shaw house. Polly listens to them gossip. “Another divulged the awful fact that Carrie P.' s wedding presents were half of them hired for the occasion.” That’s pretty funny. Polly and Trix butt heads over giving charity. “[Trix] felt the same antagonism toward Polly, that Polly did toward her; and, being less generous, took satisfaction in plaguing her. Polly did not know that the secret of this was the fact that Tom often held her up as a model for his fiance to follow, which caused that young lady to dislike her more than ever.” I am not entirely unsympathetic to Trix. Polly tells them about Jane and they’re very moved and resolve to hire her for sewing. Forbidden Fruit Polly, Fanny, and Tom go to the opera. Polly buys new gloves for the occasion and their dog chews them up and she’s like serves me right for buying something I didn’t need. Her new bonnet survives, though, and Tom mentions how becoming it is. "Dress that girl up, and she'd be a raving, tearing beauty," he whispers to Maud, and Polly overhears. A bit of sarcastic fourth wall breaking: I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such of my readers as have a prejudice in favor of pure English by expressions like the above, but, having rashly undertaken to write a little story about Young America, for Young America, I feel bound to depict my honored patrons as faithfully as my limited powers permit. Otherwise, I must expect the crushing criticism, "Well, I dare say it's all very prim and proper, but it isn't a bit like us," and never hope to arrive at the distinction of finding the covers of "An Old-Fashioned Girl" the dirtiest in the library. Polly wears her hair down, holy shit. Maud comments on what a lovely bride she would be, Tom refers to her as “Mrs. Sydney,” and Fan goes to the carriage “in an usually lofty manner.” Love triangle ahoy. And who should appear at the opera but Arthur Sydney? Polly, on her reaction to heartbreak: "That's not my way either," she said decidedly. "I'd try to outlive it, and if I could n't, I'd try to be the better for it. Disappointment needn't make a woman a fool." Sounds like Rosamund. We are reminded that French novels are evil, and Polly calls Tom a modern Beau Brummel. The Sunny Side Fanny and Tom discuss Polly/Sydney. Tom thinks being a fine lady wouldn’t suit her; Fanny disagrees. Tom realizes his sister likes Sydney and says nothing about it. Polly introduces Fanny to her friends Becky and Bess, two artists who live together. Becky is sculpting “the coming woman” and needs to put a symbol in her hands. Fanny suggests a queen’s sceptre, Polly a man’s helping hand, and Bess a child. Becky turns those down. Kate, an accidentally successful author, suggests a ballot-box. They have a lunch of sardines, oranges, crackers, and cheese, on mismatched plates which one 1860s reviewer found too unfeminine to be realistic. We learn that "Bess is to be married in the spring, and Becky is to live with her." Kate wants to put Polly in a book. Very funny.

Nipped in the Bud Polly inner monologues about how she can’t love Arthur Sydney as a wife should, so she ought to tell him before he proposes. Particularly since he and Fan would suit each other. She changes her route home so as to avoid meeting him, then he sees her coming home from Fanny’s one day and they talk. He says that Fanny hasn’t improved with her years and Polly defends her friend. “She puts on that dashing air before people to hide her real self. But I know her better; and I assure you that she does improve; she tries to mend her faults, though she won't own it, and will surprise you someday, by the amount of heart and sense and goodness she has got." Breakers Ahead Tom gets expelled for knocking down the Chapel watchmen. At least he didn’t need that degree for a job. And Mr. Shaw’s business has failed, and Tom has acquired a significant amount of debt. Oh no. Polly comforts him and then Fanny, who doesn’t actually need much comforting, being glad for the distraction from her unrequited love. Indian cake . . . is that cornbread? A Dress Parade The big house was given up as soon as possible and the little house taken; being made comfortable with the furniture Madam left there when she went to live with her son. The old-fashioned things had been let with the house, and now seemed almost like a gift from Grandma, doubly precious in these troublous times. At the auction, several persons tried to show the family that, though they had lost their fortune, friends still remained, for one bid in Fanny's piano, and sent it to her; another secured certain luxurious articles for Mrs. Shaw's comfort; and a third saved such of Mr. Shaw's books as he valued most, for he had kept his word and given up everything, with the most punctilious integrity. Maud enjoys herself learning to housewife. Polly gives Fanny advice on freshening her wardrobe, such as turning her grey suit. Fanny used to give Maud her old dresses for tableaux. Polly’s story is based on real life. From LMA’s ”Recollections of My Childhood”: People wondered at our frolics, but enjoyed them; and droll stories are still told of the adventures of those days. Mr. Emerson and Margaret Fuller were visiting my parents one afternoon; and the conversation having turned to the ever-interesting subject of education, Miss Fuller said,-- "Well, Mr. Alcott, you have been able to carry out your methods in your own family, and I should like to see your model children." She did in a few moments,--for as the guests stood on the doorsteps a wild uproar approached, and round the corner of the house came a wheelbarrow holding baby May arrayed as a queen; I was the horse, bitted and bridled, and driven by my elder sister Anna, while Lizzie played dog and barked as loud as her gentle voice permitted. All were shouting, and wild with fun, which, however, came to a sudden end as we espied the stately group before us, for my foot tripped, and down we all went in a laughing heap, while my mother put a climax to the joke by saying with a dramatic wave of the hand,-- "Here are the model children, Miss Fuller!" Playing Grandmother Tom has a harder time than his sisters. He’s too bad at business to help his father so he hangs out with Mrs. Shaw. "I'd cut away to Australia if it wasn't for mother; anything, anywhere to get out of the way of people who know me. I never can right myself here, with all the fellows watching, and laying wagers whether I sink or swim. Hang Greek and Latin! wish I'd learned a trade, and had something to fall back upon. Haven't a blessed thing now, but decent French and my fists.” Oh my gosh I think Tom’s a millennial. Polly teaches Maud how to make raisin cake for Tom’s birthday. He receives two letters: one from Trix dumping him, and one from Arthur Sydney saying that’s he’s paid Tom’s debts. Tom, unwilling to owe him, decides to go West, young man, like Polly’s brother Ned. The Woman Who Did Not Dare POLLY wrote enthusiastically, Ned answered satisfactorily, and after much corresponding, talking, and planning, it was decided that Tom should go West. Never mind what the business was; it suffices to say that it was a good beginning for a young man like Tom, who, having been born and bred in the most conservative class of the most conceited city in New England, needed just the healthy, hearty, social influences of the West to widen his views and make a man of him. Polly goes home for the summer, Maud to the shore with Belle, and Fan stays home. I’m pretty sure Polly lives in Concord. Does she know the Marches? She returns to Boston in the fall and Fanny says have you been sick? No, it’s love. Polly gives vague answers and Fan replies that she thinks Sydney is starting to like her. She shows Polly a photo Tom sent and Polly’s face makes her go Aha. Winter passes, and in May Fan and Sydney get engaged. Tom’s Success "Come, Philander, let us be a marching, Every one his true love a searching," would be the most appropriate motto for this chapter, because, intimidated by the threats, denunciations, and complaints showered upon me in consequence of taking the liberty to end a certain story as I liked, I now yield to the amiable desire of giving satisfaction, and, at the risk of outraging all the unities, intend to pair off everybody I can lay my hands on. Tom comes home and tells Polly he loves her. "Now, Tom, how could I know you loved me when you went away and never said a word?" she began, in a tenderly reproachful tone, thinking of the hard year she had spent. "And how could I have the courage to say a word, when I had nothing on the face of the earth to offer you but my worthless self?" answered Tom, warmly. "That was all I wanted!" whispered Polly, in a tone which caused him to feel that the race of angels was not entirely extinct. I suppose if I liked Tom more the romance might work for me but I don’t and it doesn’t. Neither pairing seems to happen naturally, the narrative forces them together. Will marries Jane and Maud remains a spinster, “[keeping] house for her father in the most delightful manner.” The End and I’m glad of it! Next is Little Men.

[lesceriises]

—— ELISEU

CHARACTER AVAILABLE?: YES PINTEREST AVAILABLE?: YES FULL BIO AVAILABLE: YES but it’s pretty much all of it here but his full bio is available per request because i don’t think anyone cares about his married life in an indie blog lmao

IDENTITY

FULL NAME: eliseu augusto alvarez

AGE: verse dependent  

GENDER IDENTITY: male, him/he

SEXUAL IDENTITY: bisexual

HEAVENLY VIRTUE: diligence

DEADLY SIN: gluttony

IDENTIFYING TRAITS:

optimist, relentless, obsessive, good with numbers, abrasive, argumentative, workaholic, thinker, excellent brainstormer, charismatic, manipulative, reliable, enjoys creating order but can be very disorganized when it comes to his own space, superficially sociable, has difficulty expressing his emotion, covers up his true feelings either by working hard or with jokes and laughter, needs to sleep more, resilient, generous, disciplined, likes routine, confident but the inferiority complex strikes when he's around extremely successful people from wealthy backgrounds, chronically incapable of backing down from a challenge where he gets to either prove himself or prove that he’s right, 

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES:

a couple scars from his youth, wears glasses to read

HABITS:

reads every day before going to bed, drinks copious amounts of black tea and coffee, always carries at least two pens with him

HOBBIES:

avid reader, likes to draw in his spare time, plays the piano (not perfectly though), playing any kind of sport with his mates or kids, enjoys cooking when he has the patience/time

PET PEEVES:

people touching his work papers, people touching his desk in general, when people can't keep up with his train if thought, elitists 

SELF-ESTEEM: 5 externally 4 internally

OCCUPATION: verse dependent 

OTHER DEVELOPED VERSES: asoiaf, harry potter, historical 

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: ‎5 feet 9 inches (1.75 m)

HAIR & EYE COLOR: brown & brown

SENSE OF STYLE: decent albeit he's not a naturally fashionable person. his style - particularly as an adult - comes from copying those around him.

FACE CLAIM: tommy martinez, raul esparza, probably others idk

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS:

lucrecia alvarez anselmo alvarez

SIBLINGS:

timoteo (brother)   marisa (sister, deceased)   lizzie (half-sister)

OTHER NOTABLE FAMILY:

alice pattison (foster mother, deceased)   alex pattison (foster brother, deceased)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:  verse dependent: single, engaged, married, divorced, widower.

CHILDREN: extremely verse dependent. for the sake of practicality usually none. there’s a verse where he had a daughter when he was 19-22. in the verse where he’s married he has 12 which sounds absolutely insane but here’s the explanation: two are adopted (he took them in after his foster brother died), three are fostered, two died very young, and one died at 20. 

BASIC BIO

in february 1962 lucrecia and anselmo alvarez find out they are expecting their first child.

in may they decide to leave the only home they’ve ever known for what they know might be for good. 

the imprisonment and death of relatives and friends and three years later, the couple and their two small children finally make their way across the ocean to settle in whitby. his father becomes a fisherman and his mother (later on) a cleaner. 

eliseu is three years old when he sets foot in england. he doesn’t remember much of home and the things he does remember aren’t very happy ones - disorder, the sound of gunfire, crying. timoteo is five and it takes eliseu longer than he likes to admit that his older brother might remember a whole lot more than he does, and worse, that it might actually have a negative effect on him. eliseu's vague memories tell him two things and two things alone: his parents got lucky and he’ll never rely on luck, and that he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

- - -

his father leaves twice. once shortly after they arrive, and the second when eliseu is seven with a woman. both times, he ended up returning within a year.

his mother leaves when he’s twelve, she never returns.  she drops him and his siblings off at the pattison’s and eliseu and timoteo quickly run outside into the street with the neighbour’s children. they play by the harbor, and return at dusk ready to get their ears chewed off (almost proudly so), but instead they’re greeted by an unsettling quietness.

his father finds someone else quick enough - someone to ”watch the boys”, but when his father dies in a fishing accident two years later his step-mother leaves as well. the neighbour’s couple, who have watched them grow since they were children, decides to take them in. it was an easy choice to make really, the boys are always around and close with their own son anyway.

timoteo handles their mother’s abandonment and father’s death with understandable acts of anger and rebellion.

but he was never good at handling pain anyway.

eliseu, always more positive and worse at expressing his deep personal feelings, sees it as just another kind of callus - a psychological one - something that helps built resistance and muffle blows.

he tells himself the only way is forward.

(he doesn’t mourn his father, he doesn’t weep when his mother leaves, but he does grieve when  alice pattison succumbs to pneumonia - she always felt more of a mother to him than his own.)

- - -

bruised knuckles and busted lips aren’t foreign to eliseu.

the first time he gets into a fist fight he’s 9 years old, in the middle of the street, running up to the boy pushing his brother, body launched forward like a bullet.

he did it partly to defend his kin, partly to assert himself.

that’s the thing about being dirt poor in a shit neighborhood; if you don’t stick together and stand up for yourself, you’re as good as dead, and eliseu... well, eliseu has always been the kind of boy that would rather be taken unconscious to the closest hospital than to let his fists down.

- - -

he's thankful for his foster family. he feels weird calling them that even if that's what they are, they feel more like family, just family, and he's thankful for them, but even if they hadn't taken him (and his siblings, of course, although his foster brother sometimes feels more like his biological one than his own) in, eliseu would have found a way to make it. any way. his grades are spectacular, above average, and he knows very well how to play his story in his favour. he can never bring himself to make it sound like he's a victim, no, there's no room for pity. he's a smart kid, who's fighting tooth and nail to be more than his background, to be more than the chances he's given.

it's half god's honest true, half good marketing.

the kick of it is doesn't even recognize that what he's doing is marketing, it's all coming straight from the heart.

and it gets him into one of the best school's in the world.

- - -

oxford is a new world. he finds it all both pathetic and oddly inviting. the truth is, he likes to be part of the elite, but he likes it on his own terms, having come from where he did. it gives him a sense of superiority, like he deserves to be there more than most of his peers. even with a shit background and no trust fund he’s accomplished more than they have - he knows it, they know it, and if they don’t they’ll eventually find out. eliseu has no intention of hiding.

he’s not worried about keeping up with the course work. perhaps he should be, but his self-confidence doesn’t let him. he’s come this far, he knows his worth.

- - -

they shake hands at the end and he can feel the other squeeze his hand in a way that nearly makes a laugh fall from his lips as pride swells in his chest. eliseu could say he didn’t mean to humiliate the boy in their mock debate, but that’d only be partially true. a very small partially. like, 10% partially.

somehow he knows, not that deep down, that this moment will at some point come back to bite him in the ass.

and rich boys don’t like to wait around.

two days later, they’re forced out of the pub for causing a row, but the argument doesn’t cease. there’s four of them and one of him (well, technically two, but he would never ask his foster brother, who is just visiting, to step in).

it’s not the three pints he had earlier that make him feel relaxed about his current situation, it’s that he’s looking at skinny boys that probably came here straight from eton or jumped straight out of a burberry back-to-school ad, and he’s gone face to face with tobacco chewing scoundrels who worked in the docks on the weekends to make extra cash.

one of them comes a little too close but eliseu doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even budge or look bothered. before he can suggest them doing this another evening because he has class early in the morning, his face is violently pushed to the left. the punch wasn’t too painful - it hit him close to the eye and those never are - but it was jarring just the same, and eliseu needs to learn against the closest brick wall for a moment.

then a smirk spreads across his lips, it’s not cocky but involuntary, as a memory comes to him. the taste of blood lingers in his mouth like an old friend saying hello, welcome home.

he lurches forward.

rich people think they can get away with anything, but this is a battle that I-drink-dom-pérignon-at-breakfast twat didn’t win. correction, his daddy couldn’t win it for him.

eliseu is almost expelled but professors vouch for him. the other boy did throw some punches too, after all.

he gets lucky.

(and he hates it - he hates that he has relied on luck, he hates to be hated but there's something about being hated by posh people, even the ones he wants to impress, that makes him thrive off of it.)

- - -

he doesn't see it as betrayal.

it should have been xavier's son to become his protegé, that's the way things ought to go, but he's taken a liking to eliseu, the head-strong friend (a little more than a friend at times, perhaps) of his son that often spends time at their grand house.

rick has never been like the rest of them. eliseu doesn't know exactly what happened in his past (something about his mother, he told him once without going into detail) but he knows it has made him despise the world he grew up in. he doesn't think rick took a liking to him because it would piss off his family, he's not that kind of person, but if it had it had the opposite effect.

he doesn't see it as betrayal, but rick still goes on a bender, crashing his porshe against a bakery at 3am not a minute after he started the car. eliseu stands back across the street but he can still hear him say "you're worse than the lot of them." while lighting a cigarette as he forced the door of the car open with his feet, a bloody cut on his forehead.

it only makes xavier like his son less and eliseu more. 

[yesloverboy]

Trip of a Lifetime (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: Anon! 

“Could you do a story about tommy and the reader dropping acid and whatever they do on it is up to u😂 I think it'd be really cute and funny”

Note: I am sorry this is so late! I may have gotten a little carried away, but I wanted to make sure I did this prompt justice. It’s definitely been a hot minute since I’ve done psychedelics, but some of these events are inspired by true ones so let me know what you think. Enjoy! 

word count: 2,294

 It all started on a Saturday night. With you and your boyfriend Tommy having such busy schedules, the both of you had decided to take turns planning date nights. The way you figured it, taking turns would prevent one of you from feeling more responsible for maintaining the relationship over the other. So far it seemed to be working out nicely, and this time it was Tommy’s turn.  

 You and Tommy had been together for a few months now, and were still well into your phase of continually trying to impress one another. At this point, Mötley Crüe was really taking off, and you found yourself looking forward to your scheduled dates more and more as Tommy became increasingly less available. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t his fault that he was so preoccupied. There was no doubt in your mind that he and his romantic heart would be willing to move mountains for you; but that didn’t mean being apart never stressed you out. Sometimes you even wished you could slow down time just a little so that you wouldn’t always have to say goodbye to Tommy so soon. When you had told Tommy that, he just laughed and told you he would make it happen if he could. As always, you believed him.

 As you waited for Tommy to return home from his day at the studio, you couldn’t help but fidget in anticipation. When it was Tommy’s turn to plan dates, he always liked them to be a surprise for you. His spontaneous nature and childlike enthusiasm were just a few of his qualities you loved the most, and the dates he picked were a reflection of that. In just a few short months, Tommy had already taken you to more arcades, theme parks, concerts, and spontaneous road trips than you could keep track of. So as anxious as you were to see your boyfriend’s smiling face, you were just as excited to find out what he had in store for you.  

 When Tommy finally opened the door, you practically leapt into his open arms. In true Tommy fashion, he picked you up off the ground and spun you in a circle, eliciting a a chorus of giggles from the both of you.  

 “Well hey there, baby,” he cooed, kissing you gently, “someone sure is happy to see me.”

 You nuzzled his nose lovingly as he placed you back on the ground. “I just missed you is all.” Even though Tommy had put you down, you still felt like you were hovering above the earth, your heart light and carefree.

 “So what’s the plan for the night, rockstar?” You knew rockstar was a cheesy nickname, but the blush that would color Tommy's face made it all worth it. More than anything in the universe, Tommy wanted to play music that the rest of the world loved, and you always knew in your heart that he would do it. 

 “I thought maybe we could go on a little trip,” he smiled wryly, his eyes meeting yours with a mischievousness he normally reserved for inside jokes.

 “Where?” Your arms were still firmly fastened around Tommy’s neck, keeping the space between the two of you to a minimum.

 To your chagrin, Tommy unwrapped his hands from your waist, and reached for the pocket of his leather jacket. “Not that kind of trip, dude,” he said, pulling out a plastic bag, “this kind of trip.”

 You looked at the plastic bag, your face lighting up as you spotted two little squares of paper with skulls printed on them. 

 Acid. 

 You couldn’t believe it. It had been so long since you’d tripped that you almost didn’t remember what it was like. Still you craved an escape, something to take you and Tommy far away without ever having to leave the home you shared. It was perfect.

 “You told me once that you wanted to slow down time,” Tommy continued, “so I thought we might give it a shot.”

 “Oh my god, Tommy!” you squealed, delighted that he had been paying such close attention to how you’d been feeling lately. “I never thought I’d say this, but you might be a genius.” You stood on your tiptoes, gripping the sides of his angular face to kiss plant a kiss on his lips.

 Tommy tried to look offended, but his act quickly dissolved under the smile on his face. “God, do you always have to be so mean?”

 “Isn’t that why you love me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes in mock innocence.

 Tommy just ruffled your hair in response, causing you to groan in protest. “Do you wanna take these for a spin, or what?” he asked, laughing at your irritated pout.  

 “Fine,” you huffed, “hit me.” You stuck out your tongue, signalling Tommy that you were ready to get the night going. This is it, you though, quickly accepting the fact that the two of you would ultimately be housebound for the evening.

 Tommy reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a single tab. With a careful hand, he placed it on the tip of your tongue. Closing your mouth, you let it slowly dissolve. You’re not sure what you expected this time around, but it tasted like nothing just as you remembered. Soon after, Tommy did the same and all that was left was to wait for those little squares of paper to work their magic.

 “Wanna watch a movie? Maybe order a pizza?”

 You smiled up at Tommy, reveling in the fact that so many wonderful things in life could be so simple. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

 It took some bickering, but eventually you and Tommy agreed to put your copy of Halloween in the old VCR. You had been worried that watching a scary movie would trigger a bad trip, but Tommy reassured you that his hilarious commentary would get you through it. You relented, but solely on the condition that he would hold you the entire time.

 About thirty minutes into the movie, you noticed the image on the television began to vibrate softly, the colors pulsating and running together as if they might drip right out of the screen and onto the bedroom floor. You turned your head to look at Tommy to see if he was seeing the same thing, twisting against the hold he had on your body. To your amazement, he wasn’t looking at the screen at all. Instead his eyes were fixed on you.

 You watched carefully as his the blue of his eyes seemed to shift colors, ranging from their usual denim blue to bleeding with vibrant yellows and greens. Even though Tommy’s eyes were locked on yours, it seemed as though he was looking somewhere beyond where you were sitting.

 “Dude,” Tommy whispered, his voice soft and distant, “you’re so beautiful.”

 “No, you,” you argue, the blood in your veins humming with the same softness that crept in and out of the edge of your vision when you looked at Tommy. It was almost as if your body was vibrating softly under his touch, making the rest of the world feel warmer and brighter. In that moment, it was so amazing to you that Tommy could call you beautiful when he was clearly the most mesmerizing thing in the room. It was then you thought that maybe, just maybe you could love him forever.

 Tommy just rolled his eyes, “Oh please, you’re, like, a work of art,” he stated, moving his hands about animatedly, “just like that–wait what’s she called? The Moaning Liza?”

“You mean the Mona Lisa?” you asked, throwing your head back with laughter.

 Playfully, Tommy tried to put one of his large hands over your face to shut you up, but you were able to wrestle out from his grip with happy tears leaking out of your eyes.

 “Oh come on, Y/N! You know I didn’t do well in history.” At this point, Tommy was laughing too. “My point was that you don’t just look like any old work of art– but a priceless one. One that people cross oceans to see.”

 You gazed at your boyfriend lovingly, and firmly believed that the secret to eternal happiness was hiding somewhere behind those beautiful, kaleidoscope eyes. The hum in your body was growing more persistent by the second, and suddenly your head was flooded with a hundred different ideas all at once. However, one stuck out to you over the others and you couldn’t help but wonder if Tommy would be on board with it.

 Getting up abruptly, you made your way over to your bedroom, seeking out an old box of acrylic paints. The paints were leftover from your attempt at being an artist a couple of years ago, and you figured there was no better time to give it a try again than the present.

 You found the box almost immediately as the yellow light from your closet rained down in glowing droplets above your head. The dripping light seemed to lead you right to where the box was nestled, and for a moment you wondered why you thought it’d be so hard to find it in the first place.  

 Strutting back into the living room triumphantly, you held the box of paints securely in your arms. To your amusement, Tommy’s gaze was now transfixed on the ceiling fan above his head, his eyes following the blades closely as they spun.

 “Tommy!” you tapped at his shoulder and immediately he snapped back to reality. “I have an idea.”

 “What is it?” he still had his signature, goofy smile but his eyes were unblinking. You wanted to laugh, but suddenly couldn’t remember the last time you’d blinked either. Realizing it didn’t matter, you set the box of paints in his lap.

 “We shout paint each other! Well, not actually like paint each other, but paint on each other. Sounds fun, right?”

 “Okay, but if we do I’m going first,” Tommy’s happy expression was replaced with a more determined one, “‘cause if you don’t believe you’re a work of art I’m just going to have to make you believe me.”

 Unable to resist, you gave Tommy a peck on the cheek. “Alright, baby. Whatever you say goes.”

 “Where should I start?” Tommy asked, rummaging through the selection of colors. “Your back maybe? I feel like there’s probably more room.”

 You just shrugged and pulled your shirt up and over your head, allowing it to fall limp on the arm of the couch. Grabbing one of the extra cushions, you placed it on the carpeted floor so you could lay comfortably while Tommy set to work.

 “So, what are you going to paint, Mr. Lee?” you asked, laying flat on your stomach. The carpet itched at your bare skin, the fibres swaying back and forth against the pressure of your body.

 Tommy sat beside you with his legs crossed, the box of paints accompanying him at his spot on the floor. “Hmmm, can’t tell ya. It’s a secret.”

 “Fine then,” you smile, “have it your way.”

 Without warning, Tommy squirted a few drops of paint straight from the tube and onto your bare back. “Fuck, that’s cold!” you hiss, squirming uncomfortably against the rough carpet.

 “It’ll be worth it, dude. Promise.” Tommy chuckled softly, adding more drops of paint from various bottles to the canvas of your body. 

 After a while, you were surprised to find that the cold from the paint was soothing the buzz of your body high quite a bit. The ebb and flow of Tommy working the paint into patterns on your back sent tingles of electricity from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

 Tommy didn’t talk much while he painted, apparently putting all of his concentration into whatever he was creating. Even though you couldn’t see his face while laying down, you’d be willing to bet he looked just as deep in focus painting as he did while writing a song. You couldn’t help but hum happily, feeling more than content just being alone with Tommy.

 Evidently, Tommy had noticed your level of relaxation and laughed quietly to himself.

 “What’s funny?” you ask, wanting so desperately to know what was going on in Tommy’s head during his trip.

 “Nothing,” the smile in Tommy’s voice was obvious, even if you couldn't see it, “it’s just– do you ever think about how crazy this all is?”

 “How crazy what is?”

 “This.” he insisted, “the fact that, of all the people in the world, and of all the time that’s passed...we got to meet. Just you and me, and the rest of the world.”

 Your mouth fell open in awe, unable to believe the love and passion that radiated from Tommy’s words.

Just you and me, and the rest of the world.

 Tommy’s profound observation flashed bright red in your mind, glittering against the backs of your eyelids like the Las Vegas strip at nighttime.

 “I think I’m going to say it,” Tommy continued, unphased by your moment of silence, “You’re the love of my life. No matter if it’s this life, or the next one–or maybe even the one after that. If there is one, I think it’s always going to be you.”

 The tenderness in Tommy’s voice hung in the air with all the softness of a passing cloud. Even though you knew that the both of you were tripping, no amount of chemicals could alter the way you felt about Tommy in that moment.  

 “You’re the love of my life, too” you repeat back, meaning every single word of it, “I don’t ever want to be anywhere if it’s not with you. Loving you is the trip of a lifetime.”

Masterlist