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zozophoenixxx · 3 years

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Serotonin Booster :D 🐉

How to train your dragon edition

Here are some things I had forgotten or little details I just noticed on my rewatch, maybe even Unpopular Opinions 🤭👀

✨Race to the Edge ✨

SEASON 5

Meatlug and Toothless messing around in ep1 when Hiccup and Fishlegs are trying to figure out how to stabilize the island 🥺

I remember when I first watched this I was actually in bio and hearing Ruff and Tuff talk about symbiosis was like " WOW IM LEARNING THAT" 😂😂😂

Symbiotic relationship - symbiosis is the interaction between organisms living in close physical association to the advantage of both

It can lead to -> parasitism - a non-mutual symbiotic relationship between species where the parasite benefits at the expense of the host

- Hookfang and Snotlout have a parasitic relationship JAHDHAHSHA

wait I like that instead of calling a relationship toxic now imma be like "this shii is parasitic peace out ✌🏼️"

HICCSTRID FOREHEAD KISSES OMG😭

I like how Barf and Belch are incredibly strong, I feel like it's a fact that's usually ignored about them

Astrid: *talking about Garf* that dragon has a lot of fight in him

Hiccup: *while placing his hand on her shoulder* he's not the only one

I can't ok I love them too much 🥺

WAIT I JUST NOTICED THE FORESHADOWING WHEN THE TWINS WERE REFERRING TO JOHAN AS A PARASITE OMG 😳

THE BETROTHAL NECKLACE 😭😭😭

Fishlegs licking Astrid's hand is hilariousss nonono it's just that scene in general when Fishlegs is trying to help Astrid find the betrothal gift for Hiccup and she judo-flips him and then sits on him like 🤔

Sandbuster - doesn't like the light. Lives underground.

Astrid riding Toothless to save Hiccup. Just badass.

Hiccup giving Astrid the betrothal necklace and telling her that it's ok that she didn't get him anything bc she's the best gift in the world 🥺

And their hug and the way he moved her out of harm's way whenever Snotlout threw the sword

Still sad abt Shattermaster being replaced by the Triple Stryke

I really liked ep3 whenever they were in Berserker island bc we got to see them actually fighting in battle without their dragons it was pretty cool

The beginning of ep4 is also hilarious I can't with Astrid and Snotlout fighting and then also Astrid beating him up JAHDHAHSHA

- I also always wanted to know what Snotlout said to her 😭😭😭 all of them were just extremely concerned and shocked and Snotlout even had to leave the Edge UGH AHZHZHAG

Atali and the Wingmaidens 👏🏼🤩

"Males would neither understand, nor would they be helpful." Atali is a queen

Vanaheim - the last resting place of all dragons

"Sadness is a matter of perspective. It is how you choose to view something that makes it happy, scary, intriguing, or sad"

Ok so is Stormfly a tracker-class dragon or a sharp-class dragon?

Sentinels - Know all the dragons so they know how to deal with each of their tactics. Run Vanaheim. Have never encountered night furies. Good trackers. Blind. They tend to the island

OMG I FORGOT THAT VANAHEIM IS THE SKELETON OF THE KING OF DRAGONS

HAND HOLDING AND KISSES UFFF THANK U

Hiccstrid kiss count: 3😘

It's the way it's so realistic too, the way he smiles at her, the way he holds her hand and looks at her, the way she puts her hand on his chest and he lightly touches it with his free hand I just can't they're too perfect

Snotlout's excitement to see that Fishlegs was Fishlegs again and not Thor Bonecrusher- I mean the dude went running towards him🥺

I love how Hiccup just knows when Astrid's thinking about something

SPARRING HICCSTRID UGHHH I LOVE THIS SCENE

The way he's just in such a good mood afterwards 🥺

The scene leading up to the moonlight flight in ep7. I love them so much.

Hiccstrid Scene: ep7 min 5:42 -> 7:24

Meatlug's shot was the first to free a Singetail from a dragon flyer

Just realized that Johan not being able to get Hiccup's oil was probably also part of a plan to get them away from the edge to attack

Ok but Snotlout actually taking the initiative to be the leader while Hiccup and Astrid were away

The edge 🥺and when he destroyed his own Hut 🥺 I can't 🥺

I love how Mala and Throk were both trying to put the gang in a better mood

Silicates makes Meatlug drool

Tuffnut's Spanish is amazing we love to see a bilingual king✋🏼👑

Just realized that Krogan's name is well... Krogan. I never actually paid attention to the dude.

OMG WE GET TO SEE DRAGO IN THIS SEASON THIS IS CRAZY

I really like the twins in the Wings of War Episodes, the way they attempt to speak Spanish and start pronouncing the Rrrrrrrrs

Spitelout too lmao the way he helped Hiccup 🤩

It was also Spitelout the one that figured out that the Singetails don't like the altitude

I really love how Hiccup actually found a way to fight the flyers without hurting the Singetails, OMG IT REMINDS ME OF AANG when everyone was telling him to just kill the FIRELORD he found the right way

Tuff has a feet fettish

Stormfly and Garff messing around is too funny I love them sm 😭

Snotlout can be so sad sometimes

The twins singing >>

And that hug between Stormfly and Garff, they're just adorable 🥺🤧

HAHDHSHAHA THE WAY ASTRID LOOKED AT FISHLEGS WHENEVER THE SLITHERWINGS SHOWED

Slitherwings - very poisonous dragons! Even their skin is coated in poison. Like snake appearance. Not much is known about its poison and how it works but there is an antidote -> combination of angel fern root, pine sap and Slitherwing venom. The skin coating protects them from Garff's amber

Stormfly is such a badass omg I love her sm the way she protected Garff

Garff is an excellent shot according to Fishlegs

Fishlegs telling Astrid to look at him is just adorable, the way he wanted her to feel better 😭

Have I mentioned how much I love lil Hiccstrid moments? They dont even have to be romantic but just them? Like he just lightly touched her shoulder and told her to be strong and be there for Stormfly 🥺

Snotlout actually being worried about Astrid 🤧

I will never get over Astrid and Stormfly's relationship and how close they are, they would do anything for each other and Astrid just proved that by going up to the Slitherwing and PUNCHING THE LIL SHIT just to get Stormfly the antidote. AND WHEN SHE STARTED CRYING!!! As Tuffnut said "no one has ever prepared us for something like this"

And the Ruffnut being there for her and protecting her 😭😭😭

Astrid can actually draw

Still pissed about the fact that Hiccup never knew Astrid got poisoned NOW I NEED TO READ A FANFIC ON IT

That scene in Snuffnut [ep11] where Throk arrives to take Ruffnut as his wife is too funny. The way Astrid is pissed since the beginning and both Hiccup and Fishlegs are like "umm nope" AND WHEN HICCUP TAKES ASTRID OUT OF THE SCENE AND ALL YOU CAN HEAR IS HIM SCREAMING AND THESE RANDOM NOISES 😩😩😩😂

It really bothered me that Astrid had to stay behind in Looking for Oswald... And Chicken [ep12] just to take care of the twins when we could've had some Hiccstrid 😩😭 but it makes sense because Astrid is the only one Hiccup can actually trust on to keep things under control because even though Fishlegs is kinda sane neither the twins nor Snotlout would listen to him and Snotlout would definitely join the twins or just make things worse somehow. I mean they've both proven themselves to be fully capable but well- yk... Astrid is just Astrid

Astrid and Stormfly's faces whenever the twins said they needes a dragon that loves tracking and chicken😭😂😩

Chicken covering her tracks and Snotlout as narrator 😂

Omg Dagur saw Oswald's dead body... He even had to bury him and wow-

Grim Gnashers - hunters that prey on the sick dragons in Vanaheim.

Chicklet🐥🐥🐥🐥

SNOTLOUT'S TAN LINE OMGGG

"Please let me hurt him. Please? Just-- just a little?"JAHSHAHAJAJ I LOVE AGGRESSIVE DAGUR

Fishlegs saying that "Snotlout can actually be pretty handy in an air battle" is so true. Like we mostly see Snotlout as this dumb, sarcastic, rebellious dude who doesn't care about anyone but himself and but that's actually not true he's actually caring and will fight for the ones he loves but he won't say that because he cares too much about what others think of him 😭

I really dislike Johan sm u guys don't understand like I used to like him and feel bad whenever ppl cut him short but ughhhhhhh it's the subtle things too like him telling Heather to give them the dragon eye, him screaming in Snotlout's ear, not extending his hand to grab Heather, and him putting his hand out to "grab" the lens but just causing Snotlout to drop it

The way Heather jumped to get Windshear and the way Windshear kept telling her to leave and save herself

Archipelago gold = The clouds of corn = pop corn

I can't believe I'm about to start season 6 this is actually so sad

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 3 years

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Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her.

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered.

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

#jerome velaska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader

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sirensmojo · 3 years

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"KINDRED",3 - Tommy Shelby x Reader.

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Warnings: Swearing, drugs, romance, drama & cheating.

Word Count: 5K

❰ Previous Chapter

*Shelby Brother Company Limited, Birmingham*

“Michael’s a pain in the ass.”

You and Tommy were seated one in front of the other in Tommy’s office, it was almost midnight.

You both stared at each other after your affirmation, the need to formulate words obsolete, when all of a sudden, a hiccup hit your throat.

“Wow.” Your brows raised, along with your free hand, patting over your chest.

Only the booze could bring them to talk, but they would forget everything the next morning, or that, they pretended so. Everything the other would say was rooted in the other’s heart, as a prize.

“I could maybe try something.” You calmly spoke, as if a flash of thunder lightning struck some idea into you.

You two had dirty hands and were capable of taking care of yourselves, but those past three, you got each other’s back.

Without knowing it, you were keeping a close eye on the business of the other just in case.

If the Peaky Blinder found something wrong concerning your business, he would take care of it, in the shadows of course.

No need to tell you he quite cared when he wasn't sure himself.

It was also working the other way, you had ears at each side of the continent, you what had happened to the Shelby politician without him telling you, and straightened back up every shaky thing.

“ ‘Bout what?” Tommy asked, pouring some more whiskey in the cup resting in your other hand.

‘The two partners trying to get rid of Mosley’ had become an excuse. The silence each brought to the other was addictive, and the days between each meeting only amplified that obsession.

“Speak sense to his wife. Given the situation, I think both the weak and tuff points of Michael’s scheme are her.”

Tommy frowned, thinking deeper about what you told. You weren’t entirely wrong, he doubted Michael would’ve betrayed him without the support of somebody.

“He was pushed to one side, a little push to the other one will make him think right.” Y/L/N got further.

An evening meeting was programmed weekly.

You started meeting at the library during the first week. Then, the Shelby Brother Company Limited’s office, catching the attention of another member of the Shelby family.

“You think it’ll be this easy?” The peaky blinder asked, sprinkling ash onto the ashtray that was on the table that separated you two.

“It’ll have to.” You responded.

Polly was the first one to confront Tommy directly about the presence of a very well dressed woman far too often in the offices.

“Her hair is nice.” She added, smoking on her cig looking intently at Tommy's gleaming eyes at the mention of the so-called “librarian”.

Because that was how he presented Y/N. A girl from an aristocratic family searching for exoticism and bought a library.

He and you were to work together solely due to his status at the House of Commons, none more none less.

But the Gray woman knew better, even if she refused to push the matter further.

“May God keep Arthur away from her, he’ll eat her for his lunch.” Pol’ tease before she shook her head at her own statement as Tommy coughed away this whole discussion.

(...)

Three knocks could be heard on the Gray’s room door in the Midland hotel.

The entrance opens, “Told you I’ll join you in a minute, Gin--” Michael’s voice stopped as soon as his wife abruptly pushed her shoulders to his to enter the room.

“What are you doing?” One of his hands was in his suit pocket, the other one grabbing the door handle.

She hassled to the phone, dialling a number without even glancing at the Gray.

“Gina?” Asked the man, looking intently at the movements of the woman, blinking slowly.

She refused to address him, waiting patiently until the person she was calling responded.

“What is going on? What do you mean our contacts were offered another deal?”

Michael went closer, and as he was sitting on the desk chair, leaning backwards on it, he started to understand what was going on.

“Anyway, we can still offer them to prosper durably, that man can’t say the same, right?”

She rolled her eyes at herself after remaining silent for some minutes, she was listening to the individual at the end of the line.

It was more than clear she was done with everything.

She wasn’t even slightly “happy” to be in the shit hole that was Birmingham as she, herself, qualified multiple times. The only reason she was here was that Michael didn’t want to properly betray his cousin.

He convinced her to come here and resonate with Tommy about a “normal succession”, but she knew damn well it wouldn’t work. Why would he give everything he spent so much time to gather under the pretext of succession?

Tommy wasn’t the type to give up things, for any reason.

And now that they were away from New York, their allies already started to forget about their promises…

Why did she even agree to let Tommy a chance?

“He didn’t fall for Michael’s plan. We will have to do it our way.” She seemed happy at least, to finally be able to handle the matter how she wanted to, which was the only good news about this call.

When the receptionist asked for her at the restaurant, she’d expected to be told all was ready there and that Michael would only have to give the order for the plan to begin. But no.

Gina hung up the phone before she lifted her eyes to her husband that was staring at her, patiently waiting.

“It was my uncle, some man going by the name of Haynes met with all of our contacts, offering them a greater alliance directly with the Chinese, without needing us as intermediaries.” She finally spoke.

The younger Gray looked away, clenching his jaw as a hand came over his face. He let out a long sigh, his body voicing his displeasure. But his wife’s hand came on his shoulder as she leaned on his back, and murmured near his ear:

“But. He says it’s looking like the perfect time to launch plan B, baby.” She grabbed his chin as she turned around to stand in front of him.

“He says it’ll show them we can also ‘bang’ if it’s needed. It’ll be like showing our hand, and in this case, this is the thing to do.”

One of her hands was on Michael’s thigh as the other was still holding his face so he was looking at her. It was a way to say “focus on me” without actually saying it.

As the man was diving into her brown eyes, it seemed she succeeded at keeping him from thinking too much. She gave answers before he could even formulate questions.

By his silence, Gina surmised Michael still wasn’t sure about the plan.

“We did it your way Michael, coming all the way up here to your cousin’s chaotic decisions. Things need to get in order, baby. And it seems like you’re the one that cares enough to do so.” The words left her mouth so lightly as she straightened up and turned her back to her husband.

“We need to go back to America as soon as possible. You promised our child will be born there.” She added, glancing at him above her shoulder.

(...)

Arthur and the boys had convinced Tommy to relax at the Garrison after a long day. Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he slammed the doors open to a packed place.

Ahead of them were approximately twenty women, all dolled up as if coming from the Eden club in London. Very short hair with the golden headband with feathers, embroidered pearls on their cotton dresses made it known they were from high society.

Some of them were dancing in the middle of the room, while others were singing on the counter zigzagging between glasses and bottles.

It was the first time Tommy had seen most of those people.

He was actively searching their faces trying to locate the reason for their presence when his eyes confirmed his thought. You were dancing, turning on yourself holding the hand of a taller woman.

You had on a black & red dress going down to your knees with a black and gold headband that flattened your hair, forcing your finger waves to frame your face. Your slow and haunting movements were wrinkling the fabrics, complementing your silhouette.

As you were spinning around, the fringes of your dress were flying in the air as well as your hair, adding to your alluring dance.

Your cheeks, certainly reddened by the alcohol and your half-opened eyes due to you boozing with the huge grin that illuminated your face, made Tommy’s eyes twinkle. As if it was a beautiful night sky full with stars he was looking at.

“Who’s that Tommy?” Arthur questioned entering right after the Shelbys head.

“Get in the room, I’ll bring the bottles.” Tom’s low voice ordered as he motioned to the little room near the counter.

Finn and Isaiah hassled to the room without wasting any more minutes, too appealed by the idea of getting drunk while Arthur leaned to his brother’s ear.

“Look at that butterfly Tommy, isn’t she lovely?” He asked after he caught the reason for Tommy's order.

The latter dismissed the discomfort with a rough cough, turning to his brother.

“What about you fetch the bottles, eh?” He simply put, and that was enough for Arthur to leave it there.

“Whiskey for the peaky boys!” He exclaimed as he patted Tommy’s shoulder. He managed his way behind the counter, after which, he took what he was searching for and disappeared behind the large doors of the little room he closed behind himself.

Tom stayed there, looking at you for some time trying to understand which one of the facades he had seen was the real you.

You were now sitting on your friend's lap, legs crossed, your lips were alternating between a long cigarette holder and a glass of what Tommy surmised to be whiskey knowing the character.

Giving up on searching for an answer, he turned his heels and joined his brothers as if nothing had happened.

(...)

Coming out of the car, you looked both ways before crossing the street and joining the large wooden door, a hand in your suit’s pocket, the other leading a cigarette to your lips.

You pushed in the door and were met by two pairs of eyes. A tall young white man, with a dark-skinned one, wearing berets.

Without second glancing at them, you confidently walked to the stairs at the end of the large room, making this place your own.

Your heels resonated on the cold hard ground, and as they did, each man in the building turned to you, staring in both awe and confusion.

Coming down the stairs, you passed by the three little training rings before you sat down at a little table in front of one of them. It was two men fighting, one who had a luxuriant moustache hiding his upper lips, freckles sprinkling his face.

He was screaming at the other one with a thick Birmingham accent, “Come ‘ere, boy.”

“Hit me! Hit me!” His tone was louder each time.

The poor man ahead of him didn’t dare to punch, which he certainly regretted after he received a strong right fist in the jaw.

Only a couple punches later the loud man succeeded at putting down the other that was wincing in pain.

“Yeaa” The moustache man exclaimed before being interrupted by one of the two boys you saw earlier.

“Arthur! There’s a--” He stopped dead at the sight of you, and you put your cig in between your lips as you got up, beginning to applause.

The sound resonated against the walls as no one was making any noise. You grabbed back the cigarette with your fingers and moved closer.

“Do you fight? I know great opponents,” you paused, feigning to think. “not so sure they will stand even for a round with you.” You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.

They both looked at you up and down for a whole minute before the named Arthur opened his mouth, even if still struggling to properly breathe, he smacked his lips as his hands went flattening his hair.

“Searching for exotism, love?” He grabbed the towel he was handed by a small chubby man with a hat. “Bet you liked what ya see.” Arthur decided to make it normal for a woman to come to sit and watch men fight.

“Indeed.” You let out, a curious gleam in your eyes.

He turned to the man on his side that leaned in his ear, murmuring something.

Arthur let out a deep “Hmm” before he got out of the ring.

He glanced at you and decided to keep up the talk.

“I don’t fight like this, it’s just for---”

“Fun?” You interrupted him, your eyes still fixed on his figure. His stare encountered yours before he put on a shirt. He grabbed the filled cup off the table.

“Curly, Tommy needs you in Charlie’s yard. Finn, you go with them.” He was pointing at the men and to the door up the stairs as if dismissing them.

So the man handed him things was going by “Curly” and the boy, Finn.

“What you doing here? It’s not some place for you.” He buttoned up his pants.

You scoffed at his affirmation, leading him to look up at you.

“I like some good fights, is that forbidden, Mr Shelby?” You came nearer, throwing the rest of your cig in his cup.

You were standing right in front of him, taking the bow tie hanging on the half wall of the ring and slowly led it to his neck. He took a step back, but you stepped forward, blocking him against the ring sides.

“You know Tommy?” Arthur felt the need to say something, the situation being extremely odd to him.

You gently put in place the bow and looked up to Arthur’s face, from his pale skin to his eyes. You stayed there a whole minute, analyzing his soul throughout the blue spring sky of his glassy eyes.

“I’d like to see you fight more. In real rings, Arthur. Why don’t you use the boxing place, it’s not far from here.” You turned your heels, walking back to the chair.

He looked at your figure, his eyes blankly fluttering for a moment. Needless to say, the minute you stared at him was displeasing, he was feeling as if he was robbed of something.

He ignored the warning and grabbed his boots, before he installed himself on the other chair around the little table, wanting to hear more about your offer.

“You fight good, but with some real training you could be something else.” You offered him a cigarette that he refused.

You were testing him from the very moment you put your feet in this cave, from checking how to open his mind was to his relation with poison such as cigarettes.

And now that you know everything you need to know, you could offer something.

“You’re some sort of agent?” He asked, intrigued.

You shook your head “Did you ever imagine women fighting? Just like you did, perhaps slightly better” You questioned, teasing him on the end.

His only response was to look at you in disbelief, and you bet he didn’t even understand what you told him.

“There is a world that exists, right here in Birmingham. Wanna go out and see?” You motioned your head toward the door, inviting him to agree with you.

It wasn’t that hard to convince the elder Shelby brother, he was always open to seeing more of life. Even if that meant to beat the shit outta people, get drunk, fuck the whole city or drowning in drugs.

The thing with Arthur was that he wasn’t careful enough, what told him it wasn’t a trap and that he will not get kidnapped or even killed if he followed you? Nothing. Nothing was ever sure with him, but leaving on the edges was something like his daily prayer, so of course he said yes.

Why in the hell would he say no? Tommy could do without him today.

(...)

Tommy had an unexpected visit from Churchill himself. It seemed like the latter had taken a liking to the head of the Shelbys.

“Do what you have to do, Mr Shelby.” Were Churchill’s words toward the reason for his visit, Mosley.

Indeed, he had thought out a concrete plan. And surprisingly, it was thanks to the books you sent him over the weeks, it was almost worth getting harassed by her over the primar book.

The plan was simple, Mosley will make a speech a week and a half from now, the 6th, in Bingley hall. Taking advantage of an anti-fascist demonstration during the rally, an old war comrade named Barney will shoot, and to be cleared of any suspicion, Thomas will be standing right next to Mosley at the time of his death, making sure he’ll take the head of the fascist union.

Today’s meeting was to explain details of the plan and what needed to be done before the d-day, but Tom didn’t see his brother during the entire day and when he’d asked the boys he was responded that Arthur stayed training some more.

It was hard at times, even for him to understand his older brother.

Not that he wanted to, but normally Arthur would never miss a meeting. The only times he didn’t show up were when he was overwhelmed with dark thoughts, and it wasn’t the right time for something like that to occur.

He decided to come to the pub, hoping to see his brother there, drunk, but not in a random cave trying to end his life.

Tom opened the Garrison’s doors, coughing at the amount of smoke coming in his face. He squinted his eyes, at first searching for a fire, but the more smoke entered his nostrils, the more he recognized the smell of apples and red fruits.

“Arthur, what the hell?” he called.

The place was crowded but Tommy’s eyes were focused on his brother, installed at the table near the windows.

He walked to the table and motioned to the windows. “Open one of these.” He ordered, but his brother didn’t see nor hear him. He was too occupied smoking on what seemed like a pipe with a long tube from where came the smoke.

“Oi!” Tommy yelled.

As everyone around the table turned to him, his eyes met with someone he would’ve never expected to be here.

Y/N was previously actively discussing with some girls when someone shouted into her ear.

You stared at Tommy for what seemed an eternity, he doing the same, both asking themselves what the other was doing here.

“Tommy!” His brother exclaimed, louder than he needed to. But this one was too occupied looking at you to even glance toward his brother, that well noticed the stare between you two.

Arthur managed to get up and pat his brother’s shoulder, welcoming him properly.

That’s when he turned to him, incredulous. His icy blue eyes were piercing his brothers, relentlessly.

“Welcome to the new Birmingham, brother!” Arthur seemed ecstatic. “Did you fucking know there were women fighting too, Tommy?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Arthur.” His brother shook his head, still looking at him.

“Boxing, he saw women boxing for the first time.” You entered the conversation to Tommy's displeasure. He looked over you blankly.

“What the fuck is this?” He pointed to the thing Arthur was smoking from previously.

“It’s called a hookah. Or a shisha in percian.” You responded even though he decided to ignore you for who knows what reason.

“Come on, brother, it’s the good life, isn’t it?” Arthur asked, seeing the face of Tommy next to him.

He ultimately pointed back to the windows, “Open those.” Was all he said before turning back and leaving the pub.

“Sergent Major!” You authoritatively called, the heavy Garrison’s doors making a thud as they closed behind you.

The stars were twinkling dimly in the bright sky, cleared of any cloud. It added phlegm to the frenzied atmosphere between the two individuals.

He was already walking in the opposite direction but immediately stopped at the mention of his Small Heath Rifles’ rank.

Thomas turned back. “What did you say?”

You decide to ignore him and start walking to him.

Each of your steps snapped with the fortitude of an army. And the fineness with which you balance your weight from one foot to the other could bewilder the fiercest individuals, that, he knew.

Not a single ounce of hesitation nor apprehension in your movements.

But the most unsettling thing Tommy found about you was your facial expression. It wasn’t closed off or concentrated, quite the reverse, the spark settling behind your iris could light up any type of darkness and you were undoubtedly giving slices of life to each person you would smile to.

The addition of your features creating a delicate dimension where it was possible to believe the best things could happen.

At that moment, Tom wished he hadn’t seen you at that library. You were something he couldn’t overfly even if he dared to. But for some reasons he wasn’t able to move on, swayings seizing his entire being, physically as well as mentally.

There was just something about this, him and you.

“What the hell did you think, you that act like the most intelligent of all fucking Birmingham and beyond. My fucking brother doesn’t need none of that!” Tommy wasn’t screaming, but you could hear in his deep tone the anger rooted in his throat.

“He doesn’t need it or you don’t want him to have it, Thomas?” You calmly stated, which made him turn his back at you, passing a hand over his face.

You were pushing him to the edge and that made you laugh, which you didn’t even try to muffle.

He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“You wanted this.” He pointed you with his index.

He was accusing you of wittingly driving him crazy and you couldn’t even deny it.

You grabbed his finger with your own hand and pushed it down without releasing it.

“No, I counted on it.” You started, your lips curling into a smile that didn’t escape Tommy’s gaze.

“Life’s a succession of wars, Tom. But soldiers too need to relax.”

No one had ever put a finger on that nerve, but here he was, gazing longingly into your orbs, your words resonating within him.

You wasn’t only talking about Arthur and the fact he needed to be distracted to stay away from dark thoughts. You were also talking about him, that didn’t have to take care of everything as you were there now to handle some of it.

“I promise you I know what I’m doing.”

He leaned backwards, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

Why were you promising things now? The last time you two were that close, it was you that ran away, and now you were the one initiating things to drift from professional to personal.

You sighed and looked down. That’s when you realized both your hands were locked together.

You frowned, remaining silent. You were shocked, but not as much as you should. You weren’t totally stupid, the feelings settling in you were pretty clear once you stopped pushing them aside.

Soon enough he followed your stare, noticing the thing as well.

Both of you released at the same time, looking at everything but the other.

Tommy coughed, fighting the will to be the one saying something in this situation. But he didn’t want you to escape him again this time.

“I’m dealing with Arthur, you don’t have to put your nose in my affairs. It’s not part of the deal.”

You’d preferred he hadn’t spoken. You rolled your eyes at yourself before throwing him the “really?” look.

“You can’t even deal with Michael and you’re telling me you’re dealing with Arthur.” You scoffed, putting a hand on your lips to muffle the sound of your laugh.

His body relaxes at your gigglings.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re foolin’?” You couldn’t hold the laugh back any more.

He didn’t respond, nor act on what you just said. He just stares at you, filled with joy at the simple sight of you being vulnerable.

A smile drew at the corner of your lips when you stopped mocking him.

Your eyes fluttered of wellness, as he was just standing close, doing nothing else than breathing.

Tommy grabbed a cig and put it in between his lips, but you hassled to steal it and lock it between yours.

He glanced at you, raising his brows. He was done with you that was for sure. But not in a bad way. You were playing a game and you won the match.

He came lightening up your cig as watching you take a deep and slow puff on it.

You started to walk, going deeper into the street and he started to do the same.

(...)

Michael and Gina were coming back from the restaurant. It was the first time the husband took his wife out to eat in Birmingham as she, obviously, wasn’t a fan of the city.

They didn’t see the time’s flying and it was already ten when they reached the wide glass doors of the hotel.

As they entered it, they noticed it was almost pinched black inside, the only source of brightness emanating from little orangish lights hanging on the walls behind the counter.

Michael glanced left to right at the place, no one to be seen, or so he thought. It was only when Gina stepped foot in, that he glimpsed figures coming out of the dark spots.

They were moving fast, getting nearer the American woman before his husband could do anything to protect her.

“Gina!” Was all he said before she disappeared outside the front doors of the hotel along with the individuals.

(...)

Tommy stops the engine looking straight ahead.

You were looking outside the window, to your large mansion. You managed to glance at the man before opening the door. You were gauging his reaction, almost testing the water all while maintaining the silence.

As the tension couldn’t get higher, you stepped out. You began to move away from the car when you heard its door open, followed by the clearing of a throat you knew too well.

Tommy’s steps on the gravel came nearer and nearer. When you turned the keys in the lock they were right behind. You opened the heavy wooden entry and got in, letting the door open.

The man entered behind your and turned his back at you, closing the door. When he turned back at the entrance, Y/N had disappeared.

He stepped deeper in the house, and joined the living room, where he glimpsed at your figure, your air resting at your back, your fingers over a note on the table.

Tom got closer to you, grabbing your elbow with the tip of his fingers, looking at the paper you seemed focused on.

Done.

You quickly glanced around, as if making sure you were alone. You then turned to him, raising your palm to his cheek, a gentle touch that he didn’t expect, making his lids slowly fluttering.

You took a step forward, leaned towards him and fondled his nose with the end of your own before leading your fingers to his lips.

You closed your eyes, rooting yourself at this moment and forgetting about the library, high society, Mosley, Michael and everything that stood between you.

He was the one to initiate the kiss, the call for you being louder than any other things at the moment. One of his hands slid to the hollow of your back as the other was grabbed by hers.

Fingers intertwined together, breath mixed, lips pressed against one another, heartbeats speeding and a thousand seconds later, you pulled away, slowly raising your gaze to Tommy’s.

The weight this kiss meant dropped on Tom’s shoulder as he, without hesitation, came to taste again the sweet flavour of your lips. You gasped at the connection, the eagerness of the feeling inside your stomach being fed.

You were breathing loudly in his mouth, your hands now grabbing Tommy’s clothes shamelessly.

They both knew there was no turning back and that things got more complicated than they needed to be, but none of them pulled away nor hesitated for even a slight second.

Following Chapter ❱

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader

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persephone-plasmids · 3 years

Text

The Funhouse

Deacon and Sole Fanfic

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The Funhouse

“I take it finding Danse and MacCready is now our second priority?” Deacon asked as he followed Sole from the junkyard outside of Nuka-World to the Kiddie Kingdom.”Because you know they’re investigating Dry Rock Gulch, right?”

“They’re big boys, they can take care of themselves,” Sole answered dismissively with a wave of her hand. “And I already told you, we’ve got more important things to do.”

“More important than finding the kidnapped Synth?” Deacon asked, a grin on his lips as he trotted to catch up with Sole.

Their hands brushed accidentally as he walked beside her and he quickly pulled away. Deacon was finally starting to learn to keep his physical distance from Sole. He needed as many safeguards from whatever spell she had over him as he could get. The sunglasses were a start, but avoiding their regular casual contact was starting to be a necessity.

Trying to ignore his attraction to Sole had become a losing battle, so Deacon was playing the defense game.

“Obviously nothing is more important than finding the kidnapped Synth,” Sole said. “But there’s no reason they might not be in the funhouse at Kiddie Kingdom.”

Deacon gave Sole a skeptical raise of his eyebrows. “I mean, while we’re at it, the kidnapped synth could very well be on the roller coaster in the Galactic Zone. We should probably check there too.”

“We probably should.” Sole nudged Deacon with her shoulder, giving him a cheeky smile.

He laughed nervously but took a tiny step away from Sole to discourage any further touching. It wasn’t because he didn’t want Sole to touch him. It was because he did.

“Listen, Charmer, I’m all for having a good time, but isn’t this place… kinda creepy?” Deacon asked, glancing at the derelict theme park over the top of his sunglasses.

Sole stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel to face him, the apples of her cheeks round with glee. “Are you scared?” She dragged out the last word in a taunting way, poking her finger into his chest as she said it.

Again with the touching.

He wished he didn’t love it so much.

“Obviously I’m a big strong man. I’m not scared of anything,” Deacon began. “I’m just worried about your poor feminine sensibilities. I’m not sure they can handle this place. Women’s brains just aren’t wired for this sort of thing.”

Sole narrowed her eyes at Deacon, sizing him up. She knew he was joking, but she still took the opportunity to take a step closer to him, her voice low. “I think we both know who the brave one is in this partnership.”

She was much too close to him. He swallowed hard and tried to play off his discomfort with a laugh, but it sounded wrong.

“If you’re so brave then why don’t you go into the funhouse first?” It was a lame dare, but he needed any excuse to get her away from him. All he wanted to do was crush his lips to hers.

“”Watch and learn, stealth boy,” she said, using her favorite nickname for him.

Sole walked confidently through the funhouse doors, swaying her hips as she did so. Deacon hated the way his eyes automatically roamed over her curves when she wasn’t looking, but he couldn’t deny that the view was impeccable.

“Are you coming?” Sole asked over her shoulder.

Deacon gave himself a little shake and ran into the funhouse after her. “You know, if you wanted to die, there are much quicker and less terrifying ways to do that.”

“But where would be the fun in that?” Sole asked, taking Deacon’s hand in hers and leading him through the first set of doors they found.

The two were immediately set off balance by a black and white room with a spinning floor. Sole collapsed into Deacon’s arms, knocking him against the wall as he held her up with his arms around her waist.

His plan to limit their physical contact wasn’t off to a great start.

Carnival music played in the spinning room and when Sole regained her footing, she didn’t pull away from Deacon like he thought she would. Instead, she leaned her weight against him, pushing his back more firmly against the wall.

“Thanks for the assist,” she said, wrinkling her nose up at him in a smile.

Why did she have to be so adorable?

“Any time, Charmer,” he answered, his voice as unsteady as he felt. “You need help getting back on your feet?”

He was trying to get her away from him again. But she didn’t move. Instead, she only leaned against him more firmly with a devilish grin on her angelic features. “I actually like where I am right now.”

Deacon tried as hard as he could to keep his cheeks from flushing. “I can’t say I blame you. I tend to have that effect on women.”

When in doubt, default to joking.

“I spend most of my life breaking hearts. It’s a gift and a curse.”

Sole bit her lip as she looked up at Deacon through her eyelashes. “More gift than curse I’d say.”

Deacon was incredibly grateful for the sunglasses that hid the fact that he was openly staring at Sole’s lips now. They had a cherry tint to them from the lipstick she’d been rationing since leaving the vault. And they looked even fuller when she took her bottom lip between her teeth.

It took Deacon a moment to regain his senses and when he did, he desperately thought of some way he could joke his way out of this. “Just imagine how hard it is for the people who don’t get to see this beauty up close? All they can do is fantasize. But you? You’ve got a front row seat to this walking piece of art.”

“A front row seat?” Sole said with a challenging raise of her eyebrows. “Is this an interactive show?”

The room was still spinning, though Deacon wasn’t sure how much of that was the actual funhouse anymore.

“It could be,” he said.

Why had he said that? He was trying to keep his distance.

Sole let a tiny grin tug at the corner of her mouth as she stared at Deacon in the spinning room. She almost looked like she might pull away from him and at the mere thought, panic rose in his chest.

He didn’t care how complicated it would make things. He didn’t care that he had sworn off personal relationships. He wanted to be close to her.

Without another thought, Deacon pulled Sole tightly against his chest and pressed his lips to hers. She instantly melted into the kiss, moving her lips over his softly at first. Her softness, however, was quickly replaced by more desperate kisses as she pressed herself against him. Sole took a handful of Deacon’s Cappy shirt to pull him closer, even though they were already incredibly close. She tangled her hands in his hair that he’d grown out and dyed dark, just because he knew Sole liked it that way.

She inhaled him as they both moved together, fitting like puzzle pieces. Deacon didn’t even care that the room was still spinning and that there were probably ferals nearby. All he cared about was this moment with Sole. This perfect moment where he was finally taking what he’d wanted for so long.

When Sole moaned into his mouth, he got chills all over his body. He’d thought making Sole laugh would always be his favorite accomplishment, but this sound he’d just elicited from her had just topped the list. It only encouraged him to deepen the kiss, hungrily moving his hands over her hips, across her waist, up her back, and into her hair.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, but that was the last thing he cared about right at that moment. He’d happily die like this. Sole continued to kiss him like she’d wanted this as much as he did, even though he had a hard time believing that.

Deacon wasn’t sure they’d ever break apart, until a raspy voice rang out over a scratchy loudspeaker in the room, instantly causing Sole to jump away from him. “While I appreciate the show, I’m usually the one providing the entertainment here.”

Even though Sole had broken the kiss at the sound of the mysterious voice, she still held Deacon close, her arms around his waist.

“Who was that?” she asked in a panic.

He wasn’t sure if she was panicked because some mysterious person was apparently also in the funhouse with them, or because they’d been caught in a compromising position.

“Just thought we’d be an opening act,” Deacon said to the otherwise empty room. He was trying to play it cool when he was internally losing his mind over the kiss he and Sole had just shared. “What can we expect from the main attraction?”

Deacon kept a protective arm around Sole in the spinning room, his eyes darting all over to try to find the source of the voice.

“I am Oswald the Outrageous, and you two are trespassing in my territory.”

Spotting the loud speaker overhead, Deacon took Sole’s hand in his and pulled her through a nearby red door that led to a hallway full of spinning tunnels. If he hadn’t been dizzy enough from the kiss, this room was sure to do him in.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Deacon began, making sure to speak loudly enough for Oswald to hear him over the hum of machinery in the funhouse. “We were just looking for a friend of ours. Goes by the name of H3-56.”

“You weren’t looking very hard, were you?” Oswald asked, his voice sly and suggestive.

Had Deacon not been worried about how much of a threat this stranger posed, he might have been embarrassed by the man’s words.

“H3-56 wandered into my territory, much like you two did.”

“And did you give him the same warm greeting?” Deacon asked.

“We need to find out where this person is,” Sole whispered to him, her eyes full of concern in the green glow of the hallway.

Deacon nodded in understanding but didn’t respond.

“Turns out H3-56 is a freak like me,” Oswald said. “He understood what it’s like to be cast out by the rest of society… so I let him go.”

Sole gave Deacon a surprised look. “Well, we appreciate your hospitality,” Deacon began. “I guess we don’t need to keep searching. Thanks for doing our job for us. We’ll just be going, but don’t worry, we’ll visit your gift shop on the way out; pick something up for Dez.”

Deacon began walking back towards the spinning room with Sole’s hand in his, but the door instantly slammed in front of them, barricading them in the hallway.

“Not so fast,” Oswald said, his voice full of menace. “I let H3-56 go out of the goodness of my heart because they were a kindred spirit. As far as I can tell, you humans don’t have to deal with the same hardships as Synths and Ghouls. So I think it’s time we have a little fun.”

Sole inhaled sharply at Oswald’s words. “Listen, we came here to rescue H3-56, not hurt him. We’re sympathetic to Synths and Ghouls alike. One of my best friends, the mayor of Goodneighbor, is a Ghoul.”

“Oh, I see,” Oswald said. “So because you have one Ghoul friend, you’re sympathetic to my kind?” His voice sounded incredulous now.

“I’m not trying to say--.”

“Tell me, Vault Dweller, do you kill Ghouls out in the wasteland with that fancy gun of yours?”

Sole looked down at her holstered gun with a furrowed brow. “Only when they’re feral and I don’t have a choice.”

Deacon could see the regret in her eyes as she spoke. He knew Sole didn’t particularly like killing, even when someone deserved it. It was something she’d held onto from her pre-war days. Maybe because she’d seen the effect it had had on her former husband when he was in the military. Maybe just because she was a compassionate person. But the fact that this stranger was accusing her of being a heartless killer when Deacon knew she was anything but, set his teeth on edge.

“Listen, drama queen, Sole doesn’t need to defend her actions to you. Now either you let us go, or you can step out from behind your wall of protection and we can handle this one on one.”

“I think you’re forgetting about the third option,” Oswald said, his voice now much happier than it had been only a moment before; almost manic. “The one where I show you that anyone is capable of being a monster. Even your sweetheart.”

Deacon didn’t have time to ask what Oswald meant before the hallway filled with green noxious fumes. He let go of Sole’s hand to cover his mouth. At first he worried that it might be aerosol radiation, but the sweet smell of the gas only gave him a headache.

“HalluciGen?” he asked, coughing slightly as the gas continued to fill the room.

Deacon looked over to Sole to make sure she was okay but the look he saw in her eyes terrified him. Her wide green eyes were darting around the room in pure abject horror.

“Sole?” Deacon asked, stepping closer to her. But the second he moved towards her, she lunged at him, her hands finding his throat and squeezing tight. “Sole!” Deacon choked out, trying to wedge his fingers under her surprisingly strong, nimble grip.

“Amazing, isn’t it? What the HalluciGen gas can do to ‘good’ people.”

“Sole,” Deacon choked again, trying desperately to pry her fingers away from his throat.

Her eyes were crazed and watery and she tightened her grip on him. And while he had been reveling in their close contact only a moment before, this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind.

“Sole, you have to let go,” he choked. “I’m on your side… always have been.”

At the familiar words he’d said to Sole a million times before, her grip loosened ever so slightly. Her brows were still knitted together in confusion and terror, but the moment of clarity was enough for Deacon to forcefully pull her hands away from his throat and pin them to her sides.

Sole almost immediately began fighting back against him again, trying to break free from his grasp. Deacon wrapped his arms around her middle, sure to keep her arms pinned in place as he lifted her off the ground and unceremoniously carried her to the opposite end of the hallway, where a door stood open, leading back out to the lobby.

Once they were away from the green HalluciGen gas, Sole’s fighting grew weaker. She still struggled against Deacon’s grip, but her heart wasn’t in it. Instead he held her tightly while she whimpered, her eyes opening and closing rapidly as she came back to herself.

“You back with me, Charmer?” Deacon asked. “Or are you still going to try to pop my head off with those tiny little hands of yours?”

Sole’s eyes met Deacon’s behind his sunglasses as she blinked a few more times. “Deacon?”

“There she is,” he said, his smile returning. “You must really be into some weird stuff in the bedroom,” Deacon joked.

“Deacon,” she warned, her voice low.

“No, I mean it. I enjoyed our kiss too, but that escalated quickly.” He puckered his lips at her as he smiled.

“It’s not funny,” she said. “I… I couldn’t tell it was you. I couldn’t even tell what I was doing. I just knew I was trapped and needed to get away.”

Deacon’s face fell at her words. Maybe joking wasn’t always the best default. “You’re safe now,” he said.

“Is she, though?” Oswald asked, though now his voice sounded clear; unchanged by the static of a loudspeaker.

Sole and Deacon turned to find the Ghoul standing near the entrance to the funhouse in all his dramatic glory.

His scarred skin glowed green between the cracks, only making his suit and top hot that much more impressive.

“Pleased to meet you both,” the Ghoul said with a deep bow and a grin.

Deacon didn’t know whether he should be furious at the Ghoul or impressed by his showmanship.

“Dude, I appreciate a dramatic entrance as much as the next egotistical narcissist, but you could have really caused some damage in there,” Deacon said. “Also, I totally love your hat and want to know where I can get one as soon as we sort all this out.”

Sole hit Deacon on the arm, but he simply looked over at her and shrugged.

“It’s a killer hat,” he said.

“I feel like my reception of you was more than fair, given that you trespassed in my territory in order to hurt a Synth,” Oswald said, his voice much more impressive in person.

It had a dramatic quality that reminded Deacon of the old Silver Shroud radio show.

“I already told you, we were trying to save the Synth,” Sole said, her voice heavy with annoyance. “We thought he’d been kidnapped.”

Oswald regarded them for a long moment, his green glowing eyes moving between the two. “I don’t suppose…” his words trailed off as he screwed his face up in concentration. “Do you have a geiger counter?”

At his words, Sole’s face lit up. “Mine’s in the shop,” she responded.

The instant those two sentences were spoken, the tension in the room seemed to melt away.

“H3-56 told me to use that phrase if someone came looking for him,” Oswald said. “He told me it would help me know who was a friend and who was an enemy.”

“He was right,” Deacon said. “Although I wish you would have used the phrase before you tried to poison us with your Hallucigen gas.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Oswald said. “It wouldn’t poison you. It would just make you two kill each other.”

Oswald waved his hand as if this were an important distinction.

“Why didn’t it make Deacon go crazy?” Sole asked, looking over at the spy in confusion.

“Extensive Railroad training,” Deacon said. And when Sole gave him a look like he was joking around with her again he pressed on. “I’m actually serious this time. After Dez and I found the HalluciGen Inc. lab, we knew this stuff would be dangerous if it got into the wrong hands.” Deacon gave Oswald an accusatory look as he said this.

The Ghoul just shrugged in an unconcerned way.

“Dez had the field agents work to build up an immunity to it,” Deacon went on. “It’s not easy to do, but it’s not impossible.”

Sole gave Deacon a guilty look at his words. “So you were totally lucid while I tried to kill you?”

“Like I said, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into, I’m not going to shame you. I’m an open-minded guy.” He gave Sole a grin that made her cheeks turn a dark shade of red.

He loved that he could make her blush.

“Okay, well this mission has been sufficiently awkward,” Sole said, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked over at Oswald. “Thank you for… not killing us… I guess.”

“My pleasure,” Oswald said with another deep bow.

“And thanks for the intel on the Synth. I’m happy he was able to get out of the Commonwealth safely.” Sole gave Oswald a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Deacon? You ready to go find Danse and MacCready?”

“Sure thing, boss” Deacon said, giving Oswald a nod.

Sole began walking towards the exit of the funhouse, careful to avoid Oswald’s eyes as she walked. When Deacon followed her, he stopped just short of the door and turned to the Ghoul with a grin.

“Okay, but seriously, where did you get that hat?”

[Part 5]

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #deacon #deacon x sole #deacon x sole survivor #fanfic #oswald the outrageous #nuka-world #nuke world #fallout deacon #fallout companions #fallout 4 companions

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awesomeanimelover39 · 3 years

Text

Ikemen Revolution hc: Black Army with a MC who curses a lot

♠︎ Ray Blackwell:

He thinks its funny at first

Then he thinks its weird

Why does this woman cuss so much??

Of course, when he tried to talk to you about it, he got an ANGRY reaction (an: thats right, Ray its 2021, we don’t judge people like that >:( )

Which in turn, made you curse more

After a while he doesn’t really care one way or another

He actually curses with you now

You, Ray and Fenrir are usually cursing about the magic tower, or the Red Army Sirius almost fainted when he heard you guys

He also thinks it makes you look unafraid and strong

He would never say it, but he honesty admires you for not caring what people think

♠︎ Sirius Oswald:

Mama mode ✦ activated ✦

Oh no no no, not in HIS house you don’t

Will try to correct you

When he heard you say the F word when you dropped something, he internally screamed

Starts giving you lessons on how to be a “proper” lady

You curse with some of the other guys just to get a reaction out of him now

If you though he would let it go after a while, you were dead wrong

Lectures. Lectures. And did I mention lectures?

No matter how many times he hears it, it scares the living daylights out of him

Kinda low key likes it though once you relationship becomes more... Sirius 😏

an: Lol made a dad joke for ya Sirius! Before you lecture me, yes I know the correct spelling of the word “serious.”

♠︎ Luka Clemence:

Pure angel 😇

Why have you done this to him?

He is scared, confused, and everything in between

He has only ever heard a few of these words before, and started trying them out himself

BAD IDEA

Sirius lectured you two for hours until he decided you wouldn’t do it again

But, you did

So you had to tell Luka he shouldn’t say those words

You knew Jonah would cry if he heard his baby brother speak that vulgar, and you didn’t want to be the cause of that

Luka doesn’t really care what his brother thinks, but he can see it upsets you so he stopped saying them

That is, until you heard one very loud and very rude one slip from his lips when he burnt dinner 😬

♠︎ Seth Hyde:

🤭

AlIcE? wHAt diD YoU jUsT SAy?

You thought he was intense when taking care of his sister? You should see him now

He is watching you like a HAWK to make sure you don’t do it again

He never wants to hear these words come out of your mouth

He says you are too ‘innocent’

Cause he’s the definition of innocent 🙄

He tries giving you other words instead of the ones you’re using

Yeah, that lasted bout 5 seconds

He gave up eventually

But he still frowns and makes a face like he’s going to cry when you cuss

He laid it on so thick, you stopped

Way to play the guilt card Seth

Fenrir Godspeed:

Bro, he sometimes curses more than you

He is a gentlemen when you first arrive, but as he gets closer with you, he drops a few curses here and there. Just to test the waters

After a while you, him and Ray just become the 3 musketeers 🤪

He thinks its awesome that you don’t act ‘proper’ all the time

He knows the feeling of not always wanting to be what people consider perfect

He loves your wild side

You wanna wear a dress and be innocent? Great! You wanna wear leather and cuss? Great!

It doesn’t matter to him, as long as you’re there, he’s happy :)

#ikemen revolution #ikemen revolution headcanons #ikemen revolution ray #ikemen revolution fenrir #ikemen revolution seth #ikemen revolution luka #ikemen rev #ikemen revolution scenarios #i love them so much guys #I cant breathe they are all perfect #my baes for life 😍

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

Text

Growing Up And Fallin' In Love

Pairing: Clara Oswald x Reader

Word Count: 2,639

Warnings: None

Summary: You turn up on Clara's classroom doorstep, coffee in hand and the request for an adventure. Clara can never say no to you, she loves you. That’s not something she’ll ever tell you though, not in the way it matters.

Request: 30 from Prompt List #1 with whoever strikes your fancy (maybe a companion)? 💜 (sorry if this is late, I have no concept of time math bb) Prompt: “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Clara drummed the end of her pen against her desk. It was sporadic, making uneven tones every time the small plastic canister met the wood. She was staring at one of her students papers, and, for the life of her, she couldn’t work out what on Earth the sentence was saying. It was one of the last papers she had to mark, and she wanted it done before the end of lunch, so she could finish the day on time.

But the words were a jumbled mess on the page.

She turned the page over, read through some of her notes – and, had she spelled ‘what’ with an ‘o’?

Furiously, Clara scribbled it out, making sure that she then spelled it correctly.

It looked bad, unprofessional, lazy. A mess of angry red lines denting her poor students paper. She pulled open a drawer, pawing for the correcting tape.

It wasn’t there.

She tried to remember where she had seen it last, when, depressingly, hauntingly, her mind went to the night before, when she had first started marking this paper. On the edge of her dining room table, with stacks of marking for different assignments ready and waiting.

And then to this morning, where, in her haste to pack up the table on her way to school, she had missed it. The bloody correction tape was still sitting on her dining room table, mocking her, even now.

Clara groaned and rubbed under her eyes, careful not to swipe at her mascara, and narrowed her eyes at the paper.

The words swam.

A different knock than her pen against the desk, softer, more rhythmic, jolted Clara out of her stupor. She looked up and saw you, leaning against her open classroom door; a tray holding two coffees in hand, and a warm smile on your face. “I don’t think glaring at that paper is going to help make it magically marked.”

Clara was sure the surprise on her face showed, judging by the way your smile turned a little smug. It was just… well, it was unusual that you would show up here, at her school. You didn’t work here, and it wasn’t a trip you made often. Lately, the most time you had spent together was when you were galivanting across time and space with the Doctor.

Which was a far cry from the days of when you both grazed your knees on cobblestone pathways as children, or blew up soufflé recipes time and time again.

Clara smiled back with as much energy as she could muster. She was glad to see you, it had been a long time, comparatively speaking. “It’s good to see you.”

You laughed. “I’m sure I’m a better sight for eyes than that paper, at least.”

She let her head fall in her hands, and let out another groan. “Don’t remind me. I’m just so tired, it’s like the word are rearranging themselves on the page. They aren’t making any sort of sense right now.”

You hummed, and suddenly there was a coffee right under Clara’s nose. She looked up again, and there you were, standing right above her, looking at her with delight. You had such an amazing smile, the kind that just seemed to brighten up the whole room.

Clara loved that smile.

“Sounds like you could use a break then,” You said. “Fancy a trip?”

She considered it for a moment. Running away with you to a nice park, or a café, and getting to spend some quality time with you. It was so rare, lately that Clara treasured every moment.

But she couldn’t She had a job to do, after all.

“So that’s what the coffee’s for, buying my love,” Clara mused, and she took a sip. It was perfect, like it always was when you ordered. You had never failed to forget Clara’s order, even when she went through that phase of mixing different coffee syrups together. Hazelnut and mango were surprisingly nice together. “I’m in the middle of a school day Y/N, I can’t just leave.”

“Sure you can,” You then did a little arm wave. “Time travel.”

Clara’s heart fell a little. Ah, right.

You had been talking about a trip in the TARDIS – of course you had been talking about a trip in the TARDIS. You wouldn’t just spontaneously come here for with any other motive, any other… desire, for a trip with her.

You leaned against her desk. “Besides, the Doctor says it’s important, and you know how he can get – what with those scruffy eyebrows.”

Clara let out a mock sound of hurt. “Oh, so you just need a buffer from those big scary eyebrows,” Clara said, and she made her voice sound teasing – she always made her voice sound teasing. “And here I thought I was special.”

Now, it wasn’t that Clara didn’t love the Doctor, she did, truly, the Doctor was her best friend. Sometimes though… Sometimes Clara just wanted to be with you.

Just you.

You rolled your eyes and gave her a fond smile. Again, Clara loved your smiles. “Of course you’re special,” You tapped the paper Clara had been marking. Your hand brushed against the red pen marks Clara had just made. She imagined how they would feel, jagged and rough under your finger. “Now, if you stare at this paper any longer, you might actually shoot daggers at it, and no one wants that.”

Clara sighed. She needed to say no – she really shouldn’t go. The Doctor was notorious at never landing them home at the right time, and she really couldn’t miss the rest of the school day.

But there you were, staring down at her with those big, hopeful eyes, and-

“Okay,” Clara said, and she stood, taking her coffee cup. “One trip.”

You brightened, and Clara knew she had made the right decision.

“But only one,” Clara continued, and she took a swig of her coffee. Instantly, she felt some energy pour into her. “I’ve got papers to mark.”

“Yes of course,” you said, and your grin was contagious. “Papers. Very important.”

Clara pointed her pen at you. “Extremely important.”

Clara startled at the sound of a grating knock, interrupting whatever you were going to say.

Mr Pink was standing by the door, juggling two Styrofoam cups. “I’m sorry Ms. Oswald,” he gaze went to you. “Is this a bad time?”

Clara looked in-between you and Mr. Pink, her head rocking back and forwards like she was watching a game of tennis. The two of you, in the same room together, feeling… feeling like she had been caught doing something she really wasn’t supposed to be doing.

It was you who spoke first.

“Did you bring coffee for you and Clara to share?”

He looked down at the cups, as if he’d forgotten that he was holding them. “Uh, yes. Well – not to share, but I can see now…” his gaze rested on Clara’s hand, which held the coffee you had bought her. “Oh, Ms Oswald,” he said. “I’m sorry, I can see you’re busy.”

Pretences, she had to keep up pretences.

“Not busy at all,” she said quickly, sidestepping you as she came out from her desk. “Y/N was just bringing me coffee whilst I finished marking, from my favourite café.”

“Ah, right,” he gave you a long look, and Clara felt the hair stand on the back of her neck. He then turned to Clara. “I suppose that takes my offer out the window, I’m sure your coffee is better.”

“Nothing wrong with more than one coffee though,” your eyes were sparkling with a certain something that made Clara feel very, very uneasy. It was the same look you had when you tried to set Clara up with Artie Fischer back in sixth form. The same look you always made whenever a man gave Clara any sort of attention.

It was a dangerous, heartbreaking look.

Clara cleared her throat, turning back to Mr Pink. “I’m afraid that I’m not as coffee obsessed as Y/N is, Mr. Pink.”

Mr. Pink nodded. “Right, yes. Of course,” he gave his coffee cups a blank expression. “More for me then, I suppose,” he then gave Clara a hopefully look. “Perhaps another time?”

Clara hummed in a noncommitting tone. She was trying to be polite, really, she was. It just felt as if two worlds were colliding at the moment, which was disorientating and jarring. She wanted to bundle you up and hold you away from her mundane life. You weren’t doing mundane right now.

And Clara liked keeping all this separate, the TARDIS and Coal Hill, they were supposed to be separate.

Well, mostly separate.

“Right,” Mr. Pink drew out the word, then he nodded. “I’ll leave you both to it then. Sorry for disturbing you.”

As he walked away you ran forward, and called out. “Stop by another time!”

Clara wanted to hit her head against the wall. Perhaps then she’d get it as thick as your head clearly was.

When you turned, you gave her a knowing smirk. Then, in a sing-song voice, enunciating every syllable, you said. “Mr. Pink.”

Clara stared at you, and tried not to grit her teeth. “What? No, not at all-”

“Really?” You were grinning now. “Because Clara, the way he was looking at you-”

A flash of annoyance sparked in her gut. “We’re not, that’s wasn’t – no, Y/N. Mr. Pink is a colleague, and nothing more.”

You hummed, cocking your head to the side like you didn’t believe her. “Right.”

Clara swallowed, and regarded you carefully. You really believed that Clara fancied Mr. Pink. You seemed delighted about it, as if the thought of Clara with Mr. Pink – as if the thought of Clara with anyone except you, made you happy.

Clara didn’t know if she wanted to scream, or if she wanted to cry.

“I’m not interested in him,” she said, with all the finality she could muster.

You sighed dejectedly. “You never are. I don’t get you Clara, you don’t even try. He seems entirely wonderful.”

Clara hummed. “Right, yeah. Getting someone coffee, really going above and beyond there.”

You eyed the coffee cup that Clara was currently holding, and slowly raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

Clara bit her tongue before she said something ridiculous and completely embarrassing like; ‘it’s different when you do it,’ or, ‘I care about you more.’

She ran a hand over her face. “Why does it matter? You’ve always cared about whether or not I’m in a relationship. Why?”

The look you gave her was so earnest, Clara almost did a double take. It was a complete difference from your demeanour earlier. “You deserve love Clara, in all its forms, especially because I know how much you want it. You deserve happiness.”

Clara stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then why couldn’t you see? How could be so blind? The only happiness, the only love Clara wanted, was yours.

Clara took another sip of coffee. This was how it always went, and it was completely exasperating. Sometimes Clara just wanted to shake you, get you to see beyond the end of her nose. She was right here, and there you were, trying to cart her off with someone else.

And Clara didn’t want anyone else.

It was ridiculous, completely ridiculous. The sort of ridiculous that made Clara wanted to cry out of a window, let the air take all her grievances, all her annoyance away.

“You’re so infuriating,” Clara groaned, and ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I managed to fall in love with someone so bloody thick!”

There was a clatter as your coffee cup met the floor. Dark brown liquid exploded from inside it, painting the floor, the desk, and your shoes. Clara stared at it, flabbergasted. Then her eyes met yours, and she realised she had just spoken out loud.

You looked at each other for a moment, then another. A thick blanket of tension sat heavy in the air between you, so strong it was almost as if Clara could smell it.

In the smallest of voices, you said. “What?”

Clara closed her eyes for a moment, feeling utterly defeated.

A cup of coffee.

That was all it had taken.

Nothing was going to be the same now, even if – at best, you let Clara down gently, you would never be how you were before. When she looked at you again, she found you were holding your hands together, your knuckles white. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. “Y/N… God,” she breathed. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Four seconds. That was how long the silence sat in between you both after Clara had spoken. Four seconds.

Clara had counted them.

And then, out of all the awful completely gut wrenching reactions you could have made… you laughed.

It bubbled up slowly. It was more like a bark at first, then it rumbled on outwards into a series of giggles that reminded her of when you had both been children, dancing in the rain.

Clara flinched.

“I’m sorry,” you said, gasping in between your laughs. “I’m just – I’m an idiot.”

“You need to stop laughing,” Clara said, and she crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself defensively. “No, seriously. Stop it. You don’t get to laugh about this.”

You sobered. “Oh my goodness Clara, no, I – I wasn’t laughing at you, I’m so sorry. I was laughing at myself. I’m an idiot, we’re idiots. The biggest fools in this entire galaxy.”

Clara chewed her lip. She hated this. “What are you saying.”

“So have I,” you breathed, coming towards her. Your hands hovered over her arms, as if you were afraid to touch her. “I’ve loved you too, ever since I met you.”

Clara frowned, thinking about the moment before when you were literally trying to set her up with her co-worker. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me,” you said, and your voice broke. “Not like how I’ve wanted you. But I wasn’t lying, I want you to be happy, I want you to have love, and I figured, if it’s not with me, then… then that’s okay, because your happiness is more important.”

It shocked a laugh out of her, then it clicked. “We’re idiots,” she breathed. “All this time...”

You laughed brightly, and threw your arms around her, pulling her against your frame. Clara loved your hugs. She had always felt safe in them, had always loved how warm and solid you felt around her.

“I love you,” Clara said again, because now you knew what she meant. Now you knew all the emphasis, all the meaning she held behind those three words.

There was another knock at the door, and Clara genuinely, actually screamed. “What?”

Clara detangled herself from you, and found the Doctor standing in the doorway, exasperated. “What’s with all the hugging? Why do you humans always hug? We need to go.”

“We were busy,” you said, and your hand snaked into Clara’s.

“I promise this can wait,” the Doctor said. “This is more important.”

“It really isn’t,” Clara said. “Not this time Doctor.”

The Doctors eyes fell to your joined hands. “Oh, you two did all that love confession nonsense. It was about time.”

You squawked. “About time, so you knew?”

“Ever since Clara dragged you onto my TARDIS, you could give the moon a run for its money with the amount of mooning you two have done to each other.”

You turned to Clara. “You’re coming with us? One trip?”

“Come to a park with me after,” Clara said. “Do some mundane, boring things with me, inter-sped with the time travel.”

You grinned. “Nothing is mundane with you.”

Clara’s heart swelled. Yes. She loved you.

And she was so glad you knew.

#clara oswald imagine #clara oswald x reader #clara oswald #Doctor Who #DW #out of Elle's vault #vault fic #opening Elle's vault

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justasimplesinner · 3 years

Note

that iceberg lounge singer ask really got me thinking 😳 not to take the love off ozzie (bc he definitely deserves it) but can we get a scenario where ed is conducting some business at the lounge and falls hard for the singer?? maybe they end their set and he’s goes to chat them up after? idk, get to this whenever you can. don’t overwork yourself, stay hydrated, and take as many breaks as you need. we love you hon!! 💕💕

here i give you a crumb of oswald playing matchmaker

Edward falling for a singer hcs:

Ed actually spends a lot of time at the Iceberg Lounge. he's very good friends with Oswald (who also pays for all his stupid heists and dumb riddlerooms), and they often just hang out, drink some booze, maybe have a poker night every now and then. Oz is actually one of the people that tolerate Edward and even kind of... like him, and there's not a lot of those people

one time, Oz was boasting a little about his 'new birdie' and he told Ed that your performace will totally enamour him. he never expected that it actually would. but how could Eddie not fall for you at first glance the second you walked on stage, in all your glory, perfect and lavish and green clothes absolutely bringing out all your best qualities and your angel-like voice pouring sweet honey into his ears

you weren't over the top and it was obvious you were enjoying your job and your workplace, and that night happened to be jazz night (every night is jazz night-). Edward has a huge soft spot for jazz, it's really relaxing and he loves the fact that jazz artists don't even need a specific repertoire, they can just go with the flow and improvise. and that lazy smile of yours as you performed and swayed to the music a little had him hooked

he immediately asked Oswald to invite you over to their table once you're done, he was dying to meet you and Cobblepot was almost preening with pride. he knew you were a gem and was glad even someone as critical as Nigma approved of you so much

the thing is, when you came over to the table, a glass filled with a drink of your choice already on the table, Edward just... malfunctioned. you were even more beautiful up close and at first, he really couldn't get any words out. you had to coax him into talking and when you did... let's just say he wouldn't shut the fuck up for even a second. he tried to learn as much about you as he could and as quick as he could, talked with you about a huge range of topics and did everything in his power to show himself in positive, impressive light

he was... adorable. a little too full of himself to your liking, but adorable and it was cute watching him try to prolong his stay at the longue for as long as he could and keep you from leaving. all good things come to an end though, and this was no different. you've obviously talked with Oswald after that, sharing your impression of Edward and he only encouraged you to get to know him more. that little shit already knew what's coming and he wasn't about to stand in the way of an actually healthy relationship for Ed. if anyone would treat him right, it would be you (the question was, would he treat you right?)

every time you were performing, Edward was there (thanks to Oswald informing him), and when he finally got you to give him your number, he invited you for drinks on your days off (Oz always had a hidden, private table for you two at the ready). or coffee. or dinner (yet again, Ozzie got you two reservations at the best restaurants in town). or maybe come over to his place. maybe stay the night. movie marathon? maybe some cuddles on the couch? you want to cuddle him? maybe? he's comfortable, promise. please cuddle him. please-

he is such a sucker for any display of affection from you. and he loves when you invite him over when you're out with your band/friends sometimes, that you say you two go out when you introduce him. like you were showing him off, like you were proud of him. like you didn't hate him because he loved you. w o w i e

he would die on the spot if you ever looked into his eyes while performing or choose a suggestive song just for him. you have him wrapped around your finger darling

the first time you two kissed was actually after you choose a very specific song with a double-meaning, clearly directed at him, and just swayed to the music while keeping eye contact. when you got off the stage, to his table, fucking leaned down and kissed him, he thought he was going to literally explode. good lord, finally. he's been waiting for so long because he was too much of a pussy to do it himself

#riddler #edward nigma #edward nygma #the riddler #my writing #headcannons #fluff #anonymous

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revengerevisited · 3 years

Text

So I’ve been kinda dancing around my original story idea for a little while, and I got this idea in my head of ‘what if I release chapter 1 and then get feedback without telling anyone what the story is about first so it’s more of a surprise?’ But honestly? I’m realizing since I already released a preview-of-a-preview for chapter 1, and it might be a little while until I finish chapter 1, plus I honestly kinda feel like I’d rather work on sketches of my character designs than write at the moment, I might as well go ahead and tell you guys. X’3

So! I watched a couple anime recently both centered around the premise of... monster girls! These being Monster Musume and Monster Girl Doctor, but then I noticed there’s also Interviews with Monster Girls, A Centaur’s Life, and the infamous Interspecies Reviewers, and I asked myself... Monster girls are pretty popular right now, yeah? But where’s all the monster boys?! And that’s how I got the idea! I re-watched some of my favorite anime based on Otome Games, Kamigami no Asobi and Uta no Prince Sama for inspiration as well, and a few ones I hadn’t seen before like Dance with Devils and Magic-kyun Renaissance for inspiration as well.

So now I’ve got my premise that I shared earlier: This is the story of Millie, a young woman down on her luck who happens to live in a world where monsters aren’t just real, but commonplace. She started working as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school whose students are a group of very attractive monster boys. The twist is that these aren’t just any monster boys; they belong to various rare and exotic species with deadly reputations...

Note that character and place names are technically place-holders for now and may change if I come up with better ones. Now, I don’t wanna spoil anything story-wise, but I think I can introduce my setting and some of the characters that you’re gonna meet. The story is set in a modern setting, though it’s vague if it’s actually Earth or just some generic world similar to it, as I try to avoid referencing real-world places or events. This is a world where humans and monsters live together after a Great Interspecies War happened in the past, but tensions have mostly relaxed by the time the story takes place. The war could be thought of as the equivalent of our own World War One, one in which there was a truce decided after many years of stalemate fighting.

The city everything takes place in is tentatively named Dullahan, and was built directly after the war to commemorate peace between human and monster kind. It’s considered an artistic cultural center, and it’s got a lot of interesting entertainment places to go to, arcades, theaters, aquariums, etc, that the characters can have a lot of different shenanigans in. The other main setting is the Beaufort Academy of the Arts, which was actually a mansion that was converted into a small private school. This is where all the characters live, and our main character Millie works as a maid there.

Before I go into the characters, I should start with the various monster species. There are 12 species, divided into 2 groups: common monsters and exotic monsters. The common monsters are centaurs, harpies, lamias (snake people), kobolds (dog people), ogres, and merrows (mermaids). These species are all pretty standard, and will be mostly background characters and npcs. The main characters, and love interests for Millie, will be of the exotic variety: arachnes (spider people), sirens (deep-sea mermaids), mandrakes (plant people), dragons, manticores (with a liontaur body-type), and scyllas (octopus people).

So what differentiates a common monster from an exotic one? Well, while the Interspecies War was between humans and monsters in general, some monsters were already at least partially integrated into human society, and the rest followed soon after the war ended. These monsters were almost as common as humans, and either herbivorous or omnivorous, with the exception of the carnivorous lamias who prefer to eat eggs over anything else. On the other hand, the so-called ‘exotic’ species were not only much more rare, but they had a very different food preference... one which earned them the now derogatory nickname... man-eaters.

Naturally, most ‘man-eaters’ weren’t exactly welcomed into human --nor common monster-- society with open arms, not that most of them wanted to. For the most part, species as powerful and dangerous as them didn’t want to play nice with those they had once --and in some cases still do-- regard as prey, and so hid away into the furthest reaches of the world. Which of course makes them perfect material for all our leading men and Millie’s various love-interests!! Oh yes, while all of these monster boys are perfectly civilized --well, for the most part-- they still belong to species that many both human and monster alike continue to fear to this day. While they aren’t exactly fish out of water (well, except for the siren) there’s still plenty of awkward misunderstandings and interesting scenarios that can be played out.

So! Let’s have a quick run-down of the characters, keep in mind that none of these names are final and could change later on. First there’s Millie, a hardworking young woman who’s had a recent streak of bad luck. Through a misunderstanding she gets hired as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school. She’s very sweet and tries her best to help others, but she’s not as innocent as she appears; she’ll understand your innuendos just fine, even if she doesn’t really say any herself! Next is Richard and Lara Beaufort, a husband and wife who run the school. Richard is rather laid-back, yet he’s also a master of all kinds of art, painting, sculpture, photography, dancing, singing, you name it! Lara is his arachne wife, a rather boisterous woman who owns a high-class fashion company. The secret to her clothing’s success?? Arachne silk, of course! The school was her idea, a way to help better integrate exotic species into society. Will her mission succeed? Only time can tell.

Richard and Lara have a son named Simon, our first love interest and a human-arachne hybrid who takes almost entirely after his mother in the looks-department (hybrids tend to look like one species or the other, rather than a mix of both). He’s a bit withdrawn due to dealing with bullying as a kid; most people --human and monster alike-- are afraid of his spider-like appearance, so he doesn’t get out much-- to the point his parents worry about him being a shut-in for life! He’s also a gamer boy, and has a secret soft side for gothic poetry, although he doesn’t want to join his parents’ art classes. He actually disapproves of his mother’s exotic species integration plan, as from what he’s experienced he feels it’s a waste of time.

Simon’s best friend and Millie’s second love interest is Louis, a mandrake who lives in the woods behind the manor. Louis is extremely shy and more than a bit lonely, even more so than Simon, and he doesn’t speak very often out of fear that the sound of his voice will hurt others around him. Mandrake screams can induce insanity or even kill those that hear them, hence his fear. Being part plant, Louis has mild shape-shifting abilities and is able to transform between child and young adult forms at will, although he’s actually the oldest of the group. He also isn’t a student at the art school, although he has an interest in floristry.

Now for our actual students! Forrest is a manticore, which in this world means he has a body similar to that of a centaur, but with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, and a scorpion-like tail tipped with a deadly venomous stinger. Despite his species’s name literally meaning ‘man-eater’, Forrest is extremely friendly and cheerful, and is very sporty too. His passion is photography, and he also loves eating food-- any sort of meat dish is fine by him! He’s also a fan of fantasy tabletop roleplaying games, and will often make references comparing them to everyday life; he always plays the knight who saves the princess!

Anthony is a childhood ‘friend’ of Forrest’s, though he’s loathe to admit it. Highly intelligent and highly snobbish, Anthony fancies himself an intellectual-- and he’s not exactly wrong. Being a dragon, he likes to hoard things-- in his case, knowledge. Anthony loves to read, and is most often found in the library. His skill is in drawing and painting, and all his paintings’ invariably morose subject matter worry Millie. Still, this haughty dragon could definitely learn to loosen up a little, and be a little more kind; perhaps his stay at the academy --and his interactions with Millie-- will open his mind to appreciating the feelings of others. He does, at the very least, greatly respect Master Beaufort as a master of the arts.

The other two students are denizens of the sea, and have been friends for a very long time. Emil is a scylla, and like all scyllas he’s a little eccentric, and just can’t seem to keep his tentacles to himself! While Forrest is obsessed with eating, Emil’s true calling is cooking, and he loves making all kinds of dishes, especially anything seafood and/or foreign. Emil also is highly appreciative of women’s fashion, and absolutely adores everything to come from Madam Beaufort’s clothing brand-- so much so that he actually wears them himself! His pretty-boy looks and penchant for wearing women’s clothing actually has Millie mistake him for a girl at first, though he’s very much unafraid to show her his romantic side, or at least what he interprets as romantic...

Keeping Emil’s pervy antics in check is our sixth and final monster boy, Oswald! As a siren, Oswald spent most of his life in the sea, and still has a lot to learn about humanity. He’s a pretty cool guy but gets a bit embarrassed about his species’s troublesome past as the cause of many shipwrecks at sea, and would prefer to not discuss it. His passion is rock music, and his main instrument is the guitar. He also loves to sing, but refrains from doing so due to the hypnotic effect it has on other species. His lack of legs, tentacles, or a snake-like tail means that like other merrows and sirens he requires a wheelchair to move around on land, and often feels frustrated that he can’t show off how adept he is at traversing water. He’s also easy to embarrass and obsessed with not allowing anything to ‘ruin’ his manly image, including allowing Millie (a girl!) to help carry him around.

So there you have it, all my monster boys! I left out a few things, as those would be major spoilers, but those are my ideas for the characters for now! I’ll try to draw and post some sketches of their designs later. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, but this won’t be the last time I talk about monster boys. Any questions or comments would be very much appreciated! Nsfw questions are allowed (all the boys wear pants for a reason, after all), though I’m currently not sure if this series will be 16+ or 18+, if you catch my meaning. Lemme know how interested you are in this story, or if you’re not interested please let me know that too!

#writing #monster boys #maddie's monster boys #if you ever wanted to see a merman wear pants... here's your chance XD

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boundlesshart · 3 years

Text

foundations

takes place between the wyvern moon and the ethereal moon

Judith warned him all those moons ago. “Your grandfather still thinks that you’re liable to get yourself killed at the Officers Academy. Don’t try proving him right, otherwise I’ll have to come down and set you straight myself.”

It had been the night before the Knights of Seiros were due to arrive, to escort the heir of the Leicester Alliance to the Officers Academy alongside the prince and princess. Dimitri and Edelgard. Claude only knows their names, but already he thinks of them as friends. The old man hemmed and hawed for a year over if Claude would see this "Officers Academy" for himself, but the announcement of their attendance forced his hand. He didn't look happy. My joy is his pain, Claude had thought bitterly.

His own announcement had been quiet and subdued, per Oswald's insistence. Claude wanted celebrations. A feast, a party, a smile on his grandfather's face, not the mournful look of a man about to send his son to his death. And especially not some old woman breathing down his neck. "Uh-huh. And how would you find out?"

“Oh I’ll find out. I have eyes everywhere, boy. Don’t forget that.” Judith's words went in one ear and out the other, and Claude forgot them as soon as he waved her off. And so the conversation ended.

For all of Oswald's fretting, hardly anything terrible happened this year. Well, sure, there was the incident in the Sealed Forest, an incident that Claude had been very careful to avoid referencing in his letters back. Oswald write fairly frequently–once a moon, 'are you eating well, sleeping well, are you making friends?'. Judith writes, but less frequently. Only to chew him out for slacking in class, and those letters were always too timely.

Claude had a hunch. He always did–his upbringing fostered a habit of observing others and collecting hunches. The question was never if there were Daphnel spies watching his movements, but where they were. How far does this go? Who is spying for Judith von Daphnel, and how far does her reach go?

Then he gets punched in the face. And as it turns out, that reach is pretty damn far.

—————

"Stop your gawking, boy. It's unbecoming of Oswald's heir."

Claude forces his eyes away from Judith's face, but that only adds to the pot of roiling emotions inside of him. Confusion at seeing Judith so far from Daphnel territory. Embarrassment at being caught in a moment of weakness. Shock that she had come because she already knew what had happened to him, and the anger that ensued that yes, all this time, there had been eyes on him, watching. The privacy he thought he had, being away from Derdriu, had been a mirage all this time.

Upset isn't the word he's looking for to describe how he's feeling, but it's getting there.

He hasn't said a word to her since they were seated in the common room. That's not like Claude, but in privacy, with just him and his aunt, all of his carefully built rules and strategies fly out the window. Judith von Daphnel may not know all his tricks, but she knows them well enough to trap him if she feels the need to.

So when Claude finally speaks, it's honest, and carefully neutral. "What are you doing here?"

"Confirming a rumor," Judith answers simply, punctuated with a sip of her whiskey. "We got word back in Derdriu that you were coming back with a terrible injury on your face. And I'm sure you can imagine how Oswald reacted to that. But enough of that for now. First, let me get a closer look." Leaning over the table, Judith takes Claude's chin in her hand. Her touch is gentle but firm, as she carefully turns his head. A sympathetic tut. "Hmm. Not as bad as the report made it out to be. But it's hardly pretty. What did the healer say?"

"...That it'll heal." When Judith releases him, Claude resists the urge to rub over where her hand was. "Told me to avoid getting punched and visit the infirmary twice a week for checkups. In two moons' time, I'll only have a scar to remember it by."

"A scar?" Judith's raises her eyebrows, but only for a moment before she nods to herself. "Right, right, the gauntlet." Claude's eye twitches, but he lets her continue, "Well, the bright side is the report exaggerated things a bit. This is about what I expected for what happened. But seeing this for myself... well, I'm just glad you're holding up."

Holding up? That's a new one. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Delicate area and all. A black eye is one thing–we've all gotten one some way or another. Being the troublemaker you are, I'm sure you're familiar with those. Am I right?" Claude can't help but huff in laughter, and Judith smiles in return, "There you go, loosen up a bit. Broken bones near your eye, from that prince who can't get his Crest under control, it's a serious matter. When we heard... well, words can't explain it. The old man was beside himself. Ready to write a letter to Rufus about the incident. I was barely able to convince him otherwise."

"It wasn't that bad," Claude tries.

"I said it wasn't as bad as I thought, but you can hardly wave it away and call it nothing." More whiskey pours into her cup, and more water in his. "In any case, Oswald is right to have his concerns about his grandson. The most you can do right now is put up with it."

Claude frowns, though it pulls at his bruise. Of course. His dreams of leading Leicester and implementing his goals as its sovereign duke have keeps his mind focused on what matters. But even they can't erase what feels like ever-increasing restrictions on what he can or cannot do. The last thing Claude needs is more hurdles in a country that prides itself on erecting them.

Judith breaks the silence between them with a sharp thump, her glass hitting the wooden endtable. "Right! To business, then. Oswald sent with me clerics that will help with the healing process. Some of his own personal healers, so they're familiar with you as you should be of them. I'm certain the nurses here at the Officers Academy are quite skilled at what they do, but you know how he is.

"Yeah." Claude takes a sip of water to hide his sudden grimace. That's going to be conspicuous.

"The Ethereal Ball is in two moons," Judith adds. "It'll be tight, but I'm certain it will heal in time. Oswald also wrote letters for all your professors to excuse you from your exercise drills while you recover. I'll give them to you before I leave, so make sure you get it to them before classes resume."

"Mmm." More meddling. More silence.

"Did it hurt?"

Claude looks up at Judith, to the concerned look in her eyes. He ought to have an answer–he does, doesn't he?–but nothing comes out.

"I know you like to forge on ahead on your own," she continues carefully, "and that you have the confidence to believe in yourself even when we push against you. But you know that you're not alone in this, right?"

"...I know that."

"You have family to rely on when things go wrong. ...You also have people that are relying on you. People to consider, and who shouldn't be left behind or ignored." There it is, the way Judith's voice hardens when she's trying to make a point. "Independence is an admirable trait to have, but there are times when you take it too far."

"...It's only that–I know my limits, and that I haven't hit them yet. Oswald, grandfather... he's so overbearing. And I know, I know, Godfrey!" Claude snaps when Judith opens her mouth. Of course, he regrets it soon after when her face falls, and her expression hardens as her voice had. But still he goes on, "I'm not him. Things won't end like it did with him. I don't need protection."

A pregnant pause. Judith making him wait, no doubt, and Claude steadily returns her gaze. He misstepped earlier, and no doubt he's paying for it now. It's fair of her, more than fair. Claude should know better than to throw the name of her dead husband back at her like some kind of curse.

She lets out a deep sigh. A tired sigh. "Alright. You've made your point. But some food for thought..." Judith takes another sip of her whiskey, swirling it in its cup. "There's a lot riding on you. There was a lot riding on Godfrey, too, and he broke under the pressure of it all." Another pause. "In some ways you have less support than he did, but you still have support. The Alliance is a country where no man can be allowed to forge ahead on his own. He is one of a group that works together for the betterment of all. That's the ideal, anyways... The sooner you learn that, the easier your time here will be. Just give it some thought, will you?"

—————

Judith's parting gift included Oswald's letters, but also a small pot of a brown, perfumed substance. "It's makeup. Don't give me that face," she scolds him, scowling. "When I was a girl attending the Officers Academy, the marketplace rarely had anything that could cover my blemishes without making me look like I came back from the dead." Then the pot is forced into his hands. "It'll be useful for you, better than an eyepatch in any case. The men of Derdriu cover their blemishes with this too, if it makes you feel any better."

It didn't, really. Not at the time. But Judith's gift was intended to be a tool, and so Claude tried to think of it as such. At least the scent of rosewater was a familiar one. A comforting one. It reminded him of his mother, and of Aunt Judith as well.

—————

Two weeks before the ball, the Riegan clerics returned to Derdriu. And in the early morning before it, Claude inspects himself in the mirror.

The bruising is long gone. His fingers scrape at the last bit of rose-scented paste clinging to the pot to cover the dark scar on his cheek. The skin already healed there, the clerics had explained to him. There is no way to undo its work. When Claude dabs makeup over it, though, the scar all but disappears. He tilts his head, smiles at himself in the mirror. Perfect.

Claude had his misgiving about this at first. But to be able to conceal his bruising and live his life normally, just as himself... when he writes to Judith for another pot, he'll have to let her know how invaluable that was to him.

He leaves his room shortly after, brushing past the stacks of papers on his desk. Underneath half-written essays and class notes are a set of unopened letters from Duke Riegan himself from two moons ago, buried and forgotten. No one that knew Claude von Riegan would think he'd actually hand those into his professors, Judith least of all.

#unbeta'd. unproofread. unedited. organic doc-to-post with no organization in between #i wanted this wrapped up and done before the ball but Alas. BUT NOW i can ball without this on the back of my mind

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might-be-a-zygon · 3 years

Note

Ohhhh Thasmin and "are you kidding me?! you're not 'fine'!" OR River/13 and "i can't believe i almost lost you

This one got away from me a little, I’ll admit. It’s pretty angsty and features a lot of (canon) character death, so fair warning on that one.

I’ll add an AO3 link in the reblogs!

---

The Ghosts That Broke My Heart

Sleep had always been a funny thing for the Doctor. She certainly needed a lot less of it than her human friends, but it had always been a reliable break from whatever life chose to throw at her that week. She had dreams, like everyone did, but there was one thing which the Doctor didn’t really do.

She didn’t have nightmares.

Really, what would she have them about? The Doctor faced the creatures of nightmares every day. To some species, the Doctor was a creature of nightmares.

Still, after what had happened on Gallifrey? She’d found the creatures that could jolt her awake screaming.

Ghosts.

Whatever she’d done to overload the matrix had broken centuries of carefully constructed barriers, holding back the people she’d lost, and now her mind saw fit to make her relive each dark moment whenever she let her guard down to try and sleep.

It had started out right away- that first night in the Jadoon prison she’d laid down on the slab that passed for a bed, and closed her eyes to sleep.

“What does that mean?”

Jenny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, all wide-eyes and excited smiles. The Doctor could recognise a lot of her own nervous energy in the young woman- ready to go off and explore the brave new world that awaited them. She also saw the gunman poised to take all that away in a moment.

It was like she was watching through thick glass. Poised on the sidelines, watching her past selves getting it all wrong over and over, but helpless to interfere. She slammed her palm against it, sending a too-real shooting pain through her arm, but making no audible sound.

“It means a new world.”

Sandshoes was grinning now, more genuine hope than she could ever really remember feeling shining in those eyes. He’d burned in the end- she remembered that much. He’d been angry. Vengeful.

The Timelord Victorious.

How different might things have been if he’d just turned around? The Doctor tried to speak, to shout for him to get her out of the way. Her voice didn’t make a sound.

She watched the happiness melt from Jenny’s face, even as Sandshoes maintained his stupid, complacent grin. The Doctor was pounding on the glass now, silently screaming that it wasn’t worth it, but of course she couldn’t change it. Jenny shoved Sandshoes out of the way, the bullet striking her square in the chest. Martha- brilliant Martha who she’d never once deserved- she knew right away there was no chance. She watched her past-self hold their dying daughter, and tell her of a future she’d never see, already knowing she was beyond saving. Lies had always fallen too easily from her tongue.

“You’re gonna be amazing, you hear me, Jenny?”

Had she even heard?

That first night, when she woke with a whine, curled up into a tight ball on her uncomfortable prison bed, the Doctor had attributed it to stress. She’d jumped haphazardly from Byron, to the cybermen, to Gallifrey, to prison with no time to clear her head. The Master always did funny things to her mind, anyway, it was normal there’d be some aftereffects.

Her hand ached from where she’d been slamming it into the ‘bed’.

She tried to shake the traitorous vision of Jenny- bright, young Jenny with so much potential sacrificing herself for the father she hardly knew. The father who would go on to do so much damage.

Against her better judgement, she’d turned over, and tried to get to sleep again. It was the last time she made that mistake.

The first thing the Doctor heard this time, was screaming.

She was on a ship, which certainly wasn’t her TARDIS. It took her a minute to recognise the place- but, maybe that made the whole thing even worse. Somebody was screaming for her help, and she couldn’t even remember who it was.

She stood there, behind whatever barrier her mind had constructed to stop her interfering, and watched the doddering old fool she’d been back then just stand there while a good woman was in trouble just feet away. She could have reopened the airlock doors- she’d known how- but she’d been so desperate to look for a way around it, that she’d left Katarina there screaming.

“Change course.” The Doctor in front of her finally ordered. “Take him back to Kembel. Take him back to Kembel! Let the Daleks deal with him.”

In that moment the Doctor looked into her own eyes and saw a spark of that ruthless fire which would one day burn galaxies. It was that same fire that made her risk tearing time apart for Clara Oswald- the fire that burned too brightly. If she was feeling generous, she might have called it admirable, that she was willing to fight so unbelievably hard for the people she loved.

Right now, she called it selfishness.

Steven stepped towards the old Doctor, his anger doing a poor job at masking his fear. “Yes, and us!”

“Don't worry, dear boy, We'll find a way out.” The Doctor cringed at her first face (or, the first face she remembered), while standing in her glass prison. Her methods of comfort hadn’t come on any in three thousand years. She was still a liar.

Both of the men who’d been with her bck then had been afraid. Bret had even tried arguing with her, but the Doctor had never been an easy person to argue with.

“I can't sacrifice everything for the sake of that one girl.” He argued, still at the controls. Luckily, she was spared the embarrassment of having to watch her former self argue by Steven stepping in.

“Listen! Without us you wouldn't have got off Kembel at all, and nothing would be worth bothering about!”

“All right, so we all go back together. But without me, I doubt that you would have got this far either.” Bret had given in quickly enough, and all the while the Doctor just stood and watched, and listened to Katarina’s frightened screaming in the airlock.

She watched as Katarina broke free and hit the release for the airlock. She watched as both her and Kirksen were sucked out into space. She watched, and knew that that girl- that girl who was so brave in the face of so much danger- had sacrificed herself so the three of them could get away.

Her hearts ached, as she thought of a dozen ways she could have saved her, if she’d tried harder.

“She wanted to save our lives and perhaps the lives of all the other beings of the Solar System.” The old Doctor in front of her began to make his silly speech, and the Doctor turned away, revolted at her own self-importance. “I hope she's found her Perfection. Oh, how I shall always remember her as one of the Daughters of the Gods. Yes, as one of the Daughters of the Gods.”

Rule one.

She hadn’t thought about Katarina in centuries. That poor, brave woman, who had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep them all alive, and the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to remember her.

The Doctor had awoken, still curled up on that cold stone slab, unable to shake the revulsion at her own actions. Was she still like that man? So pompous as to think that every being in the universe made their decisions based around her.

She hadn’t tried to sleep again, after that, shifting to lay on her back, staring at the celling, and trying to shake what somewhere, deep down, she knew.

There were very, very good reasons, she was in prison.

At first, it was always death. Faces she’d remembered, and ones she’d long since forgotten, all meeting their end because the Doctor had failed to save them.

“It snapped my neck, Sir. It wasn’t as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something.”

Angel Bob.

The Doctor had forgotten all about Angel Bob. He was young, and clever, and he was so scared, and she had just walked away and forgotten all about him, as though he’d never even existed.

She could see the look on the faces of the others- the muted horror on River’s, and the more pronounced look of it on her mother’s, as well as the well-managed grief of the soldiers who’d fought with him. They were all ghosts, now. Amy, River, the soldiers. All blown away like smoke on the wind.

“If you’re dead how can I be talking to you?” She tried not to think about the genuine interest her former self’s voice held in that moment- a man had just died, and Bowtie was curious about the mechanics.

“You’re not talking to me, Sir. The angel has no voice. It stripped my cerebral cortex from my body and reanimated a version of my consciousness to communicate with you. Sorry about the confusion.”

She tried her absolute best not to think too hard about how conscious the original Bob was at that moment. Had he known what had happened to him? Had he felt the angels turn him into their puppet?

She watched as Bowtie told them all to run- to run into the maze of weeping angels with no plan, and to just trust him, and she watched as he stopped behind to defend himself.

“Yes, I called you an idiot, and I’m sorry-“ He didn’t sound sorry at all, but the Doctor in her glass cage watching it play out certainly was, “But I couldn’t have saved your men.”

“I know that, Sir. And when you’ve flown off in your little blue box, I’ll explain that to their families.”

She watched, sick to her stomach, as Bowtie smirked.

“I’ll have to tell his mother.”

Seeing Rose, even after all this time, was still painful. This was only the second day they’d met, back before they’d travelled together. Before she’d managed to soften the war ravaged Doctor standing in front of her now.

The Ears had been one of her shortest lived, and angriest faces, and the ways he’d treated people were downright cruel at times. She saw the questioning look he gave Rose, clueless in the face of Mickey’s apparent demise, and why she’d be at all upset.

Why Rose hadn’t walked away then and there would forever be a mystery to the Doctor. She’d never once deserved that kind of love.

“Mickey” I’ll have to tell his mother he’s dead, and you just went and forgot him, again! You were right, you are alien.”

Alien didn’t have to mean cruel, though. So why did callousness seem to come so easily to her? Maybe it was just the sheer amount of death she’d witnessed, but it still hurt to see. She had to keep reminding herself that this death, at least, hadn’t been real- that Mickey was alive and living on earth, raising a son with his dad’s eyes and his mum’s brains who’d have the whole world talking in a few years.

At least it was a good reminder of why she was staying away from August Smith.

“Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey-“

“Yeah, he’s not a kid-“

The Ears cut Rose off before she could keep speaking, but the Doctor watching from the side-lines found herself nodding in agreement. Rose was right. Of course Rose was right.

“It’s because I’m busy trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering about on top of this planet! Alright?”

“Alright!”

“Yes, it is!” Ears sounded insufferably smug.

The Doctor shook her head in disgust, glancing at Rose and quietly muttering, “Why did you ever put up with me?”

“Look out!”

It was another voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, and one she’d frankly been dreading hearing. If Nyssa was here she had a good idea of what she was about to see. She saw the cybermen coming up behind her back, while her fifth-self fumbled with the controls. It was as good as useless.

A cyberman lumbered up behind her, and her past-self ignored it completely, leaving Nyssa to have to shoot it down with a discarded cyberweapon. She was once again saved by a more competent friend, and her own hypocrisy when it came to guns.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever even thanked Nyssa for saving her life.

“I must save Adric!”

Stuck in the corner, exhausted and emotionally drained, the Doctor was just glad that, while she was having to watch another of her failures, this version of herself was at the very least trying.

“Look!”

“Adric.”

The screen came to life, and the Doctor tried to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch, but of course it didn’t work- in her dreams she wouldn’t be allowed to block out the parts she didn’t want to see. The only consolation was that she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

She’d always been cowardly like that.

She watched as the ship began to come apart- watched as Tegan and Nyssa held each other, and Celery just stood there gawping like a fish who couldn’t believe his own incompetence.

She still remembered that feeling- like someone had clawed the hearts out of her chest and shown them to her. Back then, it’d been such a long time since she’d really lost someone that she wasn’t used to the pain of it anymore.

When had she become careless enough that death just bounced off of her?

It only took ten days of reliving her worst moments before the Doctor had begun actively fighting sleep. Prison, at least, was a safe enough place to do it. She’d pace her cell at night to keep herself from drifting off- reciting books she knew by heart, or just talking to herself to keep her eyes from closing for too long. During the day, she’d do the same- chatting to the other prisoners, pacing, never letting herself remain still for fear of finally giving into the exhaustion which seemed to have seeped into her bones.

Of course, even a Time Lord (if she could even call herself one anymore), couldn’t stay awake forever. After weeks of forcing her eyes to stay open, she’d eventually collapse, usually when she was in her cell, if she was lucky, and she’d endure another walkthrough her past- too exhausted to even wake up- before being woken by the prison systems to begin all over again.

After a while she’d slip into waking dreams, too exhausted to even think straight. She’d sit in her cell, nutrient block in hand, while her sleep deprived mind played out snippets of her life, a few seconds at a time, while she fought to wake up enough to dismiss the visions.

At first, when she next saw herself- sitting on a bench, eating chips, she thought maybe this was just her mind crying out for some real food. It was easy to forget the specifics of what had been discussed all those years before, after twenty years sitting in a cell.

“She scares me.” Came Bill’s voice from next to the older-Doctor, quiet in its honesty. Admitting you were scared was something so few people ever did- least of all when they were around the Doctor, and being brave was so important, but Bill had never been afraid to admit it to her. She’d been strong like that. “Like. She really scares me.”

As much as she still, after all this time, wanted the Master to be everything she knew he could be, it was hard to deny how right Bill had been to be afraid. After all- it was the Master who’d handed her over to the cybermen, in the end, just not the version she’d feared.

“Okay. Just, promise me one thing, yeah? Just promise you won’t get me killed.”

“I can’t promise you that!” Eyebrows had laughed at her, as though her concerns were something flippant. As though her fear was something worth laughing at. He’d been right, in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep Bill alive, but it was horrible looking back at it now.

The Doctor had managed to shock herself back into reality, but she hadn’t been able to shake the self-contempt that settled in her hearts.

Most of the time, those waking nightmares came while she was stuck sitting around, waiting for the time to come that she’d be allowed out into her tiny cube of the exercise yard, just for something to break up the routine of sitting alone, and thinking about death.

“I keep remembering all the people I’ve killed. Every day I think of more. Being bad- Being bad drowned that out. I didn’t know I even knew their names. You didn’t tell me about this bit.”

“I’m sorry, but this is good.”

“Okay.”

The Doctor watched herself hold her self-ascribed goodness over her oldest friend, and couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t what had driven the Master to the depths of madness he’d displayed on Gallifrey. She might have lorded it as a good thing back then, but she was quickly learning the types of things that isolation, imprisonment, and guilt could do to the mind. If she got out of prison with her sanity, she’d count it a blessing.

She’d dreamt about Missy a lot, after a while. The longer she stayed locked up, the more her guild-addled mind saw fit to remind her of her stint as jailor.

On those nights she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, the Doctor saw herself through the glass again. It was her twelfth face- well, the twelfth she remembered- the one with the angry eyebrows and the trusting nature. She saw Missy standing there, looking more dishevelled than she had before the vault, standing so close to the forcefield that it was rippling. She looked strangely earnest despite the pantomime of madness she put o- as though she was proud of herself for actually helping.

She watched as Eyebrows shoved Bill back away from Missy, not seeming to care much about how what had just transpired had clearly affected her. She’d never been good enough for Bill- the kind, inquisitive girl who’d gone out of her way to buy the Doctor Christmas presents and who’d called her grandad, and who she’d promised she wouldn’t get killed. Bill who had been so strong, who had fought off the monks and the cybermen by sheer force of will. Bill who’d deserved so much more than what the Doctor had given to her.

She watched Eyebrows walk up to that rippling forcefield, and look his oldest friend in the eyes like she was still the monster she pretended to be.

“Even if that was the truth the fact that you’re suggesting it shows that there’s been no change. No hope. No point.”

Eyebrows sounded angry, and the Doctor winced slightly at that. How was the Master ever supposed to change with the Doctor constantly telling her that her progress meant nothing? Was that why she’d given up in the end? It had to be easier to go back to what you’d known before rather than being constantly strung along and put down by someone who had promised to help you become better.

Missy’s face contorted for a moment. The Doctor left her here for months, all alone in this dusty room with almost nothing, and then he’d turned up just to talk to her like this? Her Twelfth face was one of the few she’d always thought of as good- or, if not good, at least kind. Sandshoes had been angry from the war and from everything he’d lost, but Eyebrows had tried so hard to be kind. Was this really what her version of kind did to people?

After her own stint in prison, leaving Missy trapped like this for so long was beginning to seem more and more cruel. She’d wanted to help people, she really had, but it wasn’t as though her friend had come to her and asked. She’d saved her, and then abused that power, keeping her prisoner for decades to try and make her into something she’d never tried to be. It was hard, knowing what had later become of the Master, not to wonder what all that time in the vault had done to their already fragile mental state. How much had she contributed to his snapping and destroying their home?

Looking at it like that how was the Doctor any better than the Jadoon? And how was Missy running off with the Master much different from her running with Jac They’d both been escaping jailors who kept them confined alone for long enough to drive them half-mad.

“We don’t sacrifice people.” The scene playing out in front of her was hardly easy, but the Doctor laughed anyway, because the irony of that wasn’t lost on her. She’d let so many people die for her as Rainbows that Eyebrows’ words felt hollow. “It’s wrong because it’s easy.”

“Back in the day I’d burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I’m sorry your plus one doesn’t get a happy ending, but like it or not I just saved this world because I want to change.”

There was a forced lightness to Missy’s voice, almost undetectable unless you really knew her well- and the Doctor knew her better than anybody. It’d been a cry for help, of sorts- she’d wanted her friend back, and Eyebrows had ignored her. She’d saved the world- the Doctor would have likely spent months searching for infected water supplies and food chains following up his own stupid theories, and Missy had told him the answer freely, and without reward. She’d saved the world and he’d told her there was no hope for her- no wonder she’d run.

“Your version of good is not absolute.” She continued, her fingers pushing slightly against the forcefield now. The Doctor watched it ripple from behind he own glass patrician, and she knew the look in Missy’s eyes far too well. If that forcefield had been replaced with glowing blue bars it could have been her in her own cell. At least during her imprisonment she hadn’t had to live with the knowledge that her oldest friend was her jailor. “It’s vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

Vain, arrogant and sentimental.

She always had said the Master knew her soul a little too well.

Once the spectre of death faded, somewhat, it was her own shortcomings her subconscious decided to force onto her. Those moments when she’d forced others into complying with what she’d wanted- as though that was always her decision to make.

She was the Doctor, after all. Who would ever dare to question her whims as anything less than genius?

“You know you can fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-wiring the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary-“

Not this. Not Donna. How was this fair? At least with Jenny she hadn’t seen the gunman. She could see it in her past-self’s face that he knew this was killing her, and he was just standing there like an idiot, watching it happen. He could have stepped in sooner.

“I’m fine.” Donna was showing off that big grin, back to talking a mile-a-minute. The Doctor had always wondered if on some level she knew what this would do. She had all of that knowledge inside her head, it must have been somewhere in her all along that she’d become an impossible thing.

She didn’t pound on the glass or scream this time, watching her own past unfold with her hand pressed up against it. She mouthed I’m sorry, but no sound came out.

“I bet he’s great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin. Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown- no he’s fiction-“ She watched as Donna pranced around, playing with the console and the phone. This wasn’t quite Donna- not really. This Donna was far too Doctor- maybe that was why she found it so unsettling, seeing her charming, funny, irreverent friend talking like someone she hated.

“Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton-“ Donna cut off with a gasp, and the Doctor wanted to slap Sandshoes for leaving her in this state. She had to be scared, and he wasn’t even bothering to explain it to her. Of course, with that much of the Doctor’s mind burning through her own, Donna had probably understood it all already, but there was still something to be said for compassion in a situation as horrific as this one.

“I was gonna be with you forever.” The sadness in Donna’s eyes spoke volumes. She’d trusted the Doctor so much, had so much planned for them, and it was all the Doctor’s fault.

If her hearts hadn’t already shattered they did now. Nobody ever stayed with her forever- not really. Even if she wanted them to, she’d always destroy them before they got a chance.

She was on the floor, kneeling on the dirty floor of a TARDIS she’d long since tried to forget. When had that happened?

“I know.”

She screwed her eyes shut, grateful that this time, at least, she managed to block out the visuals- maybe because this time, the sound of Donna begging for something the Doctor was too selfish to give her was enough. She wouldn’t watch Sandshoes lie to her like that- like he’d lied to Jenny, and to Bob, and to Steven. Pretty words to ease the pain she was about to put her through.

“I can’t go back. Doctor. Please. Please don’t make me go back.”

Listening to her beg wasn’t any easier than watching it. Or living it- especially now she knew just how painful it was to have your memories taken from you. Gallifrey may have erased her path, but she’d run roughshod over her friend’s mind just as carelessly.

“Donna Noble. I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” Was that supposed to make either of them feel better? She’d been so self-righteous back then. The Doctor opened her eyes again, and regretted it almost immediately, curling in on herself behind her little partition. “Goodbye.”

“No. No! No please! No. No! No!”

Staying awake proved easier once she’d left prison.

During her incarceration, it had only been the thought of getting home to her fam which had really kept her going, so having Yaz back at her side was a real boost to her mood, which kept those waking nightmares at bay.

The running helped too- adrenaline in her system keeping the more dangerous effects of her sleep-deprivation at bay. Still, it didn’t mean that nights didn’t come where she came down from that high of finally being able to help again, and her tiredness came crashing down on her like a crushing weight.

This time, it came after a particularly harsh day.

She was getting sloppy in her exhausted state, and that sloppiness had put Yaz in far greater danger than she’d ever wanted to risk again. She’d told herself, that after the cybermen, and the daleks, she’d be more careful, but then all of a sudden there they were, stuck in a trap she should have been able to spot, if she was thinking clearly.

They’d been held hostage for longer than she was willing to admit- some scrapper who was very keen on getting hold of the TARDIS- not that he really knew what it was or what significance it held. No, for this man the greatest ship in the universe was worth some spare parts, and whatever the scrap value of its base components was.

They’d gotten out, in the end, but it wasn’t as though she could even take credit for that- it was quick thinking on Yaz’s part which had distracted their attacker for long enough for them to get to the TARDIS. As impressive as it was, it was still terrifying to see Yaz be so like her in the way she acted. The last person who’d wanted to be the Doctor had gotten killed trying to do so.

She’d hardly said a word once they returned to the ship, trying her best to ignore the furtive looks of concern she kept getting. She slipped off to the library alone when Yaz went to make a cup of tea, getting there on her fourth attempt (since the TARDIS seemed insistent on placing her room behind every door she opened), and counting on the near-infinite nature of the TARDIS rooms to hide her for a while. She needed a little space while she cleared her head and tried to get rid of some of the overwhelming guilt that was eating her up inside.

She could have gotten Yaz killed today with her carelessness. If Yaz wasn’t as good as she was, she would have gotten them both killed.

No matter what horrors from her past her brain decided to drudge up, a world without Yaz was still a terrifying thought.

“I’m not asking you for a promise. I’m giving you an order.”

She really didn’t want to see this.

The Doctor had not gotten her memories back just so she could watch Clara Oswald face the raven all over again. Even in prison her mind hadn’t been cruel enough to remind her of that particular death. She remembered the others- Oswin, and the governess she’d met in London, and a hundred other Clara’s who’d died to save her- but this one had never come up.

Evidently, her subconscious thought she needed a reminder of what happened when she took her eyes off things for a moment too long.

“You will not insult my memory. There will be no revenge. I will die, and no one else here, or anywhere, will suffer.”

Well there was a promise the Doctor hadn’t managed to keep. She’d tried to tear time itself apart to save Clara, and worst of all, she’d never even known if it succeeded. Testimony didn’t remember whether Clara had lived or died- it’d been taken the moment before the raven hit- before the Doctor had tried to pull her from her timeline. She had no memory of anything that’d happened with Clara after this, and while she knew they’d been together on Gallifrey, she didn’t know how permanent that salvation might be, or what about it had taken her memories to begin with.

“What about me?” Eyebrows asked, and the Doctor who was watching him managed a harsh, bitter laugh. Clara was dying, and as usual her former self was there to be selfish and make her comfort him.

“If there was something I could do about that I would. I guess we’ll both just need to be brave.”

“Clara-“ He was trying to argue again, but all at once she was pulling him into a hug, and looking at the desperation of it from the outside, the Doctor just knew that Clara was trying to pull some comfort from it too, since Eyebrows hadn’t been offering her any.

She’d been human, and she’d been dying, and she’d been scared, but she’d forced herself to be brave so her friend didn’t have to be.

Looking back on it, Clara had always been so much stronger than the Doctor had ever been.

“Don’t run.” It had to be the first time she’d ever said that to one of her friends in a bad spot. “Stay with me.” Eyebrows was practically begging her now. Worse than that, the Doctor knew that if she had to go back and do it again, she wouldn’t be any stronger.

“Nah.” She could see how heard Clara was working to keep her tone casual, not wanting to hurt the Doctor any more than this whole thing already would. It was heart breaking, really, knowing that even in her final moments she’d had to suppress her own feelings to try and save her pain. “You stay here. In the end everybody does this alone.”

She shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“Clara-“ Eyebrows tried again, and if the Doctor wasn’t stuck in her self-imposed cell, she might have hit him. This was his last chance- why couldn’t he say something to her? Why couldn’t he make sure that she died knowing how deeply she was loved.

“This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it’s gonna hurt you but- please. Be a little proud of me?”

There was a hopeful note to Clara’s tone despite everything, and in the end that was what really broke the Doctor. Her hand was pressed against the glass, desperate to say something, but unable to- the sands of time separated them more surely than the glass ever could.

“Always.” She promised, because if Eyebrows wouldn’t say it, then this new Doctor would. “I’m always gonna be proud of you.”

Clara turned away from her, and walked towards her grave.

“No no no no…”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open, giving her a hazy view of the warm purple walls of the TARDIS library. She was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, her eyes still heavy with sleep. How long had it been since she’d last slept? Weeks, at least. Maybe months. And since she’d last slept properly? Well that had been decades.

Her hands ached from where she’d been clutching onto the arms of the chair.

Her eyes were already falling closed again, too exhausted to even force herself to stay awake.

“If you die here it’ll mean I never even met you.”

She’d never really appreciated how true that statement was. Without the Doctor blundering through her mother’s life, River Song would never have existed. Melody Williams (would she even have been called Melody, with the paradox of her name?) would have grown up safe and happy, the human daughter of the journalist and the nurse. She’d have had a normal life. She’d have been raised by loving parents, and have had a happy childhood, and maybe even brothers and sisters- maybe she’d have still written books, or taught archelogy, and had a much happier marriage than theirs had been.

Melody Pond would have been so much better off if she had never met the Doctor.

“Time can be rewritten.” For once, she seemed to be in agreement with Sandshoes. He was selfish, but at least he’d have been doing her a favour.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare. It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.”

Live great lives. That’s what she’d told her fam. If anyone had lived up to that, and lived a great life despite the Doctor’s meddling, it had been River Song. They’d had some amazing times, saved so many people, so many planets. There were stars out there still burning because River Song had been there to save them.

If the Doctor had found a better way around getting the people out of there, there might have been so many more.

The computer counting down the seconds left of her life in the background wasn’t helping the way that the Doctor’s hearts were pounding. She was crying, now- she wasn’t sure when that had begun.

From her cell, she watched Sandshoes babble on about his guilt- his suspicions, being expertly put down by River. She was so used to shutting him up when he was talking about things he didn’t know anything about- she could really use that, right now.

She should have saved her.

“Hush now. Spoilers…”

River smiled, and the Doctor lunged at the glass in front of her, shouting words that even she could barely comprehend. She was still clawing desperately at the glass when the room flashed bright white.

The Time Lord didn’t even fully wake that time, despite having thrown herself onto the floor at some point during her anguish. She was barely drawn out of her nightmares for a moment, a noise that sounded awfully like a whimper escaping her. Her eyes were shut too-tightly, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, fingernails digging into her arms as though that would protect her from the horrors of her own mind.

“Who decides they’re so unimportant? You?”

The Doctor knew where she was this time without even looking up. Somehow, this scared her even more. She wasn’t watching a loved one die, she was watching her own stupid power-play blow up in her face. This hadn’t been a mercy mission, it’d been her trying to prove to the whole Universe that the Doctor had power over all.

“For a long time now I thought I was just a survivor, but I’m not. I’m the winner- that’s who I am. The Time Lord victorious.”

“And there’s no one to stop you?”

“No.”

“This is wrong, Doctor. I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord victorious is wrong.”

Captain Adelaide. She’d been so brilliant- she’d understood more about this than her idiot younger self ever could. The Doctor just about managed to give her a smile from behind her glass wall before she resumed staring at Sandshoes in disgust.

“That’s for me to decide. Now, you better get home.”

It was chilling. Watching her old face shift so quickly. Darkness turned cocky in an instant as he pointed his sonic at the door. Unlike with the other dreams, The Doctor wasn’t shouting. She didn’t try to say a word, just watched on with self-loathing and dread weighing down her hearts. A silent spectator of her darkest moment since the Time War.

Sandshoes smirked at that brave, doomed woman, challenging her to argue her fate further. He’d set himself up as a self-styled God. “Oh it’s all locked up- you’ve been away. Still, that’s easy.”

“Is there nothing you can’t do?”

“Not anymore.”

She watched as the great Time Lord Victorious turned his back on Adelaide. She watched as the captain drew her gun. She braced herself for that flash of blue light and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

“Don’t do it, Adelaide.” She was talking to nobody, but she still couldn’t help herself trying to butt in- trying to fix the damage she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t-“

“Doctor?”

A hand on her shoulder drew her out of there before she had to watch that, jolting her awake. She came to, immediately caught off guard by the shadow of someone standing over her, and the scent of a familiar perfume hitting her. It took her a moment or so to place it, but when she did her hearts picked up a little. Yaz. Brilliant, wonderful, human Yaz who’d probably just heard her rambling all sorts of scary nonsense in her sleep.

“Doctor are you alright?”

The Doctor swallowed a little too hard and sat up quickly enough to make her head spin, forcing a familiar, false grin to spread across her face. Her body was aching from sleeping on the wooden floor, and she was pretty sure she was going to be bruised from where she’d fallen off the chair.

“Yaz! Yasmin Khan- Sorry, must have nodded off-“ Her voice sounded a little false even to her own ears, and she did her best to pass it off with a yawn.

“Sorry, just, you were talkin’ in your sleep an’ I thought-“ Yaz looked a little sheepish about waking her, and her eyes were full of concern.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- Time Lord. Vivid dreams- I was…” She forced another yawn, trying to give herself time to think of a lie. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met a real life siren on a pirate ship? That was a good one, that. Dream about that one a lot. M’fine, though. Really.”

Yaz shot her a look that showed she didn’t believe the Doctor for a moment. There was a beats pause, before she exploded

“Are you kiddin’ me?! You’re not ‘fine’!” She drew air quotes around that last word, straightening up, to stand over the Doctor, showing she was serious.

“I’m-“

“I swear if you say ‘fine’ I’m gonna-”

The Doctor shut her mouth before Yaz could finish the threat.

There was a tense moment, almost like a standoff between the two of them, before Yasmin’s hard eyes softened, and she bent down to help the Doctor to her feet.

“I’m worried about y’.”

Suppressing her initial urge to insist that she was fine, the Doctor bit her lip.

“You shouldn’t be.” She eventually managed.

“When was the last time ‘y slept?” Yaz asked.

“About a minute ago.” The Doctor tried to make a joke. Yaz laughed weakly.

“Before that.” She clarified, glancing at the floor where she’d found the doctor collapsed.

“…I don’t remember.” The Doctor admitted.

Yaz sucked in a surprised breath through clenched teeth.

“Doctor-“

“I’m not human. I don’t need as much sleep as you lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, Yaz gave her another of those easy, disbelieving looks. “And that’s why I found you passed out on the floor cryin’?”

The Doctor blinked, bringing her hand up to her face. Sure enough, she’d been crying- she hadn’t even realised. Waking up with tears in her eyes was just normal by now.

“What’s so bad that it’s keepin’ you up?” Yaz leant forwards, taking one of the Doctor’s hands in both of her own. “Please don’t lie to me.”

There was an earnestness in her eyes that reminded the Doctor of all the people she’d loved most. Rose, Amy, River, Clara. Even Koschei. She’d always liked the people who could be honest with her the best- she needed honest people to stop her tearing herself apart and taking everyone else with her.

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Yaz.” She said, resigned note in her voice. “You saw Gallifrey. My home world is gone, my wife is gone, my children are gone, my granddaughter is gone. I’ve lost most of my friends, and- since Gallifrey, I can’t block them out anymore. I see them die every night.”

All at once, Yaz leaned forwards, just like Clara had in her dream, wrapping her arms tightly around the Doctor, holding her grounded to the spot. Even that brief contact allowed some of the tension in the Doctor’s body to loosen, her shoulder’s slumping as she leant into the contact.

“’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Yaz pulled herself back from the hug, keeping her hands firmly on the Doctor’s arms, so she could ground her while looking her in the eyes.

“Have you got a bedroom on board?” She asked.

“Somewhere. How come?”

Yaz smiled, “Because you’ve gotta sleep sometime, and I think it’s probably comfier than the floor.” She let one of her hands fall, the other moving up to brush the hair out of the Doctor’s eyes. “Come on.”

She caught Yaz’s wrist in her hand, suddenly looking nervous. She was really worried where her subconscious would go from what had to be one of the worst things she’d ever done. “I don’t wanna. Not yet.”

“Y’ need to.” Yaz insisted, still trying her best to smile. The Doctor recognised that look from how often she herself wore it- that false-cheer that just barely covered the worry. “I promise I’ll sit with y’ the whole time- I can wake you up if you start makin’ noise.”

The Doctor thought about that for a minute. It’d certainly been easier to deal with the dream about Adelaide since she’d been pulled out of it before she actually had to hear the shot go off. If Yaz could pull her out of the bad moments before she had to see anything too bad- Maybe it would let the Doctor get a bit of sleep. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, and it didn’t seem as though it would last too long, but- it was an infinitely better one than her current plan of depriving herself of sleep until she could hardly stand.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” She eventually asked, her fingers still resting around Yaz’s wrist, though she wasn’t trying to use them to push her away any more.

“I love you. Let me take care of you, for once.”

There was another slight pause, before the Doctor let go of her hand, nodding. “Okay.”

Yaz let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The Doctor turned to her, genuine confusion etched across her features.

Yaz took another step closer, cupping the Doctor’s face in one hand, and giving her the most genuine smile either of them had shared since they’d reunited. “For letting me in.”

#thirteenth doctor #doctor who #thasmin #yasmin khan #yaz khan #madeathing

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Blue Eyes Part 32

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 32: Alfie and Ella get wrapped up in the bliss of parenthood. But things aren’t over yet

Ella was in the bliss of motherhood. When she awoke, it was almost a miracle to her that the twins weren’t just a dream. They were there in the flesh, cooing softly from their cots.

Alfie was fast asleep in the rocking chair, snoring lightly. His wife smiled and kissed his cheek. “Good morning, love.” She murmured.

He stirred and lifted his head with a wince. “Fucking hell, my hip hurts.”

“Well, you fell asleep in a wooden chair, I can imagine it does.” Ella laughed softly and went to scoop up Sofia. “Hello, chavi.” She whispered affectionately. “Was papa keeping you company last night?”

The baby girl yawned and wrapped her fingers around one of Ella’s dark curls.

“Oh, Alfie, aren’t they so perfect?” She sighed adoringly.

Alfie smiled, watching mother and daughter bond. “They sure are. Our son’s got a set of lungs on ‘im but we finally got back to sleep, didn’t we?” He reached a hand between the bars of Ezra’s cot and rubbed the baby’s stomach.

Ella beamed. “And you were doubting yourself as a father. I knew you’d be perfect.” She touted triumphantly.

“Hang on, only been one day.” He reminded her.

“Mhm, still.” She rocked Sofia softly.

“I never told you the meaning of their names. Their middle names, at least, you know why we chose their first names. But not their middle names.” He remembered. “Did I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Alfie beckoned her over, patting his thighs. “C’mere, I’ll tell ya.”

“Your hip.”

“S’fine.”

Ella relented and made herself comfortable in his lap, resting Sofia against her chest.

“Eliana is Hebrew, well they’re both Hebrew names. But Eliana means ‘God has answered’. And Shai means gift. They’re both quite beautiful written in Hebrew. I’ll hafta show you.” Alfie rubbed Ella’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Oh, Alfie, that’s beautiful, how perfect and-” Her eyes began to well up with tears. “Oh c’mon, I feel as if I’m crying about anything nowadays.” She laughed weakly and sniffled.

Her husband gently dabbed her tears away. “They’re tears of happiness, though, ain’t they?” He double-checked.

“Of course. I’ve never been so happy. Forget the world outside of here, I don’t care anymore. All I need is my family. This family.” She used her free hand to guide his lips to hers. Her hand rested on the left side of his face, her fingers gently resting on the scars and abrasions leftover from the wound.

Alfie jerked a bit involuntarily.

She withdrew from the kiss and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

He swallowed and looked into her blue eyes. “No, love. I just…fuck you’re the only person who could ever still love me like this.”

“Will you still love me when I’m aged? Wrinkled and grayed?” She questioned, returning her hand to his injured cheek. The pads of her fingers just barely grazing over the marred skin. She wasn’t afraid to look into his eyes, not caring about the appearance of his clouded eye.

“Of course.” He nodded. “You’d still be beautiful to me.”

“Then why should it be any different for you? You’re still so beautiful to me, Alfie.” She whispered and lightly pressed a kiss to his cheek before kissing his lips again. “Nothing will ever change that.”

He sat with her for a moment. “Can you grab me a pen and paper?”

Ella looked confused but nodded. “Sure.” She stood up and handed Sofia to him.

“Hello, love.” He murmured softly and cradled her close.

She grabbed her diary and returned with it to the nursery. “What do you need this for?” She wondered.

“Here,” Alfie exchanged their daughter for the journal. He found a fresh page and uncapped the pen.

Ella looked over his shoulder with Sofia resting in her arms. She watched as Alfie began writing in a different script. It wasn’t unfamiliar to her, she’d seen him read it before, it was the Hebrew alphabet. And yet it was still very odd to see him writing it. Very patient and learned. It wasn’t like his normal handwriting, scrawled out without much care. His hand was steady, a practiced skill that must have been taught to him by someone he cared very much about.

“That’s Ezra.” He pointed to the characters. “Then here’s his middle name, Shai. Sorta short, reminds me of part of a menorah.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Right, Sofia’s spelled a bit differently in Hebrew. They’d spell it T-Z-O-F-I-Y-A.” He wrote the coinciding letters in Hebrew on the page. “Then Eliana. Mum didn’t spell it with a Y but some people do.” He shrugged and handed her the diary.

“You were right.” Ella murmured. “It’s beautiful.” There was something so special about celebrating Alfie’s culture. He’d been accustomed to some of the Shelby Traveler ways so Ella was glad to learn more from him. It was empowering knowing that Mosley wanted to kill Alfie simply because he was Jewish. But Alfie survived and responded by blessing his children with Hebrew names.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks passed by at an unbelievable pace. Alfie was worried that if he blinked, he’d miss a big moment. Luckily, Ella was carefully keeping track of every milestone their twins took. She purchased two brand new journals, one a deep teal and the other a light lilac. Inside, she penned the twins’ first moments.

Ezra’s first smile when Anthea sniffed at his feet.

Sofia rolled over much to the delight of her father.

Ezra managed to sleep through the whole night despite his sister waking a few times.

Sofia laughed when Alfie kissed her cheek.

Ezra was the first to try sitting up on his own.

But Sofia was the first to crawl.

Once the pages started to fill up, Ella was taken aback by how much time had passed. She had become so conditioned to expect something awful to happen when things had been going so well. Times like that couldn’t last long. Inevitably they would end with something terrible blindsiding them.

But things maintained. It had been the longest Ella was genuinely happy. She had two beautiful children, two playful dogs, and a husband who loved her. It made her a little paranoid, always worried that something would come crashing down on their perfect world. But it stayed quiet for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~

“Okay, try and…yes, Alfie, stay there. Oh, Anthea.” Ella sighed as she tried to get her family in frame.

Alfie had spoiled her with a brand-new camera. Naturally, the first thing she wanted was a picture of her family all together. So, they went down to the beach to take a family portrait. Ella was setting up the shot as Alfie tried to keep both dogs still while holding Ezra and Sofia. The six-month-olds were wide awake and giggling at the dogs.

“Ah, you little fucker, get back here.” Alfie tried to get Anthea before she dashed off to swim.

“Alfie!” Ella scolded and snatched the pit bull by the collar. “You cannot swear in front of them anymore. They’ll start talking any day now and I don’t want them fucking spouting off your vocabulary.”

He grinned. “You’re just as bad as me, love.”

Ella frowned. He was right. One of her first words had been ‘shit’, after all. “We both have to work on it.” She sat Anthea down and returned to the camera to start the timer. “Ready?” She dashed back over and stood beside Alfie, wrapping an arm around his waist.

They waited for the shutter to go off before they could all take a breath.

“Bet it looks great.” Alfie set Ezra and Sofia down on the sand so they could play. He grunted as he lowered himself down beside them. “Look at that, aye?” He picked up a scallop shell and showed it to the twins. “What’s that, then?”

Ezra cooed and reached for the shell.

Ella watched from behind the camera, waiting for the perfect moment to take a candid shot. It was amazing to see how the twins had grown from little bundles to happy babies. They were healthy with pink, round cheeks. They weren’t identical, Ezra’s hair was much darker than Sofia’s. His hair reminded her more of her hair color. A very dark brown with warm chocolate highlights. Sofia’s was a beautiful lighter color with hints of honey that shone in the sun. They both had blue eyes but Ella knew from experience that the color could change. Already Ezra’s eyes were slowly melding to green. They looked like the ocean. Sofia’s eyes were starting to appear a bit browner. It thrilled Ella to think about how they would look in another month’s time. There was so much to look forward to.

After Ella took the picture, Alfie frowned and stood up. His eyes fixed above the bluff to their home.

“Alfie?” She asked. “What is it?”

“Someone’s pulled up in a car.” He answered.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

“No.” He whistled for Cyril and began walking toward the path back up to the house, his hand slipping inside his coat.

Ella felt a hint of dread as she realized this was it. This was when everything fell to shambles. She felt foolish for believing things would be okay.

Alfie muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Tommy Fucking Shelby.” Apparently, he saw the man get out of the car before Ella could.

Tommy noticed the two figures on the beach from the drive near the bluff. He walked over and shouted over the ledge. “Alfie!”

“The fuck does he want, aye?”

Ella shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t mention he was coming.” It had been quite some time since she heard from her brother. She naturally assumed that he was caught up in the business of trying to plan Oswald Mosley’s assassination.

“Tommy Shelby MP, OBE, thinks he can come calling whenever the fuck he wants.” Alfie scooped up Ezra and began walking back up the bluff to the house.

Ella picked up Sofia and began to follow them, making sure the dogs were right behind her.

By the time she reached the drive, Alfie and Tommy were already in a heated argument.

“You ain’t bringing your mental state here to disrupt me fucking family. That ain’t happening, mate.”

“What is going on?” Ella paused, taking in her brother’s appearance. He looked even more sleep-deprived than usual. He was twitching and couldn’t stand still. His eyes kept shifting, glancing over his shoulder, waiting for something or someone.

“Bring the kids inside.” Alfie handed Ezra over instead of answering his wife.

Ella hesitated but brought the twins and the dogs inside. She could hear the shouting match escalate through the house as she put the twins in their cots. Hoping to break them up, she hurried back outside and drew Alfie away from Tommy.

“What is going on!?” She demanded again.

“Your brother’s come here all doped up, that’s what’s going on.” Alfie jabbed a finger at the man.

Tommy looked ready to either pounce or rip his own hair out. His whole body was tensed up and practically trembling. His hands balled into fists. “This is it, Alfie. All those times you pointed a gun to my head. You fucking do it, right now!”

It was nonsensical, almost as if Ella’s hearing had gone out for a moment. His words disjointed and not making any logical sense. “Tommy, what are you talking about?” She struggled to get between the two who were in each other’s faces.

“This is it? Aye? You’ve finally lost your fucking marbles, Tommy? ‘Bout time we locked you up, right, in a fucking asylum!” Alfie shouted, his face turning red.

“Stop it!” Ella pushed her husband back knowing he wouldn’t fight her. “Stop it right now, the both of you!” She grabbed her brother by the overcoat and physically forced him back a few steps. He was so exhausted that he couldn’t resist her and stumbled backward. “What are you on about?”

But Tommy’s eyes were fixed on Alfie, almost like a rabid dog that had locked onto a victim. “It’s your lucky day, you finally get to blow me brains out!”

Ella had enough and slapped him across the face. “Take a fucking breath, for Christ's sake! You're going on like a fucking lunatic.” She snapped.

The stinging pain managed to knock Tommy back into a bit of sanity. “It all fell apart.” He gasped out; his lungs raw from screaming.

“What did?” Ella didn’t let go of his coat so he couldn’t go after Alfie again.

“The rally. Mosley, it all went to shit. Someone knew.”

“Who did?” Alfie asked.

“I don’t fucking know!” Tommy shouted. “I don’t know who!”

Ella’s stomach dropped. She had almost been certain that Mosley was dead. Maybe it was because things had been going so well for her. But that sick man was still out there. And now he knew that the Peaky Blinders were trying to kill him.

“He knew nothing.” Tommy pulled away from his sister and began to pace in a frenzy. “Mosley knew nothing. Then Barney was shot. Aberama was killed.” His breathing picked up pace again as he began to hyperventilate, his hands grasping tightly at his hair. “Mosley knew nothing!” He screamed.

Ella had seen her brother in very bad states before. But never to the extreme that he was now in.

Tommy stopped pacing and looked back at Alfie. He paused and then pointed at the man. “That’s why I’m here.”

“What are you talking about?” Ella made sure she was still in between them.

“He’s going to shoot me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Thomas.” Alfie threw his hands up in disbelief. “Always with the fucking dramatics. You get a grip, right, and then we’ll talk about what we’ll do next.”

“There is no next! There’s nothing left!” Tommy began approaching Alfie again. Ella pushed his chest to keep him back. “There’s nothing left. You go get your gun and you end it. I’m fucking done.”

“I ain’t shooting you, mate.”

“Tommy, please, just take a breath and-”

“I’m done!” Tommy’s voice roared across the windy landscape.

“I ain’t killing you.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine.” Tommy shoved Ella to the side and stormed toward Alfie.

Ella only just gathered her bearings when she turned and saw Tommy had withdrawn a gun and was pointing it to her husband’s temple. Her blood ran cold. “Tommy…put the gun down.”

“You go inside. Get your gun and you kill me.” He replied. “Or I’m fucking shooting him.”

“Jesus Christ, you’ve gone fucking insane.” Alfie had been at the end of Tommy’s gun before but never had he been so convinced that the man would actually pull the trigger.

“I’m not going to kill you, Tommy.”

“Ella, do as I say!” He shouted, his finger fidgeting on the trigger. “This is how it’s meant to be. Shelbys don’t die of old age, you fucking know that. We get killed or we kill ourselves.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Ella’s voice quivered. “Alfie and I will help you. Mosley can be defeated. He can!”

“No. No, he can’t.” Tears were forming in Tommy’s eyes. All the emotions colliding together and driving him to madness. He just wanted to sleep.

“Yes, he can. With Alfie’s help, we can make alliances. We’re smarter than he is, Tom.” She held out a hand to him. “Please, just put the gun down and we’ll do this together.”

“Listen to her.” Alfie agreed steadily. “Just listen to her. We can sort this out, mate. Don’t hafta be like this.”

In a snap decision, Tommy lowered the gun and Ella swooped in to rip it out of his hands. Her heart racing, she emptied the pistol of its bullets and tossed it into the gravel. “For fuck’s sake, Tommy.” She gasped in disbelief. “Are you high?”

The once invincible man looked as if he was crumbling right before her eyes. “I can’t do this, El. Not anymore.” He whimpered in Rokka to her.

“Stop, just stop.” Ella pulled him into her arms and let him unload his weight onto her. Tommy Shelby carried the world on his shoulders. To hold him was to hold Atlas.

~~~~~~~~~~

“He said he hasn’t slept in three days.” Ella came into the kitchen where Alfie was stewing a bit.

“So, he made it our fucking problem?” He muttered in response, never particularly enjoying having a gun shoved in his face.

She sighed and put on the kettle. “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. No one needs to apologize for him. That’s his job, not yours.”

Ella hummed in agreement and walked up to him. “What are we going to do?”

He dropped his hands to her waist, trying to let go of the tension in his shoulders. “No fucking clue.” He admitted. “I assumed-well I figured he had in under control.”

“Yeah, I did too.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her fingers tease the hair grazing the nape of his neck.

Alfie drew her in close, letting her rest her chin on his shoulder. She glanced out the kitchen window behind him. Gazing out across the small lawn that overlooked the bluff. Something stirring in the garden made her perk up a bit. She almost expected another stray dog to come wandering onto the property like Anthea had. Instead, a dark shadow of a cat slunk out of a bush. Its tail flicked in the air as it crossed the trimmed lawn. For a moment it paused and seemed to listen to something, its ears pointing back. Then as suddenly as it had appeared, it dashed off.

“We need to find the black cat.” She whispered.

“Huh?” Alfie tilted his face towards here. “Didya say something, love?”

“No. No, I didn’t say anything.” She buried her face in his neck and began making a list of all the people who would betray her family.

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kessielrg · 3 years

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A Quiet Place (Part 2)

Summary: Part 2 that i promised for this piece: here. Still inspired by a chaotic rp @chibi-mushroom and @animacreates are doing. This one takes place a month-ish after the last, and further dives into what trauma the foster siblings got themselves into beforehand.

Rating: K+ (for a precision f-strike on Brain’s part)

Word Count: 2,409 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

They kept the blanket on the couch just for her. Not that she had any reliance on the purposely quiet nature of Oswald's hobby room. It was just… a good place to be, that's all. Oswald held true to his word- Ortensia really didn't bother him when he was in that room. The closest she ever got was a polite knock on the door to say that dinner was ready. He even held true on ignoring Sabrina whenever she went under the afghan blanket. Even on days like today when she sat up and simply had the blanket draped over her shoulders; he would come into the room, notice she was there with a little nod, then continue on as if she wasn't there. It was… nice. It came in handy when she decided to do her homework in the hobby room.

But she wasn't here to do her homework today. She was waiting for Oswald. Sabrina hugged the blanket as close as possible while she kicked her legs over the couch. Her face was between a scowl and upset. She and Brain had been with Ortensia and Oswald for nearly a month now- one of the longest times they'd ever stayed with a single family before. The absolute longest had been at six months. It was another nice couple, like Oswald and Ortensia, until they were expecting their first child. In the rush for the new baby, Sabrina started to cling to the caretakers. She didn't know a baby was a lot to care for. She just knew that her dependance on this one family who seemed so nice were suddenly drifting away. They didn't even bother to give her a second chance at being a good kid after she accidentally pushed their foster mother down the stairs. It was an accident. Honest. She only wanted to help arrange things for the baby too...

“One of these days I'll learn to say no to her.” Oswald grumbled as he entered the hobby room. It nearly gave Sabrina a start, having been too busy wondering just what happened to that particular foster family. “She and Ortensia. Make me talk to that rat. As if I'd ever-”

“I want to watch a Audrey Hepburn movie.”

It was almost funny watching him jump at her voice. Then again, it probably was rather surprising that she wanted to have a conversation with him- even if it was just a request to watch a movie. But there was a glint of determination in her eye. Oswald noticed it and nearly tossed his trouble out the window. This kid needed that attention at the moment.

“Alright.” he agreed. He went over to the bookshelf holding the VHS tapes as he asked, “What are you in the mood for? Funny Face? Love in the Afternoon? Charade?”

“I want to watch Sabrina.”

Oswald cocked an eyebrow as he pulled it from the shelf. “I thought you hated that one?”

“I do. A lot.” she agreed, rather prudently. “But I wanna watch it anyway.”

“Alright then.” her caretaker laughed. “If you're so sure, we'll watch Sabrina, Sabrina.”

The child gave a rather smug grin as he came back over. She was rather pleased as he turned on the TV and got the movie ready. Oswald plunked himself on the couch with a grunt. He then eased into it with a long, well needed sigh.

“Can I lay on you?”

Oswald blinked. He looked over at Sabrina to see her give him the same glare she gave her schoolwork. It was a look of deep thought. Of experimenting. Of very harsh scrutinizing.

“Sure.” he agreed. “Can't guarantee I'm any good as a pillow, though. Do you mind?”

Sabrina shook her head, then nearly fell headfirst into his lap like she immediately passed out. Oswald would have thought that was the case before she carefully moved herself to face the TV.

“Comfy?” he jokingly asked. She gave a small nod, which only got another chuckle out of him. “Can I put my hand on your head? You didn't really leave me a good spot for it.”

“Don't braid my hair.” came the rather sharp answer.

“I won't.” he laughed in agreement.

Sabrina made herself a bit more comfortable before focusing on the movie. This one really wasn't her favorite. The title character, the one who shared her name, was a girl who was enamored with a guy whose family had hired her father as their chauffeur. That Sabrina loved David (the guy) so much that when she was sent to Paris to learn how to cook, she tried to kill herself. David's much older brother, Linus, found Sabrina and stopped her before she could go through with it. When the Sabrina in the movie came back from Paris, David was attracted to her because she looked like a woman. But Linus didn't want David to fall in love with Sabrina, he had his brother arranged to marry a sugar plantation heiress so he could produce a lot of sturdy plastics in their family's name. And so, he did something that our Sabrina found quite ridiculous; he tried to make the movie Sabrina fall in love with him instead. Suffice to say, it worked on both accounts. Sabrina fell in love with Linus, and Linus fell in love with Sabrina. In the end, they were on a one-way cruise boat going to Paris, happy and in love.

If our Sabrina had her way, that movie would have gone very differently. The first change would have been when David decided he liked movie Sabrina because she looked pretty now. Instead of going along with him finally liking her, our Sabrina would have pranked him. She would have made him work for her affection after spending most of their lives pretending she didn't exist. And when Linus tried to sway her away from David? Our Sabrina would have come clean. She would have admitted that she was just messing with David. Perhaps she still loved him, maybe not. Either way, she could still fall in love with Linus, but it would have been over a mutual dislike for how dumb David was.

There were some funny lines in the movie, though. Our Sabrina couldn't deny that. One of the ones she enjoyed was coming up right about now. It was when movie Sabrina was in Paris, and her father was reading a letter he had gotten from her during breakfast.

“What about David? What'd she say about David?” the cook happily asked as she made something in the background.

“Not a word.” the father said as he went through the letter.

“That's good.” the butler nodded as he took a bite from his toast.

“No, wait a minute,” the father then said. “Here's something. 'I don't think of David very much anymore.'”

“That's good.” a maid at the kitchen table nodded.

“'Except at night.'”

“That's bad.” the butler frowned, taking another bite.

“'I decided to be sensible the other day, and tore up David's picture.'”

“That's good.” the bartender nodded as he was washing a glass at the sink.

“'Could you please airmail me some scotch tape.'”

“That's bad.” the cook dismally noted.

Our Sabrina couldn't help her little snicker. She liked the way the actors bounced off each other into perfect comedic timing. Oswald noticed it and gave a smirk of his own.

“You're a good kid.” he idly noted, giving her hair a gentle pat.

The child shrank. “No I'm not.”

“You are, and you deserve the world.”

“Stop.” the child desperately begged, even sitting up to be at his eye level. “I don't want you to talk like that. I don't want you to ever talk like that. Bad things always happen to the people that do.”

Oswald just looked at her for a moment. “Like what?” he asked, trying to play it off as a joke. But her face… It was too serious. Too… terrified.

“They get mean.” she insisted. “They say that they care, but then they decide they don't want you anymore. You try to defend your brother, and you get yelled at instead. Or… or maybe they just wanted your brother, so they're mean to you every time he's not looking. And he doesn't always know. He just says that you're just scared, and exaggerating, and… and…!”

“Sabrina,” Oswald said, interrupting her and even gently taking her by the shoulders. Even if he didn't have a strong grip on her, she still tried to struggle out of it. “Sabrina, listen to me. Ortensia and I will never do that to you. To both of you. You have my absolute word.”

The child violently shook her head. “No!” she cried before breaking free of his hold. She hid herself in a corner of the couch, blanket over her head, and refused to budge. In her desperation, she even shouted at him, “I don't exist! I'm under the blanket and I don't exist now!”

He wasn't going to lie, Oswald almost broke that one ounce of trust she had in him. But he couldn’t. Instead, he tried to relax in his seat again and tried to focus on the movie. It was hard when all he wanted to do was give that little girl a hug.

The movie now had switched back to what the heroine was during in Paris. She was in her second class where they were learning how to make souffle. The instructor was shrewd- he had something negative to say about every student’s effort. Once he told movie Sabrina that her souffle was ‘too low’, the titular girl went off to the side with an older student. This student was a character only used to justify a dress movie Sabrina would wear later, and Oswald knew that his Sabrina preferred the chemistry between these two than movie Sabrina and Linus.

“I don't know what happened.” movie Sabrina sighed as the two of them placed their souffles on the table.

“I'll tell you what happened, dear.” the older student laughed. “You forgot to turn on the oven.”

Movie Sabrina’s face went into one of disappointment as she let out a sullen, “Oh!”

“I've been watching you for a long time, mademoiselle.” the older student admitted. “Your mind has not been on the cooking. Your mind has been elsewhere. You're in love, and I would venture to one step further that you are unhappily in love.”

“Does it show?” movie Sabrina asked, casting her gaze down.

“Very clearly. A woman happily in love, she burns the souffle. A woman unhappily in love, she forgets to turn on the oven.”

Oswald took a look back at Sabrina. Even under all of the covers, you could see how tightly she had tensed up. All he could think was, ‘Oh, kid…’ and really wish he could have gotten to these two siblings sooner. He didn’t leave her while the movie still played. When it ended, he got up to rewind the tape and carefully made his way back to the shelf to put it away. Never once did his Sabrina move. He hoped she had gone to sleep instead of still being catanoic. At least he knew he had the heart for this parenting thing; people who didn’t care wouldn’t have the insatiable urge to cuddle that poor kid, kiss her forehead, and promise her the world so long as they lived. Tell her the lies you always told kids when they were sad- it would get better, the world’s brighter than this, sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.

Would they even work on her? He had severe doubts about it after today.

“I might have dinner up here tonight,” he said out loud. It wasn’t directed toward little Sabrina, but it was a habit to communicate his intentions when he left the hobby room while she was still there. “I’ve really been meaning to work on that blasted clock all week.”

No response from the lump on the couch. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or a bad one.

Again, resisting the urge to just hold the child and never letting go, Oswald let out a small sigh as he headed on out. He gently closed the door behind him, then started to make his way to the living room. Finding that Blaine was relaxing on the living room sofa was a small relief. He sure did look comfortable- back against the armrest, feet up on the sofa, and laptop balanced on his knees.

“Hey you,” Oswald teased, “No making scam sites until you have your own bank account. I won’t let you trace that stuff back to me.”

Like a true teenager, Blaine just slowly lulled his head over to look at his caretaker. A smirk was etched on his face in seeing Oswald there.

“I’m a renegade foster kid,” he said in delight, “I already have my own bank account. Those poor suckers think I’m 28, and Sabi’s a college student.”

“Going for a bachelor's, then?”

“Master’s actually.”

“Ah.” Oswald snorted. But the thought of their futures made him frown. “Blaine, I've got a question.”

“Fire way.”

“Do you still have the number of your case worker?”

“Sure do. Got it on speed dial.” There was a pause, then the boy asked in a rather defensive tone, “Why?”

To this, Oswald nervously rubbed the back of his neck. It was only now dawning on him how terrifying the request would sound to these kids. So he tried his best to lighten the situation a bit by saying, “Do you think there's a nice way to ask if I murder your previous foster parents? They've got a lot to answer for.”

Turns out, Blaine's glare was just as ice cold as Sabrina's.

“You don’t need the case worker to tell you that.” Blaine darkly informed Oswald. “I can tell you exactly who decided to gaslight Sabi in a heartbeat. Among others.”

“I hate that you know what the word is…” Oswald mumbled under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. Blaine cocked an eyebrow at him in response.

“You really are a good one.” he decided with a click of his tongue. He turned his attention back to his laptop before adding in a dark voice, “Don't fuck it up.”

And Oswald had no intention of doing so- not over his dead body.

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