#thomas harris explain

[humaforever]

Harry and Uma hug so TIGHT. Like they want to be as close to each other as they can and squeeze the life out of each other.

[rosesradio]

ts crit & the battle of the allegations that all crit is bullying, written and narrated by: a person that is sometimes a little hater, but is now legitimately concerned.

(a post discussing the nature & sources of crit & fan concerns, not contributing to crit)

friendly reminder that, with all the stuff happening in the sanders sides fandom with updates and crit and everything, it is perfectly okay to post ts crit. no one is being a mean, big bad wolf for doing so. the two types of crit i’ve seen are actually very reasonable and important:

1.) crit of the lack of honesty regarding when the next ep will be coming out (though this has since been announced, at least within a bracket). not the time it’s taking--although there have been jokes--but the lack of honesty. crit of thomas’s defensive reaction to when fans asked for a tss update. crit of other weird & bad social media & business practices (i.e. the patreon from ex-patreons, more “adult” posts that are seen by the (assumed) pre-teens in his audience, etc.)

2.) crit of the creators thomas & team continue to endorse, such as jkr and butch hartman. a lack of addressing any of the controversy and continuing to put things like hp in his brand makes fans (like myself) uncomfortable. it’s perfectly reasonable to want a statement of some kind on it, especially considering his lgbtq+-friendly brand.

if you don’t want to see crit against a creator you really like, that’s fine. no one’s making you look at it. but to pretend that all crit is bullying is lumping legitimate fan concerns with essentially hate mail.

to say “thomas is an asshole and the show sucks” would be mean and uncalled for (and also untrue).

to say “thomas should be more clear on what age range of audience he wants, so that way kids aren’t seeing things they shouldn’t” or “thomas should address somewhere on his sorting video that he doesn’t support jkr’s views & maybe donate to a trans charity with some of the ad revenue” is legitimate criticism and not at all bullying. if you think that it is bullying, you probably need to get off the internet and form any kind of relationship and, i dunno, grow as a person.

[harryofderby]

Thomas Hoccleve dedicating the Regement of Princes to Henry, Prince of Wales ( the future Henry V) from a manuscript c. 1420

[spacedace]

Here have some snippets of the AU that’s taken over my brain (featuring Elle unintentionally dunking on both of Bruce’s identities, Clark realizing he passed his taste in partners on to his son, a bit of pre/unaware that they are dating Super Serious Chaos, and some blink-and-you-miss-it background Enemies to Lovers Dick/Dan)

---

“Sorry, who’s Bruce Wayne?”

The room when quiet. All heads turned to look at Elle at the end of the table. Bruce didn’t visibly react, but Clark could make out the subtle indication of disbelief that his old friend was feeling - that they all were feeling at the interpreter’s question. Elle, suddenly aware she had the full room’s attention, had the look of someone who realized they’d said something wrong, but didn’t know what.

“You’re kidding.” John said, “You know Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne.”

Elle blinked. “I don’t.” She glanced from face to face, “Is he like a big deal? Does he work here or something? I haven’t been around that long so I might have missed him.”

It took every bit of self control Clark had not to laugh. His voice still came out a bit strangled from the effort as he offered, “No he doesn’t work here.” If Bruce was the type to do so in uniform, he’d be kicking Clark under the table.

“You live in Gotham. You have to know Bruce Wayne.” Barry said, voice going a bit high with growing bewilderment. “Mega ba-jillionair. CEO of Wayne Tech? Richest man in Gotham - in the world? Has like a hundred kids?”

Their interpreter’s nose scrunched. “So he’s like…in one of those fundamentalist cults obsessed with having a bunch of kids or something?”

Bruce actually twitched at that. The sound of utter disgust in Elle’s voice at the concept, the complete and total lack of any kind of recognition she had for the single most famous non-crime or crime-fighting related person in the city that she lived in, she truly had no idea who they were talking about. Clark had to get a recording of the room’s security feed, Lois would love this. Oh, wait no, Bruce’s kids. Maybe if he was fast enough he could text Dick to get there ASAP so he could see it all in person before it was over.

“No! Nothing like that! He adopted them - well most of them.” Barry tried to explain, looking utterly lost as he turned from Elle to the rest of them and back again. “You’re messing with us right? This is like a joke?”

Elle shook her head, looking just as lost as Barry did. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Do you know Dick Grayson?”

“I know of an officer Grayson who is a dick. Total tool. He’s been making my brother’s Dan’s life miserable for like a year now. Pretty sure not who you’re talking about though.”

“Jason Todd.”

“The library goon?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Sounds like a Dark Wing Duck character.”

“Cassandra Cain.”

“Isn’t that the author that started out writing incest Harry Potter fanfic?”

“Duke Thomas?”

“What’s he a Duke of?”

Barry snapped his fingers, pointing emphatically at Elle with a look of victory on his masked face as he shouted, “Damian Wayne!”

Damian, who had at that moment just walked into the meeting room with Jon at his heels paused in his place just behind Elle. He did pretty well at hiding his surprise at Barry seemingly shouting his civilian name and pointing at him upon walking in. Though the tense line of his shoulders suggested that if Barry was actually revealing his secret identity without warning or permission, there would be blood.

Stella Nightingale, unaware of the almost-kinda identity reveal going on around her, tilted her head in confusion at the speedster. “I’m assuming he’s related to that Bruce Wayne guy?”

“They’re all related to Bruce Wayne.” John said with open amusement now. The Green Lantern had given up on the research entirely, watching the entire debacle with a growing smirk he kept casting towards Bruce. “That man’s face is plastered absolutely everywhere in the news. How do you not know who he is?”

“If Lois Lane hasn’t written about him he can’t be that important.” Elle said with a casual certainty of one speaking a core tenant of their beliefs. Clark’s opinion of the young woman - already quite high considering her ferocious loyalty and fondness to Jon - rose sharply.

“You’re read the Daily Planet?” Clark asked, warmth curling in his chest at the mention of his wife and her work.

“I read articles by Lois Lane.” Elle said promptly, “I tried reading some articles that Kent guy she partners with sometimes wrote on his own but I couldn’t get past his writing style. Dude sounds like he’s from outer space with his word choice sometimes.”

Bruce, looking far too pleased, gave a quiet and not terribly convincing cough as Clark tried to will his soul back into his body.

It was going to be a long day.

—

“You are at least aware of who Gotham’s vigilantes are, yes?” Damian asked with a raised brow behind his mask.

Elle shrugged, giving him a sly smile. “The relevant ones.”

Clark tried to hide his short laugh with a feigned cough. Elle at least was distracted enough with Jon and Damian’s attention to notice but Bruce was giving him a look over the tablet he was trying - and undoubtedly failing - to review files on.

Jon grinned eagerly from his spot beside Elle as he asked, “Aren’t they all relevant to you? You live in Gotham.”

“I live in Crime Alley.” Elle corrected, bumping his shoulder with hers. “We have different standards of relevancy there.”

“So what are the relevant ones then?” Clark asked, pointedly ignoring Bruce’s burning stare. They’d get back to the research. Eventually. Finding out if the Gothamite who had been spending all her free time with Phoenix and Flamebird for the past year and a half was as oblivious to her city’s heroes as she was its celebrities was too entertaining a notion to pass up.

“Phoenix, obviously.” She grinned cheekily at Damian across the table, ticking names off her fingers as she continued. “Red Hood. Spoiler. Uh…Orphan?” She trailed off, forehead scrunching in concentrated thought.

“That’s can’t be all the ones you know.” Jon gaped, eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced over to were Bruce was seated, not five feet away before turning back to watch Elle try to rack her brain for any more Gotham vigilantes. Clark could see the moment that the words are taken as a challenge as Elle sat up and looked more determined.

“No, shut up, I know more. Uh…there’s the one, um Red Sparrow? It’s another bird one with red name, I’m pretty sure. And the one with the blue - fuck I should know his name. Nightjar? Wasn’t Nightingale I would have remembered that…shit, dude threw up on our couch once I should remember his name -“

“Nightwing threw up on your couch?”

“Nightwing! That’s the bitch! He got poisoned or something and Dan drug him to our place to patch him up since Doc Thompkins’ clinic was closed.”

Clark shared a look with Bruce and Damian. Dick had failed to mention that little event. Clark could see Bruce reaching for his wrist computer, undoubtedly typing out a message his eldest about what he’d just heard - possibly another to Alfred if he was feeling like pulling out the big guns.

At the other end of the table Elle ticked Nightwing off with a nod, even as Jon squawked that it shouldn’t count since he’d given her the name, “Then there’s…uh…oh! Harley Quinn!”

“Harley Quinn does not count.”

“She beat up a guy trying to mug me last week and got me a hot chocolate afterwards, she totally counts!”

“Someone tried to mug you?”

“Crime Alley, Nix, if someone doesn’t try to mug me while I’m out I get worried that I missed Hood calling in a Street Clear for something big.”

“We’re going to circle back on that later.” Jon said, sharing a pointed glance with Damian. It looked like young Miss Nightingale was going to be getting escorted to and from the Watchtower from now on.

Ah, Clark mused, falling head over heels for someone with no understanding of the concept of self-preservation and a stubborn determination to run straight into the heart of danger without a second thought. It brought back such fond memories. Of both Lois and Bruce. And Diana. And - Hmm. Kara might have been right. Clark might have a type.

Watching the three at the other end of the table and taking them in, Clark realized he might have passed his taste in partners on to his son. Well, at least he’ll be able to give Jon some advise on how to handle the heart attacks Damian and Elle will inevitably give him.

“Harley Quinn doesn’t count. You got any more?”

Elle rolled her eyes, muttering about Harley totally counts, before leaning back in her chair. “I think I’m out. I know there’s more but,” She gave a shrug, “I’m tapped out. Those are all the ones I can think of.”

It was, surprisingly, Bruce that spoke up at that declaration, a slant of amusement to his lips as he asked, “No one else comes to mind?”

Elle waved him off, attention turning to the mountain of alien script they needed her to translate for them. It was the reason she was even there rather than in her office trying to translate whatever incredibly dangerous magic tomb JL Dark had dropped off without accidentally summoning a demon or ending hte world in the process. J’onn was right, they really should give her a raise.“That’s all I got.” She said with a sigh, “Like I said, I know the relevant ones.”

“Hn.”

Twenty minutes of shared looks of amusement and suppressed laughter later Elle’s head shot up, a look of wide eyed embarrassment on her face. “Oh my god.”

“There it is.”

“About time Nightingale, I was starting to be concerned about your mental faculties.”

“Shut up, this so embarrassing!”

“Don’t sweat it kid, we all have our moments.”

“I can’t believe I forgot Signal.”

“What.”

---

Context of this snippet if anyone is interested:

This is actually the same AU as the Steph & Jason sibling bonding Anger Management snippet from a bit ago (I’m calling it my Ghosts in Gotham AU in scrivener so I guess that’s what I’ll call it here lol). This time focused on Elle and her misadventures as a Totally Normal Civilian (TM) working for the Justice League with her two besties Jon & Damian (none of them realize yet that they’ve been dating for months).

No idea when this is supposed to take place in terms of timeline with the other snippet, but kinda vibing the idea that while Steph & Jason are having a heart to heart on a rooftop over their shared background and Jason’s future as a dad, Elle is up in the Watchtower telling Bruce Wayne to his face that she has no idea who he is and forgetting Batman is a Gotham vigilante while he’s sitting at the same table as her.

Anyway, this AU has taken over my life. Expect more nonsense to come lol

[soracities]

what are your suggestions for starter poetry for people who dont have strong reading/analysis backgrounds

I've answered this a few times so I'm going to compile and expand them all into one post here.

I think if you haven't read much poetry before or aren't sure of your own tastes yet, then poetry anthologies are a great place to start: many of them will have a unifying theme so you can hone in based on a subject that interests you, or pick your way through something more general. I haven't read all of the ones below, but I have read most of them; the rest I came across in my own readings and added to my list either because I like the concept or am familiar with the editor(s) / their work:

Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times (ed. Nick Astley) & Being Alive: The Sequel to Staying Alive (there's two more books in this series, but I'm recommending these two just because it's where I started)

The Rattlebag (ed. Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes)

The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry (ed. Ilya Kaminsky & Susan Harris)

The Essential Haiku, Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa (ed. Robert Hass)

A Book of Luminous Things (ed. Czesław Miłosz )

Now and Then: The Poet's Choice Columns by Robert Hass (this may be a good place to start if you're also looking for commentary on the poems themselves)

Poetry Unbound: 50 Poems to Open Your World(ed. Pádraig Ó'Tuama)

African American Poetry: 250 Years of Struggle and Song (ed. Kevin Young)

The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing (ed. Kevin Young)

Lifelines: Letters from Famous People about their Favourite Poems

The following lists are authors I love in one regard or another and is a small mix of different styles / time periods which I think are still fairly accessible regardless of what your reading background is! It's be no means exhaustice but hopefully it gives you even just a small glimpse of the range that's available so you can branch off and explore for yourself if any particular work speaks to you.

But in any case, for individual collections, I would try:

anything by Sara Teasdale

Devotions / Wild Geese / Felicity by Mary Oliver

Selected Poems and Prose by Christina Rossetti

Collected Poems by Langston Hughes

Where the Sidewalk Endsby Shel Silverstein

Morning Haiku by Sonia Sanchez

Revolutionary Letters, Diane di Prima

Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved by Gregory Orr

Rose: Poems by Li-Young Lee

A Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor / Barefoot Souls by Maram al-Masri

Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky

Tell Me: Poems / What is This Thing Called Love? by Kim Addonizio

The Trouble with Poetry by Billy Collins (Billy Collins is THE go-to for accessible / beginner poetry in my view so I think any of his collections would probably do)

Crush by Richard Siken

Rapture / The World's Wife by Carol Ann Duffy

The War Works Hard by Dunya Mikhail

Selected Poems by Walt Whitman

View with a Grain of Sand by Wislawa Szymborska

Collected Poems by Vasko Popa

Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas (this is a play, but Thomas is a poet and the language & structure is definitely poetic to me)

Bright Dead Things: Poems by Ada Limón

Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth by Warsan Shire,

Nostalgia, My Enemy: Selected Poems by Saadi Youssef

As for individual poems:

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

[Dear The Vatican] erasure poem by Pádraig Ó'Tuama // "The Pedagogy of Conflict"

"Good Bones" by Maggie Smith

"The Author Writes the First Draft of His Weddings Vows (An erasure of Virginia Woolf's suicide letter to her husband, Leonard)" by Hanif Abdurraqib

"I Can Tell You a Story" by Chuck Carlise

"The Sciences Sing a Lullabye" by Albert Goldbarth

"One Last Poem for Richard" by Sandra Cisneros

"We Lived Happily During the War" by Ilya Kaminsky

“I’m Explaining a Few Things”by Pablo Neruda

"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" //"Nothing Gold Can Stay"//"Out, Out--" by Robert Frost

"Tablets: I // II // III"by Dunya Mikhail

"What Were They Like?" by Denise Levertov

"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden,

"The Patience of Ordinary Things" by Pat Schneider

“I, too” // "The Negro Speaks of Rivers” // "Harlem” // “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes

“The Mower” // "The Trees" // "High Windows" by Philip Larkin

“The Leash” // “Love Poem with Apologies for My Appearance” // "Downhearted" by Ada Limón

“The Flea” by John Donne

"The Last Rose of Summer" by Thomas Moore

"Beauty" // "Please don't" // "How it Adds Up" by Tony Hoagland

“My Friend Yeshi” by Alice Walker

"De Humanis Corporis Fabrica"byJohn Burnside

“What Do Women Want?” // “For Desire” // "Stolen Moments" // "The Numbers" by Kim Addonizio

“Hummingbird” // "For Tess" by Raymond Carver

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin

“Bleecker Street, Summer” by Derek Walcott

“Dirge Without Music” // "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Digging” // “Mid-Term Break” // “The Rain Stick” // "Blackberry Picking" // "Twice Shy" by Seamus Heaney

“Dulce Et Decorum Est”by Wilfred Owen

“Notes from a Nonexistent Himalayan Expedition”by Wislawa Szymborska

"Hour" //"Medusa" byCarol Ann Duffy

“The More Loving One” // “Musée des Beaux Arts” by W.H. Auden

“Small Kindnesses” // "Feeding the Worms" by Danusha Laméris

"Down by the Salley Gardens” // “The Stolen Child” by W.B. Yeats

"The Thing Is" by Ellen Bass

"The Last Love Letter from an Entymologist" by Jared Singer

"[i like my body when it is with your]" by e.e. cummings

"Try to Praise the Mutilated World" by Adam Zagajewski

"The Cinnamon Peeler" by Michael Ondaatje

"Last Night I Dreamed I Made Myself" by Paige Lewis

"A Dream Within a Dream" // "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe (highly recommend reading the last one out loud or listening to it recited)

"Ars Poetica?" // "Encounter" // "A Song on the End of the World"by Czeslaw Milosz

"Wandering Around an Albequerque Airport Terminal” // "Two Countries” // "Kindness” by Naoimi Shihab Nye

"Slow Dance” by Matthew Dickman

"The Archipelago of Kisses" // "The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel

"Mimesis" by Fady Joudah

"The Great Fires" // "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart" // "Failing and Flying" by Jack Gilbert

"The Mermaid" // "Virtuosi" by Lisel Mueller

"Macrophobia (Fear of Waiting)" by Jamaal May

"Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong" by Ocean Vuong

"Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

I would also recommend spending some times with essays, interviews, or other non-fiction, creative or otherwise (especially by other poets) if you want to broaden and improve how you read poetry; they can help give you a wider idea of the landscape behind and beyond the actual poems themselves, or even just let you acquaint yourself with how particular writers see and describe things in the world around them. The following are some of my favourites:

Upstream: Essays by Mary Oliver

"Theory and Play of the Duende" by Federico García Lorca

"The White Bird" and "Some Notes on Song" by John Berger

In That Great River: A Notebook by Anna Kamienska

A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

The Book of Delights by Ross Gay

"Of Strangeness That Wakes Us" and "Still Dancing: An Interview with Ilya Kaminsky" by Ilya Kaminsky

"The Sentence is a Lonely Place" by Garielle Lutz

Still Life with Oysters and Lemon by Mark Doty

Paris, When It's Naked by Etel Adnan

[sylveon-and-velveon]

Playing "4 Big Guys" around the slashers

Shitpost idea has been made, so here XD

This will include: Michael Myers {OG & RZ}, Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees, Billy Lenz, Freddy Krueger, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Tiffany Valentine

Feel free to request any shitpost writing prompt ideas you can think of in my asks, I love silly non-serious ideas XD

Given the music is VERY adult related, this is 18+ ONLY

OG Michael Myers

Ain't gonna lie, the second you play that song he's probably staring at you instantly. Anger? Disappointment? Cursing your entire family and possible future children? Who knows! It's Michael-Fucking-Myers baby!!!

He's not used to anything sexual overall so hearing a song openly sing about gay sex, and in such a detailed way, would worry him. Not for the singer, no- more on your taste in music.

And don't even get me started on when he hears about shit being involved. The second he hears that being mentioned he's turning off the music entirely, patting your head, and dragging you away so you'll listen to something he likes instead to cleanse that weird mind of yours. Like... Kate Bush or something.

He'd like Kate Bush right? He looks like a Kate Bush enjoyer.

RZ Michael Myers

Judging you, hard. Though he ain't saying it. His aura is practically smellable he's judging you so hard.

Does he like it? No. It's loud, obnoxious, and profound filled. Ignoring the obvious "gay sex and other weirdness" part, the volume of the music reminds him of his childhood.

He's smashing the device the music is coming from. He doesn't care if it's your MP3 all the way to a damn TV or Alexa, he's smashing that shit to pieces if it means he doesn't need to hear it anymore.

What would he put on instead? Calming ambient noises that play for hours on end on YouTube. It's the exact opposite of whatever hellscape you just played. It's better.

Brahms Heelshire

Well first of all it ain't classical, so that's a point on the "I Hate This" list.

Second it's not a piano.

Third it's literally "4 Big Guys"-

Not only is this poor man confused about everything the singer is saying, I highly doubt his parents explained LGBTQ+ to him, he's also hating how loud it is.

"Who puts things up their ass?" - Brahms Heelshire 2024

You turn off the music yourself when he practically begs you to.

You're probably tryna hold in your laughter while he's sitting on the floor trying to figure out what the fuck he just heard.

Jason Voorhees

Is there a bigger word for "traumatized"? Because that man earns it.

You're lucky af, if his mom was live she'd hit you with a crowbar so fast- Not kill you tho, she wouldn't dare hurt her boy.

But yeah, he's not saying anything, nor moving. Bro's too traumatized. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE-

You better give him his teddy he fucking deserves it TmT

Laughing his ass off until the shit is mentioned, even this horny gremlin has his limits.

Can you tell I hate shit kinks? XD

He'd want an apology for you blasting that song so far to that section. But no music! He hates Christmas songs, they're so repetitive and they all sound the same anyway.

Bake him a cake, the more unique the better. His favourite so far is red velvet with cream cheese frosting!

Then when he's finished eating you're getting railed by him not longer after, man's not changed. Not now, not ever.

Freddy Krueger

You can play this entire song with this man on REPEAT and he'd be fine with it.

I'd be surprised if he didn't given his track record and.... slicing open his skin to reveal green "blood" and maggots crawling out.

Would he laugh the first time? ABSOLUTELY!

Would he jokingly sing along, probably.

But he would TOTALLY play this song when going after his victims sometimes. Imagine dying and the last thing you hear is:

"4 BIG GUYS AND THEY GRAB ON MY THIGHS-"

Stu Macher & Billy Loomis

Billy is concerned for your wellbeing. Especially when you start singing it at full force with Stu joining in not long after.

Yeah Stu is enjoying this to the max!

Finds it hilarious, who the fuck wouldn't when you've got humour more broken than Brahms' doll-

But seeing you enjoying yourself to this.... absurdity, at least makes Billy calm down from worry. Now he's just concerned your taste in music may infiltrate your taste in movies.

I doubt the man's used to hearing music.... imagine this being his first time hearing it-

OMG he'd probably think this is normal for music.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? XD

If it's not his first time hearing music though? No concern, laughter, nothing. He's neutral, given that this is something that makes you a little chaotic gremlin.

He's happy seeing you comfortable enough around to be a "gremlin" as you call it.

Bubba Sawyer

Don't traumatize him more than he's been already!!

Sure he doesn't realise it, or the fact he's used to it, but the poor guy's already traumatized-

Though he's probably more confused in the whole scheme of things. I mean, he knows what sex is. But just the surface of it.

So he's probably just learnt way too much in such a short period of time.

Oh lord what have you done-

Harry Warden

Okay first of all, why is there no GIF of this man? WTF????

Second; man's from the mines, man's old fashioned, you've probably just thrown way too much modern shit in his face way too quickly that he's just staring at you, the music video, and then the floor.

Poor miner is so confused, especially when the "cum starts spraying".

Oh god he'll probably think it's like dust from the mines spraying everywhere.

Fucking hell that's a vision-

Tiffany Valentine

Finds it amusing? Yes.

Judging? Not as much as you'd expect.

Girl's been through a wild ride, hearing you blast out "4 Big Guys" from your phone wouldn't be the most shocking thing in the world.

Hell. she'd probably encourage you to start singing along to it XD

Oh she's gonna use that song to torture someone with it. She doesn't know how yet, but she's got the idea in her head now

[a-nemoiia]

「 In sickness and health 」

Summary: A small incident leads Thomas Shelby into a new battle with an invisible enemy

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: POTS symptoms (dizziness, struggle to breath, almost fainting, etc) + written through fever so there might be a few mistakes.

Note: A big thank you to @saltburnwhore for educating me on this topic, and I apologise in advance if it doesn't meet your expectations

It's been nearly 2 months now since the Garrison closed it's doors for renovation at Polly's request, and the loyal patrons were eager to return to their favourite pub.

That's why crowds now were packed infront of the entrance on the opening day, and once Thomas opened the newly polished doors, everyone poured inside barely leaving space for another person to set a foot. But that didn't stop them from enjoying themselves as the band John brought played loud music in celebration.

Harry struggled to keep up with the packed pub on his on, so without hesitation, Polly and y/n joined him behind the bar, pouring drinks and opening taps. And after a couple of hours, Harry shouted over the loud music "We ran out of whiskey"

Turning to y/n who was helping serve pints, Polly said "There's a new whisky delivery in the storage from last night, take the keys from Tommy and bring a couple of bottles, hurry!", as she took the glasses from her hands to continue serving the waiting customers.

Y/n didn't waste anytime, looking around the pub she spotted her boyfriend stepping out for a smoke away from the noise, "Tommy!" she called over, getting his attention as she made her way to his side. "I need the keys. Polly needs a couple of bottles, we're running low already" she explained as she held out her palm waiting for him to give her the keys.

Taking a look inside the crowded pub, Thomas turned to face her "A few bottles won't cut it..." he noted, as he took her hand in his, and led her to the back storage. With a twist of his keys he unlocked the door to where boxes of alcohol were stacked high amidst the leftover mess from the recent renovation.

"Polly said the delivery is from last night" y/n said as she eyed the room, "God! This place could use a through cleaning" she remarked, carefully picking her way around the bucket of paint, making sure not to knock it over.

Nodding in agreement, Tommy used his pocket knife and sliced through the top of several boxes, searching their content, "Aye, Arthur said he'll take care of it" he told her, as he cut through more boxes. A couple of minutes later Thomas announced "Found it!" as he held the bottles in his hand.

"Shall we take it all?" Y/n asked and Thomas shrugged, already carrying the heavy box in his arms "Better to have more than less, the night is still young" he said.

Giving him space to walk a head, y/n stepped back, unaware, her foot caught on a lengthy piece of wood making her stumble. Quickly, Thomas reached out to steady her "Careful!" he said, just as they both heard shattering.

The door knob...

Thomas sat the box down and walked over to the door, once he inspected the broken piece he realised that they were trapped,"Damn it" He cursed under his breath.

"I'm sorry Tommy..." y/n quickly apologised but Thomas shook his head "Not your fault sweetheart, fucking Arthur should've taken care of this mess ages ago" he sighed in frustration.

But y/n had other reasons that made her worry, placing a hand on her chest she felt her heart rate pick up, as she struggled to breath in the dusty and poorly ventilated place.

Before her legs give out, y/n reached for an old chair, and Thomas quickly noticed that something wasn't right, "Are you alright?" he asked, concern etched all over his face as he studied her distressed form.

"Just lightheaded" she tried to ressure him but thomas knew it was more than that. He wasn't blind after all...

Thomas had noticed the signs for a while: how she'd struggled to make it out of bed sometime, how shaky she'd be after having a drink of two, the continues dizziness and how her legs failed to carry her at times.

Y/n often blamed it on her cycle, other times she laughed it off, saying she couldn't drink like a Shelby, but Thomas wasn't fooled.

In an instance Thomas was before her, holding her hand in his, "Don't lie to me y/n, no more downplaying this" he said, worry evident in his deep blue eyes "Once we're out of here you're seeing a doctor" he continued but she cut him off, "It's nothing really" y/n insisted, with a weak smile but she knew he saw through her dismissal.

Closing her eyes in an attempt to think through the fog "POTS, It's... It's a disorder... I've had it since I could remember" she explained her condition, but the confusion written on his face told her that she needs to do better than that.

So for the next 10 minutes, she laid it all bare, she told him about the symptoms, the treatments that brought nothing but little relief to her daily pain. The man before her took it all in, his worry increasing with every new piece of information, it all made him feel like his hands were tied.

Running a hand down his face, Thomas couldn't help but feel fear grip him, because for the first time he felt powerless...

It wasn't a simple threat that he could shield her from with his fist or gun, the danger was invisible this time, beyond his ability to see or fight...it came from within her own body.

Noticing the sweat beads on her brows, as the heat rose in the cramped place, Thomas gently wiped it away with his palm. Cupping her face gently he said "Just breath for me, love, I'll get us out of here", Thomas felt like the words were for his own reassurance as much as for her.

On hurried steps, he started tearing through the mess, tossing and throwing anything that isn't useful out of his way, he rammed through the storage until he spotted an old axe, and without thinking twice Thomas graped it and marched towards the door.

Fueled by his fear for y/n, Thomas tore the strong door down to shreds, the wood didn't stand a chance against the relentless blows, until nothing was left of it but the lock dangling from the splinted frame.

"C'mon sweetheart" Thomas said dropping the axe, swiping her into his arms he rushed them towards the pub's back door, where Arthur met them halfway.

"Lovebirds, what took ya so lon-" Arthur started to say cheerfully but the words died on his lips once thomas suddenly snapped at him. "I'll fucking kill ya Arthur!" he shouted through gritted teeth making Arthur recoil in shook.

Seeing Y/n laying almost unconscious in his arms seemed to pour gasoline on Thomas's temper, as worry and fear ate him from the inside, his thoughts raced with different scenarios, each worse than the other.

Taking in the scene Ada quickly followed them with a cup of salted water in her hand, as Thomas swiftly carried the woman in his arms to the private booth. And once Thomas saw Ada hand y/n the cup he gave her a questioning look.

Meeting his gaze Ada saw the rare open concern in her brother's eyes,"She told me not too long ago... She didn't want to burden you", she admitted, answering his unasked question.

With a sigh, Thomas knelt down infront of y/n, noticing how the color started to return to her rosie cheeks brought relief to his worrying heart. Gently, he brushed the strands of hair clinging to her damp forehead and placed a tender kiss there.

"Never think like that again, we're in this together alright?" Thomas said, softly yet firmly "We will face it, just like we do all things" Thomas reassured her, his blue eyes peering into her weary ones before his lips met hers.

Earning a weak nod from her, y/n leaned into his embrace, taking comfort into his arms, she felt safe knowing that facing the challenges of this illness will be much easier with him by her side.

[kgficz]

Safe With Me- Part 7

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You’ve been sent back in time, landing in 1919 in Birmingham. You’re busy trying to survive when Thomas Shelby approaches you in a bar.

Word Count: 1.3k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8

Raindrops fell down from the sky, landing on the cold cobblestone footpath below you. Only flickers of light came in through the clouds as you made your way to the bar.

It was early enough that you knew Harry would not be in. You hated the thought of stealing from him, but you needed money if you wanted to make it to London. Even after you got the money, you still didn’t really know how to get there but you figured you’d sort that out later.

You used your key to open the bar and strolled inside, locking it behind you. Light streamed in slightly through the window, although the room remained dark from the gloomy weather.

The bottle of whiskey sitting in the bar was too tempting for you to ignore. You grabbed yourself a glass from the shelf and poured a drink, taking a swig as soon as you placed the bottle down. Your lungs exhaled slowly as you finished while you took in your surroundings.

This place felt like hell the first time you were here, and now… it was different. A reminder of Thomas.

You wished you could explain everything to him. Despite what Polly had told you, you knew he wouldn’t understand. He might even think you had been a spy the whole time. A part of you owed him an explanation, but another part of you wanted to escape this place without ever being seen again.

If Billy Kimber had not approached you that night.. hadn’t threatened you, would you still be aching to leave? That question lingered in your mind. If Thomas could keep you safe, would you stay?

You finished off the whiskey, letting the liquid sit on your tongue for a moment before you drank. You moved over to the register before opening in, looking over the money inside. You reached out for a moment, ready to take as much as you could.

You stopped yourself quickly. Harry was the first person to help you, and here you were stealing this from him. You took a step back before looking up, taking in a deep breath as you went over your options. You didn’t have time to feel guilty for stealing money, yet here you were.

A rummage at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Shadows passed through the windows as mumbling was heard form outside. You quickly moved from around the bar, scanning the room in a panic.

You moved to the office at the back and closed the door quickly but quietly behind you. Luckily for you, Harry kept a gun beneath his desk. You grabbed it and moved back towards the door, leaning in slightly to hear what was going on. You’d never used a gun before, but how hard could it truly be?

A few voices became louder as they moved inside. Two felt unfamiliar to you, but you knew straight away that the remaining man was Tommy. Your breath lodged in your throat for a moment as your heart rate increased.

You were able to find a crack in the door to peer through, giving you a very small glimpse of the bar. You watched as Thomas got pushed down into one of the chairs, another man pressing a gun to his head. Thomas seemed unfazed by this; showing a very different reaction to your own.

You fingers tightened around the gun as your mind raced; you knew Tommy could handle himself but this felt different. No matter your effort to hear, you were unable to make out the words between them; only making out the obvious tone of anger from the two men beside him.

The man holding the gun to Tommy’s head kept it there the entire time he spoke as Thomas stared straight back into the man’s eyes; showing no signs of backing down from whatever this was.

The other man reached into his jacket, looking to be pulling out a weapon before Thomas stood up quickly; knocking the weapon from his hand. The man with the gun hesitated long enough for Thomas to turn around, pushing the gun away before it fire off into the wall behind him.

Without addressing your survival instincts, you felt yourself open the door quickly. Your brain was two steps behind your body as you raised your arms up, aiming Harry’s gun at the man across from Thomas. The man’s eyes were busy locked onto Tommy that he never noticed you; not realising the gunfire had not come form his gun but from yours instead.

The bullet hit his chest, knocking him down to the ground quickly; his gun sliding across the ground as he fell. Your felt yourself freeze, not fully processing what you just did.

Thomas was quickly on the other van, beating his to a pulp in front of you. You noticed the blurs of red and blood painted across the man’s face beneath him.

Your vision was fading as your skin began to turn white. You leaned back against the wall behind you, still gripping the gun tightly as you slid down it and into the floorboard.

After what felt like forever, Tommy began walking over to you; his chest rising with each deep breath.

He knelt down in front of you, his bloodied hands wrapping gently around yours as he scanned your face. “What the fuck were you doin here?” He asked with a worried get firm voice.

You couldn’t make out the words as you watched his lips; everything feeling too foggy for you to process. He slowly pulled the gun from your hands before placing it down on the ground beside him. His eyes softened as he looked at you, taking in your features and the look of fear in your eyes.

He looked down at his own hands, hating the fact that you had seen him light this. Like the monster he knew he truly was.

“Can you stand, love?” He asked, lowering his voice as he lifted your chin gently. You managed a small nod before he held into you, lifting you from the ground.

“I… I don’t know.. why I-“ you panted, the panic beginning to set in as you focused on the room around you. Two men lay dead on the floor. You killed one of them. You took a life. If your situation wasn’t already bad enough, you had just made it significantly worse.

“Shh” Tommy said before reaching his hand behind your head and pulling you towards him. He wrapped you in his arms, still processing his own actions while attempting to comfort you.

“We have to go” he said firmly, not having the time to sit here with you and process everything.

He pulled away from you before holding your face in his hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “You need to come with me, now” he finished; grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door.

Your body was moving although you felt so unaware that it was. Without Tommy dragging you, you thought you would’ve melted into the ground.

Thomas dragged you out of the bar before walking down the street to his car. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t know or even care where you were going.

He drove quickly, wanting to get the hell out of this area. He figured hiding in plain sight was the place to go for now as he pulled into his own home. A home you had never seen before.

He managed to guide you out of the car as usual before walking into his house. You felt startled as you entered, locking eyes with all of his brothers sitting in the lounge.

“What the fuck happened?” Arthur asked, noticing the blood on Tommy’s hands.

“Don’t worry about it” Thomas answered quickly before pulling you passed them and into his own room.

He guided you to sit on the bed before he sat down next to you, the both of you sitting in silence for a moment.

“What do we do now..” you whispered.

“I’m working on it” he replied quietly, raising his hand up to his forehead and sliding in down his face.

You saved his life back there. He was never going to forget that.

Tags

@avalyaaa @globetrotter28 @buba424 @wildernessflora @naty-1001 @kitixie @elliot-chiken @geeky-politics-46 @nadloves @queenofshinigamis @tatumrileyslover @ohshititsfenharel @sadroses98

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Rainbows and Hospital Rooms

Based of @mindofharry 's idea of Harry being a grumpy doctor and Y/N is a new intern at the hospital :)

Word Count: 1.5k

Y/N wasn’t really sure what to expect when she walked through the revolving doors of St Thomas’ Hospital. 

She’d been awake since four am, too excited about her first day as an intern. All she’d ever wanted was to help people. Before her mum passed away, she would call her a guardian angel - always around to lend a hand whenever there was trouble. Y/N believed that her mum was her guardian angel now, looking down on her in heaven. Her sweet, bubbly nature only added to her charm. She befriended everyone she met within moments, in fact Y/N was pretty sure she hadn’t met someone she hadn’t been able to win over eventually. You see, Y/N got a kick out of being kind. Whether it be letting someone ahead of her in the grocery line or sharing a coffee with the homeless man on her street, Y/N was always looking for a way to spread kindness. 

Making a good first impression was extremely important to Y/N so when she realised that she’s lost in the lobby of the hospital she started to sweat a little bit. She had decided on a whim to bake some cookies for the other interns and since it had taken her longer than expected, she wasn’t early as she had planned, but instead right on time. But being right on time and being lost in the lobby meant that now she was… late. On her first day. 

After asking for directions as quickly as she could, a rather flustered Y/N made her way to the correct room, opening the door quietly and turning red as 5 heads turned to stare in her direction. 4 were interns like her, she could tell. Young, most wearing a nervous expression and in casual clothes. The other person in the room was different. For one, he was standing in front of all the others, evidently leading the group in some sort of welcome. He was older, significantly when compared to the others in the room but Y/N couldn’t imagine he was older than 35. Compared to her 22 years, it was a rather large gap. His eyes were a striking shade of green and when they focused on her, Y/N didn’t like the way it made her feel. A swooping feeling in her stomach overwhelmed her and she felt the urge to leave the way she came, shut the door and go home. It might have been because the man standing before her was outrageously attractive. Quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen, with sculpted cheekbones, those eyes, a sharp nose and lips that looked so soft, Y/N almost wanted to lean in and touch them with her own just to see if they were really as soft as they looked. 

Unfortunately for Y/N, accompanying all this beauty was an incredibly frustrated expression and it was directed at her. 

“Miss Y/N I presume. You’re-“ the man looked down at the shiny Rolex on his left wrist. “6 minutes late. Is there a reason why you couldn’t be on time like the rest of your peers or shall we just put it down to plain disrespect?” 

Y/N’s mouth opened and then closed like a fish. She was speechless.

“I’m so sorry um… sir?” She floundered for a moment, pondering what exactly to call him.

“It’s Dr Styles, to you. This isn’t military camp, although I do run a rather tight ship. Now if you would sit down, I can continue.” 

“Ok, Dr Styles it is. I am SO sorry I’m late, you see I was just-

“Please, don’t explain yourself, I don’t have the energy to listen to whatever bullshit story you decided to come up with on the way here. I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat. Every moment I waste on you, is a moment I could be saving someone’s life.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“Y/N. Sit. Down.”

Y/N blinked as he stared at her expectantly, his expression growing more frustrated by the second. She walked slowly to the empty seat in the front row and sat down, feeling rather numb. 

“Now, as I was saying before Miss Y/N decided to make her grand entrance, my name is Dr Harry Styles and I am the head of paediatrics here at St Thomas’. 

Paediatrics? Y/N thought to herself. Oh those poor children being unwell and having to be treated by the biggest asshole on earth. She wondered whether he was just as awful to the patients or whether he had perfected his bedside manner. Probably the latter, he seemed like a perfectionist. Her daydream was interrupted as an older man and woman entered the room, dressed in similar scrubs to Dr Styles. 

“Now, normally I handle all the interns myself, but since there are five of you, and my workload has grown rather heavily over the last year, I have enlisted my colleagues for some help. Dr Hannah Williams and Dr Richard Abrams.” Dr Styles explained, introducing them both. They waved and Dr Williams sent Y/N a smile and Y/N crossed her fingers and toes, hoping that she would be assigned to the nice woman with the warm smile. 

“Max and Amelie you’re with Dr Abrams. Rachel and Luke, you’re with Dr Williams. And that leaves… ”

Y/N’s heart sank.

“Y/N, you’re with me. Lucky you.” He smirked at her obvious lack of enthusiasm before continuing. 

“I’m sure you’re all aware that this is a 6 week internship. While I may not be directly supervising all of you, I will be observing you all closely. At the end of your period at St Thomas’ one of you will be offered a permanent position here. My advice? Do you best, and use what you know. You were all offered this internship for a reason, you’ve got the next six weeks to prove to me why you deserve to be here. Y/N come with me. Max and Amelie, Richard will show you where to go. Same for you Luke and Rachel, Hannah has you guys covered.” 

Y/N gathered her things quickly as Dr Styles left the room swiftly. She trailed behind him, mustering up the courage to speak. 

“Is there a reason you were so horrible to me in there?” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she could stop them and Dr Styles stopped walking abruptly in the middle of the corridor, almost causing her to face plant into his back. 

“Oh grow up Y/N. Welcome to the real world. I don’t have energy to waste on people who aren’t punctual. If this is too much for you to handle, or If I’m too much for you to handle, quit. No one is stopping you.”

He waited expectantly, but Y/N was silent.

“Good. Now if you’re done with your little outburst, we have patients to see. Try not to waste my time Y/N. Most people don’t dare to talk back to me, especially on the first day. I picked you because you intrigued me and I thought I saw potential. Don’t prove me wrong.” 

Y/N nodded, her thoughts going a million miles a minute. Dr Styles led her into a closed corridor, where the walls were filled with colour, shapes and animals.

“The first patient we’re going to see today is a 5 year old named Jackson. Jackson has stage 3 terminal cancer. At this stage it’s all about keeping him comfortable. He’s wary of new people, so just be gentle.”

He opened a door, and it was almost like someone had flipped a switch. The second the door had opened, Dr Styles’ face had switched from a stern expression to a wide smile. He was so pretty when he smiled, Y/N thought, before shaking it from her head and following him into the room. 

“Hey little superman! How are we feeling today?” Dr Styles asked the young boy, who was lying in the bed watching a dinosaur cartoon on his iPad. Y/N’s heart broke at the number of wires and medical equipment surrounding the little boy. 

“I’m bored. Can I go play outside?? Please Harry pleaseeeee.” Jackson pouted his lips at Dr Styles and Y/N suppressed a giggle. She watched him as a flicker of emotion crossed his face before he shook his head.

“Sorry not today little dude, but how about I try and get Nurse Rebecca to bring you something special later on?”

“Ok.” Jackson’s face fell as he directed his attention back to the screen. Y/N shifted slightly to the side and he looked up, making eye contact with her.

“Who’s that? Is she your girlfriend Harry? She’s very pretty.”

Y/N turned bright red and Dr Styles seemed to choke on air before spluttering out a response. 

“Not my girlfriend Jackson. This is Y/N, I’m showing her what it’s like to work here.”

“Hi Jackson, it’s nice to meet you!” Y/N sent the boy a small wave and he waved back. 

“We’ll come and visit you again later buddy ok?” Dr Styles ushered Y/N slowly out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

They stood in silence for a moment, Dr Styles watching Jackson through the small window, a pensive expression on his face. 

“He’s a really sweet kid.” Y/N spoke softly. 

“He is.” Dr Styles agreed gruffly, and Y/N watched as his eyes began to mist. But as quickly as the tears had formed, they were gone and he was blinking them away and continuing down the hallway. 

“Hurry up Y/N we have people to see and you know how I feel about punctuality.” 

Y/N smiled softly, trailing after him. There was something there, more to Dr Styles than he was letting her see and Y/N was determined to figure him out.

A/N: Hello!! This was a super short random thing that I might continue hehe

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harrys-flower @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge

[cedarxwing]

The ending of Hannibal the novel explained

(aka the breastfeeding scene)

Here's the passage (end of Chapter 101):

I thought everyone was kidding about the breastfeeding kink jokes until my partner read Hannibal and the whole ending flew over their head. Their main takeaway was "that was weird." When I checked reddit, it seemed everyone was confused there too. I was gobsmacked to see one guy say that Thomas Harris was playing some cruel joke on the reader by writing an ending that didn't make sense!

How many people are reading Hannibal like this, completely missing the resolution to Hannibal's character arc? They must finish the book confused about what it was all about in the first place. So here's how I understand it!

First, I need to get this out of the way: a lot of people hate this scene, and from what I understand it's because they're weirded out by the "breastfeeding kink." Which is fine, but it makes me want to gently hold them by the hand and tell them that it's ok for someone to suck on a nipple. It happens all the time. Sometimes it just feels good, sometimes it's part of a breastfeeding fantasy, and sometimes it's literal breastfeeding. Between consenting adults, this is all fine and normal. Let's all move past this knee-jerk repulsion (or alternatively, sit in our discomfort and expand our horizons) so we can analyze this piece of art together. :)

Next, authors LOVE Freudian psychoanalysis. Even though it's all nonsense, it's full of literary allusion and makes for compelling narratives and character studies (childhood maladjustment, repressed memories, etc), which is basically catnip for a writer. Thomas Harris was no exception, and probably creamed himself (as I did) when he learned that Freud's oral-sadistic stage was also termed the "cannibalistic stage," referring to the time when an infant is growing teeth and begins to bite at the breast--the psychosexual urge to devour and destroy the thing you love. What could be more appropriate for Hannibal?

Next, consider the pattern of Hannibal's Il Mostro murders. He killed young couples in one of the most romantic cities in the world, then arranged them as Chloris and Zephyr from Botticelli's Primavera, exposing Chloris's left breast just like in the painting. In classical art, an exposed breast is often a symbol of fertility. Chloris is associated with spring, new growth, and transformation.

Perhaps, at the time, Hannibal rationalized these murders as retribution for rude behavior. Maybe the couples were performing disgusting PDA. Maybe they were obnoxious tourists on their honeymoons. Either way, it's clear to the reader that Hannibal has some deep-seated hang up about sex and romance.

The particulars of this hang up are open to interpretation, but based on Hannibal's obsession with the rape and transformation of Chloris as well as his embarrassment at the paintings of Leda and the Swan in the German's house, I think it's safe to say that Hannibal feels like any relationship he has with a woman who isn't aware of his true (monstrous) identity would involve a degree of violence/lack of consent. He is forever barred from normal romance.

Having given up on sex/romance, Hannibal is unable to consciously recognize his desire for Clarice, so he sublimates it into a more general familial love. He longs for a return to innocence, to return to the time before he ate Mischa and became an unlovable monster (cue the teacup metaphor).

But even familial love seems like too much to hope for, so he sublimates it further into something that seems more attainable: resurrecting the person whom he loved and devoured, and who loved him in turn (Mischa) through Clarice.

So we have the breast as a symbol of sex/fertility (Chloris/Clarice), as an object that is loved and devoured (Mischa), and as a literal source of sustenance that must be given up during infancy (mommy).

Big brain Clarice connects all these dots and, in the very same style of therapy that Hannibal has been using on her, distills Hannibal's psychological problems into a single poetic gesture that completely fixes Hannibal in an instant, proving that she's not only his intellectual equal, but is, in some ways, his superior.

When Clarice asks, "Did you ever feel that you had to relinquish the breast to Mischa? Did you ever feel you were required to give it up for her?", she's ostensibly asking Hannibal if he's stuck in the oral stage of childhood development (which yeah he probably is). On a deeper level, she's asking Hannibal to consider if he's given up on love.

When Clarice exposes her breast in the same fashion as Chloris, says, "You don’t have to give up this one", and suspends the drop of wine from her nipple, she is shifting his perception of her breast from familial devoured sustenance to a sexual object. Basically, "Why do you want me to pretend I'm your sister when we could be banging?" Hannibal is being aged out of his childlike mindset, not regressing into one.

There are other layers of meaning in this act. The hedonism of using thousand dollar wine for food play is a sign of Clarice's character development. The way Hannibal kneels before Clarice is a position of subservience, but could also be interpreted as devouring Clarice in a way that's new to him. It's the most self-actualized thing Hannibal has done since escaping prison (LOL) and marks the end of his hero's journey (as one of the first things we see him do in Hannibal Rising is nurse).

Personally, I don't read this scene as breastfeeding kink. Yeah, Clarice talks about breastfeeding, but that was more a metaphor for other stuff. Considering the direction of Hannibal's character arc, I understand this scene as him briefly licking the wine off before they have sex. But to each their own! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAY, yeah, it's unsettling. It's obviously meant to be. But it's beautifully unsettling! Hate it all you want, but this is peak cannibal romance, to me!!

[rey-jake-therapist]

In the book Hannibal Rising, Hannibal was a little boy during WWII and his sister Mischa was killed and eaten by Nazis who had taken them hostage. They also forced him to eat her, which is supposed to be a very awkward and simplistic way to explain why Hannibal grew up to become hungry for human flesh.

The show however being set up in present times (they have computers, cell phone, tablets and all), there's no way Hannibal was a boy during WWII. And Hannibal states that Abigail, a teenager, reminded him of Mischa, so I think it's possible, if not necessary, that Mischa's tragedy in Bryan's mind was different than it was in Thomas Harris' book. Hannibal says at one point that he was able to forgive her only after eating her, implying that he ate her willingly; nobody force fed her to him. Mischa never betrayed him, but for her sake he betrayed himself for years, to protect her: that's what he needed to forgive her for...

It's also worth noticing that a couple of Birds of Paradise ornate Mischa Lecter's grave. It's an unusual choice of flower for a grave: birds of Paradise, in flower language, symbolize joyfulness and paradise, but it also symbolizes freedom, anticipation and excitement. It also is the official symbol of the ninth wedding anniversary, meaning it's associated with faithfulness in love.

There's no way this flower was picked up randomly: Hannibal grieved Mischa, but he also found freedom in her death. He may also consider that dying made her free as well. But he remained faithful to her memory, hence why he searched for a replacement in Abigail and, I think, in Will too -which wouldn't be an obstacle to see him in a romantic light as well: I don't think that Hannibal's definition of love is as clear cut as it is for everybody else. In the book Hannibal, for instance, he was in love with Clarice but he also wanted her to be a sister and a mother figure. For him, it's all blurred.

One last thing: the only time we saw Hannibal crying was when he talked about Abigail to Bedelia. Now it's commonly thought that he was in fact crying for Will, but I'd rather tend to think that in his mind Abigail and Will had merged in one entity at this moment. OR he was really crying for Abigail, because he genuinely wanted to create a father/brother bond with her, but made it impossible when he cut her ear and forced her to hide and play dead. We saw it in the last episode of season 2, she stayed with Hannibal because she was scared and didn't know what else to do. She would never be his Mischa again. He failed her.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 1/?

(Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7)

The Death Tool of Voldemort's Wars

So, I did say I'll make this post somewhere, so here it is.

When trying to make sense of Voldemort’s behavior in the books, I noticed that the two wars were actually very different. How they were waged, how many people died, and who was most targeted along with Voldemort's goals.

(Because I mentioned it, I'll just say Voldemort’s behavior in the book is really weird and somewhat contradictory, but I found a way to explain that. Consider this the second post on my way to analyze Voldemort after the Horcruxes one)

The Wizarding Population in the UK

The first step to figuring out how bad the wars with Voldemort actually were is to know the size of the wizarding population in the UK. Numbers of deceased don't mean much without being able to calculate percentages.

If there are 40 students a year at Hogwarts in 1990s → 400 wizards and witches between ages 10-19

Account for fewer births during and right after the war with Grindelwald in the 1930s-1940s, and the war with Voldemort in the 1970s

Account for longer life acceptancy (Average of 130)

And we get an estimate of something like this:

With wizards being around 0.01% of the muggle population in any country.

The population in Britian in 1991 was 57,359,454, making the wizarding population 57,359*0.01% =~ 5,700

The population in Ireland in 1991 was 5.1 M, making the Irish wizarding population about 510.

So as a rough estimate, we'll say there were ~6,200 wizards and witches in the UK and Ireland together in 1991

Probably less though considering JKR killed most of Harry's grandparents' generation with Dragon Pox....

By the same logic above in the 1970s the Wizarding population in Britain and Ireland was ~5,600 + ~300 = ~5,900 wizards and witches.

So, now we have the estimated size of the population and we can gage how much damage these wars actually caused.

So, I may have compiled a list of all war casualties from both wars. I will not place the full details here (like the exact year each died), but I'll mention sides, who they were killed by, and any other information relevant to understanding the war's influence on wizarding society, and what we can learn from it about Voldemort's intentions.

For these lists:

(M) - muggle (MB) - muggleborn (PB) - pure-blood (HB) - half-blood (O) - other $ - Death Eater or affiliated ^ - Order of the Pheonix member or affiliated Italics - killed against Voldemort's orders

The First War: Surprisingly Targeted

Killed By Voldemort Personally:

~4 unnamed goblins (O)

Dorcas Meadowes (PB/HB)^

James Potter (PB)^

Lily Potter (MB)^

Killed by Death Eaters:

Mr. Bones (PB)^

Mrs. Bones (PB)^

Robert McGonagall (PB)

Marlene McKinnon (PB)^

~4 more unnamed McKinnons (PB)^

Mrs McGregor (M)

Douglas McGregor (M)

2 McGregor Children (M)

Caradoc Dearborn (PB/HB)^

Dean Thomas’ Father (PB)

Edgar Bones' Wife (PB)^

Edgar Bones (PB)^

~2 Edgar Bones' children (PB)^

Benji Fenwick (PB/HB)^

Frank Longbottom (PB)^ - Not dead, but counts

Alice Longbottom (PB)^ - Not dead, but counts

Fabian Prewett (PB)^

Gideon Prewett (PB)^

Killed by the Order of the Pheonix & Aurors:

Evan Rosier (PB)$

Wilkes (PB)$

+ 13 muggles killed by Peter Pettigrew on October 31st, 1981

+ Regulus Black who died in the cave with the Inferi

This lands us at 45 casualties (including the Longbottoms) for the first Wizarding War. Now, let's look more closely at the numbers.

Not counting the muggles and creatures other than wizards lands us at 24

24/5,900 =~ 0.40% of the wizarding population was killed in the first war.

And did you notice anything interesting about the names on the list? There is only 1 muggleborn and 1 muggle family, whose death wasn't even on Voldemort's orders. What does it tell us about the war?

Well, first off, Dumbledore's idea of morality and not using dark magic and lethal curses kind of sucks. This is hardly a war, it's a massacre. 19 Order members and their families die compared to 3 Death Eaters, one of which was killed by Voldemort's creations. Moody and Mr. Weasley aren't kidding when they say the first war was rough in the fifth book. It really was, but only for their side.

The innocent casualties of people not belonging to any side in this war stand at 19 (including the 13 muggles killed by Pettigrew), and 6 (not including Pettigrew).

It's just wild how Peter Pettigrew has the most kills in this war, more than Voldemort. And it tells you a lot about Voldemort's priorities.

His priorities clearly aren't to kill all muggleborns, we can see that much. So what are his priorities? What is he actually waging a war for if it's not to kill all muggleborns like all the characters tell us?

Well, I will post a full rundown of the timeline of the first war at some point, but for now, what we know is that Voldemort is targeting the Order of the Phoenix, who opposed him. And he is in general causing chaos for the Ministry of Magic.

We know that by 1981, Voldemort practically won, with the ministry having more spies of his than any other group. The ministry was made up of Death Eaters. But we don't know of any rules he passed in this time, or moves to legalize dark magic or outlaw muggleborns — nothing like that happened.

What did happen, was that Voldemort made a cave filled with Inferi and experimented with potions (he invented the potion of despair in the cave).

It seems, more than anything, the war was there to distract the ministry or weaken it, and less about accomplishing a specific political goal. And if he was after a specific political goal, then it isn't blood purity as he isn't rounding up muggleborns like in the second war.

The low death count overall (especially when compared to the second war) is because Voldemort is there. Voldemort does not approve of unnecessary death, even muggle one:

“Nice costume, mister!” He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away. . . . Beneath the robe he fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(Deathly Hollows, page 295)

Voldemort himself does not like unnecessary death. He considers it and killing in rage below him at the end of the First Wizarding War. He doesn't do it himself and doesn't let his followers kill unnecessarily up until the night he kills the Potters.

What exactly Voldemort was trying to accomplish is a question I've pondered and have a few more posts about. But understanding he wasn't really after the death of all muggleborns and neither was he after control of Magical Britain, which is made very clear by the second war, is the first step to understanding him.

The Second War: Chaos Galore

Killed By Voldemort Personally:

Bertha Jorkins (PB)

Cedric Diggory (PB)

Bathilda Bagshot (PB)

Charity Burbage (PB/HB)

Alastor Moody (PB)^

Rufus Scrimgeour (PB)

German-speaking child #1 (M)

German-speaking child #2 (M)

German-speaking woman (M)

Mykew Gregorovitch (PN)

Gellert Grindelwald (HB)

Peter Pettigrew (PB/HB)$

2 Unidentified Death Eaters (PB/HB)$

Severus Snape (HB)$

Killed by Death Eaters:

Bodrick Bode (PB/HB)

Emmeline Vance (PB)^

Sirius Black (PB)^

Amalia Bones (PB)

Florean Fortesque (PB)

Mrs. Abbott (PB/HB)

Igor Karkaroff (PB)$

Montgomery (PB/HB)

4 Unidentified Muggles (M)

Gibbon (PB)$

Albus Dumbledore (HB)^

5 Unnamed muggles in Gaddley (M)

Gornuk (O)

Edward Tonks (MB)^

Dirk Cresswell (MB)

Dobby (O)

Lavender Brown (PB)^

Camelia (PB/HB)^

Vincent Crabbe (PN)$

Colin Creevey (MB)^

Remus Lupin (HB)^

Nymphadora Tonks (HB)^

Fred Weasley (PB)^

Killed by the Order of the Pheonix:

Bellatrix Lestrange (PB)$

Killed by Golden Trio:

Bogrod (O)

Tom Riddle (Voldemort) (HB)$

+ 42 more casualties for the Battle of Hogwarts.

What we see here is that this second war was much deadlier. The Battle of Hogwarts alone had more casualties than the entirety of the First War. Even if I'm generous and add 20 more dead to my estimate of the First War, it doesn't come anywhere close to the death tool of the Second War.

Now, I ask myself, why?

The Second War was much shorter, officially ongoing between May of 1996 and May of 1998 (2 years), with the First War officially waging from 1975 to October of 1981 (6 years). What was so different between the wars that caused this kind of escalation in the second one this quickly?

We see the Second War unfold, we watch how quickly the Ministry of Magic falls and the Death Eaters take over. They quickly make laws such as the Muggleborn Registry — things that didn't happen in the first war.

“Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard,” he replied. “That was announced yesterday. It’s a change, because it was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch and wizard in Britain has been educated at Hogwarts, but their parents had the right to teach them at home or send them abroad if they preferred..."

(Deathly Hollows, page 182)

Lupin is talking about the Muggleborn Registry and compulsory attendance to Hogwarts — completely new things, never seen before in Britain. They weren't around the first go-around even if Voldemort had the same amount of control over the ministry (it being made up of his followers even in the 1970s). So, what changed? What's the difference?

I pondered this question, and I realized what the main difference is — Voldemort. He is different. His priorities are different.

In the second war, Voldemort doesn't show any care for the ministry, government, or unnecessary death the way he did in the First War. In the First War he limited his Death Eaters, focusing them on targeting only Order members, but in the Second War, not only did he let them loose, but he let himself loose as well.

And I'll prove just how unconcerned he is with Britain and the war during Deathly Hollows and Half-Blood Prince.

In Half-Blood Prince, when the Death Eaters break into Hogwarts to kill Dumbledore, arguably their biggest achievement in the war thus far, and where is their leader? Off, somewhere. Researching wands so he could kill Harry Potter.

And where is Lord Voldemort, leader of the Death Eaters when his followers take over the ministry and start passing the aforementioned rules? He's in Germany, tracking down the Elder Wand.

“That’s—that’s pretty, Dolores,” she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge’s blouse. “What?” snapped Umbridge, glancing down. “Oh yes—an old family heirloom,” she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. “The S stands for Selwyn. . . . I am related to the Selwyns. . . . Indeed, there are few pure blood families to whom I am not related. . . . A pity,”

(Deathly Hollows, page 225)

Voldemort is so unaware and un-present in Britain during the time he supposedly rules it, that Dolores Umbridge can strut around the ministry with the locket that is his Horcrux and holds a piece of his soul and is his Slytherin family heirloom and claim it to belong to the Selwyn family and to be hers. And she wasn't tortured horribly to death.

Yeah, Voldemort never stepped foot in the Ministry throughout Deathly Hollows. At least, not until he retrieved the elder Wand and was convinced he could kill Harry.

In the First War, Voldemort had intentions, unrelated to blood purity as they were, but intentions nonetheless. He was actually leading and had goals for the war. In the Second War, it looks like he gave up. Like he decided killing Harry Potter is the only important thing and he isn't even bothering with anything else and lets his Death Eaters do as they please.

Conclusions:

Voldemort didn't really plan to win the Second War, he didn't really care what happened to the Ministry, as long as he could kill Harry Potter whom he is quite obsessed with. Like, he's really weird about Harry Potter, and maybe I'll talk about it more in-depth, but he's obsessed with being the one to kill Harry with a wand of his own, to the point of ignoring literally everything else.

If you are going to fight an opponent that is trying to kill you, you should probably be just as willing to be lethal in turn or you'd end up massacred like the Order of the Phoenix from the 1970s....

[the-golden-vanity]

Hey, @asparklethatisblue, are you still looking for possible modern AU jobs for the Terror boys? I would like to submit for consideration:

A large museum!

This is purely based on my experience, but in terms of having lots of different possible jobs and specializations for the lads, with different levels of status associated with them, I think this could combine the best or the worst of the most popular Terror modern AU settings: corporate and academic. Please imagine with me:

Director John Franklin: more interested in sucking up to the board and/or bringing in large donations than he is the very real and present problems at the museum that are just threatening to get bigger.

Rival curators Crozier and Fitzjames: speaks for itself. Crozier's more of a traditionalist, Fitzjames wants big-budget, high-interaction, media-attention-grabbing new solutions. They fight about it in every weekly meeting.

Head of Admin Thomas Jopson: Secretly runs this place. If he ever took a sick day, the whole museum would fall apart.

Conservation lab technician Harry Goodsir: Loves his job, hates that he could do it EVEN BETTER if the higher-ups would only budget more for conservation. Type of dude who gets into the field because he genuinely loves it & is taken advantage of for the same reasons.

Visitor Services desk staff Gibson and Armitage: It takes two guys to do one half-assed job around here. They mostly sit around, gossip, make after-work plans, and judge tourists who don't know how to read a map.

Security guard Solomon Tozer: Do I have to explain this one? Might be gossiping with the guys at the Visitor Services desk.

Visiting scholar Cornelius Hickey: definitely faked his credentials and probably committed identity theft to get this grant money. Has no business being here. Visitor Services likes him.

Visiting scholar Silna: Doesn't respect any of these people. Just wants to get her research done in peace.

And that's not even all the jobs we can give the boys (and girls)! I haven't even touched on exhibition designers, archivists, social media coordinators, and more! I think Lady Jane would be an excellent advancement coordinator (a high-level fundraiser, basically), and Hodgson would be a very enthusiastic education coordinator.

The ship's boys, of course, are unpaid interns.

[moonsgemini]

seeking arrangements - iv

summary: With just two days left of before the wedding the celebrations continue. Going to a bachelorette & bachelor party when you’re a fake couple might cause some issues. Especially when Lola can’t seem to stop taking tequila shots & the liquid might have given her too much courage.

warnings: escort!rafe x oc, alcohol, angst, insecurities, fluff, thomas (he deserves a warning), shitty family, kissing

wc: 5.1k

an: I’m gonna be real I kinda hate this part, I feel like I lacked in every aspect lol. But it is done, & there’s two more parts to goooo. ALSO HELP I cannot get my comments to work. Like I can’t reply to people or comment on other peoples posts. It’s on in my settings I’m pretty sure so idk what I’m doing wrong.

series masterlist - previous part

“What’s on the agenda today?” Rafe asked before taking a bite of his bagel.

Lola was sitting next to him squinting at her laptop. She may have had the week off from work but she couldn’t help but try and catch up on some pieces that needed to be read. She hadn’t felt focused enough the last few days to try and squeeze in any work because she’d been so anxious. After the engagement party and the boat day she felt a lot more relaxed. Rafe managed to put a sense of calm over her.

After they got home from the party they spent the rest of the night in bed watching another movie. This one was Rafe’s pick. He made her watch The Godfather, but they didn’t really pay too much attention. Lola kept asking questions during the film and of course Rafe answered all of them. Never once did he get upset at her for talking during the movie, something Thomas hated that she did. The conversation ended up leading to them talking about everything. Rafe opened up a lot more to her and she felt closer to him.

It scared her because it meant that even if they continue to be friends after this she’ll never have him in the way she wants. When this whole thing began Lola was unsure about it because what if she got caught but she never thought that there’d be a possibility she’d fall in love with the guy. Of course it had to be Rafe that she reached out to, the most perfect guy.

“Ummm we have the bachelor and bachelorette parties today. Girls are going to one bar and guys are going to another,” She turned to him giving him a weak smile. This is the first time they’ll really be separated from each other.

Rafe groaned, “I have to be with those frat boys all night.”

She threw her head back laughing, “They aren’t that bad. Well except for you know who, he’s that bad.”

“Oh they are that bad sweetheart,” He took a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Except Harry, he’s been pretty decent. I don’t know why you ran with these crowds.”

“Please I only saw them when we came here because they’re all my sisters friends or Harry’s. They met them in college.”

“Explains why you and Tabitha are the coolest,” Rafe smirked at her. She rolled her eyes playfully turning back to the laptop in front of her.

“So that’s why my ears were ringing,” Tabitha said as she walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning to you Tabs,” Lola grinned watching her cousin pour herself a big mug of coffee.

Rafe chuckled, “Went a little too hard yesterday?”

“Possibly,” She rolled her eyes and grabbed the supplies for a bagel.

“Hey you better be able to go out later I’m not doing that alone,” Lola scolded.

Tabitha sat in the seat in front of her, “Relax I’ll make it. Takes me back to college, drunk every weekend.”

“Okay so what am I supposed to do with these guys for a whole night?” Rafe was not excited at all for the bachelor party. Ever since the boat conversations he’s been trying to avoid them. Everything was a dick riding contest to them.

Tabitha waves her bagel around, “Just get drunk, talk about sports too.”

“Getting drunk does sound promising,” he shrugged.

Lola laughed, “You can also talk about finance, you know they love that stuff.”

Tabitha nodded her head, “I’m always having to tell Andrew to shut up when he starts giving me financial advice.”

“I definitely don’t need financial advice. Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have many friends. The less friends or people close to you the better,” Rafe shrugged.

“You two really are made for each other,” Tabitha said looking between the two with a playful grin.

-

Lola had come up with a plan. Maybe it was a stupid plan and would end horribly or it could go amazingly. She was going to go out and take a few shots to earn that liquid courage before ubering home if Rafe was back and then try to seduce him. She couldn’t stand being around him and not be able to touch him.

Of course they did subtle stuff to convince her family, but it was never enough. When he’d place his hand on the small of her back to guide her around the engagement party her body felt ablaze. Her fingers itched to run through his hair and pull him closer. They hadn’t kissed since the boat and her lips ached for his. She missed his soft touch, the things he would make her feel with something so simple as his hand on the back of her neck.

Sleeping next to him at night was the hardest. He slept shirtless and it was incredibly distracting. There had been moments where she’d wake up to his arm around her, his nose tucked into the back of her neck. Rafe knew what he was doing, he’d blame it on him doing it in his sleep. He was really like half asleep and she just looked so cute and soft laying there he couldn’t help himself. If she moved away or anything he would have pulled away but she never did.

He was very disappointed that he wouldn’t really get to hangout with her tonight when their time playing boyfriend and girlfriend was almost over. He’d rather spend the day at the beach with her than drinking with a bunch of guys he didn’t know.

He was sitting outside on the deck going through his emails while thinking about the girl that was inside. Lola insisted on making margaritas for them to pregame. They didn’t have to leave until six so they had time to just relax. Lola came out with glasses and a pitcher of the alcoholic drink.

“Woah there cowboy, we’re gonna finish all that?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Well we can try, or it will just go to waste.” She smirked shrugging. Sitting down next to him she began to pour the watermelon margaritas into the glasses. He smiled at her just looking at her. Rafe liked watching her just do stuff.

“What?” She asked with a nervous laugh. His blue eyes made her nervous because when he looked at her she felt like he was actually looking at her. Not the girl everyone thought was weak because of her breakup. Not the girl that lets everyone walk all over her.

He shrugged, “Nothing, just like looking at you.”

She looked away from his tense gaze, a small grin forming at her lips. It was hard to deny the fact that he didn’t have an effect on her, “You’re too much.” she said because it was true. Everything about him was so overwhelming.

“So Rafe what’s your next job after this one? Or should I say who is your next job?”

He adjusted in his seat. Scrunching his nose as he looked out at the backyard, “Uh no one right now. I-I don’t know I’ve been thinking of retiring.”

“Woah really?” She looked over at him a bit shocked.

“Yeah this week has given me a new perspective you could say,” he took a drink from his margarita.

“How so?” She asked her voice quieter now.

He shrugged, “I guess I just realized I want more. I don’t want to be a paid companion anymore, I want to be just a companion.”

Butterflies of hope flew around in her stomach. Lola’s delusions were starting to get the best of her. Maybe it’s because of me, she thought. Rafe takes her silence as not a good sign.

He feels like maybe he had said too much and scared her away, “Uh so I’ll probably try and get myself out there more. Ya know when we get back to the city. Find a girl finally go on dates.”

The butterflies were crushed at those words. Find a girl. Those words hurt her but she couldn’t show it. Rafe could read her better than anyone even though he’s only known her for a month. Her furrowed brows and the way she couldn’t look at him gave her away. He knew what he said hurt her, maybe he had been reading everything wrong.

She cleared her throat to try and get rid of the lump in her throat, “That’s uh great Rafe. I-I think that sounds great.” She smiled at him the best she could. Lola started chugging the rest of her margarita not really in the mood to sit and drink with him.

He watched her with concern. Rafe wanted to shove his words back into his mouth to get that pretty smile back on her face “Lola I..”

“I-I’m gonna go and get ready now. I’ll see you in a bit okay Rafe,” She gave her another fake smile before walking back inside.

“Fuck,” He muttered rubbing his face out of frustration with himself.

The whole time Rafe felt like he thought he knew what she wanted. She had even asked to just be friends after this. He didn’t want to overstep and tell her the real reason why he wants to give all this up. It was because of Lola, he wants her by his side. He liked the way she made him feel and he loved the person he brought out in her. He loved protecting her from people who don’t deserve her.

-

Lola was beginning to think her plan was going to end horribly. Especially after what he had said. She felt like things were maybe going somewhere with him. She has had more fun the whole week than she’s had her whole life. And she knows it’s because she’s had him by her side.

She looked over herself in the mirror. She felt hot, she felt like she could go through with her plan to seduce Rafe. Yet it wasn’t enough because that voice was still in her head telling her that he doesn’t like want her more than a friend. Or even possibly more than a client. Her outfit consisted of a black mini skirt and olive green long sleeve that had a small pink bow in the middle of the square neckline. She also wore black boots that made her legs look longer, her makeup and hair were done. She felt amazing on the outside but on the inside her insecurities were starting to take over her thoughts.

Rafe had been in the shower while she changed into her outfit. They hadn’t spoken much since he came back to the room. Things seemed a bit tense, a sort of unspoken tension between them.

Lola was switching purses to one that would better match her outfit when Rafe opened the door to the bathroom. He stepped out in nothing but a light blue towel around his waist. His chest and stomach still slightly damp from the hot shower. He had been looking down at his phone. Lola looked up at him from where she stood and gulped at his appearance. He was not making this easy.

“What should I wear? I’m guessing polos and khakis is the bar dress code,” He smirked putting his phone down and going to his side of the closet to look through the shirts he brought. He glanced back at her and stopped skimming through his shirts. He wished she didn’t look so incredible, how was he supposed to spend the night away from her when she looked like that.

He looked her over his eyes moving slowly taking in every detail, “You look unreal,” he said once he met her eyes.

Lola gave him a shy smile as a blush creeped up her neck, “Thank you, and uh you should just wear a button up and some black pants. Casual but nice.”

He just nodded his head only half paying attention. Rafe couldn’t concentrate when she was standing across the room looking like his future wife. He snapped out of his thoughts at the word wife. She was really doing something to him if he was thinking about marriage. He looked through his shirts and decided on a green jacket and black carhartt pants. Grabbing his clothes he went back into the bathroom to change.

Lola felt like she could breathe again. Having to watch the muscles in his back flex as he grabbed his shirt was too much. Especially since his skin was sun kissed from the day before she just wanted to run her hands all over him. He walked out of the bathroom and she clenched her fists. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

“You look handsome,” Lola said as she started to think about all the women that would get to see Rafe tonight. Jealousy took over her as she thought about how she couldn’t be by his side all night to show people that he was with her.

“Thank you sweetheart.” She was going to kill him.

“Alright lets go,” She sighed and began walking out the door.

“I’m not going go drink tonight so I can drop you off and even pick you up,” Rafe said following behind her.

“Okay, you decided on not drinking?”

“Yeah I just don’t really feel like being drunk with a bunch of people I don’t know. I also want to make sure you’re safe,” He shrugged and opened the front door for her.

Lola turned to him before walking out the door. Standing almost toe to toe, he was much taller than her. She was feeling intimidated but she tried her best not to show it. But like always he could read her so easily. He could see the her fingers twitch and her breathing pick up a little more.

“You’re kind of frustrating Mr. Cameron,” She said with a sigh, her eyes squinting teasingly at him.

“What am I doing?” He asked pretending to be clueless.

She ignored him not wanting to answer him, “Come on we can’t be late.”

The drive there was comfortable quiet. The tense atmosphere from earlier now gone. Rafe pulled into a parking lot on the main street and parking. He had been struggling since he first saw Lola. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

There were a lot of people on the main street going to the different shops, restaurants, and bars. It was a popular area in the summer. Rafe walked around her to walk on the side closest to the street, and hgrabbed her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the throngs of people.

“Where are we going?” He asked her following her lead.

“The girls are going to Porter’s and the guys are going to Birdie’s. Porter’s is right there,” She pointed at a bar a few shops down, “And then Birdies is across the street.” She pointed at another bar on the other side of the street.

“Ah so we’re close to each other,” Rafe smirked liking the idea that she’d be close by in case she needed anything.

“Mhmm I think all the girls are there already.”

“If you want to leave early for any reason call me okay? I’ll be right over,” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Okay Rafe,” She smiled. Once they got to the front of the bar the bridesmaids immediately spotted them since they were all sitting on the patio out front.

“My favorite couple!” Penny shouted as she saw the pair walk up.

“Took you guys long enough. I wonder what you guys were doing that made you laaaate,” Tabitha said teasingly.

“Tabi!” Lola exclaimed.

Penny turned to Rafe, “Hurry and let your girl go so we can get drunk!”

“Alright alright,” Rafe said and turned Lola to face him. He cupped her cheek, “call if you need anything. Have fun and be safe.”

“Always,” She said breathlessly because his eyes kept going down to her lips. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t be more excited.

Rafe leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips, he didn’t want to do too much since they were in public but he wanted to show everyone that this was his girl. He pulled away only to go in one more time, she smiled against his lips.

“Rafe,” She laughed pushing him away playfully.

“Sorry babe couldn’t help myself,” He shrugged with a lopsided smile that made her want to kiss him a million more times.

“I’ll see you later,” She squeezed his hand before pulling away to walk onto the patio.

“Bye,” He waved at her and all the other girls who had been watching them.

“Byyye,” They all said in synch with laughs

Tabitha turned to Lola as she sat down next to her, “Girl that man is obsessed with you.”

“I really hope so,” She laughed. The girls not knowing the way she really meant it.

“Okay ladies lets drink!” Penny said clapping her hands, “Tonight in honor of me we’re having tequila!”

“This is going to be the best night!” Olivia laughed excitedly.

-

Rafe arrived to the bar the guys were at, he walked inside and spotted the group around a table in the back. He walked over and Harry immediately spotted him.

“Rafe! Dude you made it,” Harry said getting up to greet him.

“Of course, just had to drop off Lola.” Rafe walked over to the empty seat between Mateo and Josh. Thomas say directly in front of him.

“Hey what’s up man,” Josh greeted followed by the rest of them Thomas only nodding at Rafe to not some completely rude. Rafe found it amusing how much he pissed Thomas off. He liked it.

“I’m gonna go get another round. What are you drinking Rafe?” Josh asked him.

“uh just water, I’m driving tonight.”

“Shoulda ubered man.”

-

It was nearly midnight now and Rafe wanted to leave. He had bern having a good time for a while but now all the guys were pretty drunk and he just wanted to be with Lola. He hadn’t heard from her all night which he took as a good sign. The guys were playing pool now, some of the single grooms men were flirting with some women at the bar.

“You ever miss that?” Harry asked him as he lined up his stick with the white ball.

“What? Flirting?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah like picking up girls at bars.”

Rafe shook his head, “Not at all. I like Lola a lot.”

“I feel the same about Penny. Guess it’d be bad if I didn’t since we’re getting married,” He laughed patting Rafe on the back.

“You guys are sooo whipped,” Thomas laughed.

“And what about it?” Harry slurred.

Thomas shrugged his hooded eyes meeting Rafes, “The same boring girl forever? The same average pussy forever? noooo thanks.”

“I’m convinced you’ve never actually talked to a woman. I think you just like women who don’t like you,” Rafe shook his head with a smirk.

“Hey all girls love me. Look at me,” He stood straighter and smirked. Rafe wanted to hysterically laugh but he held it in. He started to feel a vibrating in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and saw Lola’s name across the screen.

“Saved by the bell,” He said before walking away to a quieter area, “Hello?”

“Rafeyyyy,” Lola sang on the other end of the line.

He shook his head with a fond smile on his lips, “This is him. What’s up sweetheart?”

“I’m ready to go Rafey. I wanna see you,” She said breathlessly.

For the last few hours the girls had moved to inside the bar where they drank too many shots of tequila and danced. Penny even did karaoke at some point. Lola was actually enjoying herself and she might have enjoyed it too much. She was definitely drunk by now which meant her plan to seduce Rafe sounds like a very good plan.

“God he’s just so hot,” Lola said her chin resting in her palms as she leaned on the bar. She was currently talking to the bartender and Tabitha.

“He is incredibly hot,” Tabitha agreed, “You should see him, he’s like one of those stone statues of the guys with the abs.”

Lola laughed loudly, “he does look like that. Beautiful. You know he’s a really good kisser.” Her brain started to get even fuzzier as she thought of the kisses from earlier.

“Call him girl, get your man.” Tabitha encouraged as shebsaw the look in her cousin’s eyes.

“I will,” That’s when she had decided to call him and let him take her home.

“You’re drunk huh?” He asked with a teasing tone.

She faked a gasp, “I would want to see you even if I weren’t drunk thank you very much. Especially when wow,” She sighed dreamily, “Especially when you look the way you do tonight.”

Rafe had quickly and quietly bid goodbye to the guys as he all but sprinted out of there to get Lola. He knew she was drunk and he didn’t want her to go outside by herself.

“I’m coming sweetheart, did you have fun?”

“Very much of it,” She smiled to herself.

“I’m outside now,” He as as he was getting closer.

She squealed, “Coming!” She hung up the phone and ran outside before Rafe could even made it to the walkway up to the bar doors.

She ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck hugging him tightly, “Missed you.” Lola nuzzled her head into his neck breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“I missed you,” He had hugged her back and was stroking her hair with one of his hands, “Let’s get you home babe.”

“Kiss?” She asked looking up at him with those doe eyes. How could he say no? He was eager to do anything for her, to please her. He was there to fulfill all her needs how could he ever deny her?

“anything for you,” He mumbled leaning down and kissing her. He wanted it to be a soft kiss but when her fingers went into his hair and tugged him closer he couldn’t hold back. She kissed him hard and he was of course going to reciprocate. Their lips moved together in perfect synch yet a little messily. She wanted him and it wasn’t just because she was drunk.

Rafe was reminded of what she had been doing earlier when he started tasting the tequila on her tongue. He pulled away and kissed one more time softly, “Let’s go home.”

She nodded her head in a dizzy trance. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Lola wrapped her arms around his waist and happily hummed. She was practically leaning her whole body weight on him and it wasn’t even phasing him.

“So how many shots did you take huh?”

“Ohhhh just a few. And a couple tequila sodas.” She laughed.

They reached his car and he helped get her in, making sure she didn’t hit her head. He buckled her in, she just watched him with a dopey smile. Rafe jogged over to his side.

The ride was once again filled with comfortable silence. Mostly because Lola had fallen asleep. Rafe heard her light snores and smiled to himself. Once they got back to the house Rafe rushed over to get her. He ended up having to find her house key and then carry her inside.

He was glad he didn’t drink tonight because he gets to spend the night taking care of Lola. Once he’s walking through their bedroom door the girl in his arms starts stirring awake. He laid her down on the bed as she opened her eyes. Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“Rafe you brought me up,” She mumbled and sat up on the bed. The sleep had sobered her up a bit. Enough to remember to take her makeup off and brush her teeth.

“Of course I did. You need anything?” He sat next to her rubbing her back.

“I’m gonna wash my face,” She mumbled rubbing her eyes, “Can you get me water and ibuprofen please. It’s in the cupboard on the left of the fridge.”

“I’ll be back,” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her head. He went downstairs to get whatever she needed. Rafe also took it upon himself to make her a grilled cheese and bacon knowing she hadn’t eaten since earlier in the day. The greasy food will help her feel better in the morning.

Lola washed her face and brushed her teeth. Feeling more sober and clean. She hadn’t drank that much in a while and now that she was older it hit her harder and worse. She went to her dresser to look for pajamas. Her eyes lit up when they came across the small floral tank top and matching boy short underwear. They were long enough to be considered very short sleep shorts. The part of her brain that was still a little drink was screaming at her to pick that set.

Her plan from earlier coming back to her. She didn’t think twice and grabbed them going to change. Lola looked like she was barely wearing any clothes, just what she wanted. If Rafe felt something for her then he would make a move on her or not reject her if she tried first. And she was almost positive that he did feel something for her. She fixed her hair a bit and put on some more lotion and deodorant.

“I brought you food too,” Rafe said as he entered the room. When she heard him shut the door she stepped out of the bathroom.

He looked up at her and froze. There she was standing in front of him in practically nothing. His hands were itching to touch her. The curves of her body and her pretty bare face were doing too much to him.

He cleared his throat and looked away going back to pulling the covers back, “I uh made you a grilled cheese and some bacon.” He motioned to the food on her nightstand. She smiled at him and mumbled a thanks. Lola walked over to her side and sat on the bed.

As she ate Rafe put on a movie for her before he went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. While he was gone Lola was giving herself a pep talk. She could do this, she’s almost 100% sure that he won’t reject her. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. She quickly finished her food before he came out and got herself ready adjusting her pajamas and her fixing her hair.

He stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but sweatpants. Lola took a deep breath as he sat down next to her.

“You feel better?” He asked looking over at her.

“Yeah I am, thanks for the food.” She turned to lay on her side, holding up her head on her hand.

He mimicked her position, “You’re welcome, how did your night go?”

“Hmmm it was good. The girls are crazy. I miss you though wish I had you by my side,” She said trying to give him her best puppy dog eyes.

Rafe swallowed hard, “Yeah? I missed you. What’s tomorrow’s plan?”

She shuffled closer to him, “Tomorrow we have family brunch and then rehearsal dinner. Then it’s the big day.”

He reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “Easy last couple days then.”

She sighed deeply, “mhmm can I ask you a question?”

“Always.”

“So do you make all your clients feel like this?”

He tilted his head questioningly, “Like how?”

She shrugged looking at the white sheets under her, “Like they’re the only girl in the world.”

Rafe’s heart had started to pick up speed the closer she got. He didn’t know what game she was playing but it was a very dangerous one. He looked at the tv afraid that if he looked at her any longer he would do something he would regret.

“I think I like only making you feel that way,” He mumbled as he continued watching the movie.

“Rafe?” Lola asked in whisper.

“Yeah?” He finally turned to her and she was a lot closer than before.

Instead of answering him she cupped his face and leaned in kissing him softly. Slightly hesitant in case he didn’t want this, but then he cupped her face and pulled her in harder. She sighed satisfied with his response. Rafe felt like his lungs were going to explode, she was so suffocating in the best way. He grabbed her thigh and pulled it so that she was now on top of him. The very minimal clothes they had on made them be even closer.

Lola tugged on his hair as she arched her back slightly to get closer to him. Rafe ran his hands all over her, touching wherever her could. This was much better than he imagined. Yes they’d kissed a few times but it was never just them and it wasn’t like this.

When Rafe’s lips moved down to her neck he came to a realization. She had been drinking earlier and he’s pretty sure she’s at least tipsy still. He pulled away gently resting his forehead against hers.

He cleared his throat and quietly spoke up, “Sweetheart I can’t.”

Lola pulled away a little. Confusion taking over her features, “I-I thought you..” Her face flushed in humiliation. Had he read his body language wrong? Had she interrupted his words wrong?

“No no Lola I want to, but you’ve been drinking and I think you should be sober. I don’t sleep with drunk women,” Rafe tried to reassure but his last sentence made her nauseous.

She sat back farther, “But it’s me Rafe. It’s not some random client that paid for you.”

Rafe laughed softly not really reading the tension in the room. He thought she was just messing around, “Babe you paid for me.”

Lola rolled her eyes and got off of him, “Yeah you’re right, I’m really tired.”

“Lola,” Rafe said knowing something was wrong.

“Rafe I’m tired can we just not,” She mumbled as she tucked herself under the covers. Her back towards him so he couldn’t see her biting her quivering lip. Had Rafe just been doing all of this and acting this way because it was his job? She couldn’t blame him but Lola swore she saw something between them for just a split second.

Rafe watched her for a few seconds before turning off the lights and laying back. He had fucked it up somehow and he was going to do everything possible to make it up to her.

He had to fix it.

-

tags: @rosal1nd , @magicwithaknife , @f4ll-for-you, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @loveu-always , @weareatthebadlands

(if you would like to be tagged or removed let me know!)

(also if you already asked me & I missed you I am so sorry pls send another message)

[lupineaerosol]

traveler pt. 2 | thomas shelby x f!reader

not my gif! dm for credit

pairing : thomas shelby x fem! time traveled reader

word count : 4265

summary : your first day of work at the Garrison, and a meeting with the inspector looms over your head. things may be going perfectly for you, but how quickly can that change?

warnings : alcohol mentioned, ptsd and a panic attack, broken glass(?)

a.n.: LOTS of harry fenton interactions + we finally meet thomas!!! lowkey gonna have moments of other characters x reader but trust!! the plot in my head is so good and im begging yall to just trust my crazy process <3 if anyone has any issues with the content or what i write about because it goes against anything online please let me know so i can fix it!!

not my gif! dm for credit

-

The sun kissed gently at your eyes through the frosted glass above your head in the booth. Your neck ached from the uncomfortable position you had slept in, the muscles screaming at you to be at a different angle. You had woken up shivering in the night, had put on your hoodie from your trunk, and to your luck, you were the only person in the bar. It would be a sticky situation trying to explain the item of clothing to Harry. Taking the thick item of clothing off to shove back into the leather case that sat in the aisle at the end of the booth, the crisp February air threw a chill into your bones and you immediately wished you were able to keep the jacket on. 

No better way to warm up than to start moving. Your eyes scanned across the dusty Garrison for a broom. There has to be one somewhere here, maybe a little looking around won’t be so rude. Harry did agree to my help this morning. 

Soft footsteps across the intricate marble floor were the only sound within the building, other than the distant booming of the factories down the road. You first checked the isolated corner room that waited by the front door. The door opened smoothly, the stained glass art framed beautifully by the wood. A table and a few chairs were scattered around, empty ashtrays and a few cigarette boxes in a tidy stack. The small window to the bar was open, the wood bleached in an intricate pattern of previously spilled liquors. 

Turning back to the main room, the stairway beaconed an investigation. Stepping lightly through the dust and dirt that scattered the floor, and a thorough investigation left you believing the stairs had no intention of keeping secrets from you. A rattle of the two doorknobs of the rooms behind you made it clear that without lockpicking experience you wouldn’t be getting into them. A swift inspection behind the bar left you empty handed, but the room behind the bar seemed more promising for cleaning items. Your eyes scanned the boxes and shelves of liquor and cigarettes but nonetheless, there was still no sign of a simple fucking broom. How can a bar operate without a broom??

The front door of the Garrison slammed shut and the sound of keys jingling made your adrenaline spike. “‘Ello? Miss (y/n)?” Harry’s voice echoed through the building. 

“Good morning,” Your bare feet padded softly out of the back room, slightly ashamed at being caught snooping around. Rounding the corner of the bartop, you greeted Harry with a curt wave. “I was just looking for a broom, I figured I could start working before you got here.” You spoke truthfully, and as gently as you could. Harry didn’t seem to be the type of man quick to anger, but you weren’t about to take any chances. 

“Oh,” A smile lit his face. “Thank you! That’s quite nice of you ma’am.” He carried his coat around to the back room and hung it on a coat rack. Turning to open a thin and carefully crafted door to his right, he reached in and revealed two brooms, leaning to hand you one. The weight was moderate, but the wood was soft in your hands, easy to use. “I’ll be checking stock back here, you can start whenever you would like.”

“I’ll be out here I suppose.” You carried the broom to the darkest corner of the Garrison and started there. A quickly forming dust cloud swirled around your bare feet that had finally warmed up against the tiles. The rhythm and sway of the broom comforted you, staring at the ground with a simple task reminded you of your chores at home. Harry puttered around the bar around you, wiping down the tables and chairs, cleaning dishes and writing tally marks in a small book. 

Small talk filled the time between the two of you, and you indulged trust in him to explain that you had no clue where you had come from after waking up in Inverness, but had traveled all day yesterday in an attempt to get to London. You also talked about your financial situation, to which Harry sympathized. There was no possibility of getting to London, feeding and clothing yourself, and being able to afford a boat to New York.

“Have you considered staying here, in Birmingham? Traveling to London with 10 pounds in your pocket is no way to travel. You could stay and earn some money before leaving again.” Harry asked, looking up from the section of the bar he had been scrubbing. “There are plenty of jobs around here, and a room upstairs I would let you rent.” Hope bloomed in your chest.

“You’re serious?” You turned to face him with a wide smile. “That would be phenomenal! I could open the Garrison in the mornings if I lived here, that way you wouldn’t have to be up so early in the morning to clean and fix everything up.” Your proposition of a job settled on Harry’s mind, he had been quietly looking to add an extra set of hands to the team. 

He paused to chew on the idea. “I wouldn’t mind a few more hours with the wife in the morning.” He placed the dish rag in his hand down onto the bartop, tilted his head from side to side and then nodded. He lifted his hand out to yours to shake in a deal. “Rent is 10 pounds a month, pay is 2 pounds a day. You’ll work from 8 in the morning until you’d like to leave, we can tally the hours together later on.”

You swiftly wiped your hands on Isa’s gifted skirt, reaching out and shaking Harry’s hand. “You will not regret this, mister Fenton. I promise you.” 

-

The sun had risen and the movement in the building had warmed it slightly. The bar had been open since 10, and Harry had continued to instruct you on assorted tasks, and it seemed you were no longer loitering but forging a place serving drinks at the bar. People were friendly to you, mostly men who had been out all night drinking had stumbled in to spend all morning drinking. That seemed to be the state of Small Heath, people down on their luck trying to create a life for themselves. Maybe it was fate that had dropped you here, and after suddenly gaining a job it seemed hard to debate that destiny had laid the cards for you. 

You had been watching the time tick anxiously, trying to figure out what to do about your appointment with the Inspector. You had decided against trying to acquire a visa, at least for a few months to save money, but became increasingly concerned about his dedication to helping you. Would he try to track me down while I’m staying here? What if he enjoys drinking here at the Garrison? Thoughts and worries swarmed your head as you continued to serve drinks and cigarettes. Maybe stopping off to explain you don’t need the visa anymore would help. Telling him directly that you don’t need or want his help would solve it. You were sure of it. You had told him you would find him today anyways, it would be rude to stand him up, even as uncomfortable as he made you feel.

“Harry, do you mind if I leave for the hour? I met someone on the train yesterday and I arranged a meeting with him this morning.” You had tucked your carrying case behind the bar until you had a chance to see the state of the room upstairs Harry had mentioned. 

“Sure, you’ve been working all morning,” Harry said, running drinks to a small group of men at a table before rushing back behind the bar. “Where are you off to?” 

“The police station, there was a policeman that told me he could get me a visa home, I need to explain I don’t need it anymore.” You leaned over the bar to explain it to him quietly. 

“A copper? What’s his name? I have a cousin in the force that was on the train yesterday.” Harry asked enthusiastically.

It took you a second to recall any other name than ‘Inspector’. “I believe his name was Chester Campbell, Inspector Chester Campbell.” Your head tilted slightly when Harry’s emotions stayed the same. “I assume that isn’t your cousin.” You lightly laughed.

“Never heard the name.” Harry smiled in a friendly way. “But the police station is a few blocks from here, but there’s signs that mark the way.” His directions were vaguely helpful.

“I’m off then, I’ll be back before lunch.” Your shoes padded quietly out the door and onto the gravel of Garrison street, following the signs towards the police station as quickly as possible.

-

“Excuse me, is Inspector Campell here?” You leaned over the receptionist’s desk, a small and stout man writing on a pad of paper grunted a response.

“Down the hall and on the right, take the stairs and his office is on the left.” His voice was gruff and his bushy beard barely moved when he spoke to you.

“Thank you.” You attempted to follow the second set of bad directions given to you today, and eventually found yourself on the second floor and face to face with the words ‘Inspector’s Offices’. You take a deep breath before knocking on the frosted glass.

“The door is open.” The all-too familiar voice of the man who made the last leg of your travel agony rattled through the door frame. A second breath and you turn the handle and push through, walking through the threshold to see a large desk, chair, and the inspector standing, hands clasped behind him, with his back to you looking out the window.

“Good morning,” The room reverberated with your words and echoed slightly. The Inspector turned over his shoulder to identify you, it seemed your voice wasn’t enough to remind him who you were. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“Not at all, ma’am.” He stepped closer to the desk, neatly organized papers and books decorated it fittingly. “It’s good to see you, I expected you to arrive earlier. The train to London has already departed for the day.”

“I know, I chose not to leave.” You had barely ventured into the room, not daring to step across to the man. It was already uncomfortable enough from afar, there was no need to add to it. “And I most likely won’t be needing a visa for a while.”

“Are you staying here in Small Heath? I have to advise against it, murderers and thieves run the streets as if they own them, madam.” Campbell turned the corner on his desk, slow steps toward you.

“I am afraid I’ve already committed to staying, sir.” Your voice was filled with determination. The Inspector’s expression fell further than it had been. “And I thank you for the offer to help me get home, but I must refuse.” Before he could speak again you interrupted him.

“Have a good rest of your day Inspector.” A curt nod and you turned to exit the room swiftly, hoping and praying that the issue was resolved. 

-

The bar had filled up since you left, and it seemed your presence in the Garrison had already been accepted by the building, a different aura had seemed to already stain the wood accents you had spent the morning polishing. Returning to your place behind the gold bar, you serve up a box of cigarettes and a few beers to a man with a middle part (that matched the red sea when Moses made his visit) and his group. Harry greeted you with a small smile and wave from across the room, finally catching that you had returned from your short task out. You began to polish some of the finer glasses when the front door squeaked open. 

A man in a flat cap pushed through both sets of doors to the Garrison, the rough texture of his jacket silhouetted over his frame like a man who had influence. His eyes pulled in the low light of the Garrison and devoured it, gorgeous sky blue tumbling into his dark pupils. He carried himself with a deadly certainty, every step he took was calculated and he didn’t even seem conscious of it. His eyes traveled over to the man you had just served, and he swiftly pulled his hat off, expression unreadable, tossing it onto the bartop like he owned the place. The others at the bar swiftly left to a different seat in the building, far away from the man who walked into the building as if he could lay it to rubble with a few words. It seemed that everyone was afraid of the man, and you agreed with them, you would not want to cross this man in any way. 

Harry was quick to rush over next to you, carrying a bottle of fine Irish whiskey and a glass. “On the house, Mr. Shelby.” He popped the cork off the bottle and let it settle onto the countertop, before leaving Mr. Shelby to himself. A pinstriped shirt beneath his jacket and a tight collar around his neck. He placed a few coins gently onto the metal surface of the bar, and strained around to once again look across at the group in the corner. Mr. Middle part stood and finished his beer, and spun to walk over slowly and situate himself at the bar with the largely intimidating man who had barged in seconds ago. The Middle Part ordered a mild beer from Harry, ignoring your presence with skill. 

“Cheers, Thomas. Good health to you.” Thomas Shelby. The name of the powerful individual across the bar made goosebumps surge from your shoulders to your fingertips. Deeply unsettling people must just love the Birmingham aura. You made a point to busy yourself enough to tune out their conversation, catching bits and pieces of what seemed to be an important exchange of information. The most you caught of the talk was the hidden razors sewn into Mr. Shelby’s hat, a far larger warning of his habits than the way he carried himself.

Your attention had been directed at a brave pair who had sauntered up to the bar for the next round, but a far larger man bursting through the doors and almost crashing into a table became the focus. His body barreled into tables, drinks, chairs and liquid flew everywhere. The group within the bar began to go for him, grabbing at his arms and shoulders, trying to gain control of the wildly thrashing man. 

“They’re going to get me!” The panic in the man’s voice was genuine, and he sounded as if he had been chased here, panting between involuntary and fear created noises. Mr. Shelby and his companion took the hysterical man to the floor, pinning him down.

“Breathe, Danny, breathe!!”

“They’re going to get me!!!” He thrashed under the weight of the two men, still able to show his strength from the bottom of the pile. 

“Danny, you’re home. We’re all home in England. You are not in France.” Thomas’ voice was crystal clear, and as calm as he could seem to manage. “You’re not an artillery shell, Danny, you’re a man. You’re not a whizz-bang. You’re a human being, Danny.” A veteran, of course.

The man, Danny, had continued struggling until this point, but seemed to be calming down. You moved quietly to get a glass of cold water for the man, while the boys were finishing soothing the firecracker personified. 

“I’m so sorry Mr. Shelby, I’m sorry.” Danny had begun to weep, and you chose this as the moment to approach with the cup of water. 

“Water?” You drew nearer to the three slowly and tentatively, handing the glass to the extended arm of Mr. Shelby, who then handed it to Danny. All three men gave a small look of appreciation to you. He downed it in a quick chug and threw a quick ‘thank you’ your way before moseying to the front doors with the others.

“You go home to your wife now, Danny. Try and get all the smoke and mud out of your head, eh?” Mr. Shelby instructed, and ushered Danny out of the building. An unease settled over the patrons of the bar as the doors swang closed, men scattered around the room in a crescent shape around the former commotion. 

Harry spoke up from where he was attempting to return a table to its previously unruined state. “Mr. Shelby, you have to do something about him.”

“You’re damn right, Harry.” The Middle part piped up, seeming to stare imaginary bullets through the back of Mr. Shelby’s head. “You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection. You’re the law around here now, Tommy, aren’t you?” 

The intense situation between the two seemed to boil over for a moment, but the rest of their conversation was too quiet to pick up on from your place nearby, cleaning up glass shards. Mr. Shelby carefully pulled his cap back over his hair, and stepped to leave the building, stopping at your side.

“Thank you for the water. Seems like you’re the only person who knows how to handle the aftermath of something like this, good job.” His words were concise, his eyes scanning your dirty skirt and off white blouse. His gaze read details you couldn’t comprehend noticing about yourself, but with a quiet air of approval. At the door he tipped his hat to you  and spoke across the room to Harry, “Send the bill to the Peaky Blinders. We’ll take care of it.” before swiftly exiting the Garrison, shooting a final, trapping glance your way. 

-

You were left with the bar in pieces, chairs and tables broken, glasses shattered. You moved to help Harry with sweeping up shards. A few minutes of silent focus was broken by Harry’s stern voice, a new experience to add to the ever growing list. 

“What you did was very nice, but it’s best to leave those situations in our hands, Mr. Shelby and Mr. Thorne had the situation under control.” Harry looked up from the broom in his hands and spoke lightly but sternly. You assume his meaning of ‘our’ meant the men of mixed shapes and sizes that frequent the Garrison. Your stomach sank a bit, the small breakfast of bread and butter tumbled in your gut. All you had wanted to do was help, and a glass of water barely seemed offensive, but perhaps your modern mindset clouded your judgment.

“I’ll be more careful next time, Mr. Fenton.” Was all the response you could think of. You couldn’t promise that you wouldn’t interfere if something happened again, the image of Danny pinned to the floor flashed through your mind with a shiver.

“Have you worked with veterans before?” Harry’s intrigue about your history popped into conversation. “You seemed calmer than most of the men in here, and that’s truly saying something.” 

You hesitated with a response. A college friend of yours had severe panic attacks quite frequently, and you were practically trained to handle other people’s terror in a collected way. There were many moments you had to give a similar pep talk that Mr. Shelby had drilled into Danny.

“A close friend of mine. The war tore her apart, too many cases of trench foot and a few too many close calls with hand grenades.” You improvised, while lifting the dustpan of glass shards from the floor and rose from where you had been sitting on your knees. “I usually was the one to calm her down when her family couldn’t.” 

“Was she a nurse?” Harry queried, alluding to France and the war while moving to the next section of glass and spilled beer. You nodded quickly, trying your hardest to end the conversation. I have got to figure out a backstory.

Quiet chatter of patrons filled the building, distant thuds and banging from the factories. People filed into and out of the Garrison, and the place was empty enough in the afternoon before quitting time that Harry handed you a key and dismissed you to go settle into the room upstairs.

Grabbing your trunk from its hidden place behind the bar, you hurried up the stairs and unlocked the door, dust and darkness floating out of the small bedroom and attached room with a sink. It was quaint, definitely small, but certainly not a shoebox. A bed situated in the corner and slightly under what seemed to be the only window. A large dresser against the wall on your left,  a full-length mirror nestled between the other wall and the dresser. It was otherwise quite plain and derelict. You crossed the room and tugged open the shades and pulled the window up with a loud squeak, and immediately the noise of Small Heath joined you in the room. You started dusting and airing out the old sheets and blankets, folding what clothes you had from Isa and tucking them into the large dresser, hiding the futuristic clothes you traveled in within the trunk and under your bed.

You took the time before the rush to change into a few of the other clothes you had, a deep burgundy skirt and a second white blouse. The puffed sleeves ended at your elbows, a  small ruffle running from shoulder to shoulder aiming in a point down to your belly button. A quick swipe of a rag over the standing mirror in the corner opposing the door and you stepped back. All things considered, you didn’t look too out of place, a few changes to your hair and you looked like any other lady striding down the street. The blouse didn’t fit too strangely on your figure, and the skirt was hanging perfectly on your figure. 

The ticking of a clock above the doorway became apparent to you, and with a fast glance you read ‘5:13’ on its face. The rush hour drinking would start in a few minutes, and Harry would need your help. Tidying the last bits of your new home to your taste, you strung the key on a string around your neck and tucked it down into your blouse before stepping into the hallway and down the stairs.

The chatter of the Garrison was already lively, the warm lights casting a homely feeling across the worn faces of men who had worked their day away within the factories and shops of Small Heath. Conversations of strikes at the BSA factory floated through your attention, details about a man named Thorne. I wonder if it’s the same man who helped Danny this morning? 

The time ticked by, your presence collected eyes, and not all of them friendly. Your chats with random patrons were monitored, anything about you was collected to be fed to a devourer of information. Blissfully unaware, you offered a friendly chat to whoever needed one, a lone young man at the bar, a group of old men, any other man who wanted a friendly smile from the new bartender. No one had expected Harry to hire a woman, especially not one from America who talked funny and wouldn’t speak of anything from her past.

9:00, and the bar had calmed somewhat. You were wrapped up in a conversation with Harry and a group of his friends when the table next to yours had just quickly paid and left. Eager to help Harry and prove your place, you toddled to the bar to grab a rag to clean the table, and as you returned to the dirty dishes and silverware, the conversation of Harry’s group had shifted. 

“Where exactly is (Y/N) from in America? I’ve never heard an accent like that.” 

You craned your ears in an attempt to hear Harry’s response. “I’m not quite sure, she never said. I assume California, somewhere west.”

“And so she shows up out of the blue, tough on her money and looking for a place to stay?”

“Stop insinuating that she insisted on staying, she didn't.” Harry considered his response carefully. “I actually suggested she stayed. I’ve been looking for a pretty face behind the bar, she needed a job and a place to stay, I just happened to be able to help. She says she traveled from the north yesterday, she didn't say from where, but somewhere far, she looked wrecked last night.. She’s a sweet one, far too nice for this place.”

You were flattered, but the pressure to come up with a backstory for how you suddenly appeared in Scotland yesterday morning and managed to get to Birmingham while also acquiring a job and apartment was too good to sound true. I could always go with the amnesia plot, play that role for the rest of my time here. 

Harry continued his thought. “I hope this place doesn’t trap her here like it did the rest of us.”

“But you trust her?” Harry hesitated before muttering something far quieter to his mates.

“...ut she’s been nothing but helpful since last night, christ, she slept here in the bar in the middle of February instead of begging to sleep at my home in front of a fire. But no, I don’t think there’s anything sinister about her, I’m not sure if it’s possible.” Harry’s voice grew in volume again, and for the rest of the night you’re focused on what he could have possibly said to the group of men.

-

a.n: i proofread but not all the way through, if the end is weird sorry i tried my best :P had a lot of fun writing this and im glad i actually updated on it instead of forgetting about it and never touching it ever again

[limehaspassed]

Hi!! can i request Hannibal lecter (sotl and nbc if that’s okay?) And some other slashers if you like with a s/o that has a feeding tube?

I recently got one put in and I feel like a fish out of water lol

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Slashers with S/O Who

Has a Feeding Tube

In which the I go over the slashers and their relationship with you, someone who has a feeding tube. Slashers included are NBC and SoTL Hannibal, Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt, and Harry Warden.

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Preface

To start off with, a feeding tube is a tube entered through the nasal or abdominal region of the body to supply nutrients for people who cannot get enough through eating alone. Feeding tubes may be uncomfortable or even painful at first, but that may be fixed through adjustments. Feeding tubes are a result of many disorders occurring within the gastrointestinal region. They may also be a result of neck or throat cancer, throat surgery, and anything that may restrict or eliminate the process of swallowing food via mouth.

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Hannibal (NBC)

Will go over every detail with you: what you eat, what you do, how you go about your day, when you are able to get the feeding tube removed and so forth.

Will be respectable about it, he won’t tease you or play jokes on you. He understands that you are going through a rough time and refuses to make it any worse for you.

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Harry Warden

Just like Hannibal (NBC), he will be very thorough with how he helps you, making sure everything is okay and stable.

Will ask a lot of questions.

Absolutely refuses to let anyone pick on you for it, his hatred towards others only growing more if people do mention anything negative about your situation.

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Thomas Hewitt

Will initially be confused about what a feeding tube it, worry quickly settling in. However, once you explain it to him and tell him you’re alright, he’ll calm down.

Will treat you like a fragile piece of glass even though you have told him you feel fine, you just need a little extra help.

Will also ask a lot of questions in his own way through gentle touches and nudges.

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Hannibal (SoTL)

Unlike NBC Hannibal, he would tease and play jokes on you but he means no harm.

He makes sure that you’re okay and watches out for any change that may indicate anything. He’s always keeping a watchful eye, even when you sleep.

If a joke goes too far, he’ll make sure you understand that he is sorry.

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Brahms Heelshire

Will also be confused as to what a feeding tube is seeing as he’s been locked up in the walls his entire life.

Refuses to ask questions because he is slightly deterred. He doesn’t say this though and will be respectable about it, quite a surprise.

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