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lilolilyr · 3 years

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Tagged by @ongreenergrasses, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Way over 300! Tho it feels like it's been at 300sth so long by now, it'll be weird to look at once it hits 400 :D

Btw, funny how this tag meme asks for so much stuff that can be looked up by just... looking at my Ao3... without asking for any commentary by me? Lol

Anyhow, rest under the readmore bc this is 20 questions and Long!

Personal post - do not reblog

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

995596 - just a few more ficlets or 1 longer fic, and I've got a Million! Hey, maybe I should try to write one with... 4404? (I'd need to ask a calculator xD) words exactly... not rly a hardship with how many drabble exercises (exact wordcounts, 100 is the most used, I also do 200, 500, longest was 10000 exactly lol) I've already done... we'll see!

Over 400k for this year alone, and over half of that is my actual writing (not translations etc), I'm so proud! Last year I only barely hit 200k and that included a lot of translating work

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Again, one could look this up in my works filtered - sorted by kudos? But all three of my incubus!jaskier witcher series are in it, part 2 of the series is highest with 1091 kudos, then a Venom halloween oneshot, and 'Belonging', a fluffy snake-crowley piece from my ineffable spouses series (yes, sth with under 1k words - 666 to be exact - is in the top 5... my poor longfics lol)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

...I try to? But atm I have 202 unanswered (and I always click 'mark read' on replies so these are all comments on my own fic) even tho I told myself I'd not let it get past 200, and now I'm doing a tag meme instead of replying to anything so ummmm

Edit: 203 unread now

But I do love love love all the comments I get! And while atm it's still semi-manageable, if it ever gets to the point where I really can't manage to reply to everyone cause it's too much, i'd rly take that as a compliment lol :D I'd still try to reply to the longer and/or more thought through comments tho :)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

*thinks* I have an MCD fic? But not only is that very much a case of ~posting a draft version that's barely in complete sentences insgead of taking the time to turn it into a real longfic~, I also just killed off the mlm couple I only semi care about and left the wlw couple with a happy/hopeful (rly don't remember) ending, so... hm idk whether that counts for angsty ending

Apart from that... I dunno, I just prefer my babies to be happy and fluffy? *.* i remember a mirror milippa in the mirrorverse one where in the end Michael is worried about lying to Philippa about her identity... there are some angsty TOG and Gomens ones but I think they end happy-ish (my memory is. Bad. but looking through my 'angst' tag I just saw a lot of h/c and 'angst with a happy ending')

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They're all happy???!?

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Ahahahahahhahahaahaha

Check this out

I need you to know that all the works in that collection take part in the same universe (or rather, multiverse), and are alltogether just scratching the surface of my gigantic headcanon multiverse that I've been building in my mind since I was like 10

Actual crossovers other than that I don't remember writing

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeh but I only remember clicking 'delete comment', as it should be

Recently I've just gotten a bunch of 'you Need to continue this' and 'omg why isn't there more' or 'this shouldn't end' type comments, not hate, probably not meant maliciously, but So Annoying (maybe espesh bc I don't want to just hit delete on these, but I also don't want to pretend it's fine, but I also don't have the energy for a fight, and trying to explain why that behaviour is entitled and annoying and that I write what I want to write and nice comments should praise what I actually have written, and hoping that they understand and don't get mad is... hard.)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Check out my rated E and rated M in my works

Mostly femslash lately, but I did also write other smut in the past

Most is a bit dominant/submissive play, but I do also like good fluffy smut with feelings! Best in combo, really :D

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not in the sense of pretending someone else wrote it (that i know of), but posted to other sites without my permission - writing 'don't repost to other sites' etc did Not help, they even copied those tags lol, so I just let it be, choosing my battles wisely etcetc, I'd prefer for my fic not to be cross-posted by others bc then I can't edit or otherwise influence the fic anymore and don't see everyone's reactions to it, but as long as it's not someone pretending they wrote it, I only semi care, not enough to fight it tbh

PSA: I Only post fics to Ao3 (and WIPs/prompt fills to tumblr&discord at times), if you see them somewhere else that's Not Me and you'd do me a favour by checking them out on ao3 and kudosing&commenting there instead :)

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup, one to Russian a while back, a floreleine (Gunpowder Milkshake) one to Korean just today actually, and I translated a bunch to German myself

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I made a TOG fic together with @cinnamonplums, well mostly I wrote and she made the art :D

Trying to remember whether I ever actually co-wrote anything... don't think so?

13. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Don't make me choose!!!

Atm Milippa is OTP bc I'm busy writing them for @discoveryfemslashfortnight (this is not a post to reblog for the fortnight), but I'm also still rly into Floreleine, Bering&Wells and Andromaquynh and Andronilynh, and I read a lot of Mirandy lately

All-time favs I'm not rly active in atm but will always be dear to me are the ineffable spouses, clintcoulson, heistwives, gosh so many more I'll stop here tho xD

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Heistwives Kinda Job immediately comes to mind

I also rly want to finish at least one cohesive original-ish storyline for the lverse that I already linked for the crossover question above, but I just have so much backstory (it's been over 10 years!!!) and it's... hard...

And everything else that's still WIP and untouched for more than a few months will probably have the same fate lol

Also have a few that haven't even seen the light of day at all, most recent a Mirandy ~what if Andy had been pregnant when Miranda hired her and how would it change the entire storyline~ bit - I wrote it in bulletpoints in one go as quickly as I could, I know I had the finished product in my mind, I don't remember anything now and don't feel like going through the bulletpoints painstakenly filling in the blanks

15. What are your writing strengths?

Writing one-shots quickly in one go

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Forgetting everything about a fic if I leave it in a draft for a second too long

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

There are many ways to go about it, and I think they all work (depending on the fic and the length and relevance of the dialogue)

I tend to leave single sentences as is, and for longer and important sequences use cursive and 'they said in xylanguage'.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Hobbit apparently? I remember thinking that fic was so long lol, it's 3k

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Kat/Ana from Reef Break, they have Such Shippable Chemistry, and it would totally fit Kat's player personality to bang both siblings (she's canonically friends with benefits with Ana's half-brother)... but the ship has one (1!) fic on Ao3 *cries*

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

TOG Andromaquynh longfic In Your Stead has had the title since last year and probably for a while to come! I loved the story idea so much I really worked with several drafts and only! worked on that fic until it was finished so I wouldn't get distracted & forget about it, and the result was wonderful.

Tagging, if you want to do it, @sarah-fiers @purlturtle @cookie-sheet-toboggan @ussjellyfish @onaperduamedee @startrekgeorgiouery @rosalie-starfall @lonely-night @banashee @xvnot15 and everyone else who sees this

Questions to copy:

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? 7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? 8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? 9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? 10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? 12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 13. What’s your all time favorite ship? 14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? 15. What are your writing strengths? 16. What are your writing weaknesses? 17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? 18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? 19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? 20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

#tagging meme #tagged #mine #ongreenergrasses #ao3 tag #ao3 link #lilolilyrae #sept'21 #personal #Personal 2021 #28.09.21

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

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The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 1 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

So this was a cute one-shot that came to mind that somehow turned into a mini series. I’ll hopefully have the other parts up soonish (once they are written).

I want to dedicate this piece to the most lovely @evelynshelby for inspiring and encouraging me to write an Alfie piece. (Btw, she has her own incredible stories that you should definitely follow.) This is my first time writing a fanfic piece for Peaky Blinders. I have always been too nervous to attempt it. So let me know if you think I did Alfie justice.

Summary: A young Alfie prepares himself to spend a night in jail. Next thing he know, he is on the run with a blonde angel by his side. Nothing about this night goes as he expected.

Warnings: Some violence, swearing and racial slurs. Just the usual in Peaky Blinders. :)

Words: 5k

~The Difference Between Champagne and Rum~

Part 1- Saved by an Angel

1911

He knew it. Everyone knew it. Bless her, even his own mother knew it. No matter what the Rabbi said. Alfie Solomons’ soul was damned. He was sinful and that would not be changing anytime soon. He easily picked up and wore that mantle though. For it meant there was food on the table for his family and coal to keep them warm in their dilapidated, shoddy apartment. It also meant his younger brother and sister could stay in school and receive a good education. Plus their mum did not have to work sewing till her fingers bled from dawn until midnight. No, his soul was damned but he did not care. He was the man of the house, had been since the age of nine when his father died, and his family came first.

The first time he saw her…he wondered if he might regret missing heaven and all its beautiful creatures. It would be a shame if all the angels looked like her. Perhaps he could amend his ways…later.

Blood ran down from the left side corner of his mouth, leaving the tang of copper and dirt on his tongue. The dull ache from his mid ribs told him that he would have bruises there tomorrow. He would have to keep them hidden from his mum. None of the pain affected him though. None of the blood stopped him. In this moment, he was an invincible force of nature. Even the devil himself would refuse to fight him right now.

He glared down at the bleeding, busted man at his feet, the wrath of all his ancestors fueling his rage. “You want to say that again, you fucking wop?”

The man –teenager really- sneered but wisely kept his tongue behind his teeth.

The lad at his feet was only a year older than himself, just barely an adult, but that did not matter. Not here on the dirty streets of London. Not even when the gang of wop lads outnumbered the few Jewish lads walking back to the shitty apartments of their families. Big fucks little. And a certain Jewish lad promised himself to one day be the boss. To never back down from a fight until everyone feared his name and pissed themselves even thinking about fighting him.

Alfie eyed the seven other Italian lads sprawled out in the back alley in various states of injury or restrainment. Two of his own lads looked injured enough but otherwise no one was dead. Returning his intense gaze to the ringleader at his feet, he cracked his bloody knuckles.

“See here. That’s the thing, innit? You think just coz you got them fuckin’ suits and greased hair, you s’better than us. Mmm? S’fucking disgrace, mate. Me little sister can fight better than you lot.”

“Fuck you, Solomons.” The man spat blood onto Alfie’s shoes.

Alfie kicked the downed man. “S’disgusting, Sabini. Mate, you gotta learn to shut your mouth before shit starts fallin’ out, yeah? Now, I’m gonna…”

“STOP THEM! STOP THOSE BOYS!”

He looked up as several whistles blew, alerting him to the coppers running straight towards them. Rapidly he spun around, already seeing the panicked look on a few of his lads’ faces. He guessed these coppers were probably paid off by the Sabini family, so the Italian lads would be seen as the victims or get a slap on the wrists while the Jewish lads would be thrown in jail at least overnight if not a couple of days.

“Ishmael, Natan, get the lads! Get ‘em to the warehouse!” Alfie barked out, eyeing the inevitable situation. He was not afraid. This would not be his first time in handcuffs or in jail. At the rate it was going, probably not his last time either. He would make sure they remembered his name though.

Fists clenched at his sides, he stood perfectly still, like a statue made from stone- unmoving, unrelenting, fearless and determined. Only his icy stare betrayed the whirlwind of emotions seething underneath his skin. He waited for them. As a predator eyeing the unsuspecting prey approaching, he remained fixed amongst the Italian boys he had just been fighting. To any outsider he appeared Ares, the god of war, his victims laying at his feet.

Once the coppers tried to arrest him, to make him surrender…the whirlwind of fire was released. He attacked, doling out several solid punches to those in uniform. They would never forget his name. They fought back with their batons, meeting his bloodied fists. Red clouded his vision. Moments blurred as he held his own. At one point he laughed, cocky and brash. Youth and vengeance fueling his rage.

Eventually, it took four grown men to slam him on the ground and handcuff him. The rocks and debris scrapped the side of his face. He sputtered as a fresh wave of blood filled his mouth when one of the coppers kicked him in the stomach. Cursing colorfully in Russian, he remained down…for now. From what he could see, it looked like the lads had gotten away. Two coppers were trying to wrestle two different wops down and arrest them also. The rest were pulling the Italian lads up against a nearby wall to assess their injuries.

“Move it, boy.” A gruff voice commanded him, dragging him up and towards a nearby brick building across the alley from the Italian boys. Smart man to separate them. He hit the wall, none to gently, and slide down to sit, his back resting against the coarseness of the brick. It tugged at his coat. Sweat soaked through his shirt underneath with flecks of blood splattered sporadically. Whose blood though was the ultimate question. Through half-hooded lids, he watched the coppers and the Italian lads while resting and assessing his own injuries. His ribs rebelled their current position. At least one or two of his knuckles felt busted. The trickle of pooling blood in his mouth made him think he cut his inner check. A new throbbing came from his temple. He could not remember if someone got a hit in or it was where the force of impact from being slammed to the ground originated. The boss would be fucking livid with him. So would his mum. Honestly, he was unsure which was more terrifying when yelling at him.

Opening his eyes to blink away any sweat and blood trickling down, he shifted slightly, the brick digging into his back. That was when he saw her. An absolute angel on earth. Casually walking, as if for a relaxing stroll in the park, she came closer in that dirty back alley. A copper walked close by her, a hand on her elbow as if to guide her. Alfie would not tear his eyes away from her. Never in his seventeen years had he seen anything he could truly label gorgeous or breath-taking. Yet this creature of light did not waver like a flame or mirage. No, she strolled with her head raised proudly, a pout to her full lips with an almost bored look. Her long, blonde hair glowed under the dingy streetlamps, casting a halo around her face, highlighting her delicate features. What made her stand out even more was the party dress and heels that seemed more appropriate for an aristocratic event or a club than the dank back alley full of blood, sweat and piss. Her dress was purple with a sweetheart neckline, lace just barely covering her exposed shoulders and ending mid-shin. Everything about her screamed wealth and posh. Still he could not hate her. It would be like hating a field of sunflowers or a dazzling morning sunrise. His eyes traced her lithe, feminine form and he swallowed subconsciously. There was no way she was older than him, but her silhouette left no doubt that she was a beautiful woman and not a pretty girl.

Once they got close enough, she softly said something to the officer escorting her then without waiting for a response, strutted towards Alfie. Each step she took in his direction, the dirt, blood and sweat felt amplified on his skin and clothes. He could not move nor speak, his mind having lost all function in her wake.

Friendly-like, as if they had known each other for years, she knelt down at his side. Apparently uncaring of the grime in the alley. Her emerald green eyes sparkled like a priceless gem. Quickly she pulled a handkerchief from her small clutch and tenderly dabbed away the blood at his temple, cheek and mouth. No one had touched him this gently outside of his mother and siblings. Unconsciously he leaned into her touch, the handkerchief against his skin.

“Looks like you were in a right, proper fight. I almost feel sorry for the other guy.”

“Naw, don’t be, love. Those wops asked for it.”

“Did they?” She glanced over her shoulder at the others against the opposite wall of that alley. “What did they do?”

“Looked at me funny, right? Can’t ‘ave none of that.” He was not actually going to tell her the wops started yelling racial slurs across the street at him and his lads and making comments about how their mothers spread their legs for anyone. No, he would play it off.

“Well, serves them right then. Looks like they probably needed some dirt on those clean suits and shoes.” Turning back, she winked at him then continued her cleaning, ignoring the rest of the chaos surrounding them. It truly felt like being in the eye of a storm. Nothing and no one else around mattered. All he could see, feel and sense was the angel before him. Even her touch was delicate as she cleaned up his face. Not once did he wince, but that could just be from his mind unable to focus on anything besides her.

“Are you injured badly?” She asked, keeping her voice low as her eyes found his in the gloom.

“No. ‘M fine.”

“Ever been to jail?”

He definitely was not expecting that question from her. “Yeah…yeah, I have.”

She hummed, seeming unsurprised. “Have fun?”

“Oh yeah, fucking best day of me life. Champagne and dancing to fill the night, yeah?”

She laughed, and in that moment he decided that was his favorite sound on this planet. It was robust and sweet, her head tipped back and eyes crinkled. “Well I would hate to take away that pleasure from you but I was wondering if you wanted to get away. I mean these officers are lovely and all but I would not mind a stroll under the moonlight. What do you think? Want to escort me?”

“Love, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go, yeah?”

A smile burst forth, brilliant as a supernova and filled Alfie with a fire he had never experienced before. Sure he understood the fire of anger and wrath, it helped fuel him in the fights he got into. This though… this fire seeped deep into him like a brand made on his bones that warmed him from head to toes.

“Cheeky. I’m going to hug you but do not move from that position. Wait for my signal, got it?”

He nodded, mouth dry. What the bloody hell was happening? Wait, he would get her dirty with all the filth on him. Before he could protest, she shifted and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him. The scent of lavender filled his senses, making him subconsciously take a deep breath. Was it a perfume she wore? Was it just infused into her skin? It did not matter, he wanted to drown in her scent and never resurface. Her lips were next to his ear, her breasts pressed against his chest, her warm breath ticking the hairs on his neck. It was too much. This angel, a being of light, was creating quite sinful images in his mind. Awful, beautiful, wicked scenarios that entailed her pearly white skin laid bare beneath him. All the blood in his body rushed south and suddenly he felt lightheaded, unsure if it was her intoxicating scent and proximity or his bodily reaction and blood loss. It felt so wrong. His soul was damned, blackened by his choices. Yet he yearned for her like he never had before for anyone or anything.

Both a moment and an eternity later, he heard a faint click coming from behind him. With that she leaned back, but not before dragging a single finger slowly down his jawline. That simple touch sent shivers down his spine.

“What’s your name?”

“Alfie. Alfie Solomons.”

“I’ll be right back, Alfie. Stay here.”

With an astounding amount of grace, she rose from kneeling next to him. Casually she strolled over to the copper who had guided her initially into the alley. He had been speaking with two other coppers standing near the Italian lads. During their strange interaction, Alfie had actually forgotten about the fucking wops and coppers, too entranced by her. Now looking around he could see some of the coppers walking away with the other lads while others stood around surveying the area. He counted at least six coppers in current view. Four too many to all be informally patrolling together. Did someone tip them off to the fight? Were they waiting? Questions swarmed in his mind. At least the Jewish lads got away. They were lucky this time.

Twisting his hands, he froze. The handcuffs no longer strangled his wrists. Actually they felt loose…a quick shake and they practically fell off. That was what she had done when embracing him? Now a new set of questions swarmed like a crazed flock of pigeons in his mind. How? Why? If anything, his respect for her grew…and his curiosity. This was clearly not her first time getting out of handcuffs. She was an enigma. A posh girl who could break someone out of handcuffs in seconds. Glancing to his left, he noticed her small clutch lay on the ground near him. Was this a sign of trust or manipulation?

Overall his rational mind continued to scream ‘what is happening?’ for nothing about tonight was going as expected.

A couple minutes later, she sashed over to the four Italian lads sitting against the far wall and began chatting with them. One, with a black eye, said something and winked making her giggle shyly. A jealous rage crept upon Alfie. Who the fuck did those wops think they were talking to his angel? They were lucky they were all handcuffed because if even one tried to touch her, he would kill the sod…and make it fucking biblical worthy. He continued to watch with growing ire as she laughed and talked with them for several minutes. It took every ounce of self-control to remain where he was and continue the pretense of being handcuffed still.

Finally, she rubbed one of the lads’ shoulders in farewell while making a comment that caused them to laugh or snicker before she returned to his side.

“Nice fuckin’ chat you have there, yeah? Makin’ new friends?”

She sat on the ground next to him, brushing her hair over her shoulder, it easily reaching her mid-back. “Patience, sweetheart, patience. All part of the plan.”

“Plan, eh? That’s the thing, now, innit? I’m not much for patience. Too restless, me mum says, asking too many questions, yeah.”

“I promise I’ll make it worth your time.” She purred out, a glint in her eyes.

His trousers suddenly felt a little tighter. “Oh yeah? Care to share with the class?”

“Now where is the fun in that?”

“You ain’t gonna get me shot, right? That s’fucking pain and would ruin me night.”

“As long as you can keep up.” She deadpanned then glanced over at the other lads, keeping her voice lowered. “You know these streets?”

“Yeah.”

“At the signal, we run. You can get us away from here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They sat in poised silence for a long moment. He unashamedly took the time to admire her beside him. She was too clean, too pristine to be from anywhere around here. Hell, it looked like she bathed regularly which honestly was uncommon where he was from. She certainly had weaned at the bosom of wealth and continued to be nurtured by it. So why was she here? Why did the coppers have her? Why was she so desperate to get away from them? “What’s your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She winked, fiddling with the hemline on her dress.

“Ah, come on, love.”

“I saw you fight the police men.” She abruptly changed topics. “I have never seen anyone fight like that before. I bet you could box in the rings if you wanted.”

“Yeah? Just somethin’ you learn on the streets, right? Not much to it. I’ve always been broader and stronger than most lads, yeah, so I guess it is easier. Me grandfather taught me some.”

“Well, I found it incredible to watch.”

A second later, a commotion had him whipping his head up in time to see the Italian lads leaping up and running down the alley, some faster than others. The coppers immediately started after them, yelling and blowing their whistles. Chaos suddenly ruling the alley.

He guessed that was the signal.

Leaping to his feet and ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs at the movement, he grabbed her hand. Within the span of a heartbeat, they were racing away from the commotion. Adrenaline coursed through him, helping him forget the aches, pain and fatigue from the fights that night. A shout sounded from behind but neither one of their steps faltered. At the end of the alley, still holding her hand, he pulled her left into a different back alley. He kept his ears open for shouts and whistles, eyes open for coppers and any of those wops looking for revenge. He knew this town, these streets like his own name. They were a part of him, as much as his own blood and bones. He both loathed and loved them. They made him who he was. Yet he promised himself to rise above the poverty dragging its inhabitants down. He would rule this place. Fuck anyone who tried to stop him.

After at least ten minutes of running, he pulled her behind a local dress shop. The streetlamps could not pierce the gloom behind the store, making it perfect for hiding out. Plus there was usually a couple boxes laying around to sit on and it did not smell nearly as bad as the butcher shop just down the street. He pushed her against the wall and pressed himself beside her. Both of them gasping for breath, chests heaving. A glance at her surprised him. A brilliant smile shown, illuminating her face. As if sensing his gaze, she turned her head to meet his eyes. He could not help returning the smile.

“Think…we are…safe?” She asked between deep breaths, eyes still locked on his.

“Yeah…yeah. Don’t hear footsteps…besides ours, right?”

“Yeah.” Her smile turned mischievous as her breathing began to even out. “You seemed to know right where to go. I’m suspecting you have done this once or twice.”

“Once or twice. But you, fuckin’ hell. Gettin’ me outta those handcuffs. You do that often?”

“Once or twice.”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. This girl, this angel, was nothing like he had ever met before. Standing next to her now, he realized the top of her head just reached his chin, even in those little kitten heels she wore. For some odd reason, that realization made him smile.

“Is St. Mark’s church far from here?”

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. “That where you’re supposed to be, innit?”

She shoved him, playfully. “Well is it?”

“No, not far. Come on, love. I’ll walk ya there meself. Can’t have you wanderin’ and gettin’ lost, yeah?” He chuckled at her glare before she just rolled her eyes. Pushing off the brick wall, he was surprised when her hand shot out to grab his arm.

“Wait.”

“S’alright? Need to catch your breath?”

Then the completely unexpected happened. He knew to the very marrow of his bones that he would never be the same again.

She roughly tugged him closer before raising up on her toes and pressing her lips against his. Immediately a heat wave shot through him. Without thinking, his body moved on its own accord. He was too focused on the delicious taste of her pouty lips, that entrancing scent of lavender dancing around her, and her body pressed against his. His hands automatically sought out her hips, backing her against the dirty, brick wall to further press himself against her. A slow sweep of her tongue had him open his mouth on a moan which then allowed their tongues to fight for dominance. Her hands moved from his neck upward into his hair, alternating between fisting it to force him closer and scraping his scalp with her nails. Sure he had kissed a couple of girls before, he was a seventeen-year-old hot blooded male. None of those times even came close to this moment. This kiss that would forever ruin him for any other woman. This was heaven in its bliss and hell in its torment. He ached to get closer, to taste more of her, to hear her breathe out his name. With each moment, every touch and continued molding of their lips, she burned further into him, like a drug he would never fully be able to escape.

Finally their lips unlocked, lungs demanding air. Panting with swollen, bruised lips, they stared at one another caught up in the moment of passion and fire. A whole brigade of coppers could have come marching down the alley and he would not have noticed.

“Do this often?”

“Once or twice.” He teased back, his ego inflated at seeing her look as wrecked as he felt. Apparently his kiss and touch affected her just as much as hers did to him.

She laughed, eyes sparkling in the dimness. “Still wanting to escort me?”

“Love, you ain’t gettin’ away from me now.”

Reluctantly he pulled away from her. All he wanted to do was continue kissing her, breathing her in and never let her go. Yet reality demanded something very different. It was obvious she was in a far different class from himself, something he would never achieve. He picked up her clutch that had been dropped on the ground during their snogging. Together, they stepped out of the alley and into the deserted street, heading south towards the church.

“You stopped bleeding.”

“Mmm? Oh yeah.” He touched his temple where there was certainly a cut. “I didn’t get none on you, right? Don’t wanna get any dirt or blood on you, keep you from being all dolled up.”

“I am fine. That stuff never bothered me anyway.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. A posh lady not bothered by blood and dirt? She certainly was turning into a class all of her own…and he did not mind at all.

“What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re the oddest lady I ‘ave ever met.” He teased.

“Excuse you!” She shoved him away, causing him to laugh as he stumbled several steps over dramatically. “See if I ever kiss you again, making fun of me like that. Plain rude is what that is.”

Swiftly moving back to her side, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She refused to meet his eyes until he tipped her chin up with his hand. “Awww…come on, love. I was just teasin’ you a bit is all. I like you. Never been into girls scared of gettin’ their hands dirty meself. End up bein’ too much fuckin’ work, yeah, they are.”

A soft smile graced her lips. “Well, I would hate to be that.”

“Forgive me? I can get down on my knees right here if that’s what you want. I’ll sing a song for you, but you might think a damn cat is dyin’. Probably best if I don’t. Scare you away, yeah.”

She laughed, eyes crinkling. “I forgive you.” She pressed a quick peck to his mouth before sliding out of his arms to continue walking side by side.

“Do I get to learn who you are now?”

“Oh, I am no one interesting. Just a simple lady out on a stroll.”

Scoffing, he nudged her shoulder with his. “That’s the biggest fuckin’ lie I’ve ever ‘eard. A fancy, posh girl like yourself is never a ‘simple lady’, yeah? So, what’s your name?”

“Perhaps I do not want to be her tonight.” She sighed, looking up at the stars as if to distance herself from reality. A feeling Alfie understood all too well. She continued, her voice just a whisper in the night. “Perhaps I want to be someone different…someone else before society forces me to put the mask back on...to pretend for the sake of family and reputation that I am someone I am not. My apologies. I am rambling. It does not matter. Tis not your problem.”

He stopped, moving to stand in front of her. The depth of despair in her words made his heart clench. The whole night she had eluded an aura of authority, confidence and, truthfully, a sex appeal. Now though, whatever wall she protected herself with dropped for a moment. She tried to move around him but he gripped her upper arms gently yet firmly until she looked up at him. Those emerald eyes held him, curiosity and hesitation warring in their depths. Ever so gently he ran a knuckle down her cheek before tracing her lips with the tip of his finger. A piece of his mind imaging their passionate snogging was only a figment of his imagination.

“Look at me, love. You’ll never be a ‘simple lady’ coz you s’fuckin’ something else, right? You can break outta handcuffs faster than most men take a piss. Then you outrun coppers in those kitten heels all while laughing like a fuckin’ lunatic. But hell, maybe all posh ladies are like that where you are from, yeah? Scarin’ the shit outta normal lads but not me, no, love, you’re stuck with me now.”

With a blossoming smile on her lips, his self-control ran out. Bending down slightly, he kissed her. This kiss was slow and soft, a caress of lips and intermingling breaths. He broke it, placing his forehead against hers. “So, who do you wanna be tonight?”

“Either no one of consequence just out enjoying a stroll…”

He snorted. That was him every day.

“…or a king and queen, looking down on our kingdom.”

With a flourish, he bowed, probably not properly in anyway but it made her laugh. Then standing up, he quickly pulled his long black coat off and draped it over her shoulder. The goosebumps and faint shivers had not gone unnoticed while he held her. She giggled, giving him a proper curtsy while wearing his coat as a robe, looking more regal than she should.

“Your majesty, your carriage waits for you.”

Her smile was brighter than the full moon and stars above. Still giggling, she wrapped an arm through his. “My king, you are truly too kind.”

“Naw, that’s what us fuckin’ proper royal people do, yeah?”

They both laughed as they strolled down the darkened, dirty streets. Their conversation steered clear of anything too personal. Both enjoyed this pretend game, being someone else if even just for a little while. They talked about what they would do to make the city better, complained about the particular subjects that annoyed them, how many dogs and horses they each wanted, and where their summer getaway should be. On more than once occasion, they stole kisses from one another, some chaste and some not so much.

Yet like the clock striking midnight and the spell being broken, their time neared its end as they approached St. Mark’s church. Ahead, Alfie could see several cars lined up on the street. Their drivers standing around smoking and talking, waiting for those inside. The cars and drivers screamed wealth, far more than common in Camden Town.

“I can go from here. Thank you for walking me.”

“You sure? I don’t mind none, love.”

She slipped his coat off her shoulders before handing it over. “Thank you, Alfie. This was far more fun than I have had in a long time.”

“Will I see you again?” The words came blurting out without his permission but he did not regret asking. He desperately wanted to see her again.

“I hope so. I truly do.”

“Wait, I still don’t know your name. That’s not quite fair, innit? I mean, when I first saw you, I thought to meself, there, now there’s a fuckin’ angel.” He reached out a hand and twirled a lock of blonde hair around his finger. “Pretty damn sure you’re the most beautiful thing on this fuckin’ earth, yeah? And I’ve seen the ocean before, Margate yeah, but its nothin’ compared to you.” Where the words came from he was unsure but they poured forth on their own. As if knowing their time was over, he wanted her to remember him, even if it was for blubbering like a simpleton. He hoped she would not forget him like he would never forget her.

Taking a step closer, she kissed him once again, cupping his cheeks. “Call me that. I’ll see you around, Alfie. I do not think this is good-bye. Not for us.”

Before he could respond, she twirled around and walked towards the cars, gliding like a phantom from a dream. It did not take long for the men to notice her, one in particular coming to her side. After a minute of talking, he walked next to her up the stairs of the church then disappeared into the light after opening the doors.

Alfie stood rooted in the shadows for longer than necessary. It was foolish to linger, he knew that, but his body felt immobile. His eyes glued to those doors he would never pass through. Finally with a huff and curse, he tugged his coat back on and turned away. His walk home would be long for St. Mark’s was in the opposite direction of his mum’s shit apartment. It was worth it though. With each step, the lingering hint of lavender drifted off his coat. A reminder of the only other person besides himself to wear it. His feet were on autopilot for his mind could not stop ruminating on the blonde beauty with gemstone eyes. An angel on earth.

On the barren street under the moonlight and flickering streetlamps, Alfie prayed for the first time in years. He prayed to see her again. That whatever fate brought them together would not desert them now. He needed her light in the dark world he inhabited. He wanted once again to hold and kiss his angel.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons #peaky blinders fiction #alfie solomons x oc #pre ww1 #mzwrites

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ahntravels · 6 years

Text

Postmortem.

So, as you all know, I am no longer in Russia. I really hate the fact that I am writing this blog after I have left, after the events of Russia are a memory and I am now immersed in Estonian culture. When you are moving at such a quick speed with your mind having to adapt to different cultures and languages and various variables, etc., it becomes hard to discern one idea from the other. Additionally, yesterday was my birthday, so things are just chaotic, from an existential standpoint.

What do I mean by that? Well, as Sartre formulated: l'existence précède l'essence.

Oh Ashley! No! Don’t go there! No worries, I’ll just tip toe there and back quickly...kind of like when you were younger, and you were told not to cross the line and you stuck your toe over the line and then quickly retracted it. Something like that.

I’ll come back to you, Sartre.

Yesterday was October 17th, a.k.a. my 63rd birthday. The hotel greeted me in the morning with some orange juice and a bottle of bubbly (with a note written on a curious piece of paper that kind of looks like a ransom note):

Alas, there was no time for day drinking. I had trinkets to buy, museums to visit, and dinner to attend. I decided that I was just going to wander and move at my own pace.

So, first stop was to buy the trinkets. I had a list of demands (written on the palm of my hand/Saul Williams reference) from people who wanted Putin this and Soviet that. So, I spent a few hours sourcing items as best as I could. It was during this exercise that I realized something quite distinctly:

It is true. Russians don’t smile. At first, anyway.

I remember, about 2 years or so after I moved to NYC, I went back to my hometown of Yuma, Arizona. I was wearing these Frye boots (my favorite pair of boots to date). They are this reddish tan color, and they are really awesome shoes. Anyway, I went to this small local coffee shop and ordered a coffee from the barista, and instead of her turning right away to make my coffee, she stood and started to comment on my shoes. And I was like...uhhh...coffee, please why are you TALKING TO ME COOFFEEEEEEEE and it was then that I realized that I was turning into an asshole New Yorker.

Well, that is pretty much all Russians. They just look at you, unsmiling, and you kind of feel uncomfortable until you realize that you can do it back and it’s totally fine. I just started to have unsmiling stare-offs with people and eventually we did smile. It was like smile negation, or the 1+1 =1 theory. Actually, the -(1) + -(1) = 1 theory.

If you are looking for Southern hospitality or have feelings you are desperate to protect, don’t come to Russia.

Oh, the OTHER THING that was slightly annoying was that EVERYONE assumed I was Chinese (when they weren’t assuming I was Russian). This goes to show that there is still only one type of Asian in this world. The worst thing about being categorized as Chinese was that people just started to say “nǐ hǎo” to me. That’s like if you see a black person, you greet them saying, “Yo WASSUP HOMIE G” as if all black people talk like that. That’s part of the reason I just kept my sunglasses on as often as possible; people were thrown off when they couldn’t see my eyes.

So, after buying trinkets, I began my next journey which was to go to the Fabergé Museum. On the way, I ran into an old theater, and saw that they were also playing that QUEEN biopic (which actually looks awesome):

BTW, GO TO THIS MUSEUM. Again, I won’t spend time posting photos or going into detail because there are websites you can source to find the nice photos. I will say that my mind was blown. I don’t understand the level of detail and artistry artists had back then to create these pieces.

Look at those opera glasses!!!!

Anyway, I spent a good hour here just looking at all the pieces and the paintings. Definitely a must-go.

After the museum, I continued my walk and dropped by a bookstore. Most of the books were in Russian, but they had some French/American translations.

SIDE NOTE: So, I really don’t know what is going on in America, but I read the transcript of an interview Trump gave. At first, I thought this was satire, but realized quickly that it is real. I think I was at a coffee shop and I laughed but then was like...WHAT! I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, but...

That’s a new one. “It’s California’s fault”. And just like the ghost of Christmas past...

I can’t get away from this guy. It’s like a bad romance.

It was lunch time, so I actually ran into this mall and decided to look around. There was a supermarket in the ground floor, and, as one can imagine, there was a huge smoked fish section:

1633 rubles is like...$24.00 or something. Not sure if that is for the whole fish, but the fish were HUGE.

For lunch, I went to the food court and they had this buffet where you could choose soups, cold dishes (salads and pickles), warm dishes, and various other foods. I finally tried the borscht (hot soup) and it was tasty.

There was also pickled cabbage, cabbage patty, fried cabbage and potatoes, and the borscht. After this lunch, I was cabbaged out.

I wandered around some more, and decided to visit the Oceanarium, because, why not.

I will say, I did feel sorry for these sea creatures. The best Oceanarium I have been to was the Oceanário in Lisbon, so I already knew I was going to be disappointed. I kind of got lost when I was trying to navigate the space, and I opened a wrong door and saw this:

It literally looked like a breeding factory for aliens. I was half expecting to see bodies in water tubes being fed radioactive isotopes. It kind of reminds me of Disney World when you see the crack in the seams and are jarringly reminded that everything is fabricated and nothing is real.

That time Usula’s head fell off the Little Mermaid ride

After the Oceanarium, I went back to the hotel to rest up a bit before I went out to dinner. I made these dinner reservations months in advance, and I’m glad I did. When I arrived at the restaurant, they were waiting for me. They had a special menu made for me with wine paring AND brought out a Happy Birthday! dessert.

This is a tomato carpaccio with a green olive sauce, purple basil, and cornbread croutons

Stuffed red pepper with a charred eggplant crust and citrus sauce with chives

Quinoa “fried rice” with a coriander lime dressing

The Happy Birthday dessert - Vanilla bean ice cream with strawberries.

All of this food + 2 glasses of wine = $40.

Food prices in general in Russia are pretty cheap compared to America. You can get really good food that is fresh with good service for less than $10. And, it’s all-inclusive. For example, that lunch I had earlier? I also had a drink with that meal and it was $7. No tip, real silverware and bowls, and people bus the table after you leave. A meal at McDonalds or Burger King or Kentucky? $4.00 USD and it’s ALL-INCLUSIVE. You get the burger, the chips, the drink, AND they bus your table. It’s a King’s ransom what they charge us in America.

Last thoughts about Russia:

1) I’m so glad I came. 2) I want to go back. 3) EVERYTHING is in Russian. If you want to get the full experience, I would learn some Russian (or suggest you learn some Russian) before visiting. Many people don’t speak English, so I suggest getting a translator app if you are going in cold. 4) There are surprisingly a lot of Asians here. (CHINESE, heh heh). No, but really, I saw many ethnic Asians wandering the streets, absent of any tourist groups. 5) The scariest people I have seen here are females with government positions. You know what is colder than ice? Their stares. Their look will literally freeze water. 6) My hotel was fantastic, and I would recommend it.

My time was cut short, but, if I had to sum up my sojourn, it would look like this painting:

So, this painting was in the Faberge museum. I don’t know if you can tell, but the room that this painting is in is actually dark with very little light. Look how bright that sun is!! And the reflection in the water! I’m not sure what kind of paint or how this was painted, but the light against the dark, the sun and the hope against the turbulence and the uncharted unknown was striking to me.

There is your destiny, there is your path, and then there is your ability to steer the ship. Existence precedes essence. It’s the difference between remaining the same and never being the same. Exploring different cultures and reflecting on oneself is a good way to ensure authenticity and evolution. So, as long as I am able, I’ll continue to traverse and search and seek and learn and grow.

Боюсь, что мне пора. I’m afraid I should be going. But I’ll return!

Tomorrow, I’ll update you on Tallinn. But, sneak peak!

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