#only now i learnt how to draw them so i might never be normal again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drxwsyni · 3 years

Text

genshin hc’s - what makes them snap

characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Childe anonymous asked: “could I request what makes kaeya, diluc and childe (separately) snap?” a/n: of course, ty for the request bby <3 warnings: physical & verbal abuse, injury, swearing, general yandere themes

Kaeya

• He snaps when you snap - that moment when you laugh in his face and call him pathetic for how hard he tries, yet still fails to be the person you need. Kaeya’s the one who should be finding joy in other’s conflict, and sometimes their suffering, not you. To have those harsh and truthful words shoved in his face in such a familiar manner breaks something inside of him that he didn’t even know existed.

• Kaeya realizes you’re right, he tries so hard to win you over, despite it being all for naught when his sadistic personality ruins things in the end. It was never supposed to be a problem though - you were supposed to just put up with him, because he refused to give you another option. No relationship is easy after all. And, he hoped that you’d be too scared of him to be so defying.

• Apparently that isn’t the case when you just keep going, calling him a parasite with how he’s leeched to your side, always ruining your chances of making friends in Mondstadt. Hell, at this point you should just leave the region all together, your reputation being tainted by his presence.

The second such words fall from your lips, a gloved hand comes down on your face, the sting shooting across your cheek.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

You’d never heard such desperation in Kaeya’s tone before, never felt his strength first hand. If anything told you of the line you’d crossed, that’d be it. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, in which you’re inwardly praying he’ll storm off to cool down. You don’t have to look at him to know the look of uncontained rage on his face, and you don’t try upon hearing him draw closer, boots loud against hard tile.

“Here I was thinking you’d finally learnt your place.” He didn’t bother restraining himself, a hand quickly gripping your upper arm in a painful, vice like hold. “Oh, but don’t worry―” with an alarming pace, Kaeya began practically towing you behind him towards your shared bedroom, “―I’ll do whatever is necessary to re-acquaint you, sweetheart.”

Diluc

• There’s not much you can do to deter Diluc. He’s painfully stubborn, your words not phasing him. He loves you too much to let you go, so there isn’t a single thing you could do or say to sway him.

• As such, it’s not really what you do that makes him snap, but what others do.

• An injury is what makes Diluc lose all self control. The second he takes his eyes off of you, gives you too much freedom - it nearly costs you your life.

• Wherever it is you go down, you’ll still wake up in a place none other than his residence, under the care of personal healers that he pays whatever sum needed to bring you back to good health, and to make sure they keep your condition a secret.

• Nobody knows where you’ve gone, and he intends to keep it that way. The mere thought of putting you in that kind of danger again, or losing you entirely - nothing makes Diluc more sick. Any length to keep you sealed off from the world isn’t too much, not after seeing you on death’s door.

• If you thought he was stubborn, controlling to no ends before, it’s only worsened tenfold now. He never wanted things to go this far, truly wishing for the day he’d have a normal and domestic relationship with you. That’s in the past now though, not even mad at the ways he must keep you in line, so as long as it means you’re safe at the end of the day

You’d actually managed to get pretty far this time, making it all the way to the front entrance of his manor. Unfortunately, your timing couldn’t have been any worse, Diluc swinging open the heavy wooden doors just as you reached for the handle.

It’s okay, you told yourself, there’ll always be a next time.

Now, as you plead for Diluc to calm down, having been sent into a fit if fiery rage seeing you outside your room, you're not too sure there will be a next time.

Finally, the man stills, taking a moment before regarding you with a glare that could kill. “No more chances - if you even so much as think of pulling something like this again, I’ll hurt you so bad you won’t be able to take a single step without my help.”

Childe

• Childe needs your attention like he needs to breathe. It’s unfortunate that his duties as a Harbinger often keep him away from you, and so the time he does get to spend in your presence is very precious.

• You learn quickly how he thrives off of getting a reaction from you, of being close and the feeling of your body against his. Depriving him of that is the only way to get to him. Childe doesn’t care all that much if you hate him, so as long as you’re not focusing on anyone else.

• At first, he’ll take you ignoring him as a challenge. A battle for dominance that he must win. And he tries hard in that battle - Childe is nothing if not a determined fighter. He might start out with innocent means to garner your attention, but that won’t last long.

• His constant teasing is bad, the far too intimate touches and heavily suggestive words whispered softly in your ear - but it’s nothing compared to the measures Childe will take should you continue to pretend he doesn’t exist.

• Starting fights with innocent people right in front of you, slaughtering his own soldiers should they disobey him - if it gets a reaction, he’s happy. Except he doesn’t realize it’s just pushing you away more.

• He snaps when you do the worst thing possible - try and leave him all together.

Even being the hardened warrior Childe is, he still gave pause from the intense emotional shock when you were nowhere to be seen in your shared bedroom. Hours later, his heart still beat a thousand miles per minute. He’d personally tracked you down, carried you home and chained you up.

You were finally paying attention to him, and he suspected it had something to do with the bloodbath you witnessed on the way back. Well, there was that, and the deep set look of unhingedness in Childe’s eyes.

He knew what he was doing - how he was scaring you. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious - what with the way you were shaking like a leaf in his lap. You both knew what was coming, how he’d make you regret ever leaving him, which likely made the wait the worst part.

For now, he wanted to bask in the effect he has on you. Of how it makes him feel powerful, seen after so long of being disregarded.

His perfect little darling, not a thought in your mind that didn’t revolve solely around Childe.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere kaeya #yandere diluc #yandere childe #genshin impact x reader #tw abuse

1K notes · View notes

blinder-secrets · 3 years

Text

Your John, Your Home

In which you’re the girl they picked to marry John, and he’s the one you found your home in.

4,373 words. fluff, some angst, sickly-sweet love, very mild nsfw

ao3 link

It’s Tommy’s wedding day, something you thought would never come, and John is yet to finish dressing. Running late as he always does, despite him hounding after you to be ready on time.

You’re sat by the vanity, watching him loop his tie over and over, fingers clumsy and directionless. He’s still not learnt how to do them properly, but you’re too caught up in staring at him to offer any help. There’s something about formal suits that make him mesmerising. You’re used to his every-day attire, the waistcoats, the tweed jackets, but the crisp pinstripes running down his trouser legs make you feel like a woman in a movie. Like you’re the sweetheart and he’s the hero, like you’ve been through everything that you have, just for him, and now you’ve won. You’ve got your prize.

Sighing, he swears under his breath and lets the tie fall open around his neck. ‘Will you do this bloody thing?’ he asks, darting a look in your direction. He reaches for the suit-jacket and begins pulling it onto his shoulders. When you don’t answer him, he glances again and says, ‘What is it?’ like he might be in trouble.

‘Do you think you would’ve liked me if we met normally?’ you ask, slouching in the chair as you pool your thoughts into the room. ‘Like, if you weren’t forced to marry me?’

His hands still, brows scrunching over the bridge of his nose. ‘Are you kidding?’

You shake your head, almost embarrassed to say that part out loud; yes, I’m really asking that, John. Yes, I worry. There wasn’t a day that had passed without you considering it. Was he just making do with what he had? Would he have chosen you, if he’d had the chance to choose at all? You know what your answer would be.

He crosses the room in three steps and takes your face between his palms. He looks serious, and he never looks serious about anything really. ‘I won the fucking lottery with you,’ he says, accent thick and strong like it is when he speaks from the heart. ‘If I could go back in time, I’d pick you again, and again, and a-fucking-gain, alright?’

‘Even if I was just some girl in the Garrison?’

‘Even if you were a fucking witch in the forrest,’ he answers quickly, certainly. His thumbs rub up and across your cheekbones. ‘You’re mine, yeah, you’re perfect.’ Bending, he pushes a kiss into your forehead and mutters, ‘Was fucking fate when they put us together.’ And for him, that’s poetry. That’s the softness he only gives when you’re alone, when you need it. It’s touchable love, crafted and trickled into your ears, poured over you like he’s full of it.

‘Thank-you,’ you tell him, smiling easily. ‘I’ll only ask again in a month, but that’ll do me for now.’

He snorts through his nose and straightens, running a palm over your hair. ‘You just like seeing me soft, don’t you?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well, only for you, yeah?’ He tilts down again for a kiss and you stretch to meet him in the middle. ‘No-one else has me speaking like a fucking Eton boy,’ he says, quietly, into the soft of your cheek.

You laugh, kissing him again before you reply. ‘You couldn’t if you tried, J.’ He’s too rough for it, too shaped by the smog and the fighting. ‘I wouldn’t like you so much if you were an Eton boy.’

When you were first married, you had barely known what to do with yourself. After the drama of Ada’s birth, and John’s frantic attempt to catch you up with everything that had passed, you hadn’t had time to discuss the ceremony. Or the arrangement. Or even consummate the damn thing. He’d told you everything, all the family intricacies he could, by the lamplight in his little room, and then he’d passed out on your lap like a dog before the fire. Too tired and full of beer to give you anything more than secrets.

You hadn’t minded though, not really, it had given you time to think. To breathe. You’d sat and taken in every detail of his face, every freckle along his nose, every nick of scar tissue on his skin, his cheeks, his shoulders. You’d looked and looked and looked, until you felt so comfortable with him, and so entranced by the sight of him, quiet and peaceful, that you had almost convinced yourself you’d known him for years. He felt familiar without even doing anything. You’d ran your finger across his brows and down the line of his nose, and when he’d whined and pulled into you, putting his arms around your waist, you’d felt like you were coming home. Or that he was coming home, finding it in you. It was the gin, you thought, it was the length of the day and the ache from dancing that had made your brain think things that weren’t true.

But then you’d woken up in the morning, and it had still felt like you were home and that he was the key. And it kept feeling like that, over and over. It had felt like that the first time you’d fucked, the first time you sat with him at breakfast, and made him tea, and food for his children. It had felt like that every time you saw him smile, every time he laughed. It had felt that way because he was, somehow, he was. He was home and he’d been handed to you over an upturned milk crate, knelt in front of your father’s caravan. It was a truce, yes, a deal between families, but it had been a hand out in the cold, a light in the distance. You had never realised you were always wandering, looking for a way back, until you had felt the pull of John beside you. The call of home at last.

‘Oi,’ he says, tapping his finger on your chin. ‘Where’ve you gone?’

‘Nowhere.’ You smile and look up at him like he’s gold in a river-sieve. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Not ’til you’ve sorted this fucking thing.’ He dangles the end of the tie in front of you and then, thinking better of it, pulls it from under his collar and puts it onto your lap. ‘Do it in the car, we’re gonna be late.’

You’re sitting with the tie knotted, and hanging around your neck, when he pulls the car into the road by the church. There’s guests already gathering, but not a lot which is a good sign. It means you aren’t late, not in trouble, not yet. Polly will be inside somewhere, wrangling the kids so you don’t have to. God bless her. She’d offered to watch them before hand, willing, but begrudging all the same, and you couldn’t help but feel glad of the time it’d given you and John. It’d been months since you had any peace, had the freedom to go about your morning slowly and intimately. It’d made everything feel even more special. It wasn’t your day, no, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be an occasion for the two of you.

You let your gaze draw from the flowers by the entrance to settle on John, who’s craning his neck out the window to see himself in the wing-mirror.

‘Is my hair alright?’ he asks, pawing at the parting he’s given himself.

‘Yes,’ you answer, grinning though you want to roll your eyes. ‘Christ, John, it’s not you going up the aisle, y’know?’

He tuts. ‘I won’t look like shit with the fucking cavalry there.’

‘You don’t look like shit.’

‘You sure?’ He pulls back into his seat to look at you.

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ You lift the tie over your head and onto his, settling it under his collar. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a very nice soldier to-‘

‘Alright,’ he drawls, ‘very funny.’

You laugh and push the knot tight to his neck. ‘Seriously,’ you say, ‘stop fretting. They’re gonna look like a bunch of unlit matches standing there in their uniforms.’

‘Bunch of fucking pricks more like,’ he grumbles, eyes flitting over your face. ‘Have I said you look beautiful yet?’

‘No, not yet.’ You hang onto his tie, dragging him forward until you’re kissing and he’s speaking into your mouth between pecks.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘you look. Fucking.’ You bite his lip; he swallows once before trying again. ‘You look…’

‘Hm?’

‘Stunning.’

‘Thank-you,’ you purr, breaking away and leaving him to gawk. His mouth’s red from meeting with your lipstick. ‘I was waiting for you to say something.’

His hand goes to your face, to your hair, it sweeps it behind your ear, gentle enough to not disturb the main structure of its styling, and then drops so that his fingers can run down your neck. ‘Can I marry you again?’ he asks through the corner of a smirk. ‘Is that a thing?’

You pout, humming as if you’re considering it. ‘You’d have to divorce me first, I think.’

‘Nope, no way.’

‘Well then, you’ll have to settle for just the once.’

He groans and turns to open the door on his side. ‘You can’t have it all,’ he says, stepping out and away from you. You watch him cross in front of the bonnet, around the car, until he’s by you on the pavement. He pulls the door open and offers his hand, which he does every time he drives you anywhere. You don’t think you’ve opened your own door once since you’d met him. ‘Come on, Polly will have your tits if we’re late.’

You take his palm and step down, holding the fur of your shawl in place with the other hand. ‘No,’ you laugh, ‘she likes me. It’ll be your balls on the line.’

‘Yeah, and you’d miss them too much, wouldn’t you?’

‘John!’ You smack his arm lightly and move out the way so he can lock the car behind you. ‘This is a church, you know? It’s right there.’

A very ungodly grin is thrown over his shoulder at you. ‘And which one of us brought up my bollocks, ay?’

You laugh because you can’t do anything else, because he coaxes it from you like he’s been trained to, like he’s an expert in making your cheeks hurt from grinning. He was put on Earth specifically, you think, to make you laugh in the ugliest way possible: loud and uneven. He’s annoyingly good at it, desperately, desperately annoying.

‘Stop it,’ you tell him, stifling the giggles. When he comes back to you, ready to link his arm with yours, you nod to his face and say, ‘You might want to…’ You point at his mouth, gesturing around its shape, following the smudge of lipstick above his cupid’s bow. ‘From the kissing,’ you explain.

In one second, his eyebrows pinch and then crumple down in annoyance. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, babe.’ He turns quickly, bending to look in the mirror closest. ‘I look like a fucking clown,’ he moans. He scrubs at his lips, licking his fingers once, then again, to wash the red-stain away. It comes off easily, but his frantic rubbing will only leave more of a mark.

‘You don’t need to rub that hard,’ you say.

‘Am not going in there with fucking lipstick on. S’not funny.’

But it is, and you laugh again, because he’s just so John, and so silly, and everything he does makes your heart dip into the same sickly ambrosia.

You put your hands out for him. Wave him forward like you’re consoling a child. ‘Come here, let me see.’

After they took Epsom, John had come home with his tail between his legs. Cap off, shoulders slack, he’d walked through the front door like they’d lost, not won. Like something had gone wrong. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen and cleared his throat once, like he had something to say, and then he’d looked from you, to Katie and the baby, and said nothing at all. It was the only time he’d ever looked like a stranger in the house he’d bought for you.

‘What’s happened?’ you’d asked, standing from the table as soon as you’d seen him. ‘Katie, take your brother upstairs.’

‘We got it,’ John had started. ‘Epsom. It’s ours.’

‘Okay?’ You walked toward him; slow, like snowfall pulling down from the sky, drifting until it found something to cling to, something to wrap around. ‘So, what’s wrong?’ You put your hands to his biceps, ran them up until you were looped around the back of his neck. He looked tired. Weary but not damaged, not hurt. A few scuffs that wouldn’t last past the next day. ‘You look worried, John,’ you said, prompting him to tell you more.

‘It’s Tommy,’ he forced out, looking between you, his gaze aiming for the floor. ‘They took him,’ he said, ‘some coppers. We haven’t.’ He stopped mid-sentence and you finished for him because you knew nothing else would come, he wouldn’t push any words that didn’t fall easily.

‘He’ll be fine,’ you told him, out of comfort rather than certainty. ‘Tommy always has a plan.’

‘This wasn’t fuckin’ part of it.’

‘I know.’ You rubbed your thumbs into the shortest part of his hair. ‘He’ll turn up, he always does.’

And he did, of course he did, but it took you twenty minutes to wind John down, to get him sitting and somewhat comfortable. It was only after the call from Pol, telling you that Tommy was fine, that he let you make him something to eat. Let you look after him properly. You sat at the table and watched him take slow forkfuls of food, lagging with each bite.

‘He’s alright,’ you said to him, leaning on your palm. ‘Why do you still look stressed?’

‘I’m not.’ He lowered his fork until it was flat on the plate; he looked at it like it had done it all by itself.

‘John.’

‘It’s nothing.’

You sighed and the sound itched life under his skin, animating his features with a burst of agitation.

‘I felt fucking invincible,’ he said. ‘Then it went bad and, I don’t know, feels fucking stupid, doesn’t it?’

You sat upright, reached a hand for his, but he ignored it. ‘What does?’ you asked.

‘All of it,’ he spat, his face reddening. It twisted up until he was scowling, throwing words into the woodgrain. ‘What’s the point in having fuckin’ Epsom, if they can just, just, put you in the back of a van and fucking cart you away?’

He’d flung his hand out then, catching the plate and sending it across the table to you. It rattled against the top as he continued.

‘We can go as fucking high as we like,’ he said, ‘and they’ll still treat us like dogs. Like fuckin’ mutts.’

You’d set your jaw, wound your fingers through his and put both of your hands down to still the fidgeting. ‘Then we go high enough that we’re the ones doing the carting, John.’ You’d ducked your head to make sure he saw your look, your promise. ‘We’re no-ones bloody dogs, alright? Not now, not ever.’

He’d scoffed and recoiled bitterly. ‘It’s not like we have a fucking say, is it?’

‘Course we do,’ you’d told him. Of course we do.

The wedding ceremony is over, and now the party’s been taken to Arrow House; the rooms are stocked with guests, the ceiling pushed high with noises, with music, with chatter. Your head’s spinning and it’s only a fraction to do with the alcohol.

‘I don’t think I’ll last til dinner at this rate,’ you say to John, who’s got you leaning against him in the largest room. How they’d managed to clear enough furniture away to make it feel like a dancehall, you’ve no idea, but it’s convincing enough that you hardly believe you’re in a home at all. ‘Who the fuck are these people anyway?’ you ask. 'I don’t recognise any of them.’

His hold tightens over you, pulling your back flat to his chest. He’s got his arms across you like bandoliers. ‘Grace’s lot mostly,’ he says into your ear, chin on your shoulder. ‘Lot of fucking rich boys in suits too big for them.’

You snort. 'You’re a rich boy too now, J. They’re probably looking at you and thinking the same.’

‘Nah, they can’t even fucking look at me, see.’ He nods forward, to a man in a red uniform opposite. ‘Y’alright?’ he booms; you can hear the smirk without turning to look. The soldier lifts his gaze, catching the pair of you for a moment, before looking away quickly. Like he’d caught sight of something indecent. ‘See?’ John boasts. ‘We’re like fucking ghosts to them.’

‘You’re enjoying that too much,’ you quip, though your own grin betrays your words. It still feels nice to be on the Peaky side. The side with power, danger. The ones people were afraid of. ‘If I ask you to dance, will you say no and break my heart?’ you ask, twisting your head away from his in order to flash him your best pout, to trap him with your eyes.

He smirks, squeezing you in response. ‘I’d be mad to tell you no. Come on.’

He peels himself off you, but leaves a hand dragging, cloying, snaking down your arm until he has his palm locked tight around yours. He tugs you into the centre of the room, melting the two of you into the crowd.

‘I still think ours was better,’ he says, smugly, once he’s picked a rhythm and stuck to it. ‘Our wedding.’

‘Yeah?’ You let him spin you. ‘Wouldn’t do it differently now we have the money?’

He shakes his head; the rose in his breast pocket teeters on the edge. ‘No way. Too fucking poncy for us.’

You agree with him, nodding, and laugh as he dips you half-way to the ground. ‘You drop me and I’ll fucking cut you, J.’

‘Do I look like I’m gonna drop you?’ he replies, grinning wildly. Your mad man, you think, your wonderful bucket of frogs. He pulls you up again and you fall against him with the force of it, chests held tight to each other as he pours all the wonder and drunken giddiness from his eyes, into yours. ‘This wedding’s done something to my head,’ he pants, looking bewildered.

You’re smiling before he’s even said why. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I can’t stop thinking about how much I fuckin’ love you,’ he says. ‘I’m gonna explode with it.’

‘Alright,’ you laugh. ‘Explode then, I’ll do it with you.’

When you’d been married a month, just a month, you’d accidentally told him that you thought you loved him. It had fallen out of your mouth and onto the foot of the bed like a woollen blanket. A sock. A piece of clothing kicked off in the night without care, without thinking.

‘What?’ he’d said, quicker than you’d hoped, head snapping up from where he sat. You had wanted him to miss it entirely. You were married, yes, but it wasn’t like other marriages. You were working backwards, unpicking the puzzle after it had been made. ‘What did you say?’

‘Can’t I say it?’ you’d asked back, stalling time for your head, for your heart, to decide if it had really meant it.

He was on the edge of the bed, undoing his boots, but then he’d stopped. The ends of his laces clicked against the floorboards. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I don’t know if I heard you right.’

‘Then don’t worry about it.’

You tried to brush it away, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to stand in front of him.

‘Say it again,’ he told you and, if it wasn’t for that slight smirk on his lips, that tiny curl of enjoyment, of wishful thinking, you would’ve bolted. You would’ve told him to stop being so bloody annoying for once. But he sat there, looking up at you, with an almost-grin behind his features, and you’d thought, alright. Alright, sure, why not.

‘I think I love you,’ you’d said quickly, and it bounced right off his pretty face, back into your stomach, back to mingle with the butterflies.

‘You think?’

You nodded. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

His grin settled, flourished. Grew wide and made home in his cheeks. ‘I think you have,’ he said, ‘I think you do.’

‘If you think so much, then why do I need to?’ You stepped forward and his arms had gone up to your waist like it was choreographed, like his hands knew their target without an invite. He held you steady and you found yourself toying with his hair, looking down at him fondly, so fondly. ‘I shouldn’t have to say it if you know so well,’ you’d mused.

He turned his head and kissed your forearm. ‘Just wanna hear it, from the boss herself.’

You’d snorted at the nickname, the false title he’d adopted to make you feel appreciated, valued. It only came out when he was being playful.

‘Okay,’ you’d said, ‘I love you, then,’ and he’d answered, ‘Okay, well I love you back.’

John, for all his goodness, for all his charm and well-meant nature, could be a devil walking when he wanted to be. Right now, right in the middle of a dinner party, in the middle of a fucking wedding reception, he’s being the very fire-scorched man himself. He’s got you bundled in his arms again, coaxing you from the party, tempting you with kisses and words, and touches in places he knows will break you down into nothing more than a woman; a woman who wants a man, her man, his touch, his heat. He’s tugging you out of Arrow House, away from the smokers, across the gravel. Spinning and twisting until you’re dizzy with him, lost entirely.

‘John,’ you laugh, pushing against him weakly, falsely, ‘someones going to see us.’

He drags his lips up your neck. ‘They’ll look away if they know what’s good for ‘em.’

You meet his mouth as he offers it, kissing him like you’re coal and he’s fire and that’s the spark, there it goes, up it comes. ‘You’re taking me to the car, aren’t you?’ you ask, pulling back to look at him. He’s foggy, eyes glazed with lust, desperate with need. Beautiful in the most boyish way.

‘You read my mind,’ he says. He drops his lips to your hand, or maybe your hand goes to his lips, eager like ships to lighthouses, willing to be peppered, wanting to be looked for. He takes hold of it and pulls you after him into the dark, away from the noise of the party.

You stumble along, tripping your heels through the stones, letting him guide you to where he’d parked it. Once you’re there he has you against the door, the low-cut of your dress leaving your back to meet the cold metal, the fresh steel. You gasp as your skin goes flush to it.

‘Wanted this all bloody day,’ he says into your throat, in such a throw away manner that it could’ve been a thought, one that had escaped without him realising. He nips the skin between your breasts, then comes up for a moment to say, ‘Get in.’

You laugh and it bubbles above him, pulls him to the surface. He straightens in front of you with an eyebrow raised and waiting. ‘You’re being very bossy, J,’ you tell him.

He sighs. His hands grip the dress at your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish. ‘Please,’ he whines, needy without the shame of it, head sinking into one shoulder with the plea. ‘Please get in the car so I can fuck you.’

The smile you’re wearing might as well fly off your face and up into the stars. It’s too big to stay down, too light to not be free.

How you landed someone so perfect was beyond you. He’s every element, every angle, every part of him was made to compliment your own. So similar, that even your arguments make sense. Even your disagreements are clockwork. Ornamental. You took a gamble, you played the cards, and you’d taken the prize. You won the pot. He was yours, all yours, standing there in all his daft, gorgeous glory, loving you more and more each day. Wanting you every morning, every night. Craving you like you crave him.

‘Why’re you smirking like that?’ he asks, frowning.

‘Because,’ you drawl sweetly, ‘when have I ever held my own door open, John Shelby?’

He groans but then matches your grin, leaning around you to pop the door open, to hold it back for you to climb in. ‘After you,’ he says, playing the part.

‘Thank-you.’ You give a half-curtsey, one led by drunken humour, and duck into the back seat, feeling him follow after you keenly.

You’re flipped onto your back and then his lips are on you again, kissing the love into your mouth. He swirls his tongue with yours, tastes that part of you and leaves his own in return, and then pulls back, hands pawing at the silk of your gown.

‘John,’ you scold, ‘I swear to God, if you rip this dress.’

‘I’ll buy you another,’ he pants. He pushes it up to your hips, freezing at the sound of snagging tights, of stockings tearing and losing their purpose. ‘Sorry,’ he says, though he doesn’t mean it. ‘New ones of those too.’

You hum and reach for his collar, his neck. Your nails drag down the heated skin and his eyes roll with the feeling of it. ‘Just as long as I have something to wear afterwards,’ you warn.

He folds over you again, pressing kisses and marks into your chest. ‘Anything you want, Mrs. Shelby. Say the fuckin’ word and it’s yours.’

It flashes across your mind, white-hot fire in the dark, sweet, lasting tenderness. It strikes onto your tongue like lightening. ‘You,’ you say. ‘I want you.’

#John Shelby #john shelby x reader #john x reader #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #sorry but have i been shot by cupid lately why am i writing love so :( <3 #anyway enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!#let me know what you think as always because i live off of feedback #i feel like i never write john so immediately im like bet its terrible !

478 notes · View notes

sirensmojo · 3 years

Text

"KINDRED", 4 - Thomas Shelby x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, romance, violence, guns, drama, slight smut(“slight”?)

Word Count: 5k+

AN: When it’s a reader and Tommy scene, it’s Tommy POV.

❰ Previous Chapter

Tommy leaned backwards on his desk chair, a cigarette stuck in between his index and middle fingers. He was looking at the ceiling as if its colour brought to him answers to the multiple questions that had been clouding his mind lately.

Since the day he and Y/N kissed, he noticed she had been avoiding him. She didn’t even send him the weekly book she usually dropped at the office.

He didn’t understand her, and each time he tried to put back together the pieces to get a clear view of her character, the memories of the smell of her hair brought him somewhere else. And whenever he would dare to close his eyes too long, he would taste her lips again.

Even if she chose to stay away from him, he entered her world once and appreciated it so greatly it had printed into his spirits, like a hand in wet cement.

He allowed himself to shift his thoughts to Mosley from time to time, the d-day was approaching and with it, the time he’ll take the lead of the British fascist party.

(...)

The only way Lizzie found to see her husband these days was to come back in business as Tommy’s secretary. He told her she wouldn’t have to work when they got their daughter, Ruby, but he was rarely home, and when he was, his mind was elsewhere.

Even after promising to let her in sometimes, she struggled the most to read him, but despite all, she was deeply in love with him. She had to make the effort and reach for him.

He didn’t agree with her taking back her job at first and she knew exactly why, as being responsible for her having a baby, he had to take care of her, at least he felt like he did. He was undeniably a murderer, cut-throat gangster, but he had convictions and rules to stick to.

This morning began as normal as any other for the Shelby company limited, Lizzie was occupied with papers as Tommy locked himself in his office.

The door opened, Lizzie’s gaze instantly got up, searching for who might that be. When her gaze met the figure, her jaw dropped. ‘Not again’ she thought. This scene reminds her of the time May Carleton came in here only to entice her Tommy.

She knew he didn’t owe her anything, but he could’ve waited at least a day or two before calling another woman. Not even twenty-four hours earlier Tommy was fucking her in some alley in the cold, probably thinking about a woman he knew before France. But he said he was fucking her, Lizzie, and not his lost teenage lover, even if she knew better.

Tommy and his cock.

That May Carleton was walking so confidently in front of Lizzie, she probably thought she was the one to own Tommy’s cock. If only she knew. She glared at her so strongly that May avoided looking at her at all costs.

The woman that just passed the door didn’t look her way, too occupied walking straight to the doors of Tommy’s office with the arrogance of an army.

Lizzie’s eyes went from her seemingly very expensive shoes, up her green pants suit in which pockets she kept a hand, to her suit jacket that fell perfectly on her waist as the end of which was drawing the woman’s hips. Her leather belt marked, even more, her waist and its golden details matched the imposing blue pearls necklace along with the large same looking earrings.

As soon as the woman entered the room, the atmosphere switched, her figure called the eyes, not only due to her ostentatious jewellery collection but also by the woman’s charismatic aura. Even the clicking sound her heels made on the hard ground was full of power. Anyone could hear the confidence in each of her steps, which made Lizzie gasp.

As a moth attracted to light, Tommy got out of his office, a cigarette hanging on his lips. He pressed a shoulder on the door frame, his eyes fixed on the woman walking towards him.

He was indeed waiting for her.

His deep blue eyes weren’t examining the woman’s form in an enticed way, he was solely looking at her face, a thing that made Lizzie’s heart ached because she understood there might be more than sexual attraction between them.

Lizzie knew her husband. From the way he dawdled on the woman’s face to the little waving of his shoulders, she just knew.

The atmosphere again had changed, Lizzie was now oppressed by their two presences, the warm and powerful one of the stranger and the usual cold and disconcerting one of her husband, one completing the other.

As her heart didn’t want to admit it yet, a burning look was exchanged by the two pairs of eyes, and confirmed the obvious her brain already knew, Thomas had found his match, and it wasn’t her.

(...)

Tommy took off his shoulder from the door frame and stood straight as he humidified his lips. The librarian walked to him with her usual unreadable face and when she was close enough, she grabbed his cigarette off his fingers taking her time to make their skin touch as much as she could. Her eyes were still deeply in Tommy’s as millions of sparks animated the tips of his fingers.

The man coughed and turned to Lizzie, motioning his hand to the woman behind the desk, in an attempt to ignore the sparks. “Mrs Y/L/N, meet my wife, Lizzie. Lizzie, it’s Mrs Y/L/N, the librarian I work with at the House Of Commons.” He had sensed the intense look of his wife since Y/N came closer to him.

“Mrs Shelby! I am so honoured to meet you, I heard about your typewriting skills, writing eyes closed, eh? I could never.” Y/N gave a warm smile to Lizzie that squinted her eyes in anticipation. His wife didn’t believe in what the librarian just told and he was sure Y/N knew it too.

“Yeah? Well, I never heard of you.” Lizzie spitted.

“It’s because you don’t keep company with my people.” She had the audacity to take a puff on the cigarette she stole earlier from Tommy looking his wife straight in the eyes.

Even if Y/N’s voice was calm and solemn, it was clear it was an attack. The implication made Lizzie gritted her teeth as she got up and joined them. Tommy rubbed a hand on his own face knowing exactly what she was going to do.

She stood behind the librarian. “And what business do you have here in Birmingham if you work in London?”

“You’re husband,” Y/n responded, not even turning to her. She bypassed Tommy and opened the door’s office before disappearing behind them.

Lizzie followed her with her eyes before looking up at her husband. “The fuck is she doing here? Are you going to fuck her, Thomas?”

“No, Lizzie. Am not going to fuck her.” He responded exhaling deeply.

“Yeah, take me for an fucking idiot.” She walked to the desk to grab her hat & coat. “That’s all you’re good for anyway. You fucked all Birmingham and now London, huh?” She sneered before shaking her head walking to the exit.

“Lizzie.” He called, but the woman had already closed the door.

Tommy raised his brows and sighed before turning to the office where he marked a pause. It was another type of storm he had to face now. He finally opened the door and got in, only to find Y/N seated behind his desk, in his chair.

“Tommy Shelby, OBE, what a pleasure to meet your family.”

“It was quite a show you put out there.” He closed behind him.

When he turned back at the room, she was walking toward him, but she already was pretty near.

“So you fucked all Birmingham already, hum? Trying to expand your activities in London?” Y/N leaned on him, she was so close he could smell her breath and he wondered what was her fucking problem. She ignored him for days after they kissed and here she was again, pushing him to the edges. It was almost as if it was a game for her. And if it was, she was winning all the damn rounds.

“And you? What’s with the attitude?”

“What are you talking about.” She took a step back.

“You have been busy this week, eh?” Tommy walked to the counter and poured whiskey in two glasses.

“Well, the man you have your little brother watching, he talks.” She loosely let out. “The bookmaker Billy Grade, the one that conducts the football betting business” She paused looking at Tommy’s surprised expression. “He doesn’t like Arthur.”

“To who?” Was the simple question he needed an answer to.

“I made moves with Mosley so, yes, it had been a busy week, Thomas.”

At the revelation, Tommy’s eyes squinted. If there was one thing he learnt with Grace was to make sure his feelings weren’t a shackle to business.

“I’m not betraying you, no need for these wrinkles at the corner of your eyes. But you gotta know he’s offered me the South.” She went to the counter and took the glasses before sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, one cup in her hand, the other she put on one of the numerous files covering the desk.

Tommy went sitting in his armchair. He lit a cigarette and held one to the woman that declined.

“Only like to take yours.” She gave as an explanation.

“How come he offered you the south?” He ignored her comment.

“North’s Mc Cavern’s, Middle’s yours, South’s vacant. But I have another plan for the South, and you might agree with me as well.” A rictus took place at the corner of her lips, as Tommy looked at her, curious. “Mr Solomons. I know he wrote you that he’s still alive.”

Tommy’s lids fluttered a couple times, he didn’t say anything. How could she know so much all the time? Was she listening to him or something? He for a second thought it might be her spying on him on the phone but this idea went away almost immediately.

She wasn’t Grace.

“He and I are great friends. Not as if he really has any, but do I?” She muttered utterly to herself.

Tommy coughed and leaned back on his chair, making himself comfortable.

“What’s with you, Tommy?” Asked the librarian, and he himself couldn’t put a finger on what was going on. It was always that way when she was around, but everything intensified when they leaned their breath as one and connected together.

His mind was so full of thoughts that had nothing to do with business that it was hard for him to concentrate. But for some reason, he just couldn’t push those thoughts aside.

He wanted her, he yearned for her to touch him the way she did that night, to intertwine their fingers together again and forget about Mosley for an instant, just one. Tommy humidified his lips again as raising his eyebrows, it was like his lips were always dry or incomplete. Her lips belonged on his. He raised his gaze to her in distress.

“You want to come to me house, Tommy? Again?” Her voice resonated in his head, her words taking him by surprise.

“Huh?”

“Have a drink or two, meet my cat...” She went on, looking intently at his soul hiding behind his icy blue iris.

He didn’t recognize her, but did he even know her? It seems not. Every time they meet, she puts another mask on. Somewhere in his soul, he believed it wasn’t a good idea, that thing they shared. But he knew he couldn’t turn away and break the partnership. Not now. Not only could she be hard to beat if they turned to enemies, but he also needed her, she was part of his business now. She was too precious an ally for him to withdraw from the deal.

As he didn’t respond, she drank from her cup, finishing its countenance in one go. “I’ll ask Arthur then...replace his Linda.” She added looking up to the ceiling innocently.

“The fuck did you say?” He hustled to spit as watching her without blinking.

Her gaze went back on Tommy, a playful gleam animating her pupils.

“What do you say?” She sent him back the ball. It was indeed a game for her, and he knew once again she would be the winner because he wouldn’t say no.

He tried to escape her game by coughing it away and smoked his cigarette. “How are you going to bring up Alfie Solomons with Mosley?” He went back on business, but the woman didn’t seem ready yet to give up.

She got up and grabbed the phone with one hand as the other was dialling a number. She sat at the corner of the desk, turning toward the Shelby brother and the phone. Tommy watched her movements closely, curious about how she was going to handle him dismissing her offer.

He couldn’t even hide the fact her stubbornness did something to him, even if he repressed any desire for her. It was as if they were the principal characters in the regency era drama he ended up devouring as it was the book Y/N was reading on their first meeting.

He was so deep in thought he didn’t hear the librarian asking the cable woman to put her in connection with the individual she intended to reach.

“Yeah, Arthur, it’s me. I wonder if you would wa--” Tommy had heard enough. He hung up the line and fixed the phone for what feels like centuries, slowly realizing what his reaction meant.

The Y/E/C eyes woman remained silent, a silence that felt heavy on Tommy’s conscience. He straightened back and leaned on the back of his chair, glancing at the ceiling.

He was done with those games. He couldn’t believe he dove into her crude farce head first, and now he had to face her because she had been staring at him the last minute.

“You’re a devil.” He let the words lazily slip between his lips.

“Call me Lilith.” She spiritedly exclaimed. Tommy’s eyes went to her face at that exact moment.

“So you’re jew, eh? That explains why you know Alfie, but contradicts the fact you and Mosley are close.” Tommy thought out loud. According to his memories, Lilith was a demon of the jew tradition, which led him to his conclusion.

The woman instantly smiled, seemingly very content about the Shelby head struggling to catch her.

“Fair enough.”

“You come to my house?”

“I was talking about the comparison.” He paused, looking at her blankly.

She sighed.

No doubt she was annoyed by Tommy’s behaviour, but she won way too much at their little game. It was about time Tommy won. It was unusual of him to be that shallow but it was their intimate space, so he didn’t care.

(...)

Gina couldn’t see anything when the abductors took her out of the car to lead her down some stairs into what she surmised to be a cellar, she already had a piece of cloth hiding her vision and one in her mouth, preventing her from screaming.

She was petrified and the fact the individuals didn’t say a word, neither during the ride nor once in the room didn’t help her. She could feel heavy drops of sweat rolling down her forehead as dried tears itched the corners of her eyes.

The place was colder than what she remembered a cellar to be. Flashes of her childhood coming back to her from time to time.

“THREE… TWO… ONE… ZERO. I’M COMING GINA!” Her cousin shouted from the kitchen where they last saw each other. The little girl used to come down in the cellar to hide when playing hide and seek with any member of her family, from her cousins to her father.

As her mother was severely ill, she couldn’t play with Gina, but her father always did. When not leading the believers to sing the praises of the Almighty at the local church, he was both a father and a mother to her.

Although her mother & herself loved each other more than anything, she soon stopped seeing her. When at first her father let Gina visit the room of her mother once a day, it decreased from once a week, to once a month to simply never.

Despite the child doggedly asking for her mother, he remained unyielding and managed to keep his daughter away from her mother for her own sake.

It was only when growing older and after the death of her mother that Gina understood her father’s demeanour. He was desperate not to let his daughter watch her mother die.

This time, the cellar didn’t feel familiar and it’s not a joyful feeling that resides in her. Her body reacting to the cold, she was shivering as goosebumps appeared at the same time as she heard footsteps coming her way. Her blood boiling like hot water, she struggled to breathe.

“Call her father.” Gina heard a female voice she had never heard before. She listened to footsteps receding before a whimper escaped her throat.

“Well, you heard the woman, let her talk.” The voice ordered. And just like that, her mouth got freed. “Go on.” The female voice seemed to address her directly.

“What do you want with my father?” She managed to say after she moved her jaws to get rid of the piece of cloth’s taste.

“He’s an old friend.”

“Can’t you just call like normal people instead of abducting his child?” Gina murmured, not totally relieved from the fear. She wanted to appear unmoved and plucked all the courage left in her to get an untroubled voice.

“I know you, Gina.” The voice started, getting closer. “You alright? You’re trembling.” Well, it seems like all the effort she put in wasn’t enough, her true emotions were discovered.

“You know me, huh? So you know as soon as you detach me I’ll assault you and spit right in your face, right?” She angrily let out, she didn’t accept to be defeated nor seen while being vulnerable and defenceless.

But it seems like the individual challenged her, because she heard someone pass behind her and loosen the cords holding back her hands. At the same moment, the piece of cloth blinding her fell on her collarbones.

Before her, stood straight a woman with a closed face, her facial traits weren’t aggressive, but in her eyes, Gina could swear she saw in there an untamed fire. Her brown eyes slid to a sitting white dog near the stranger, it looked like a wolf, even its huge size reminded her of the fierce beast she read about as a teenager.

It was ridiculous to see this situation unleashed the least probable memories of her youth into her mind as vividly as yesterday.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The woman before Gina mimicked her voice, a smile drawing on her lips. “They always ask the same questions.” She shrugged her shoulders seeing Gina’s surprised expression. The freshly Gray woman closed her mouth that was slightly open in an “o” shape and clenched her jaw.

“Well, I need your father to come here, in England. And you,” she tapped Gina’s end of nose, “you’re the thing that’ll make him travel the world all the way to Birmingham. To my greatest pleasure,” She patted her own chest before motioning to Gina, “and much to your displeasure.”

Gina didn’t even know what to say, she used the time the woman spent talking to massage her wrists as the cords were tied very tight. Her gaze dawdled on the woman in front of her, she was wearing a very long purple coat to which two buttons situated at the waist of its owner were closed. She also wore black lace gloves with ostentatious golden rings above the fabric. The diamonds of her rings were blue, matching her earrings. When the woman turned to the side to pat her dog’s head, Gina noticed she had braided her hair in a single braid that fell on her back.

The woman crouched down for her eyes to be at the same level as the dog’s ones, one of her hands scratching its head. “One single word and it attacks you, so you better behave.” She turned her head to Gina, warning her. The blonde woman glared at the other before glancing toward the dog in anticipation.

Y/N got back up and turned her back to Gina as she started to walk toward the stairs. “Get comfortable, it’s your new home for a few days.”

“What, you’re leaving me in this? With the dog?” She screamed at the Y/H/C haired woman.

“If I were you, I’d avoid screaming, Gina doesn’t like too loud noises.” She waved goodbye as answering without even glancing toward Gray.

“What?” Gina asked, confusion in her voice.

Y/N chuckled a bit before turning around, her index went from the dog to Gina, “Yeah, meet your twin.” She walked backwards a couple of seconds before turning back to the stairs and climbing them.

(...)

House Of Commons, London.

The door of Tommy’s office abruptly opened on an angry Michael.

The Shelby brother that was pouring himself some whisky glanced at his cousin. “Michael.” He welcomed.

“Where the fuck is my wife, Tommy?” Gray asked, frowning.

“What?” He squinted his eyes.

“Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Wife.” Michael spitted each word, looking straight into his older cousin’s eyes.

Tom blinked a couple times, not understanding the request.

“Days ago when coming back from the fucking restaurant some fucking people took her.” The younger Gray calmed a bit, seeing that Tommy truly didn’t know what he was talking about.

“How did they look?” Tom asked, concerned. Even if Michael might have betrayed him, he was family still and anyone jeopardizing the life of a member of the Shelby clan or someone related to them should taste the sweet fondles of death’s fingers.

“Men in fucking black.” Michael started to pace up and down, both his hands passing over his face. “I’m getting mad, Tom, me head fucking all over the place...” He continued.

“Men, no women?” Tommy brows raised, he had to ask. He remembered the conversation he had with that librarian when she was telling him she thought Gina was the weakness and force of his cousin and that she might do something about it.

“No.” Michael stated firmly. Tommy’s tensed shoulders relaxed. “Or..” Tommy raised his brows. “I don’t know, Tom. Fuck.”

“We’re going to find her, Michael. Stay in your hotel room, stay put, near the phone, right?” The Shelbys' head tapped his cousin’s shoulder before leaving the office.

(...)

He stopped the car near the portals and got out, a cigarette hanging on his lips. Tommy walked the pointlessly long alley, by-passing a ton of fountains and trimmed bushes of different forms and shapes.

The fair distance gave him time to rethink everything that concerned Y/N and his relationship with her. If she truly was behind the disappearance of his cousin’s wife, he would have to deal with her, meaning going to war, which was far from the plan since he entered politics.

He knocked on the door without waiting any further once he joined the principal door. He was looking intently at the windows trying to see a silhouette through it or an ignited light of some sort, but nothing.

The door abruptly opened, making a loud noise and the figure of the librarian was to be seen. Tommy raised his hand to her face, pointing his gun at her, but when her body was fully visible thanks to the moon shining, he blinked, bewildered.

His eyes dropped on a Y/N only dressed with an emeraude lace nightgown. The top was all see-through, but it didn’t stop him from cocking the gun and hold it steady in between her eyebrows. Even though he was here because he suspected her to have turned her back to him, his body reacted a whole different way to the view. His heart started to pounder in his chest as a warmth suddenly took prisoner his upper body. He swallowed in an attempt to dismiss the feeling ready to burst out.

“Missing our start?” She let out, not even pretending to be scared or shook by the situation. As a matter of fact, in their second meeting, Tom indeed pulled a gun at her, how could he forget that. Nobody ever had the nerve to threaten him on his own doorsteps, but of course, she did.

“Where’s Gina?” He ignored she was half-naked along with her remark.

“What the fuck, Thomas?” One of her eyebrows raised in confusion. “What’s happened?”

Tommy switched the position of his fingers, putting his index right on top of the trigger to make known he knew she was lying.

As she felt the danger, the woman banged the door on Tom’s face and not even a second later, he heard bullets being fired as he saw holes drawing through the door. The time stopped, or at least everything appeared as slower.

He instinctively put his arms over his head and kneeled as other bullets were being fired, he managed his way to the wall of the mansion, staying down.

“Fucking hell, Y/N!” He shouted his lungs out, his ears whistling due to the bullets’ noise.

“Remember when I warned you, Thomas. You pull a gun, I shoot!” She accentuated the last part, her tone underlined by anger.

“Why did you take her?” He kept his head close to the wall as shaking it, trying to totally recover his hearing.

“You should’ve asked that when you could, Sergent Major.” She calmly stated.

Tommy could hear she was re-loading her gun.

He looked at the gravels under him and recognized the bullet belonging to a rifle. He frowned, wondering how come she got a rifle.

“No. Put down the rifle, I'm throwing me gun.” He said loudly before dropping his gun in the grass far away from him, his weapon made a muffled noise while encountering the ground.

He didn’t hear anything for a minute that seems to last hours. The night breeze came fondling his face, helping him to ease his breath as the silence made him fully recover his hearing.

The front door opened, and Y/N peeked through. Only one of her Y/E/C eyes was to be seen, and even if her pupil was dilated due to the adrenaline, her look seemed concerned. “Are you hurt?” She solemnly asked, she, as well, being out of breath.

Tommy shook his head on both sides before he managed to stand, helped by the wall.

“You mad woman.” He closed his eyes as taking a deep breath in, knowing she wouldn't try to kill him tonight. When he opened his eyes again, she was in front of him, barefoot on the gravel.

“Sorry… I tend to lose my shit when I’m in danger.” She placed the rifle hanging around her neck to her side, a hand holding it still.

“You weren’t. I wasn’t gonna fucking shot, just trying to scare you.”

“...Well you angered me.” She hesitated in even giving him an answer. She finally decided she didn't need the rifle anymore and went placing it against the wall.

“Not fear, eh?” He teased, and she shook her head as a response.

“Why the fuck did you take Gina away? Michael’s all over the place, he even came to me. The boy’s fucking losing it.”

“Well, firstly, he deserved a little reminding he was still a boy as you correctly underlined,” she raised her brows looking at him, “secondly, after further research, I found it I know her father. Long story short, he’s the only one to be able to deal with her uncle if we don’t want any blood spilt.”

“Fucking was about to spill me gut on your doorstep, the fuck you care about spilt blood, Y/N?” He furrowed his brows as agitating one of his hands, motioning to the ground beneath their feet.

“Yeah,” she acquiesced, “not me that cares about fucking family. It’s you.”

That’s when he realized how serious she took their partnership. When he thought she was solely doing what fitted her best, she indeed took into consideration Tommy's convictions. She took seriously the fact he didn't want the family to be hurt. And although he ranged on her side regarding scaring Michael a bit to make him realize something, he never thought of Y/N to be tough enough to act with as much strategy as ruthlessness. She definitely outdid him in this case.

This sudden realisation aroused something in him. She cared. Even if the care she gave was nonetheless peculiar and typical to her character, she did what she could with what she had right? And right now she was working with him with as much resilience and fierceness as she would do with her own organisation.

“If it was up to me, fucking bullets to the head for both of ‘em and we done.” She dismissively worded as looking afar. “Where’s your gun?” She lazily looked back at him.

Tommy hesitated a short period of time before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her against himself. She didn’t push him away as he neared his face near her, she was the one sealing their lips together. This time, none of them were eager for the other, their kiss was light, soft and pure, contrasting with the chaotic situation they put themselves in.

The blue-eyed man slipped a hand on her back, fondling her skin above the piece of cloth covering her body while she reached for the button of his pants under his coat.

The atmosphere switched, not even seconds earlier it was love talking, now it was a whole another emotion ruling them.

Tom started to walk toward the door, forcing her to walk backwards. When she understood what he intended to do she murmured a soft “No.” and he opened his eyes darkened by desire and urge, looking into hers that were screaming for sex.

A smile grew on her lips as she went sticking her back to the nearest wall, her fingers strongly gripping on the man’s tie. He didn’t break the eye contact and joined her, flattening one of his hands on the cold wall. The warmth of his longing for the woman added to the coldness of the night were mixing together so well he felt a little dizzy.

He couldn’t think about how often he imagined them during their first time or how often he tried to picture Y/N’s curves in his head but his body somehow knew how much he wanted this. His hands were dawdling on any portion of her figure he could find, gulping each piece that was giving to him as if she was the first woman he’d ever touched.

Each kiss enticed him a bit more and whenever he closed his eyes he could literally see fireworks exploding everywhere in him. And whenever he would open them, he would find Y/N looking intently at him, her expression revealing everything she could never tell him, her feelings for him as well as her deepest fear, frustrations & beyond, her eyes being the messenger of the immensity of a soul, to another.

She quickly got to his bum she previously teased with one knee before reaching for his length.

Her cold fingers struck it a few times before she came aligning him with the distress for feeling him inside.

Once he was perfectly aligned, she released him and reunited her lips to his, where they belonged, giving him the green light. He thrust slowly at first, letting her some time to get used to his size. She murmured a low “Tommy...”, her legs encircling his hips as he grabbed one of them firmly. He was keeping her as close to him as possible, making sure their bodies were as connected as their souls were. He ultimately began to come and go, increasing his pace as time passed by.

Her high pitched moans came directly to his ears, the best sounds he’s heard out of his entire life without a doubt.

Following Chapter ❱

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

75 notes · View notes

tumbledfreckles · 3 years

Text

No Such Thing As An Easy Mission

There was nothing more annoying, James decided, than rescuing someone who did not want to be rescued.

It should have been an easy mission. Well, easy was a relative term. Straightforward was probably a more accurate description. Get in, find the mark, get them out. Do it as quietly, discreetly, and quickly as possible.

Simple.

That the place he was getting in was an extremely secure, exceptionally well guarded safe house for Lord Voldemort. It was said that the man himself resided there often. Presided over meetings of his Death Eaters. Many an Order member had gone in, never to be seen again.

Dumbledore had acknowledged the precariousness of the mission when he’d asked it.

“I wouldn’t normally ask something like this,” his eyes didn’t twinkle, his face sombre and his tone gentle. “But we need them.”

He hadn’t said who, exactly, James would be extracting. In case he was caught, in case the worst happened, it was better that he didn’t know. But he knew where they would be, that they had some combat experience, and that Dumbledore thought them valuable enough to risk James’ life for.

“You are the only one I trust with this, James,” the use of his first name surprised him. He wasn’t sure his former headmaster had ever used it before. “But it is unfair of me to ask this of you.”

“You’re not asking,” James replied firmly. “I’m offering.”

He’d said goodbye to the boys. As they did when any of them went out on a mission. Hell, the way people were disappearing they should probably do it every time one of them left a room.

“Come back, yeah?” Remus had clasped his shoulder, so tight James had almost winced at his werewolf strength.

“Be safe,” Peter had squeezed his arm.

“Don’t fucking die,” Sirius had hugged him, extra to the last. “Or I’m drinking the last bottle of Dad’s whiskey.”

“You will bloody not,” James had choked a laugh as he thumped his brother on the back. “It’s mine.”

“Ours, as Dad would say,” Sirius shook his head sadly as James pulled back. “You never were great at sharing, Prongs.”

How he wished he was sitting at home, drinking that whiskey with his friends now.

Getting in had gone to plan. He’d taken down most of the security wards, taken out numerous guards in a way that spoke to the ample practise he’d had in recent months. Being proficient in sneaking had been honed at school, something to be proud of. Being proficient at hurting people, even Death Eaters, was something he struggled with on a daily basis.

James had made his way to the cell block Dumbledore had described. The masked man they’d captured in the last battle had come up trumps under Veritasium. It was exactly as he’d intoned, right down to the solid door on the final cell, behind which sat the person James was here to rescue.

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get the door open. Several spells, unlocking spells, blasting spells, a few curses, a hex or two. He swore several times, counting the seconds it took, knowing each one would reduce the amount of time he had to escape. Hopefully, the person he was rescuing could move quickly.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Of all the gin joints, he had to walk into mine.”

James' jaw dropped as he took in the figure before him. “Evans?”

“James Potter. Fancy seeing you here,” She stood up, casually, as if they had all the time in the world. Twirled her wand around her fingers, just like she had in school. “I take it you’re the cavalry?”

“What the fuck -” He stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. “We need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lily shook her head, moving toward him and the door. “Thanks for getting the door open though. They spelled the inside of the room to be impervious to magic. It’s why they left me this.”

He ignored the wand tip she tapped against his chest, “Come on.”

“Still not a good listener, huh, Potter?” She stepped even closer to him. He could feel heat radiating from her. “I’m not coming with you.”

“You don’t have a choice, Evans. You can’t exactly stay here.”

“Oh, I’m not staying,” she smirked at him.

“Then let’s go,” James shifted uneasily, his ears pricked for any sounds outside the cell.

“I have a job to do.”

“No, I have a job to do. We need to go.” He took her wrist, trying to ignore the electric shock that coursed up his arm when he touched her. By the way her eyes flicked down, he was sure she felt it too.

“I need to finish what I started,” she tugged at his hold, frowning when he didn’t release her. “Come on, Potter. It was cute when we were younger, but surely you’ve learnt by now how to take no for an answer.”

“I’m not asking you on a date, Evans. I’m trying to rescue you. Now, let’s go,” James couldn’t help the tension in his voice. Any moment now they were going to be discovered. While it was always going to be a stressful mission, it was so much worse now that he knew it was her.

He needed to get them both out.

“It seems we’re at an impasse, Potter,” she’d moved forward again, coming shoulder to shoulder with him. He could smell her familiar scent at this distance. It brought a wealth of memories. “You have two choices,” she continued, while he told himself to focus. It wouldn’t do to lose his head over her, like he had when he was young.

“And what are they, Evans?” He looked at her properly then. He’d been avoiding it. As if he would ever have been able to get out of this without looking at her.

Lily was more beautiful than he remembered. Either his memory wasn’t as good as he thought, or she’d improved with age, like a fine wine. His expression must have changed as he took her in, for her brow furrowed before she answered.

“You can go back the way you came. Get yourself to safety. You’ve done your job, you’ve freed me. You can leave.”

“I’m not going without you,” his voice sounded gravel, even to his own ears.

She didn’t look surprised. “Option two it is then.” She moved her hand, pulling her wrist from his grasp and placing her fingers in his instead. “You’re coming with me.”

Before he could protest, she’d started to move, tugging him along behind. James stumbled the first step out of the cell, before his brain caught up and switched back into mission mode. He crept silently behind her as they made their way out of the cell area and up the stairs into the manor itself.

She knew her way around it, James gave her that. Lily didn’t hesitate as she ducked them down a long hallway and selected the third room on the right. She braced her back against the door, hand on the doorknob, wand ready. He nodded, she opened the door for him to lead through.

Their preparation was in vain. The room was empty. James lowered his wand as Lily pushed past him to the benches and cauldrons set around the room.

“What is this?”

“Snape’s lab,” Lily answered distractedly, lifting books, opening draws, pushing scrolls of parchment around.

“Snape’s?” James looked around him again, half expecting the vile man to appear at the sound of his name.

“You remember Snape, don’t you, Potter?” She didn’t even look up, her voice dry.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered. “So he really is a -”

“Death Eater,” Lily finished his sentence. “Yeah. Since just after school I think.”

“I’ve never run into him,” James knew he wouldn’t have missed the greasy git, even behind a mask.

“He doesn’t really do duels. He’s more of an inventor.”

“I remember,” James would never forget how he’d suffered at the end of one of Snape’s inventions. Werewolf gashes had nothing on the slicing spell that had seen him nearly bleed out in the middle of a corridor during rounds.

Lily’s face implied she was also thinking of that night. If not for her quick thinking, James might not be standing here now. “Right. Of course.”

“So, what is all this? What is he doing for them?” James was eager to move on from that memory. If he lingered too long, he’d recall what had enraged Snape so much that night. As vivid as the pain of Sectumsampra still was, even more clear was the feel of his lips on hers moments before.

Their first kiss.

Also their last.

“Creating potions. For cursing, for destroying. For blowing us all to bits,” Lily opened a notebook, scanned several pages before shrinking it and shoving it in her jacket pocket. “He’s trying to win them this war without needing to cast a single spell.”

“That bastard.”

“That about covers it.”

“How do you know all this?” James couldn’t help asking, even as he moved back toward the door to check for signs they’d been followed. The manor was curiously silent.

“Research. A chance meeting. Some well timed Legilimency.”

“You saw into his mind?”

Lily almost grinned at the disgust in his voice, “I washed several times afterwards, don’t worry.”

“You should get hazard pay.”

“Oh, believe me, I asked.”

“Who are you working for?” James’ curiosity wouldn’t settle, despite the circumstances. He hadn’t seen her since school. She’d run a mile after the incident with Snape, blaming herself for him ending up in the Hospital Wing. There hadn’t been enough time left in the year to get them back on track before she’d vanished completely.

“Same person as you, it would seem.”

“You’re not at the meetings.”

“Not enough snacks.”

“Evans.”

She sighed, still searching. “I’ve been working on my own. Dumbledore agreed. It was the only way I’d help.” She looked up at where he stared at her. “I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt.”

“That was not your fault. Lily -”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped the book shut and pocketed it. “All done. Let’s go.”

“Not a moment too soon,” James could hear noise at the far end of the hall. He pulled his cloak out and waved it invitingly. “I trust you remember this?”

“Only because it broke my poor Prefect heart when I found out.”

Despite her sarcasm, Lily moved swiftly to him, ducking under the cloak with a practised ease. And she did know it well. When they’d become friends in seventh year, they’d taken many an enjoyable stroll down to Hogsmeade, and made midnight raids to the kitchen for study supplies.

Her back pressed against his chest as they shuffled slowly down the hall. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he pulled them back against a wall to avoid a patrolling goon. Her hair tickled his nose as her head rested just under his chin for several breaths before they edged down the stairs. His lips brushed her ear as he bent to whisper.

“The door is unlocked, but we can’t open it without suspicion.”

Her hand rested on his at her waist, as her chin tilted up to reply, “So, what’s the plan?”

“In about thirty seconds, a diversion will happen upstairs. I set it before we left. We go then.”

Lily nodded. James felt her twirl her wand in her hand, despite the small space. Then she did something he never expected.

She relaxed back into him.

Her hands smoothed along his forearms. Her body melted into his until he wasn’t sure where he finished and she began. Her cheek turned to brush against his chest, nose nuzzling into his neck. He never wanted this moment to end.

“Evans,” his whisper was a question, a plea.

“Shhh,” she murmured back. “This has to get me through the next few years.”

Before James could ask what she meant, several explosions went off upstairs. Footsteps from all over the manor thumped against the floor, all heading for the sound. A masked Death Eater came through the front door, and charged past them.

“Go,” James pushed Lily, but she was already moving.

The cloak slipped as they moved through the open door. James tore it off them once outside, shrinking it and shoving it in his pocket as they ran. They were almost out of the ward zone, almost safe to apparate, when a shout came from behind. James felt a curse hit him square in the back a second later. He fell over the ward line.

“James,” Lily had gone several feet before she realised he wasn’t beside her. She came back, falling to her knees next to him.

“Get out of here, Evans,” he growled. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Yeah right.” She made to pull him to his feet.

“Lily, just go. You’ve got the information.” He could feel strength draining out of him by the second. He was dead weight.

“Quiet, Potter. I’m being a white knight.” Lily pulled his arm over her shoulders, wrapped hers around his waist, and pulled him into a side along apparition.

His head spun, his stomach lurched, and when they landed in an empty field, his worthless legs gave way, pulling her down on top of him. His eyes stayed closed as he groaned, a sound loud enough that he didn’t hear the words she muttered next. But the relief was instant.

“Thanks,” he sighed.

“All part of the service.”

He expected her to get off him, and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. Instead, Lily shifted her weight to her elbows, freeing her hands to gently cup his face. He opened his eyes to see her blinking down at him.

“Alright, Potter?” she asked.

He smiled, “Alright.” He brought a hand up, shifting her hair back from her face, mirroring her hold of his head. “But maybe you should stick around, make sure I’m okay.”

“I only left to keep you safe,” Lily’s thumb brushed across his cheek, his lip. “But it looks like you need me here to make sure that happens.”

“I’ve always needed you, Evans. Stay. Please.”

“Well, seeing you asked so nicely.” She smiled as she said the words, but James never saw it. Her lips had pressed down on his, and he was only too happy to oblige with a kiss of his own.

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfic #jily drabble #well it was meant to be #its more of a oneshot #oops #freckles writes

62 notes · View notes

melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 27

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 26

Next Chapter: Chapter 28

Thomas was still in the same position on the couch by the time Alastair reached him, both his parents on the other couch, carefully monitoring him. Thomas had put on a movie, and Alastair got the idea he was trying to ignore his parents, who both looked worried. Alastair found a way to sit beside him on the couch.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘I slept for several hours,’ Thomas said. ‘Then my parents arrived and found out I was sick and pretty much everything went downhill from there. What about you? Did you encounter anything? No offense, but you kind of smell.’

Alastair made a face. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘Seriously, what happened?’

‘A deer.’

Thomas frowned. ‘A deer?’

‘I have always been terrified of deer. Today just reminded me why. Or perhaps it wasn’t really a deer. Lucie decided to call it eldritch horror deer, which is the closest I can come to describing it. You don’t want to know more, trust me. Either way, it’s dead now, no need to worry about it.’

Ever since he’d seen his father’s memory of that monster, he’d been afraid of deer. Because that deer had looked completely normal too before he’d realized it wasn’t, and Alastair had realized anything could hide a monster.

‘So you smell of dead eldritch horror deer... It’s not so bad as after we got the skin and you had to swim through I don’t know what.’

‘This is why I don’t want to dedicate my life to fighting these things or be a hero or anything like that. Dead body parts are disgusting no matter what creature they come from and you always come back covered in gross smelly things. I’m going to take a bath. You want to join?’

Thomas turned very red, although that could have been the fever.

‘Maybe it’ll help you get warm,’ Alastair added.

He went upstairs to draw a bath, and threw in a good amount of bath foam with eucalyptus scent. Alastair loved the fresh sharpness of eucalyptus, and used many eucalyptus scented products. He quickly got into the shower while the bath was still not full, rinsing off the worst of the dirt, before inviting Thomas in and getting in the bath tub. Thomas still turned around while undressing, and Alastair politely looked in the other direction. With the amount of foam he’d used, there wouldn’t be much to see once Thomas was in the bath anyway and he understood Thomas might still be a bit awkward with this.

Thomas settled next to him, and Alastair turned on the bubbles. He tried to remember if Jem’s house had a bubble bath, but if not it needed one. He was pretty sure there was a big bathroom, at least, and as far as he remembered there was a bath tub but he had no idea what Jem had done to the place.

‘Is it alright if I lean against you?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas didn’t answer, just opened his arm and allowed Alastair to find a comfortable position leaning against his shoulder. Thomas really was warm and feverish.

‘How are you feeling?’ Alastair asked.

‘A lot better now that I’m in the bath. Still a little cold but I imagine that’ll be over soon enough. I’d slept for several hours on the couch and everything kind of hurts now. I took another two paracetamol before coming here, so hopefully they’ll start working soon. The eucalyptus scent really wakes me up though.’

‘It opens the airways,’ Alastair said. ‘Did the fever change at all?’

‘No, not really. I just took it again. It’s still around 38,5 degrees,’ Thomas said. ‘When I woke up my parents were there and I had to explain what was going on. They were kind of upset I didn’t immediately tell them I’d fallen ill and immediately started the whole routine of taking care of sick baby Thomas. Which is exactly why I didn’t tell them.’

Alastair took a hold of his hand. ‘Did you tell them why you didn’t want them to find out about your sickness?’

‘No,’ Thomas said.

‘Why not? It makes you unhappy that they are treating you this way.’

‘I don’t want to hurt their feelings,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I know they mean well, and I know they’re scared too.’

Alastair looked him in the eye. Often he forced himself to do that, make eye contact at just the right moment despite the discomfort. For a long time, he’d wanted nothing more than to be normal, and eye contact was part of that. With Thomas, it was easier. His eyes really were beautiful. The discomfort never quite went away though, so he settled his gaze on Thomas’ brow instead. People usually couldn’t tell when he was faking eye contact. It was only when he lied that he had to avoid someone’s gaze altogether.

‘So they have no clue that you hate being taken care of?’ Alastair asked. ‘You’ve never once asked them to stop and leave you be?’

‘I think sometimes they do ask if they’ve hurt my feelings,’ Thomas admitted. ‘When they’re being too protective. But in the moment, I always downplay it, I don’t want to hurt them and I understand why they’re protective.’

‘But if you want them to stop doing it, you don’t do it by hiding your sickness from them. You tell them how you feel, even if it is uncomfortable for them to hear.’

Alastair knew he wasn’t much better in that regard, he didn’t know how to deal with what he felt well. He was far more aware of what he felt than people thought, but that didn’t always mean he could explain it without feeling like he was crazy. Repressing and hiding was easier, but Alastair had learnt the hard way it made everything worse in the long run.

‘Maybe I can do that,’ Thomas said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime. You had no issue telling me you didn’t like being taken care of,’ Alastair said.

‘No, I know that. I’m not sure why it’s different. Perhaps because if I tell my parents, they’ll have to feel guilty for being overprotective practically all my life, whereas you’ve never done that before. Telling you to stop would be less hurtful than it would be to tell my parents.’

‘The longer you wait, the worse it’ll get,’ Alastair said. ‘They are right to be worried, you are in danger and we’re running out of time. But that doesn’t mean they can’t change how they treat you when you’re sick.’

‘You really think that’s what this is, isn’t it? I’m going to die.’

Alastair took hold of Thomas’ hand. ‘No, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.’

Not even if it cost him his life, Alastair told himself, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to worry Thomas.

‘What else can we do?’ Thomas asked. ‘Tatiana’s gone.’

Alastair frowned. ‘Gone?’

‘My dad went into the village and asked people about her. The staff from that hotel and restaurant said she’d left, so if the plan is to go after her… We have no clue where she is. On the bright side, phones are back in order, and we’re no longer trapped.’

‘It’s not entirely true that we can’t find her,’ Alastair said. ‘Lucie did find something today, before our encounter with the monster. A locket, and a note from Jesse. How he wrote it as a ghost, I have no idea.’

Alastair’s best guess was that Jesse had grown stronger as Thomas had gotten sick, and that he could now hold things. Closer to being alive than he had been before.

‘Anyway, Lucie can summon him with the locket. Assuming he’s been around Tatiana, but I can’t imagine where else he would be. He can lead us back to her.’

Alastair knew they needed a plan, and fast. He had promised Lucie he would help her work on Barbara’s memory. So far, no success. Alastair couldn’t see dead people, and his power didn’t work on dead people. Lucie was still convinced that in between her commanding ghosts and Alastair’s access to people’s memory there was a way to witness the realm of the thief of souls. If that didn’t work, they’d have to go after Tatiana. Stopping her would at the very least save Thomas for the time being, buy them enough time to find a way to permanently defeat the thief of souls.

Grace had said he’d been a mortal once. He was not a god or a devil, or something that was meant to exist. He’d been a mortal who’d claimed a world and started stealing souls, but he was not meant to be there. Which meant he could be defeated, and Alastair was convinced that with cortana and Lucie’s magic, their chances were better than most people’s. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean those were good chances.

‘Did you call anyone?’ Alastair asked. ‘I think I should call my mother.’

‘My sisters,’ Thomas said. ‘They were both very upset. Eugenia had just gotten off her flight back from India with her friend Kamala, they’ll come here as soon as they can. Barbara’s still in Paris with her boyfriend, but she says she’s getting on the next flight.’

‘I’d love to meet your sisters,’ Alastair said.

He was nervous too, people rarely liked him, why would Thomas’ sisters? Then again, Thomas liked him, Thomas’ parents seemed to like him, so maybe he had a better chance with Thomas’ sisters than with the average person.

‘Preferably not now though,’ Thomas said. ‘I urged them not to come here, but they wouldn’t listen. I told them it would be dangerous, but they both insisted on coming and told me I couldn’t stop them.’

‘It seems the stubbornness runs in the family,’ Alastair said.

‘Dad called uncle Gabriel,’ Thomas added. ‘Uncle Gabriel tried to convince Barbara to instead come to London and watch the children for him while he and Cecily come here to help. So far, I think Barbara is insistent on coming.’

Alastair could imagine why. Even if they were hopeful, even if they had a plan, there was a chance Thomas would die. He understood Thomas’ sisters wanted to be with him in case that happened, to at least be able to say goodbye.

It was time for dinner when Alastair and Thomas got out of the bath, dried off, and dressed themselves. Thomas felt less cold, which Alastair guessed was good, but still very tired and had very little appetite. Instead of joining them for dinner, he retreated to the couch again, only eating some soup and a piece of bread. At least it was something.

Alastair had to stop himself from taking care of him. Thomas didn’t want it, he just needed some rest. Thomas put on another movie, not yet tired enough to fall asleep, and Alastair retreated to his bedroom so he could call his mother.

‘Alastair, it’s been so long since I heard from you!’ his mother scolded as she picked up.

She spoke in Farsi, and it was somehow comfortable to speak to her in her language.

‘I’m sorry, maman. A lot has been happening, and we couldn’t reach anyone outside.’

‘I think you and your sister should come home, you’re not safe there,’ his mother said.

Alastair sighed. ‘We can’t. Leaving won’t make the problems go away. Thomas needs me, and Lucie is in danger as well. Without Cordelia and her sword, neither of them stand a chance.’

‘I understand, azizam. I just wish I could know you were safe.’

‘I can’t make a any promises. But I’ll protect Cordelia. We’ll be home before you know it. Jem told us about the baby.’

‘You’re not mad, I hope?’ his mother asked.

‘No, of course not,’ Alastair said. ‘I can’t wait to meet my baby brother or sister, same for Cordelia. It is not what either of us expected, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.’

‘I haven’t seen your father,’ his mother promised. ‘I must have gotten pregnant before we left, it was an accident, but one that I am happy about. I’ll be raising the baby by myself. Risa has promised to help, of course.’

‘I’ll be there too,’ Alastair promised. ‘The baby will have everything they need.’

‘I hope you are not angry with me,’ his mother said quietly.

‘Why would I be?’

‘Because I didn’t protect you,’ his mother said. ‘I thought you could handle it, you could protect Cordelia and we would be fine. But I was wrong, protecting you was my responsibility and I failed you.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Alastair said and he meant it.

It wasn’t the first time his mother or someone else had pointed out she should have been there for him, should have protected him, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame her for it. She’d been a victim too, he’d told her, he’d told his therapist. Maybe she could have done better, she could have seen he was struggling sooner, but she hadn’t wanted to see. Father had told her Alastair’s odd behavior was normal, that teen boys went through times like that, and he’d believed her.

‘Still, I am sorry. I know you do not blame me, but that does not mean I don’t regret what I did. How has it been with the Herondales? I’d thought you would be happier there, but I never imagined all this would happen to you.’

‘It has been nice here,’ Alastair said. ‘But yes, also dangerous. Nothing to be done about that. I’m not sure if you’ve gotten any of my text, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with Thomas, and he’s my boyfriend now.’

‘Oh, that’s nice. I’m happy for you, joon-am.’

‘Me too. I’m just scared something’s going to happen to him. He’s gotten sick and I think he’s going to get worse. It’s not looking good.’

‘I know I never wanted you and Cordelia to run towards danger like Elias did. But if it saves the boy you love… I have faith in you, Alastair.’

After ending the phone call, Alastair returned downstairs to find Thomas had finished the movie and was turning off the tv. As Thomas closed his eyes and presumably fell asleep again, Alastair sought out Lucie.

‘I think we should give it another try,’ Alastair said. ‘With Barbara’s memory.’

‘You’re right. She’s at the Lightwood cottage, she doesn’t like big crowds and prefers to stay there. I’ll ask aunt Sophie.’

Lucie returned to the kitchen, where Thomas’ parents were doing the dishes, and Alastair returned to Thomas, who had his eyes opened once more.

‘I’m going with Lucie to see if we’re getting anywhere with Barbara,’ Alastair said. ‘If your parents are bothering you, you tell them, alright?’

‘I’m considering it. Kiss me before you go?’

Alastair obliged, leaning down to kiss Thomas on the mouth before leaving him to get some more rest.

‘Rest well, delbaram,’ Alastair said.

Alastair returned to Lucie and Sophie, who were on their way back to the Lightwood cottage.

‘I can’t stay here,’ Sophie said. ‘I cannot leave Thomas alone for too long when he’s so sick.’

Alastair wondered if he should say anything. He didn’t want to speak for Thomas, but it seemed clear that Sophie had no idea how Thomas really felt about his parents concern.

‘Thomas has gone back to sleep,’ Alastair said. ‘He said he wanted to rest, best to leave him until he wakes.’

Telling her not to worry felt wrong, so he didn’t. Thomas could die, of course she was worried. Alastair was too. He wasn’t sure what he’d have to do, to keep Thomas alive. He’d read a little about the ritual, and together with that memory of Gideon who’d once interrupted his father, Alastair knew how to summon the thief. Perhaps that was how he could be defeated, by bringing him here and then attacking him. Although if it was that simple, Alastair wondered why no one else had tried it.

‘Alright. Please tell me you have a plan,’ Sophie said.

‘We’re going to try to get information from Barbara,’ Alastair said. ‘Based on that, we figure out how to take on the thief of souls. If we need more time, Lucie will summon Jesse and find out where Tatiana is, confront her there and stop her. If she does not fulfill her end of the bargain, Jesse will not live and therefore Thomas will not die.’

Alastair was mostly certain of that. Mostly. There was a chance that Jesse was far enough gone that when Tatiana stopped, the thief of souls could once again choose which of Benedict’s grandsons he wanted, and let the other go. If that was the case, Alastair wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t choose Thomas.

‘And we want to find out how to defeat the thief of souls,’ Lucie added. ‘He is mad with me because I stole Barbara from him, so he’s going to come after me either way. Perhaps he even realized who my mother is. Not to mention I don’t want Jesse to go back to being trapped there.’

The three of them arrived at the Lightwood’s cottage. Even if with a ghost living in there, Alastair felt the little cottage with its adorable garden was welcoming. A nice place to spend the summer.

‘Show yourself,’ Lucie commanded, and Barbara appeared, sitting on the couch.

‘How have you been?’ Lucie asked.

‘I’m alright, thank you. The other ghost at your house can be a bit much, so I am happy to stay here for now.’

Alastair hoped Barbara meant Jessamine, and not another ghost he didn’t know about. As much as he was used to the supernatural, ghosts made him a bit uncomfortable, mostly because he couldn’t see them and he could never be sure he wasn’t being watched. At least Jessamine was far more prudish than he was and Alastair trusted her to turn around and go somewhere else when he was in the bathroom or changing or kissing Thomas.

‘We want to try once more to enter your memory,’ Lucie explained. ‘Are you up for it?’

‘Of course. Not much else here for me, I’m afraid,’ Barbara said. ‘I wish I could be of more help. It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue, like a dream that slips away when you wake up and I just can’t remember.’

Alastair could imagine that was frustrating. It was hard for him to picture, not being able to remember something. Dreams could be trickier, and sometimes he lost them, but Alastair did not care much for dreams and would much rather not dream at all. Memories, however, could never be lost, he could never forget. At most he could get frustrated if he couldn’t find the right memory for certain information.

‘Can you command ghosts to be alive, Lucie?’ Alastair asked.

Lucie frowned. ‘I can’t bring people back from the dead.’

‘No, but perhaps temporarily. You can make ghosts visible, you can make them corporeal enough to touch things. All of those bring them closer to what qualifies as alive. Perhaps if you command them to be alive, they will be able to do all these things at once, even if for only a moment. And then I’d be able to access her memory.’

‘Alright. I’ll give it a try. Barbara, I command you to live.’

Alastair couldn’t see anything change, but when he tried to enter Barbara’s memory, he found it was there. She did put up a bit of resistance.

‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’s just me, you can let me in.’

Barbara relaxed, and Alastair tried to search for the right memory. Usually, people tried to recall the memory, they controlled what memory was shown, not he. But Barbara couldn’t recall what she didn’t remember. He’d found ways around that, ways to bring back lost memories. When he was younger he’d tried to restore his father’s memory of a night he’d been too drunk to remember, thinking it would help. Alastair had long given up that practice though, it didn’t make a difference. He’d believed once that if his father remembered what he did while he was drunk, he would stop. He would realize how much hurt he was causing and stop drinking. But it didn’t make a difference, and his father had mostly found it inconvenient. It was easier for him to forget.

With Tessa, he’d used a different, harder strategy of searching through association, starting with what he knew ought to be there. Jessamine, the house. Tessa still didn’t remember everything, but she was getting there.

With Barbara, he took a different approach. The trick in this case was to start at the last thing someone remembered and then speed things along a little. Alastair knew the last thing Barbara remembered, which was her fight with her husband and then her death. He tried to brace himself as he asked Barbara to remember that, hoping he wouldn’t get lost in his own memory.

They managed to start the memory after Benedict stalked off into his own study and Barbara rushed to get the children. He could tell she was confused, but took the opportunity just the same, rushing through the mansion. In the distance, he could hear a baby cry. Alastair assumed that was Tatiana. Then Barbara collapsed to the ground and Alastair felt something awfully painful in his back. Blood. The spinal cord, severed. Was it Benedict, behind her, who had stabbed her? Barbara didn’t turn around, didn’t see her attacker, but it had to be. She hadn’t dropped dead when Benedict had made the deal. She’d been murdered. Because the thief might prefer spouses, but those weren’t connected by blood, so he couldn’t kill them himself.

Alastair wondered how Benedict had gotten away with murdering his wife, a knife in her back while she was at home was hard to explain away. But then he guessed it was easy for the thief of souls to make her body disappear, or use some magic to change it to resemble a suicide. He didn’t know, had not asked Gideon what he’d once believed happened to his mother. He thought that would be too painful.

She was in pain for only a little while, and then the Lightwood’s manor disappeared. She was in a forest not unlike the one around here. It was dark and cold and gloomy. Alastair could feel the chill touch his skin. Barbara looked around, taking in the environment with great care. There were others like her. People, but there was something unusual about their eyes. Alastair couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was not right. Those had to be the other souls. There were many of them, spread out across where Barbara could see.

‘Follow me.’

There was a woman. She looked like the others, human, but something was not right. She appeared a little more alive though, a little less broken. She seemed to be somewhat in charge here.

‘Who are you? Where am I?’ Barbara asked.

‘Follow me,’ the woman repeated.

Reluctantly Barbara followed. Alastair sped up the next part, as the walk was rather long. The woods seemed endless, which made Alastair wonder where this was exactly. In the land in between, some buildings still existed, but here there seemed to be none at all. There were souls all over though, what was their purpose? Some were doing something, carrying things Alastair couldn’t identify, working for the thief? Others wandered around aimlessly. Alastair did the best he could to take in any landmarks she passed. He never knew if he would have to navigate this realm.

At last they reached a castle. The castle the others had been dreaming about. Alastair was the only one who hadn’t dreamt and he was glad for it. Although perhaps compared to his usual dreams, nightmares about a spooky castle were an improvement.

Barbara entered the castle. Based on the gothic building style, the many sharp shapes, Alastair guessed it must have been built somewhere in late medieval time. It certainly wasn’t the style he would choose if he could live in a castle, too bleak for his taste. He’d prefer a bit more welcoming style, big windows, light and bright colors. A big private bathhouse. Old Persian style, or perhaps Roman or ancient Greek. Instead, the inside of the castle looked dreary and a bit messy. Had it been rebuilt over time, or was this an indication of how old the thief of souls was?

The woman led Barbara into the throne room. On the throne was a man with dark hair and a skin the color of paper. His eyes were red and glowing, and his head was decorated with big antlers. He’d been mortal once, so where had the antlers come from? Alastair could only say he was right that deer were scary.

‘I take it you had to walk here,’ he said.

His voice was surprisingly human, although loud and authoritative. Barbara didn’t say anything.

‘Yes, my lord, she appeared in the forest approximately seventy miles south of here,’ said the woman who had accompanied Barbara.

Seventy miles… Had Barbara really just walked that far? Alastair suspected distance was different in the land of the thief.

The red eyes glowed a little brighter. ‘Did I ask?’

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ the woman said.

She had to be one of his souls, but somehow she’d gotten a higher position in serving him. Were there more souls like this?

‘Your name is Barbara Lightwood, isn’t it?’

Barbara looked up, shaking on her feet. ‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘Barbara, Barbara… given to me by your husband. Betrayal after marriage has its use for me, but it is surprisingly common, I’m afraid. All sorts of marriages go sour and so often people have grown to hate their spouse so much they’re willing to sacrifice the soul. Still, it is an interesting sort of betrayal, a broken vow. Did you see it coming, Barbara? Were you afraid of your husband?’

Barbara was silent.

‘You are new here, and so I will be forgiving. But it does not do to ignore my questions,’ the thief of souls said, angry but calm and in control. ‘When I ask you a question, you will give me an honest answer. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes… Yes, sir.’

A small smile appeared on the thief’s face. ‘Alright then, Barbara. Amuse me. Did you see it coming?’

‘I… Yes. And no. I knew he was dangerous, I knew he might hurt me or the children. But I did not think any of this existed, or that he would choose me as a sacrifice.’

‘Intriguing,’ the thief said. ‘It has been such a long time since I was one of your kind. Your love, hate, betrayal. It is absolutely fascinating. What drives a husband to betray his wife to me? How much power do I need to offer, for them to stab someone they claimed to love in the back. Can any soul be corrupted? And what was the reason your husband first was unwilling to make a deal, but now summoned me and told me it was done and you could be mine?’

Alastair could not feel what someone else was feeling in their memories, not entirely. He got a glimpse of it, but little more. He could tell Barbara was horrified though, betrayed. And for the thief, it was a source of entertainment besides power. He seemed intrigued by the horrors humans were capable of, and loved to bring out the worst in them.

‘I was leaving,’ Barbara said slowly. ‘I knew my children and I weren’t safe there. He found out I was leaving, and got angry.’

The thief of souls laughed, his face bright. ‘Of course, that’s so often the cause. People are far more likely to sacrifice someone who is leaving them. Perhaps if you’d been a good wife and stayed, he would have let you live.’

Alastair tried to push down his anger, his sense of helplessness. This whole conversation was difficult to listen to, the way the thief was fascinated by the way people used and abused others and liked to leverage such situations to his advantage. The way he blamed Barbara for what her husband had done. He felt sick, and had no choice but to push away and leave. Both he and Barbara were on the couch, shaking. Sophie was sitting opposite to them, whereas Lucie looked like she was about to fall asleep.

‘Did you find what you needed?’ Lucie asked, suppressing a yawn.

‘More or less,’ Alastair said. ‘I got to see his realm. It is a huge dark forest and the souls are everywhere. Some have jobs, or I don’t know, serve him somehow. Many just wander around. And he was human once. Apparently, it’s not so uncommon for people who deal with him to sacrifice their spouse. Even if because of the whole blood connection thing, people have to kill their spouses themselves.’

Alastair didn’t want to think about the kind of people that did. No one in a good and healthy relationship woke up one day and sacrificed their partner for power. The thief said he wondered if anyone could be corrupted but Alastair didn’t think so. He imagined many had been abused before. It made him wonder, if he’d stayed with Charles, if Charles had known about all this, would he have been willing to sacrifice Alastair to get the power he wanted?

‘That sounds rather awful,’ Sophie said.

‘Not very romantic,’ Lucie added.

‘Marriage isn’t always,’ Alastair said. ‘Nor are relationships. Sometimes it’s less about love and more about power.’

‘Benedict was all about power,’ Barbara said. ‘At first, I thought he was good underneath that cold exterior. He could be so charming, but they so often are, aren’t they?’

‘They are,’ Alastair said, thinking of Charles.

‘I thought that my love could temper his moods,’ Barbara continued. ‘It was just like a romance novel, you know? Average woman meets cold but charming and wealthy man and her love changes him. I always loved those.’

‘I like love stories too,’ Lucie said. ‘But real life is not always like the stories. Sometimes someone is not who you think they are.’

‘Stupid, isn’t it? I should have known. I should have seen through his charm and his stupid lies.’

Alastair twisted his fingers, pained. He told himself that so often. He should have known Charles could not be trusted, should have known he only cared about himself. He should have known Charles was taking advantage of him. It had all been so obvious to Cordelia when he’d told her, so why hadn’t he known better?

‘It’s not your fault,’ he said instead, because he was still doing the best he could to convince himself of that. Funny how it was so much easier to believe it when it was someone else. ‘It’s his, and his alone.’

‘Being naïve or looking past warning signs doesn’t change that,’ Sophie added. ‘You deserved better. Your children did too. I hope you can find peace.’

Barbara smiled at Sophie through her tears. ‘I’m so happy my son found someone like you.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

18 notes · View notes

purple-dahlias · 3 years

Note

“What’s the point?” for recovering!au?

thank you for the request! sorry this has taken such a long time to get out, but it’s here now!

trigger warning for eating disorders, relapse and hospitals

“You heading for the OR?” Connor asks, falling into step beside Ava as they exit the lifts together.

“Yep,” confirms Ava. “Got another CABG scheduled. Been almost practically back to back all afternoon. How about you?”

“Surprisingly, I’m free now. Patient cancellation.”

“Lucky you,” Ava grins as her phone pings in her pocket.

Taking it out, her eyes scan the notification, smile dying on her lips.

“Ava?” Connor asks, concern filling his voice as he eyes the expression on Ava’s face.

“It’s Sarah,” she manages, the words heavy in her mouth. “She collapsed in the ED.”

“Again?” Connor remembers the last time this happened, a little over four months ago.

Ava nods, knowing exactly what Connor is thinking. “I have to go,” she says finally. “Could you—“

Connor doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“Go,” he says, placing a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll take your surgery.”

“Thank you,” Ava whispers, gratitude in her eyes as Connor waves her thanks away, nudging her gently back in the direction of the lifts.

“Let me know how she’s doing, yeah?” She hears him call as she steps into the lift, anxiety filling every inch of her.

The last three or so weeks had been insanely busy, for both Ava and Sarah, what with the way their shifts had worked out. It had meant in the end the two had always ended up missing each other, with one leaving as the other arrived, or one returning when the other was preparing to go. And with that, there had been little communication, other than perhaps a passing hello in the corridor, a kiss goodbye, or a hug before having to get out of bed at some ungodly hour. So having this knowledge, and with what she had just learnt, Ava knew this was a red flag. She knows almost exactly why Sarah had collapsed, and it’s hard for her not to blame herself.

Maybe, she thinks, if she had made more of an effort to ask, had paid more attention, had passed over some of her surgeries or post-ops to Connor, anything so that she could have been there more, she might have seen the signs.

She hopes, oh how she hopes she is wrong, and that this is completely unrelated, and that she is blowing this out of proportion, that there is some other, alternative reason.

But she just can’t shake the sick feeling that pools in her stomach as she exits the lifts beyond the Emergency Department.

She’s wracking her brain, trying to think of any rhyme or reason why this could have happened, if indeed it is what she thinks it is: the thought she just can’t seem to rid her mind of, the one that she keeps coming back to.

“Where is she, Maggie?” Ava asks, on seeing the charge nurse.

“Treatment four,” she hears, and doesn’t stick around for any more, heading straight there, heart beating at what she knows is well beyond the normal rate.

Ava pulls back the curtain to find April adjusting an IV line, while Natalie scrolls through what must be Sarah’s test results on her iPad, concern written across her face.

But her eyes fall on Sarah, lying there, looking so small and frail in her hospital gown.

“What happened?” Ava demands, and April leads her outside, just beyond the curtain, with Natalie following.

“Natalie called her down for a consult. Things were okay until she collapsed right there in front of the patient. Scared us all half to death,” April informs her softly.

“You might want to see these,” Natalie says, and Ava doesn’t miss the sadness in her tone as Natalie hands her the tablet.

It’s just what she had thought they would show, and Ava shakes her head, blinking back tears as she sees how much damage had been done, how much progress had been reversed in just 3 short weeks.

“According to her charts it looks like she’s missed her last two appointments with Dr Richardson. Did you know things were bad with her?” Natalie asks, a hand to Ava’s shoulder, and Ava feels like the worst person in the world.

“No,” she hears herself say, though it doesn’t sound at all like her voice.

This is all your fault. If you had paid more attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Ava,” she hears Natalie, noting how the doctor had switched to the voice she often heard her use with paediatric patients. “None of this is your fault.”

It’s as though she can read her mind.

“But it is. Sarah is supposed to be my responsibility,” Ava hates the way her voice sounds, broken, as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Some things you can’t control,” April says beside her. Ava knows she means well, but it’s all just wrong and backwards. Because for Sarah, this was all about control. Ironic, really.

“For now,” Natalie begins, that coaxing voice back, “you should just be with her.”

Ava just nods, letting the curtain fall behind her as April and Natalie take their leave.

She takes a shuddering breath and drags the stool to Sarah’s bedside, where she sits, taking hold of the thin, limp hand of her girlfriend.

“Ava?” Comes a voice, weak beside her, and Ava swears that if she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon, she would have thought her heart had stopped.

“I’m right here, Sarah,” Ava tells her, squeezing her hand gently.

“Where am I?” Sarah asks, a little groggily.

“In the ED. April said you fainted.”

“Oh,” returns Sarah, her voice small, panic filling her face as she notices the IV line in her hand.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Ava croons, taking hold of both Sarah’s hands when she sees how distressed she is. “It’s just some fluids to help give you your strength back. You need them, okay bokkie,” Ava continues, using the pet name.

“No, I don’t! What’s the point?” Sarah cries out, every word punctuated with an agony that pierces Ava’s very soul.

“Nothing I do will work and I’m just so tired. I’m a psychiatrist. I know this is bad! I shouldn’t be having this problem. Ava you know I try, but…” Sarah trails off, and Ava can’t help but notice the way Sarah runs a finger over her clavicle, a subconscious habit she had.

“Sarah, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you,” Ava begins after a pause. “But—“

“Then don’t,” Sarah grits out, harshly, cutting Ava off. “Please, Ava, just go,” Sarah practically begs, bunching up the thin bed sheets and turning to face away from her.

Ava sits there, a few moments longer, until it becomes clear that this won’t be going anywhere, that Sarah isn’t ready to talk.

Twisting her hands, she lets out a sigh she hopes is mostly silent.

“Okay,” she says, willing the heaviness in her voice not to be too pronounced. Ava stands and moves to adjust Sarah’s pillow just how she likes it, the only way she can think of right now to give Sarah a little more comfort. “But Sarah,” Ava gently tells her, “I’m here for you, okay. No matter what. Please know that.”

There’s no response. Not even a shift in the bedsheets. And if the machine monitoring Sarah’s vitals wasn’t still beeping quietly in the background, well, Ava doesn’t want to give much rise to that particular thought.

With a final kiss to the top of Sarah’s head, a last attempt to let her know she is here, Ava turns to leave, drawing the curtains back around Sarah.

“Well?” Natalie asks her from her position at the nursing station, breaking away from a conversation with Maggie.

Ava just shakes her head. She doesn’t know quite what to say. What does one say? Besides, Ava really doesn’t wan to have to talk right now. With anyone. All she can think about is how much she had let Sarah down. How she should have been paying attention. And now she couldn’t even get Sarah to talk, much less get to the bottom of what triggered this.

It’s windy up on the balcony, and the evening is drawing in as Ava stares out onto the city of Chicago, a hundred thousand lights twinkling below. There’s still no more word from Sarah herself. Only that Ava can gather loud and clear she wants to be left alone. Which is especially hard to know.

“Hey,” a voice says beside her, making Ava jump. The fact she didn’t even hear him coming is a telltale sign something is wrong. Ava normally never misses anything.

“Your CABG went off without a hitch,” he begins lightly, trying to gauge Ava’s mood.

“Wish I could say the same about other things,” Ava deadpans, staring off into the distance, her focus on nothing in particular.

“How’s Sarah?” Connor frowns, leaning against the railing.

“Nat messaged to say she’s being transferred up to a bed to stay overnight for observation. She still doesn’t want to see me.” It comes out a little cold, detached. And honestly, Ava’s just feeling more than a little numb right now, so that assessment it’s about right.

“She’ll come ‘round,” Connor assures, putting an arm around Ava, who leans into him.

“Ooh my ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice from behind.

“Oh, hey Nat,” Ava manages a weak, sort of washed-out smile.

“How are you holding up?”

How was she? How did one answer that? How was someone dealing with all of this supposed to be?

Connor’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence.

“It’s Latham,” he says, checking.

“You’d better go,” Ava tells him, grateful for the diversion.

“It’s gonna be okay, Aves. You’re gonna get through this. You both are.”

“Thanks,” Ava sniffs as Connor pulls her into a tight hug, wanting desperately to believe his every word.

And then he’s gone.

“How’s Sarah,” Ava asks, eyes trained on the spot Connor had just vacated. She’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Pretty much the same. I’ve paged Dr Charles though. I hope you don’t mind?”

Ava shakes her head sadly. “Maybe he’ll have better luck than me.”

“Oh, Ava,” Natalie hums, holding her close, up there on the balcony. She doesn’t even care that Nat is probably using some of the tactics she uses on kids down in the ED. Because all Ava wants to do is believe things will be okay.

“How about I drive you back to yours so we can grab some things for Sarah?” Natalie suggests, filling the silence, smoothing Ava’s hair.

Ava agrees with a small nod. That seems like a logical suggestion. And in any case, she’s not sure she should be driving herself anywhere right now.

“Great,” Natalie says softly, her arms still safely around Ava. “And Ava, I promise you: everything will work out. It may not seem like it right now, but it will.”

There’s a fierceness in her voice, and Ava just clings to her. She wants to believe her. Wants it to be true with her whole heart. Because it has to be.

#recovering!au #my aus #sarah reese #ava bekker #they're both going through it #connor rhodes #natalie manning #april sexton #chicago med #reesker #asks #buiscitsandbooks #mutuals #eating disorder tw #hospitals tw #tw ed #my writing

24 notes · View notes

theunconcernedembalmer · 3 years

Note

how do u handle ur social anxiety? ive been struggling a lot with it lately to the point ive sorta been breaking down and what better way for advice than to ask someone that comforts u (mun[?] too)

Mun... might have something more useful for you.

aesops way of coping is probably avoidance but we all know that aint the best way aha. anyway this was one ask i could not stop thinking about because i read it n went (john mulaney voice) Huh my anxiety never got so bad till a break down, n then it happened to me a few days later. i do find this funny yes

anyway, the most useful thing ive learnt to handle my social anxiety (not entirely tho but its a good start) is to identify which trains of thought is Social Anxiety tm speaking so u can immediately know those r lies. stuff like Oh they’re laughing at me just as I walk by, they’re laughing at me, or Someone else is here, they probably hate me, I should go somewhere else but I cant, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

(if im not wrong,) usually theyre statements that are along the lines of “they hate you” or “you’re wrong”, n they’re based off an irrational fear of others that can be countered using evidence or, well, logic and rationale. things like “No one is keeping a checklist of your mistakes, you’re literally the only one doing that and scrutinizing each one of them, others dont care so much about these things.” (ive found this to be a very good counterargument to use for a lot of situations so im bolding it) or “You wouldn’t think that if someone else messes up, it should be the same for them. And if they say it isnt a big deal, it probably isnt”. for me i usually keep repeating these more logical explanations n counterarguments to myself to kinda quell the social anxiety voice for a bit. i know there are cases that it doesnt work 100%, but its a good start

n if ur also like me who avoids eating/ getting food cos theres human interaction involved, i kinda try to get my friends to drag me out whenever possible. no shame, even a simple “hey lets drop by the convenience store later so i can grab a snack” is better than starving for like. a day or so. its also cos of this whenever i plan my schedule for the day, i see if i can plan it such that its convenient for me to get food for both lunch and dinner (sorry im not one for breakfast aha). n also i find that if i dont like the food (sorry im a very picky eater), i would rather starve than eat, so now im willing to pay a bit more for food i like n will eat

or just having someone else to talk to about these kinds of things, and kinda having a second opinion of “was that weird of me” or “should i have done that” with someone (ppl give advice better to others than to themselves aha) really helps, i think. u could probably also ask for advice maybe (like this? XD) ((after i had a small meltdown that day i went to my boyfriend’s to complain for an hour n honestly that helped me to release a lot of distressed energy n its better than stewing in it for the rest of the day + i got some advice that i slowly worked on when i was feeling up to it enough))

im also still kinda bad at small talk with strangers, especially ppl whom i just met. i find a small trick to this (that again does not work all the time) is to try to find a relevant topic (background is also fine i guess, depends on context), n as they answer find something about their answer that u can branch off into another topic. it could be a personal anecdote that is remotely related to that topic, it just gives u things to talk about aha (eg someone saw me drawing n commented that one of their friends also draws, n i started talking about how i used to get really bad grades in art class. which wasnt quite the topic but it worked). n when ur ending ur turn to talk, try to have something that the other person can comment on/ answer. having said that, this is hard if the other person is equally awkward/ doesnt give u much to branch off on from their replies (i mean they really only answer your question n rarely elaborates unless prompted. eg “what did you have for lunch?” “pasta.” “oh, what kind?” “carbonara.”). then i say its only as awkward as u make it to be, perhaps u would be better off kinda just sitting together in silence. its not weird unless u make it, n not every moment has to be filled with conversation.

thank u so much for this ask by the way, social anxiety is a huge bitch to have n it sucks extra much that a lot of our fears seem incredibly stupid from a “normal” point of view n we are constantly on edge even if we seem 101% fine cos we’re not fine aha. but just know ur not alone in this, n i hope some of these might have helped.

i guess i should put some sort of disclaimer here, these r just some of my own personal problems n the solutions i have are mostly for me (maybe except for countering the thoughts), so i understand if they might not work for others. so i kinda recommend just sitting down, identifying which aspects social anxiety is affecting n finding a solution that works for u is kinda the best. try out different methods, if they dont work thats alright, if it does then thats great. it takes a lot of time, admittedly i starved myself for a couple of semesters before i found this solution for myself. it also take a lot of constant effort to counter, n to that i wish u all the best, n good luck in finding methods that work for u <3

#aesop carl #identity v #identity v embalmer #identity v the embalmer #identity v ask blog #its me the mun #mun rambles #unconcerned ramblings #OKAY SO LIKE I DIDNT REALIZE I USED THE WRONG COLOUR FOR HIS SKIN SO HE LOOKS LIKE DEATH #OR MORE LIKE DEATH THAN USUAL #SO JUST IGNORE THAT #holy shit i am so out of it today. i hope my explanations make sense tho #i have never seen a professional before except my bf who keeps telling me that i have to do something about htis #so have some. idk homemade remedies

28 notes · View notes

9worldstales · 3 years

Text

MCU: Loki and Midgardian clothes

So, I’ve seen some fans wondering how could Loki fix Mobius’ tie since Asgardians clearly do not wear ties…

…and it made me wonder ‘is this a mistake or Loki was actually familiar with Midgardians clothes?’

So let’s start with the sources at our disposition to answer this question.

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “The Avengers” (2012), “Thor – Ragnark” (2017)

Series: “Loki” [More exactly a scene from: “Marvel Studios' Loki | Official Trailer | Disney+”] (2021)

Comics: None mentioned

Direct-to-video animated film: None mentioned

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: “The Art of Thor” (2011), “The art of The Avengers” (2012), “The Art of Thor: Ragnarok” (2017), “Marvel Studios: All your questions answered” (2018)

Novels: “Thor: Ragnarok - The Junior novel” by Jim McCann (2017)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: “Thor” old movie script

Okay, now we can start.

So, as weird as it might seem at first, the second answer, which is that Loki is familiar with Midgardian modern attires, might be the intended one, right from “Thor”.

Let’s go back to that movie.

Thor is clearly unfamiliar with present day Midgard as a whole, and so are his friends.

We’ve various moments in which Thor shows he’s unaware of present day Midgardians customs, like when he can’t realize he’s in doctors’ care and thinks they’re attacking him (in a deleted bit, when they tell him they’re trying to help him, he demands they bring him healing stones, showing he has no idea how Earth’s healing system work), or when he breaks a glass asking another believing he’s showing appreciation for the drink, or when he enters in a pet shop, demands a horse and when they tell him they’ve only dogs, cats, birds, demands one of them big enough to ride.

It doesn’t mean he never went to Midgard, in the movie there’s the implication he had been on Midgard before...

Thor: We're going to Jotunheim. Fandral: What? This isn't like a journey to Earth where you summon a little lightning and thunder, and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim.

...and there was a cut scene in which he recognized being on Midgard and even calling it ‘Earth’.

Thor: Blue sky... one sun... This is Earth, isn't it?

And there’s another cut scene that says that yes, Sif and the Warriors Three had been on Earth… but a thousand years ago.

Volstagg: Is it just me, or does Earth look a little different to you? Sif: It has been a thousand years... Volstagg: Things change so fast here. You leave for a millennium, and it's like the whole neighborhood's gone.

Now, Loki was a babe in 965 AD and “Thor” takes place in 2011. Sif likely doesn’t mean exactly 1000 years but, what’s more, we don’t know how exactly Asgardians age in the MCU.

Does their childhood last as much as ours and then their aging process slow down so as to allow them to live 5000 years? Or their aging process is proportionately all slowed down and they remains babes for years?

I tend to think their childhood is fast and then they have a slower aging process once they reach a certain age, but anyway this is irrelevant. Even if Loki visited Midgard 1000 years before and was familiar with its customs back then, well, things, as Volstagg points out, are changed a lot.

So… where do we can get an idea if Loki is familiar with Midgard or not?

When Loki goes to see Thor, he shows up dressed up in 21st century Midgardian attire.

In “The Art of Thor” is said:

Said Craig Kyle, “Loki wants to look good, he’s a man of style… Loki actually has three looks, Thor has one.” In addition to the three costumes he wears in the otherworldy realm of Asgard, Loki also makes a brief appearance in a suit and tie. Said Tom Hiddleston, “When he turns up on Earth in the movie, [he’s] very GQ.”

(For who, like me, is not familiar with the term GQ, it is used to describe a guy who is dressed nicely, very sleek, or very sexy to the ladies, The term comes from the men's fashion magazine named GQ (=Gentlemen's Quarterly).)

They don’t really explains why Loki decided to dress up like that, but the fact he chose to is meaningful.

Loki was going to see Thor, and he only let Thor see him.

He appears in the room Thor was, presumably after waiting for a while inside it but invisible since he complains about how he thought Coulson would never leave. When Coulson is back, Loki has magically disappeared again.

People doesn’t see Loki, not even when he tries to lift up Mjolnir.

Long story short, Loki’s attire is not to disguise himself as a human among humans and walk among them unnoticed, as he just doesn’t let them see him at all, and if he were, his very fashionable outfit would likely draw more gazes than anything else (compare it with Coulson’s plain suit), especially when he tries to lift Mjolnir while all around it there are scientists dresses in scientist garbs and guards dressed in guard uniforms.

So we can see Loki didn’t need to dress as a human to see Thor, he could have very well gone there in his normal Asgardians clothes, like he does when he goes to visit Laufey...

...though he could have forsaken the armour when visiting Thor, and just show up in his normal attire.

Instead Loki picked up a stylish Midgardian outfit to go meet his brother. Be it an illusion (more likely) or real clothes, Loki knew how a fashionable 21st century Midgardian would dress and decided to dress as such even though there was no need for it. This implies a familiarity with Midgard, or at least with its dressing style, which I genuinely doubt could have been a topic of study for Asgardians... even though Odin too was familiar with Midgardians attires as, when he bans Thor to Earth, he changes his clothes into modern, ordinary, definitely not fashionable Midgardian ones.

Loki knows the secret paths between words, it can be he travelled to Midgard and, once there, grew to like the elegant style we have.

But yes, this doesn’t necessarily mean he could learn how to fix a tie, as his clothes might be an illusion.

The final bit of “Thor” is a bit of a confusing thing as it shows Loki (dressed in Asgardian clothes) invisible to other people’s eyes controlling Selvig...

...which is confirmed by “Marvel Studios: All your questions answered” which describes that scene as:

Loki controls Selvig as he examines the Tesseract.

If Loki had controlled Selvig for an extensive period he might have learnt to tie ties as Selvig wears one.

However, although this scene was created and directed by Joss Whedon, this scene is kind of forgotten when “The Avengers” rolls around.

In it Selvig is free from Loki’s control until Loki uses the sceptre with the mind stone to turn him into his servant.

Now… “The Avengers”.

The story starts by night, with Loki arriving in the S.H.I.E.L.D. research center in which Selvig is studying the Tesseract.

Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Steve Roger and Tony Stark are all warned during night. It’s possible it’s the same night, maybe it’s the night after.

It’s full day when Steve Roger travels with Coulson. The following scene shows Loki remembering his talk with the Other and then we’ve Steve reaching the Helicarrier and meeting up with Natasha and Bruce.

Then Loki shows up at Stuttgart Museum again dressed up in 21st Century attire with his sceptre disguised as a cane. This time Loki is sort of disguising himself, as he’s actually planning to draw attention on himself but, at first, in a subtle manner so it makes sense he dressed up as a Midgardian to move among Midgardians so as not to alert common people but end up being tracked by SHIELD because they can see him on monitors and recognize him… something they wouldn’t be able to do had he been invisible.

Loki drops his disguise only later, after he has sent a holographic image of Dr. Heinrich Schafer’s eye to Barton. He confront with Steve and Tony and vanish his armour… remaining in Asgardian clothes. He’s short after taken by Thor, who then argues with Steve and Tony until Thor decides to get along with them and Loki is carried on the Helicarrier all in the same night.

Natasha takes care to inform us Loki killed 80 people in 2 days. This should mean Loki is on Midgard by two days.

Why all this is relevant?

Again Loki dressed up as a stylish Midgardian,

...his clothes similar to the ones he had in “Thor” yet vaguely different (in “Thor” the coat is green, in “The Avengers” black and the scarf motive is slightly different) and even knew that, in order to disguise the sceptre, he can’t mask it as, let’s say, a pitchfork but a cane. It’s true, since he’s been on Earth by 2 days, this time he could have gotten that knowledge by Barton or Selvig.

“The art of The Avengers” again doesn’t tell us much apart that:

“Joss and Kevin both wanted a different look for Loki in The Avengers, in part for the fans and in part to serve the story,” Visual Development Supervisor Charlie Wen said.” For Loki, his costumes evolved from the super-clean look of the Asgard from Thor to a much grittier and more lived-in look to show the changes he’s gone through since then.” “For Thor and Loki, much of our inspiration came from Jack Kirby’s original character designs,” Wen said. “Loki represent mischief. He is a cultured traveller.”

But, if we put clothes aside, Loki is also aware of how:

Loki: The humans slaughter each other in droves, while you idly threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?

It’s something Thor didn’t seem to know/realize.

This seems to imply Loki knows about Earth’s history or, at least, of its present situation. Yes, he might have had a crash course in history of Earth courtesy by Clint or Selvig, but he might have also learnt it by himself in trips on Earth since Odin didn’t seem interested in Earth beyond protecting it from some attacks from creatures from other realms (he helps against the Frost Giants, however he doesn’t seem aware of the Skrulls and Krees walking on its surface nor he cares to check what humans do with the Tesseract doing nothing when Red Skull uses it to produce weapons) so he might not have bothered having his son learning about Midgard’s history and situation.

The last time we see Loki dressed as a human is in “Thor: Ragnarok”.

In it his clothes are much more simple than usual as he only wears a black suit, no scarf, no coat.

In “The Art of Thor: Ragnarok” there’s actually not one but 2 arts for more elaborate suits with coat but they were clearly discharged as Loki never wears them in the movie.

“Thor: Ragnarok The Junior novel” which is based on an earlier script says:

They were dressed in regular Earth street wear – shirt and slacks – and Thor carried an umbrella. His hair was swept back into a ponytail. Loki’s magic was projecting an illusion onto the duo.

...which seems to imply the scriptwriter originally didn’t even think dressing Loki stylish… and anyway mostly focused on Thor... so it’s possible Loki’s attire in the movie is a compromise between the scriptwriter, who though to dress Loki in shirt and slacks, and "Thor: Ragnarok” Visual Development Supervisor Andy Park who wanted to put him in an elegant and stylish suit as the other Visual Development Supervisors had done.

Still, the scriptwriter too thinks Loki is aware of how, if Thor wants to keep an object in his hands, it has to look like something ordinary and how an umbrella can fit the bill. As it didn’t rain during Loki’s short permanence on Earth, the fact he knows umbrellas exist and is acceptable to carry them around seems to imply Loki has an idea of how Earth works.

So all this to say… yes, Loki might be more familiar with Earth than it looked like and he might have learnt how to make a tie or, at least, how to fix it since this is more what he seems to do in that scene in “Marvel Studios' Loki | Official Trailer | Disney+”

We can only wait and see if “Loki” will give us more explanations about this scene or it will just toss it in and not bother to explain it at all.

Meanwhile I’ll have fun thinking before things went wrong Loki used to come on Earth and look up on fashion magazines and love the idea of how good he would look in such clothes that he began to dress up according to Midgard fashion style each time he got to set a feet on it.

#loki #loki odinson #thor #thor odinson #volstagg #fandral #lady sif #mcu loki #mcu thor #mcu the avengers #mcu thor ragnarok #9 worlds study

36 notes · View notes

chicoriii · 3 years

Text

Season 4, Episode 2 - Mensonge (Lies)

Welcome again. I had been logged out from Tumblr for the whole weekend, because I was afraid of untagged spoilers, as I've seen one screenshot here accidentally, fortunately it wasn't spoilerish. And I've watched the Lies today. Again without reading other's people opinion about the episode, so I probably write things that have been said before.

I enjoyed it more than Truth. But not because it's better written, I think the overall quality of both is similar. Lies is about characters I care about more, so it's natural that the episode is automatically more interesting to me. I dislike both Luka and Jagged (to be fair the only member of the Couffaine family I like is Juleka) and that would be hard to make me caring about them, the best thing I could say about any of those characters is that I tolerate them on screen. Sometimes. Don't get me wrong, Truth was the best episode for Luka and Jagged, but they are still dull and/or annoying to me. Creators need to develop son-father relationship more to make me interested in it, that arc was too shallow in Truth.

But the post is about Adrigami episode, not Lukanette one.

I'm surprised that we got only one not very long scene with civilian Marinette. But not surprised that she's still pining over Adrien. Just like Chat is pining over Ladybug. As I'm keeping saying, it's not gonna change. But really, Marinette thinks that Adrien's life is perfect? She should know that tight schedule could be a big problem and has she forgotten what terrible father is Gabriel? Of course she doesn't know details we know, but she should be aware that he isn't as good parent like her own. So probably her enamored brain can't see bad sides of life of her loved one. She still can't think rational when it comes to him. Another reason why she should stop putting him on a pedestal. We need some friendly Adrienette so badly, we need to see Adrien telling her more bad things in his life. He isn't used to complain, but I think he needs to tell someone the truth about his family life. I hope Marinette will be that person.

I had been tired of clown Chat in Truth, but this episode lets us to see the situation from his point of view and now I understand more why he behaves like that. I think that he tries to hide from Ladybug how much he miss spending time with her that way. He is aware that's because of her new responsibility and he doesn't want to make her feel bad for it. Those scenes were so sweet. How much Chat wants an Akuma to appear just to see his lady. Not very noble, but I can't blame him. It only shows that Adrien is a normal human being. We all are selfish from time to time and it's healthy (you only have to find a good balance, being as selfish as Chloé and as selfless as Luka is not good).

Geez, why they can't put the right title of the piece? That's a different composition than that one used back in season 2, but the smartphone's screen says the same. And none of them is actually Raindrop Prelude. This is Raindrop Prelude. They are not even any of Chopin's preludes. I won't be surprised if both are not Fryderyk Chopin's compositions either (although I haven't heard all the solo piano pieces composed by him, so I can't be sure). I love classical music, so I'd love to know what pieces Adrien's playing! By the way, I recommend to listen to all of the 24 preludes, they are usually very short but interesting compositions. If you're too lazy to listen to all, check out number 20 at least, that's a pure, very atmospheric, beauty. One of my favourites melodies ever created.

I have always thought that Adrigami has more chemistry and it's generally more entertaining to watch than Lukanette (sorry stans, but you probably don't even follow me and read my posts, there's a reason why I'm warning that my blog is not Luka and Lukanette friendly in its description). I feel that in this episode as well. Absolutely it's not a perfect relationship and it can't be, as Adrien is still into Ladybug. It's clear that Kagami is the one who really cares, Adrien is more distant. It seems that he's abashed of Kagami's physical intimacy, like he can't be open to her when he's still in love with Ladybug. That was really sad to hear Kagami's words that she's lying to be more often with him and he lies to not spend time with her. But relationship can't work if only one side is invested in it and they both need to learn it. They have some things in common, I like how they spending time together, so I'm sure they would work much better as friends. I'm sorry for Kagami and I wish her a better boyfriend who would love her truly. In some way it was a repeat of Truth, as we've seen Adrien leaving Kagami all of sudden, because of Akuma's attacks, but this time it's not as heavily portrayed like it's not working only because of superhero responsibility, that I didn't like in the previous episode. Another reason why I liked how Adrigami is shown more.

I really, really loved that we've learnt something new about Kagami and that's amazing it's something I have in common with her. I'm really surprised, since she didn't seem to have an artistic soul before. I also love seeing she likes draw animals, it's like me, I'm trying practise it. I enjoy drawing animals (and creatures like Kwamis or Pokémon) more than humans. But at the same time I feel angry at her mother. How could she dare to say that Kagami isn't good enough? Trying to kill a child's hobby is always unforgivable. She's much better than me (I'm a little jealous, but that's not the first time when a teen has much better skill than me), but my family and some others I know in real life often say that I'm talented and some people try to convince me to take pay commissions. That’s me who knows the best than I'm not skilled enough to take money for my art (they don't know really good artists in person and they don’t draw themselves, so no wonder they are not aware that my works aren't that good they think). Maybe some day, but not now, so I only enjoy drawing gifts for others. I'm also got interested in a real French artist she mentioned - Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and I've seen some of his works. Very good for Miraculous for mentioning artist like him, I have never heard about him before, but maybe French students learn about him in school.

Seeing Adrien making Chat's pose was hilarious. I'm sure it's food for true selves trope supporters, but I also agree with Kagami that both model poses and Chat's poses are not ALL Adrien poses. He's more than that. That seemed like he has problems with being natural when he's on the pressure. He's learned how to make model poses, but I also think that when he is in full clown mode is also an act. But that's a mask which he has putted all by himself. In which he tries to be as much different than his public image as he can. Of course being dorky is also a true Adrien side, but not all the time. Being just a cute and polite boy is also true him. It seems that Adrien is not aware of it.

Marinette's lucky charm bracelet is an akumatised object once more. That and the fact she was asking him what he was doing on the boat tell us that Kagami probably think that Adrien is in love with Marinette (it could make also her wonder what stop them from being together if she knows that Marinette likes him as well).

I also liked her reaction to imminent breaking up more. It's more human reaction in my opinion. Some anger, but not too much. She says she doesn't want to see him for a while and that's completely understandable. Adrien has broken her heart, so she need some time to take care of herself without being interrupted by him. I'm going to say something that could be seen controversial, but in my opinion her attitude is way more healthy than Luka's. He still waits for a girl who clearly likes another boy much, but she's trying to really give up on him. And I would like to see a scene in which she says him that Marinette is not worth his waiting, he should be open for another love instead. Uff, I was really worried that they might kill Adrien and Kagami characters. But nothing really bad happened in the episode between them, everything was in-character. Of course salters will still find reasons to hate Kagami, they can say she's possessive towards him (that's true to some extent, but I think it's not really toxic, as she's still cares about his true feelings).

I need to say that Lies is the worst S4 Akuma design we've seen till now. Riposte and Oni-chan were much better. Also the battle was the worst part of this episode in my opinion. It wasn't completely bad, but it felt somewhat boring to me. I definitely enjoyed fights against Truth and Furious Fu more. The thing about that I liked the most what how they made use of Fang.

So the season 4 version of Chat Noir's transformation theme is exactly the same they used in the Shanghai special. It wasn't obvious, since Ladybug's one is a different one than that in the show. I noticed that that Ladybug's theme feels more like a new composition which only uses parts of an original version, while Chat's is clearly "just" an arrangement of the theme we know since season 1. Maybe that's because it's supposed to symbolise that she has even more responsibility now, as she's the Guardian as well. Chat's role hasn't changed that much as hers. I also think the new arrangement sounds cooler, it's more electric guitar-driven. I can't wait to get any of the episodes in which there's his transformation sequence with 5.1 audio to rip it.

All three released episodes are nice for Ladynoir a lot, their scenes are all sweet and wholesome. It almost feel like Ladynoir is close to happen. But I feel that's just calm before the storm. Marinette hasn't reached to her worst moment yet. I'm sure Ladybug will have more breakdowns like that in the season 3 finale.

Three episodes aired and I'm not amazed by any of them. But I don't want to be salty, I'm not worried about that. That's true for season 3 as well, I enjoy the second part of the season more as well. It's important to save the best episodes for later. And I have never expected that I would love all the S4 episodes, despite of pre-release statements, it's impossible. I'm not disappointed. Yet. Just give me some Adrienette food. Please.

#miraculous ladybug #ml lies #ml season 4 #ml season 4 spoilers #ml spoilers #ml spoiler #chicoriii about S4 episodes #chicoriii #original post

34 notes · View notes

exploring-art · 3 years

Text

Films made without a camera

Zoetrope and Praxinoscopes, Rotoscoping, Stopmotion, Additive and Subtractive Techniques

Hello! It’s been a while~

Over the weeks since my last post, we’ve come across many techniques to create film without a camera (or at least an analog camera). This’ll be a longer post but I’ll be recapping some of what I’ve learnt and what inspires me for each one!

Zoetrope and Praxinoscopes

Zoetrope, meaning “turning life” in Greek is the early type of animation machine from still images.

I think the first time I ever saw one of these was in a science museum and has ever since loved them. Though I haven’t looked into it in recent years, I’m amazed about how much they have developed over time. From how people have developed it into 3D zoetropes to even inverted and shadow zoetropes

One that really interested me was Moray McLaren’s “We Got Time”

The seemingly one take video took my breath away the first time I saw it. It felt like it was truly hypnotizing; drawing you in. I just loved the take on a modern zoetrope and the story telling ability, along with how they were able to stack up several zoetropes on top of each other, then remove it again too.

Moray McLaren - We Got Time

The other was Christine Veras “Silhouette Zoetrope”

It’s a simple yet intricate piece where the zoetrope is “inside out”. I really liked the illusion it was able to create, with the bird “disappearing” as you move the zoetrope since it is backlit.

Silhouette Zoetrope

Here is an example of a 3D zoetrope using the Catbus from Tottoro!:

Rotoscoping

I never knew that this technique was called rotoscoping. Rotoscope is when a source material is used and traced over or cut out parts of the image to create a new composite image, kind of like a traced stop motion animation. Now that I think about it, there are a lot of these on TikTok where people animate dance moves onto anime characters digitally. Below is a link TikTok compilations on Youtube:

Anime characters dancing compilation | tiktok compilation | 2021

I always wondered how they were able to do it. But now that I know, I can’t wait to try this out myself - both for this project on analog film or personally digitally. There are also several videos on how to rotoscope on Youtube that it makes me really excited to try.

Stop motion

Stop motion will always have a place in my heart as it was the first film technique I ever did with claymation and using images taken on burst mode. There’s always more for me to learn and its never ending. I normally use a simple video editor and take the images frame by frame, but we were introduced with an application which would definitely make things easier, so I might fiddle around with that next time as it helps to actually see the onion layering while taking the photos instead of post editing them to line up.

There are a lot of examples of stop motion animation that I’m interested in - from those done in big picture such as Disney works and movies like Kubo, to shows like Wallace and Gromit, and more with Soupe Opéra as an example:

Soupe Opéra 16 - Soup Opera 16

Additive and Subtractive Techniques

Last but not least is working on the film itself. There are several things that have been done to the film:

Scratching - leaving marks on the film

Adding - from pasting inanimate objects such as flora, newspaper, washi tape to painting acrylic, markers/ textas, and nail polish → anything can be added so long as it is thin enough to fit into the steenbeck/ flatbed scanner

Note: if whatever you are adding onto the film is flaky, it’s best to tape it down with clear tape (and recut the sprocket holes out again) in case it clogs up the scanner

Bleach - which warps the colours, makes the film faint or even “bleach” it out. It is quite a unique and an unknown medium that gives off surprising results

Aging - can be done in various ways → from sun, leaving in the dark, buried, and more. The only issue is that it does take time to age well

Here are some I did myself!

Working with film without a camera is quite time intensive, however all these techniques have given me insight to what I can do and more. I have several ideas now floating in my head and things I can use for my final, but won’t say anything just yet!

#experimental film

8 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker

AN: This is a continuation of the last chapter, so it’s still gonna be dark, but if I remember correctly this should be last chapter that’s like this.

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: physical/mental abuse, torture

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

"I can't do this," I breathed, before turning to Charles, shaking my head. "I can't do this," I repeated, putting my hand to my mouth as I backed away from the two men next to me. "I-I n-need to get out of here!" I exclaimed, clenching my eyes shut in an attempt to remove myself to escape the memories I've buried for so long.

I began to feel hot and dizzy. I felt like there were walls closing in on me and I had no escape.

"Calm your mind, Claudia," Charles advised gently, but I only felt the hammering of my heart in my chest intensify. "Claudia, look at me, you need to calm down. Claudia!" Charles grabbed my arms, yanking me from my own head and my eyes snapped opened. I began to hyperventilate, eyes focusing on everything and nothing as the telepath took my face in his hands and forced me to concentrate on him. "Claudia, you need to calm down or you're going to split your mind in two," he explained, his face twisting in pain. "Your mind is screaming so loud you're hurting me," Charles said through gritted teeth.

"Make it stop," I begged, searching his eyes. "Please, make it stop," I whispered, grabbing his hands and placing them at my temples.

Charles looked at me, his eyes wide and sympathetic, "Love, I've tried and nothing has worked. I push any harder and the results might be disastrous for the both of us," he explained, his hands drawing back to his own temples. "It's almost like your mind wants you to work through these unpleasant memories, because it's something that needs to be done," Charles' soft voice whispered in my ear.

"I don't want to remember," I gritted out, trying to stop the panic from rising in my chest even further. "Just make it stop," I whispered.

"It's okay," Charles coaxed. "You're going to be okay," he assured, gently grabbing both of my hands. "You just need to calm down,"

I ripped my hand out of his, focusing on something calm. What was calm?

"You don't know. You don't know what he made me do! You don't know what a sick bastard he was. I do," I breathed, my chest heaving.

Erik and Charles stared at me sympathetically and as a drop of water fell from my chin I realized why. I'd been crying. Angrily wiping my face with my hand, a frown formed on my face as the three of us were thrown into another memory. We were in a foyer of a house. I found myself turning my head from left to right multiple times, my breathing heavy and labored. Most people would love to have a house as big as this one, with the supposed openness and modern facilities that are pleasing to the eye. Yes, I can see that, but with the merciless and cruel encounters I have had here, I don't share the same opinions as the majority.

Truly, it was a nice space...one of which many would be proud of claiming ownership of, at least that of which I have actually seen. The floors were made of beautiful, stained wood and the walls painted a lovely crimson give an aristocratic aura to the house. At least, apart from the basement corridors that I know by heart. Those claustrophobic walls were a miserable gray and were accompanied by the dulled and creaky russet floor.

Two sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway moving away from us, unconsciously I began to follow behind them until I was standing on the backyard stoop. The light from the sun was shining brightly and it was almost an enchanting light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that could block it's majestic rays. And there stood Professor Lewis and myself in the middle of his backyard.

"Claudia, I want you to use your telekinesis to lift each of the objects on the ground," Professor Lewis pointed to a tennis ball, baseball, basket ball, brick, and cinder block. The object grew larger and heavier. "Once you lift them, I want you to psychically push them into those baskets ten feet away. This will help you learn how to levitate and also toss objects of varying weight. It will also help you regulate how much power you need to lift certain weights,"

"I understand," she answered calmly, nodding her head as a smile appeared on her lips.

But she was anything but calm and enthusiastic. She was going into this kicking and screaming. She was nervous. Jumpy. Stressed. Frustrated. Lost. Found. Happy. Sad. She wanted to vomit. Her mutation was unpredictable and uncontrollable. That wasn't until a pair of hands placed themselves on her waist from behind her, almost grounding her in a way. Professor Lewis leaned down to her ear and whispered something that made the two of them laugh, and just before he released her waist Professor Lewis pressed his lips to her cheek.

"You'll do fine," he murmured.

I could feel the burning stares of Charles and Erik on the back of my head.

"He really played me like a fool," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief at my younger self's stupidity and naivety.

"You two were together," Charles stated gently. "You were a couple," he added, his voice never taking an accusatory tone.

A humorless chuckled escaped from me, "And I have wanted to throw myself in front of a bus because of it," I confirmed, looking down at the ground biting my lip

Feelings of sickness, disgust, and shame spread throughout body as I remembered how readily I ate up his little praises. He gave me all the validation that I so desperately wanted as a child from my own parents. It wasn't long before his seemingly innocent compliments turned into something more; the lingering stares and touches to the kisses on my hand or forehead. And I foolishly allowed his affectionate gestures to escalate, thinking that I was in love with this man. So, when Professor Lewis declaration of love for me came out during a candlelit dinner I was so overcome with emotion from his "tenderness" that on the same night, I gave myself to him, willingly.

And that's when he had me ensnared, ensnared into his web of lies.

I was young and dumb and couldn't see the clear manipulation and grooming that was going on. No, I was too busy being a lovesick fool. He promised me that he would never, ever let harm come to me while I was with him, and I believed him. But everything he promised me was a dirty, filthy lie. I remembered.

I remembered every fucking thing he did to me.

"Did you love him?" Erik asked.

"Yes," I answered softly, turning around to face Charles and Erik. "But I had learnt very quickly that his love for me was all a facade," I recalled.

Just remembering that I had consensually slept with Professor Lewis made want to puke. I watched as Professor Lewis' backyard and everything around it seemingly disintegrated before us only for our surroundings to change into a small library. We were still on Professor Lewis' property, but it was a different time, a different date. If my memory serves me correctly then this is when I began to realize Professor Lewis was not the sweet, loving man I thought he was.

"You would be...in my mind?" Professor Lewis could see that she was wrestling with her own doubt and he was worried that her fear would get in the way of their training. At last, he saw Claudia nod in agreement, but her features were tightened in anxiety.

"Relax,"

Her expression was anything but calm, and he decided that it couldn't be helped. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he pressed two fingers to his temple and pushed forward into her mind. Claudia knew the second Professor Lewis' mind merged with her own. The moment it happened, she was overwhelmed with such a sense of fear that it was difficult for her to think about anything else. She could feel him in her thoughts, and the foreign presence had such a sense of wrong to it that she gagged in disgust. It wasn't right. Her mind was her own.

"No!"

Claudia abruptly and backed away from her mentor, nearly tripping over the foot rest that sat behind her. Claudia wasn't sure whether her words were spoken aloud or inside her head, but the minute they were said she felt Professor Lewis withdraw.

"I can't do this," she couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bear to look and see what surely would have been disappointment.

Perhaps he was angry with her for not following through. Before he had a chance to say anything to her, Claudia turned and fled from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. But Claudia could still feel the lightest touch of Professor Lewis' emotions. And a sudden wave of anger bombarded her mind from the other side of the wall, making her gasp as one thought crossed her mind.

"There would be hell to pay for that," I stated, repeating the thought I had.

"Stand up!"

The sharp words made us all turn around, only for us to witness another memory of mine. We were standing in a small study, I watched as my twenty year-old self tried to force her body to cooperate.

She could feel the security guard's irritation before his hand came down across her cheek. She stumbled and nearly fell again, when hands caught her.

"Now, now, be nice. She's just a girl," the words were kind, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It was Professor Lewis. He always had kind words for her, but his emotions didn't match up. She swallowed hard and moved away from him. The guard left them alone, like they normally did. "Now, Claudia, are you feeling better than yesterday? Will you use your powers again?" It was the question he asked every day.

She stared at him, tears swimming in her eyes, "Please, please let me go. I've done all your tests, you can keep the money. Please, just let me go!" she pleaded, tensing herself as his disappointment that barely covered rage washed over her. "Ah, Claudia, you disappoint me. What would your parents think of you, a college dropout?" he just sighed and rang his bell.

She closed her eyes as sobs wracked her body. Two security guards grabbed her roughly from the room, ignoring her squeak of pain as they gripped places where the shackles had dug into her skin and made marks.

"Take her to the lab,"Professor Lewis ordered, as she was dragged away.

I unconsciously rubbed my wrist and traced my the scars on my wrist, I turned away and stared at Erik and saw his jaw clench as Professor Lewis walked out his office, I looked over and watch Charles' horrified expression. Time seemed to speed up as if someone hit the fast-forward button. Now we were in the lab.

As my younger self came to consciousness, she barely had time to regain her senses before all she could think about was the intense, sweltering heat that slowly seemed to be eating her alive like some ravenous animal that had no control over it's appetite. Her blood boiled beneath her skin, bringing silent screams up her throat though she couldn't set them free due to the fact that her body refused to allow her control because of the drugs swimming around in her system.

Throat running dry from constricted sobs and body aching from the endless thrashing against her restraints, she laid on a metal laboratory table. Feeling the ever rising panic claw at the edge of her psyche, she made another attempt to get of the table and get out, as far away as she could, but the minuscule motion caused fire to spread in her muscles, and breathing came even harder.

Broken ribs.

Forcing herself to move, she brought a hand gently to her face, feeling dried blood there, from a gash near her hairline. Her shirt was also stiff with dried blood, caused by the blood that trickled out her nose. Moving to her abdomen, she felt the tender bruise that had been caused the last time she fought, and staring at her hands, she saw black and blue bruises mixed with dry blood.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us," an oily voice announced. "Hey Robert, the girl's awake,"

Turning her head, she saw the raven haired man known as David. Glancing at her with piercing grey eyes, he leered at her in a manner that made her feel dirty, effectively putting her on her guard, her focus sharp, despite the headache that was making her dizzy.

"Leave her alone, David," the other man named Robert commented. "Professor Lewis will kill you if you hurt her," he added, not looking up from his clipboard.

"I'm not going to hurt her," David sneered, inching closer, reaching out and touching her face. She flinched. "I just want to have some fun with her, that's all,"

"Your idea of fun won't be hers, David," the other man spat. "Go. Tell Professor Lewis she's awake," he ordered.

With a growl at being ordered around, the other male left angrily.

Our surroundings shifted again.

"So, you would abandon me, your fellow mutant, for a race that will try to destroy you?" Professor Lewis said menacingly, looking down at the girl before him. "You disappointed me again Claudia. I thought you were better, wiser. To think that I've given you everything since we met. A second home, education, training, and this is how you thank me. By disobeying me. Your parents would have been ashamed of you"

"B-Bringing up my parents doesn't work anymore, Professor Lewis," she stammered, mentally kicking herself for not being able to sound confident and strong. Every time she and Professor Lewis had an argument her voice would turn shaky, making him assume she was afraid of him.

And she was but her anger had the upper hand.

"That sounded very convincing," Professor Lewis snickered. "Claudia you care so much about humans, but have you forgotten that you have made humans beg for their death countless times?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Claudia glared at Professor Lewis, he wore a mocking smile on his face, "You made me do that Professor. I would never have used my power in that manner if it weren't for your teaching methods," she remarked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You wouldn't have any power if it weren't for my teaching methods, Claudia,"

"Well maybe I would have preferred it that way, Professor," she retorted.

Professor Lewis' eyes narrowed, "I think we're done for now, we'll talk again tomorrow," He turned around and walked towards a liquor cupboard to get himself some nice scotch. "I'll tell that nice gentlemen, David, to escort you to your room," the amusement was clearly audible in his voice.

He knew Claudia hated David with every fiber of her being.

I watched as the memory faded to black, just like a movie I would see at the theater. This is what all this felt like, one long movie about my life. Then everything around us turned bright as a golden dust rippled in front of us horizontally in a tidal wave fashion until they both clashed at one another, meeting at the center.

Professor Lewis and Claudia were on the rooftop of one the many university buildings, leaning against the ledge as they overlooked the rather empty campus. Night had fallen and the moon had risen above the quiet campus grounds.

Oh God, not this night. This was the night that I knew there was a darkness within me, maybe it was always there, but lying dormant, or maybe Professor Lewis planted the seeds for it to grow within me. It was one year since I'd met him and with his training I had quickly learned to control my empathy and telekinesis, and found it necessary to teach myself how to build mental shields to block out Professor Lewis if I wanted to stay sane.

"You know what today marks Claudia?" Professor Lewis asked, looking over at her.

"I do not," Claudia answered, shaking her head. "Please enlighten me," she said, as the warm night air ruffled her hair.

Professor Lewis lifted his hand and brushed stands of hair from her face, "Today, is the one year anniversary of me being the luckiest man by meeting the most lovely and powerful creature on this planet," he proclaimed, running his thumb down her cheek.

A gloom yellow light glinted over the two, so Professor Lewis could maintain eye contact with the woman in front of him. A delicate smile splayed on her lips, as her brown eyes hold onto his.

"You sure know how to make a woman feel special," she snorted, turning her body to face him.

He turned his body as well, "My methods have made you stronger have they not?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Yes," Claudia answered stiffly.

Professor Lewis grinned at her, "Then that's all that matters," he agreed, as he placed his hands on Claudia's hips pulling her closer. "As a matter of fact, why don't you show me how far you've come since being under my tutelage," he suggested, still smiling at her.

"Fine," Claudia agreed mirroring his smile. "But, only because you're cute," she added, a wicked smirk now forming on her lips.

"Atta girl," he cheered, placing a quick kiss to her lips.

Claudia smiled, and while still looking right at him, she moved her fingers. Wisps of purple aura slowly slithered upwards Professor Lewis' body and his eyes widened as he watched the energy spread all around him. Professor Lewis couldn't move. He had forced her to use this side of her mutation over and over again to make it stronger and now it was used against him.

"Claudia, what are you doing?" Professor Lewis asked, and for the first time she seen an emotion that he never expressed.

Fear.

"I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago," she answered, lifting her hand up and drifting Professor Lewis from the safety of the rooftop to dangling him over the ledge of the building.

"Please dear, let's be reasonable," Professor Lewis pleaded, sounding slightly shaky.

"No," Claudia answered simply, her smirk only widened as she read his emotions like an open book, confusion, fear, desperation. "You never offered me the same courtesy," she reminded, a humorless chuckle escaping her body.

"You kill me then what Claudia? You were nothing without me! You were nothing but a scared girl!" he snarled.

"I think I will manage without you just fine," She assured, flashing him a faux smile. "It's like said you earlier, under your tutelage I have grown stronger," she repeated mockingly, before releasing her hold on him.

I watched as Professor Lewis dropped from our sights. There was an abrupt scream of terror from Professor Lewis before it was cut off as his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. My younger self causally strolled to the ledge and peered and we followed behind her. The sight was a grim a one.

Professor Lewis was surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, his limbs bent in unnatural ways.

"My God," Charles commented, his face ashen.

Laughter bubbled out of my younger self, and we turned to look at her, her shoulders shook with laughter.

"Goodbye Harry," Claudia said coldly and she walked away.

Turning her back against her teacher and her fellow mutant.

An earsplitting scream of horror reverberated the air, but not once did that seem to bother her, she continued walking and with a flip of her hair she slipped back into the building.

"I've never felt so exposed except with my time with Professor Lewis. What will they think of me now? Will they think I'm a monster? Will they-" I thought, and my breath quickened.

The world around us becomes clear once more and we're back in the library I collapsed, hyperventilating, gasping for air. I turned to my friends and I can't tell if their faces are those of pity or disgust. I pulled myself up, stumbling everywhere, and run as fast as I can away from them.

~~~x~~~

I could sense from Charles' emotions that he had approached my closed door, and waited outside for several minutes, until he tapped softly on the door, calling out gently.

"Claudia, are you in there? It's Charles,"

When he was met with no response, I could hear Charles tightened his grip on the doorknob.

"Claudia, I'm going to come in now. If you wish to be alone, please indicate so and I will leave immediately," Charles' statement was met with nothing but silence once again, so he turned the handle of the door, opening it slowly.

When the door had been opened, my back was facing him as I stared out the window blankly, tears flowing freely down my face. Charles stood in the entryway, before closing the door behind him. Stepping forward uncertainly and receiving no reaction at all from me, Charles walked across the room towards window I was facing, covering the area in several long strides. He knelt on his knees next to the bed so that he was looking directly at me.

I could tell Charles was unsure of what to say, so I broke the silence first, "You know I got away with the murders?" I asked raspily, finally looking at Charles.

Charles' furrowed his brow, "What?" he asked bewildered.

"Confusion is a funny thing, especially if you have the power to manipulate it. John was so very confused, he didn't know I was a mutant. So I exploited his confusion and I convinced John that it was a murder-suicide, James was friends with those boys at one point, but stopped hanging out with them once he met me. I told John that's the reason they killed him, and then I lied about one of the boys being the ‘freak’ and that he killed the trio out of bloodlust after killing James, shortly killing himself out of guilt," I explained, scooting over and patting the bed so Charles could sit on my bed.

Charles stood up and gently sat on my bed and reached out, softly wiping the tear streaks from my face with the pad of his thumb.

"Claudia, love, I'm so sorry-I-" Charles started.

"You didn't know?" I finished, raising my eyebrow expectantly. "Well, now you why I don't like people in my head," I stated, letting out a sigh. "I can't begin to describe to you the horror that comes with knowing that your mind isn't as safe as you think it is," I commented, briefly closing my eyes.

"I just never would have guessed these things happened to you, when we first met, you were so carefree," Charles explained, his hand now moving to my hair and stroking it.

"What did you want Charles? A big flashing sign, saying 'I've had a traumatizing life'," I retorted, tilting my head slightly. "Charles, there aren't many people who care about the plight of a colored woman in America, what makes you think they would sympathize with a black woman who's also a mutant?" I questioned, dropping my gaze to my hand. "I swallowed a bitter pill by coming to the realization that no one will truly care about me," I finished, looking back up at Charles.

"You're wrong," he corrected, he spoke gently, never breaking his gaze away from mine. "I care about you, and so does everyone in the mansion," Charles insisted.

He started rubbing soothing patterns on the back my hand with his thumb, Charles lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles just as someone knocked twice before entering. The now familiar undercurrent of anger told me it was Erik. But I didn't want to move my hand from Charles', the warmth, the comfort, and affection wrapping themselves around me were too blissful to bring to an end. I turned my head to look at Erik, slipping my hand from Charles', I shifted from me laying on my side to pushing myself up to leaning the headboard.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked gently.

"I've been better," I answered, as Erik took a seat at the foot of my bed. It was silence between the three of us and I stared down at my hands, suppressing the urge to raise a hand to my lips and bite my thumb. "It's like you said Charles..." I stated, trailing off and the two of them looked at each other confusion.

"What?" Charles asked confused.

"The night you two recruited me," I began, looking between the two men. "You said, 'There is danger within me,'" I recited, looking at Charles and his eyes widened.

"Claudia I-" he started.

"I'm not mad Charles," I interrupted, shaking my head. "You're right. I've hurt people," I admitted, my mouth forming a thin line.

"We understand," Charles assured me, his kind eyes staring into mine.

My lips quirked into a small smile before I cleared my throat, "There is something that I should tell you two," I stated.

"And what would that be?" Erik asked curiously.

"When I killed those boys when I was younger, I should've been upset, but it was cathartic. I enjoyed it," I answered truthfully, my eyes shifting between them to gauge their reactions.

"They had just murdered your boyfriend in front of you, it's understandable Claudia," Erik justified.

"No, Erik, a normal person would swear to never use their powers in such a way again. But not me, I rather liked the idea of being able to control people. And when Professor Lewis-" I started.

"When he abducted you?" Erik asked motionlessly, cutting me off. "He used you, tortured you?"

"No Erik, I agreed to go with him. And that's a mistake I will always regret. He was one of us," I explained softly. "I thought I could trust him," I added, shaking my head.

"He was a telepath, like me," Charles stated looking over at me.

My voice and body and emotions becoming detached as I nodded, "He took it slow, got me to trust him, to love him. That's when he started the tests on my abilities. His favorite way was through illusions. In one instance, I was trapped in one of his illusions, thinking I was having the best night of my life with some handsome stranger after escaping from him, when I was really kissing one his lab assistants. The only reason the illusion, broke was because of the lab assistant lied, and I know when someone is lying to me. He strengthened my powers," I paused, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "It was brilliant, really," I finished, shaking my head side to side.

"It was a vile, manipulative, twisted, sick endeavor!" Erik spat. "He turned on his own kind!"

"His own kind," I repeated bitterly. "No. He wasn't one of us. A mutant, yes. But not one of us," I forced a smile, nudging him with my foot. "We're the good guys, Erik. Like Captain America, but cooler," I quipped.

Erik rolled his eyes, looking at me with a sort of spark I had never seen before.

"I have to ask," Charles started, breaking my concentration from Erik. "Was there ever an investigation?" Charles asked.

"Yes, it was a brief one, but it was ruled a suicide," I explained, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I hope you two don't think I'm a monster now," I sighed.

"Of course not," Charles stated sincerely, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

There was a knock at my door before it opened revealing Raven's petite figure. She looked at the two men who were sitting on my bed, and I felt a wave jealousy wash over me, which confused me.

"If you're not occupied, Charles, can we talk in private?" Raven asked, I didn't miss the emphasis on the word occupied.

"I wonder what's gotten into her now?" I thought.

Charles slowly let go of my hand, "Of course, Raven. We were just finishing our conversation," he answered, as he stood up and walked across the room to reach Raven. "Good night Claudia," Charles said, a smile on his lips.

"Night Charles," I responded, and Raven and Charles left my room.

It was just Erik and I now, "Now you know where the crack is in my perfect exterior, Erik," I stated,

Erik climbed further onto my bed till he was sitting next to me and gazed at me, "That's one enormous crack," Erik replied, repeating the same words I said to him. "But it only made you stronger," he continued, lifting his finger and gently trailing it down my cheek, the gesture sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps raised on my arms.

My eyes went straight for his inner forearm and the figures that had been inked into his skin, 214782. Numbers that had reduced an entire people into nothing but cattle. But markings. It was disturbing, and my hand reached out to touch his flesh in an attempt to stop my mind from racing. My fingers brushed his skin and he immediately grabbed my hand, his long, elegant fingers enclosing mine.

"Does it ever go away?" I asked somewhat rhetorically, motioning to his reaction.

Erik didn't answer.

"The pain, the distrust, the memories- I guess it never does, does it? Maybe it gets easier," I continued, pondering morosely. "Maybe it's the prospect of revenge that makes it so," I turned to him, motioning my head to the numbers engraved upon his skin. "Does it still hurt?" I asked softly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Every fucking day," Erik uttered, looking at the numbers and then shifting his gaze on me.

"Our resilience through all the pain we've been through, it's amazing we survived..." I trailed off, rubbing my thumb softly across his knuckles and then looked up at Erik. "Most people wouldn't have been able to,"

Erik smiled at me brilliantly, "Well, we aren't most people are we?" Erik questioned. "We're the future of the human race, Claudia," Erik finished, lifted our entwined hands and placed his lips on my knuckles leaving a lingering kiss.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and gently placed a kiss on Erik's stubble covered cheek, "Thank you, Erik, for being here tonight,"

Chapter Fifteen: A Love Supreme

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #black!reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #x men fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

nineteenninety-six · 4 years

Text

A Tragic Birthday

REQUEST: Could you do an imagine where the reader is a Shelby sister and Tommy’s favourite sibling and one day a deal goes wrong or something and she dies but kinda how grace died, in Tommy’s arms and it’s all hectic. Thanks:)

I was going to take a little break (only to the weekend) because tumblr was stressing me out and annoying me but when I started this, I couldn’t stop and I don’t like sitting on fics.

TW: Death

WORD COUNT: 2681

[PART TWO]

It was (Y/N)’s eighteenth birthday coming up in a week and it was safe to say that she was excited. (Y/N) had been looking forward to that day since her older brother Tommy had promised her a large party to celebrate the year before, and now that it was literally only days away she couldn’t stop buzzing about it, no doubt irritating her older siblings.

(Y/N) was the youngest of the Shelby siblings, a few years younger than Finn and was primarily raised by her Aunt Polly and her eldest brothers Arthur and Tommy. (Y/N) and Tommy were the closest between the siblings and had a special bond, that none of the others could replicate with their youngest sibling but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t close to her other siblings, because she was. In fact, it could be said that she had a special thing with each of her siblings; with Ada, they were close because they were the only girls in the family, Finn was the closest in age to her and they grew up as each other’s best friend, Arthur was the closest thing to a father she had and (Y/N) knew if she needed comforting then he would be the person she went to and John was someone she could rant to without judgment and he was always willing to help her out whenever she got in a sticky situation.

But the bond (Y/N) had with Tommy was different and there was no doubt that they were each other’s, favourite siblings. When their mother had died, Tommy had taken on the role as her primary caretaker, he changed her nappies, bottle-fed her and pretty much did anything a father would do. Polly had told her about how when she was a baby, Tommy would get a large piece of fabric and wrap her in it and secure her to his chest so that her cheeks rested on his chest because she would cry whenever she wasn’t being held by him and that it allowed him to keep her calm and content while he got some work done.

Just as much as (Y/N) hated being away from Tommy, Tommy hated being away from (Y/N) just as bad. He was overly protective when she was born, only allowing his Aunt Polly to get involved and help him out because despite thinking he knew everything, Tommy most definitely did not know how to handle a baby, especially not a newborn but he learnt and adapted and became a dad to her.

(Y/N) were three when Arthur, Tommy and John had to leave and go to war and Tommy to this day still has nightmares of how she screamed and cried to the point where she was almost sick at the train platform where he and the hundreds of other men from Small Heath were leaving from. (Y/N) didn’t understand what war was or why were her brothers were leaving but she did understand that her Tommy was leaving and she hated it.

Tommy had made a thousand promises to (Y/N) as he held her in his arms that day on the platform, repeatedly promising to come back alive and well and that he would never abandon her again and Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep them but he made it his goal to come back to her and the rest of his family.

But he didn’t break those promises and four years later, he was sobbing into the dress of a seven-year-old (Y/N), who was crying just as hard into his neck. The only time (Y/N) ever left Tommy’s arms the rest of that day was to hug her other brothers but other than that, (Y/N) was stuck to Tommy’s side. She was silent at first, slightly awkward around her brother who she hadn’t seen in years but it didn’t take long for her to become comfortable and start to quietly mutter into Tommy’s ear about everything he had missed whilst he was away and Tommy sat there in shock as she did so, marvelling at how much his little girl has grown. When he had left, she had just started to string sentences together but now she could speak in full sentences and was chatty, something he guessed she picked up from Ada.

That night as (Y/N) was curled up into a ball asleep beside him, Tommy cried once again. He was glad he was back home and alive but he knew nothing was going to be the same anymore but he was determined to keep things as normal as possible for her whilst she grew up and he was going to create a good life and world for her to live in.

And now eleven years after he’s returned home from the war, he’s pushed all his work to the side to prepare for the birthday of his little munchkin. Tommy had been dealing with an issue for the past week which involved one of his clients thinking he was overpaying for the Peaky Blinders services and was now demanding a refund. One that obviously Tommy refused to give.

Tommy called in the person who had knocked on the door, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork he was looking through.

“Hello to you too, Tommy.” The person said as they stepped into the office, moving to sit in one of the chairs that sat in front of Tommy’s desk.

Tommy grinned when they spoke up, instantly recognising the voice,

“Good morning (Y/N), what have I done to be blessed with your presence this early in the morning?”

“I have the finalised cost list for the party.” Tommy pushed his other work to the side and took the piece of paper from (Y/N)’s fingers and skimmed his eyes over it, letting out a low whistle at the final amount,

“You plan on bleeding me dry eh?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and smiled, “Don’t even try it. I know my party costs less than what the Garrison re-opening did.”

“How do you know how much the Garrison cost?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“I just do.” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, a smug look on her face.

“Stop tricking Arthur into letting you see the company files” Tommy pointed a non-threating finger at his youngest sister who only rolled her eyes.

(Y/N) bit her lip in nervousness before she spoke up, “It’s not too expensive, is it? I can remove some stuff if you want!”

Tommy got up from his seat and walked around his desk and leant on it, patting (Y/N) on the head, “It’s not expensive, don’t worry, I was only teasing I’m sorry. You don’t turn eighteen everyday eh?”

“You’re the best Tommy!” (Y/N) leapt up and tightly hugged her brother.

“I know.”

Tommy laughed at (Y/N)’s scoff.

“Any plans for today?” Tommy asked as he went back around his desk and sat back down.

“Ada’s taking me down to London to pick up my dress.”

“Hmm, spending the whole day?”

“I think so. I mean we might as well. Karl and Finn are coming along too so we should be able to find something to do.” (Y/N) made her way to the door.

“Have fun.”

“Will do!” She called over her shoulder as she left his office

It was the day before (Y/N)’s birthday and the clients of Tommy’s that thought they were being scammed have only become an irritant to Shelby brothers, making threats and destroying property has become their form of revenge and attention-grabbing at the moment but none of them could do anything at that moment, all three of them making a promise to their youngest sister not to do anything gang related on the day off or the day before her birthday. (Y/N) desperately not wanting her birthday to be ruined and her brother understood and promised her that they wouldn’t. It was bugging Tommy that he had to wait on retaliating on them but he told himself years ago that his family came above everything else, especially his (Y/N).

On the morning of her birthday, (Y/N) slipped out of her bed and crawled into Tommy’s, his arm automatically wrapping her shoulder as she curled into his side. This was a semi-common occurrence between the two of them, originating from when Tommy started to try and put (Y/N) in her own bed in her own room for the night when she was a year old but it only took a few hours before (Y/N) was climbing out of her bed or Tommy himself took her back to his room. Though it had become less of a thing as (Y/N) grew up as her room was pretty much the only place that she could get peace and quiet and privacy from her wild family. (Y/N)’s room became her sanctuary.

“Good morning, Tommy!” (Y/N) chirped

“G’morning princess.” Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Here.” Tommy had pulled out a jewellery box from the draw in his bedside table and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” (Y/N) didn’t open the box straight away.

“My gift to you.”

“I thought the party was your gift to me”

“Take the gift (Y/N) or I’ll throw it in the bin.”

“Alright alright, christ almighty.”

(Y/N) slowly opened the box and gasped at what laid inside. It was a diamond necklace, simple yet elegant. Exactly (Y/N)’s style.

“Oh, Tommy. It’s gorgeous, thank you.”

“Glad you like it. Now get washed and dressed, I’m still taking you out for brunch.”

(Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek and left his room, not wanting to delay.

After their brunch, (Y/N) spent the rest of the day getting ready for the party and running around fretting about the smallest things, only settling down after a threat from Ada. After several impatient shouts from John and Finn, (Y/N) was finally making her way downstairs to the rest of her family who made of a series of appreciative noises when they saw her, causing her to smile.

“You look wonderful darling.” Polly walked over to her and gave her a hug before leading her outside and towards the Garrison where the party was being held, the rest of the family following behind them.

“How’s your day been so far?” Polly asked her.

“Good! Brunch with Tommy was great as per usual.” (Y/N) grinned.

(Y/N) usually had brunch with Tommy and then dinner with the rest of her family on her birthday but because this year was slightly different, they were doing dinner the next day.

“I’m glad.” Polly patted her hands and they continued their journey with small nonsense chatter, Ada and Esme quickly joining in.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived, drinks were being passed around and the music was pounding and as soon as she stepped foot into the pub, (Y/N) was dragged away by her friends, the bunch of them squealing and giggling. Tommy and his brothers were sat on a table tucked away but placed somewhere where they can see pretty much the whole room but despite that, they couldn’t see who had slipped into the pub.

Tommy too deep into conversation with Jeremiah Jesus and one too many drinks deep meant that he didn’t notice that something was up until the music suddenly stopped and screams erupted, and as he looked up to see what was happening, his blood ran cold at what he saw.

His little sister trapped in the arms of the client that was pissed off at him, with his gun held to her temple. The man wasn’t by himself, he had brought along two other men. (Y/N) was frozen in shock, afraid that one small mistake would result in her getting hurt.

Tommy slowly stood up and noticed his brothers and other Peaky Blinders do the same thing, each of them pulling out their guns. They easily outnumbered the three men but that didn’t matter as Tommy’s top priority was (Y/N)’s safety

“Thomas Shelby! We’re tired of being taken advantage of by people like you. We’ll have it no more!” One of the men shouted.

“Okay, alright. I hear you. Let’s talk, okay? But before that, I’m going to need you to let all these people go okay, they’re innocent.” Tommy gestured to people plastered to the walls of the Garrison, (Y/N)’s friends crying.

The man nodded and everyone quickly ran out, the only people left in the pub being Tommy, Arthur, John, Finn, Polly, Ada and Michael.

“Now, let the woman in your arms go. She’s just a teenager.”

The leader was the man holding (Y/N) and hesitated before he stood his ground, “No! If I let her go then you’ll just kill me. I want my money back Shelby!”

Arthur grumbled unhappily and shifted, causing Tommy to hold out his arm in warning.

“If you let her go we won’t.” Tommy placed his gun on the table as a sign of truce, “Just let her go.”

The man slowly nodded and loosened his grip allowing (Y/N) to slip through a take a slow step forward, sobs spilling through her lips. “You’re alright, you’re fine. C’mon.” Tommy held out his arms for (Y/N) and took a step towards her.

“No! Stop letting him win, it’s not fair!” One of the man’s sidemen shouted in rage before a loud bang sounded.

The room was silent as everyone tried to understand what had happened and it was until stuttered gasps left (Y/N) did Tommy understand what had happened.

“No!” Tommy raced over to (Y/N) and caught her in his arms just as her legs buckled.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.” Tommy slowly lowered himself to ground with her in his arms. (Y/N)’s blood spilling through her dress and on to him.

“(Y/N), n-no p-please. O-oh god no”

(Y/N) let out a soft noise of distress as Tommy harshly pressed on the bullet wound.

“I know precious, I know it hurts but I have to do it.” Tommy didn’t even realise he was crying until (Y/N) gently flinched when a tear fell on her face.

“Polly! Polly help!” Tommy heard the clicking of his aunt’s heels before he felt her pushing his hands away. “Polly-- no I’ve got to help her”

“Tommy, let me check on her okay?” His aunt convinced him to move away so check on (Y/N)

Tommy had been so engrossed with (Y/N) that he had no idea what going elsewhere until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his trance. It was Arthur and John was right behind him, both had blood splattered on them. Finn was crouched down by (Y/N)’s head softly brushing her hair back as he whispered into her ear, Tommy could see the tears slowly sliding down his face.

“Tommy” His aunt had a defeated look on her face and slowly shook her head.

“No! You’re wrong!” Tommy pushed past his aunt and shoved Finn aside so that he could fully bring (Y/N) into his arms, slowly rocking for side to side, loudly sobbing.

(Y/N) was in too much pain to speak and used the remnants of her energy to squeeze Tommy’s hand as tight as she could before she finally passed.

Tommy felt (Y/N) slightly slump in his arms and knew what had happened, letting a loud cry of pain. Tommy heard the cries and shouts and tears of his family around him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he was too wrapped up in the pain of his youngest sister that was more like a daughter to him an how her death was his fault.

His darling girl was dead.

#tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #imagines #fanfic #angst #shelby sister #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #Tommy Shelby #sister!reader

1K notes · View notes

collisiondiscourse · 3 years

Note

i have decided i am now going to blow up your inbox bc i csn i’m sorry codi focnnf

b u t!! anyway i’m going to rambling abt my new dad for all au [whixh was the au i sent you that ask abt]

alrighty so all might is now midoriya’s dad. that’s a thing. i like to think that inko and toshinori were high school sweethearts who broke up after graduation but met again when all might was called to recuse some hostages and inko was one of them!! anywho all might recuses her, they go on a coffee date, realize they’re still in love and start again

they get married and have izuku, who keeps inko’s maiden name [midoriya is now inko’s maiden name bc i do what i want]. he’s the cutest baby who has inko’s green hair, but has one blue and one green eye! [these are /important/] inko and all might talk abt maybe giving izuku all for one when he’s older, but they decide against it bc they don’t know if he’ll have a quirk or not

spoiler!! bitch baby has a quirk!! he gets a quirk that’s so much different than inko’s quirk and !!! ahhh!!! the basic explanation is that all might’s all of one genes mixed and then “corrupt” inko’s like 3 generation quirk-having genes or smth and izu has a very, very complex quirk now. it’s called astron, and astron allows him to fucking astral project into the center of the university and shit chxnc

astron works two different ways: using his blue eye he can project other people into his own personal astral plane and do whatever he wants. while the person’s physical body is still where it was, their mind is in the astral plane. if he uses his green eye, he can project himself to his astral plane and fuck around without consequences!!

[there’s an untold third ability of astron using both of his eyes, but izuku tried doing that when he first got his quirk and immediately fell into a coma for like a month? it was bad and his mind couldn’t handle the stress and dipped lol]

ANYWAY, izuku grows up with a bomb ass quirk and still has his kacchan with him thru his childhood so things are a lot different than canon? the wonder duo are little shitheads together and i love them, they wreck havoc and i love them

i have more ideas for this story but this is all i have for now, codi this is so long i’m sorry i’m blowing up ur inbox 🥺😭

me opening my askbox and seeing the length of this au: holy shit

me reading the actual whole au: HOLY SHIT

AJ I LOVE THIS HIGHKEY!!! I LOVE THE IDEA OF OP DEKU W A FUCKED UP QUIRK JUST TERRIFYING EVERYONE HE COMES ACROSS!!!! heterochromia is SO so good as a character design element and i LOVE THE WAY THIS IS IMPLEMENTED YELLS. I WANNA DRAW THIS SO BAD!!! THIS LOOKS SO COOL

(serious writing/plot below - blood and vomit mention)

oh god and now im imagining deku like. being this extremely feral and annoying lil shit whos extremely powerful and now bakugous got someone on his level so hes a lot more humble as hes growing up but also him and deku are the?? BESTEST OF FRIENDS. and i imagine when bakugou is being a little shit deku just. astral projects him out of his body for a while and apologizes to whoever kacchan yelled at LMFAO---bakugou comes back to his body and is all like “....fucks sake stop doing that”

AND THEN omfgkjfds imagine morally grey deku who does whatever he can to win?? he knew he wouldnt get into UAs hero course fair and square (all might offered him a recommendation but he declined because he wanted to get there on his own with kacchan) because robots didnt have souls he could astral project so he practices his quirks limits like YEARS prior and he tells bakugou about it but never rlly shows him but on the day of the entrance exam?

he shows up. everything goes as normal and he finishes the written exams and then moves on to the practical exam (still seperated from kacchan like in canon) and like. Every one goes dashing forward and deku doesnt really try to beat anyone. He waits until theyre all in the center engaging with robots when he walks to the center of the room.

and he sees the zero pointer in the distance.

“THE ZERO-POINTER’S HERE!” He yells and points at the gigantic mech heading their way. All at once everyone’s heads whip up to catch sight of the robot, enraptured by its sheer size and power.

As they all look to one direction, Deku makes eye contact with them and smiles.

All at once, every single participant in the area goes limp. Astron throws their souls into the astral plane with little fanfare and everyone watches in awe and annoyance as their bodies uselessly crumple to the ground from the outside. The green-haired boy is suddenly given free reigns of the arena and they seethe as one by one he deactivates or disables robots that were once under their purview.

(What some of the smarter ones notice however, is the way he seems to be leaving some stray 3 pointers untouched... almost as if he was doing the calculations in his head as he goes... on how to ensure the number one spot while others can still score points...?)

One by one however, they start struggling and reaching to reconnect with their bodies. Their gleaming bright souls bob up and down with frenzied energy and Deku feels it. He feels it like itches on his skin and goosebumps that turn into hills that dance up and down his back. He feels it like he feels his limit reaching.

Its still around 10 minutes though before he actually loses control and everyone comes back to their bodies. His quirk times out and almost like its angry, the astral plane takes his body in exchange for the dozens he kept in there. He gets sucked through and passes out while everyone else runs and destroys the remaining bots. It doesn’t matter though, because he knows he’s racked up enough points to stay on top. He lets himself rest and observes the blue-haired tall guy with engines who contemplates carrying Deku’s body to safety.

Until, he sees her.

Just under some rubble and very close to getting crushed by the Zero-Pointer’s foot, Deku spots a brown-haired young girl that he recalls has some kind of floating quirk. He sees as everyone runs past her, prioritizing their own safety instead of hers.

He makes a decision.

Quickly--recklessly, a familiar gruff voice says in his ear--he forces himself back into his body and looks around. He runs to the girl and attempts to dig her out from the rubble before she gets crushed. The robot comes ever closer.

Using the little strength and flexibility he’s learnt from years of sparring with Kacchan, Deku abandons her in favor of climbing up the broken concrete and metal to meet the robot’s visor. He knows he won’t save her by digging her out of there, but by god is he gonna let her get injured without a fight. These robots weren’t designed to kill, but they were designed to destroy.

Focus. Focus and listen to what’s around you, Izu-kun.

The world around him reduces to tunnel-vision and suddenly Deku is face to face with the Zero-Pointer. It stops, as if calculating how to discard of Deku without hurting him severely with its own strength.

Everything has life in it. You only need to focus and look for it.

Izuku Midoriya looks at the robot.

In a whirlwind of blue and green, he reaches inside of himself and searches for life. Cold steel and hard-wired code meet his gaze and he plunges even deeper.

Focus.

Then all at once, everything in his visions snaps into sudden clarity, like he’s never seen before. He feels everything. Sees Everything. Smells, tastes, hears--and he hears how the metal beneath him bends and groans. He feels how it winces and shudders. He sees it as it opens its maw and its visor bends in a facsimile of eyes, pleading him as if asking how?

The robot beneath him comes to life and stumbles back.

Quickly, he scrambles to the nearest ledge which happens to be a broken support beam. Distantly, he thinks he feels his arm being sliced open on the edge of it and the warmth of blood streaming down his side as he nearly falls.

“HEY! YOU WITH THE ENGINES!” He hoarsely screams to the still remaining, slack-jawed contestants. “I CAN’T KEEP THE ZERO POINTER DOWN FOR LONG! GO HELP THE GIRL AND TAKE HER TO SAFETY NOW!”

With a sudden burst of energy, the fellow participants start taking others out from the rubble while the blue-haired boy helps the brunette he was protecting earlier. As he watches them clear the rubble to drag her out, he feels a pang.

Who am I? a lost voice calls out. It’s raspy and almost-robotic sounding and only he can hear it. Where am I? What am I?

And Deku’s vision flickers.

In and out, he sees flashes through eyes that aren’t his. He hears voices that are simultaneously faraway and way too close for comfort. The world tugs at the sides of his perspective and a strain is pulling at the back of his head tearing his brain to shreds. He doesn’t know what he’s focusing or straining on, except that its working and keeping the zero-pointer down.

He grits his teeth. “Hurry the hell up! i can’t do this any longer--”

Bursts of pain appear behind his mismatched eyes and he wants to scream so bad and if he were looking any clearer he’d see the way that the zero-pointer thrashes on the ground in time with the pounding on his skull. Bile crawls up the back of his throat and Deku screams.

“SHE’S CLEAR! YOU CAN LET GO NOW, MIDORIYA-SAN.”

Izuku lets go and his vision goes black.

#ASKDZVJFXKS OK THIS TOOK.#A LOT LONGER THAN INTENDED #ok so gthis has plot now and now im thinking of. writing this actually #i love this au so much thank u aj i hOPE YOU DONT MIND THAT I WROTE FOR IT??? im sO SORRY??#anyway have more of my writing its unedited and garbage\#asks #yeets your boy #collisioncomrades #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #long post #cw long post #long post cw

46 notes · View notes