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slashersidewhore · 10 months

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Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

#slasher #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #michael myers #slasher x reader #jason voorhees #slashers x reader insert #slashers x gn reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt fanfic #thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees x reader #Jason Voorhees fanfic #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers fanfic #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic

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heartcereql · 9 months

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tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader

when you first read his name on the class list, you freezed, a shiver running down your spine. of course you weren't oblivious as to who the shelbys were or what they did. but he was so young. twelve. you actually had a tiny bit of hope that finn shelby would be different than his brothers were. you were soon proven wrong.

finn and what he called "his boys" soon started doing their business around the school, and, before you knew it, inside the school as well. bringing cigarettes, picking on younger students, terrorizing girls...

you had had enough. it was one thing for adults to get their hands dirty doing whatever businesses. but a kid? hell no. and while you couldn’t do anything about what they did outside school, you could try to correct their behaviour in school.

so that's how you found yourself one grey and cloudy evening in front of the shelbys' door, mustering the courage to knock.

you knocked three times. nothing. as you were about to knock again, you heard the lock and then the door opened, revealing a man with the same ocean eyes as finn.

thomas shelby.

you knew him, naturally, but this was the first time he was so close, let alone about to talk to you.

“good afternoon” you greeted as you tried to ignore the way your chest was tightening.

“afternoon. may i help you?” he asked, hand resting on the doorknob.

“yes, actually. i’m y/n y/l/n. i’m finn’s teacher, and i wanted to discuss certain behaviours of his with you" you explained firmly. “if that’s okay” you added in a mumble.

he just stared at you for an instant. an instant that felt like eternity to you. then he nodded, letting you come into the house.

he led you through the betting house to his office.

he sat on his chair; you took your place on the other side of the desk.

“so” he said, pulling out a cigarette, “is he getting in a lot of trouble, eh?”

you smiled timidly, admiring his sharp features.

"more like he's the one creating the trouble." you watched as tommy lit his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke before resuming. "he and his presumed gang sometimes drink beers or smoke cigarettes, torment some younger kids maybe. mr shelby, i understand that he spends a lot of time at the cut, and that ... um, that..." you were suddenly at a loss of words. you didn't want to say it, but that's how you felt it: he had grown up in a similar environment.

thomas smirked, knowing your thoughts. he knew what your mind instinctively told you. but he didn't feel enraged. quite the opposite, your concern seemed genuine, and you looked like a lovely young woman; even if your thoughts were a bit tainted by the reputation that preceeded him, he knew you meant no harm.

he also took a moment to admire how off place you looked there. your clothes were rose golden, which seemed to accentuate the soft aura that surrounded you. even with the dim lights and the greyish ambience of the office, your skin appeared to glimmer.

"i guess i'm okay with whatever he does outside school, that's what i'm trying to say. but as of late, finn and his boys have been taking their businesses around the school area. and that is of my concern. we can not afford to have children intimidated, girls harassed; hell, if a child were to try substances because of your brother and his friends, and the parents found out, we could be- the school could be sued and-"

"miss y/l/n" tommy interrupted your ramble.

"y/n." you corrected, offering a smile. "please, no one calls me miss y/n/l; it would feel weird"

"i see then. y/n" you tried not to feel butterflies tingling on your stomach as your name rolled off his tongue. he smiled as well, more to himself than to you.

"finn is his own man now" tommy continued. "i will talk to him about this, but i can not guarantee that he will do as he is told. truth is, i don't have much power over him now."

he took another drag of the cigarette, eyes finding yours through the smoke.

"what do you mean? i'm sure there's something you can do"

"not really, much to my displeasure. i assure you, y/n, that i will do what i can to correct finn's behaviour at school. he used to want to be like me, y'know? but now he's... he's him. "

"i don't think that's entirely true. you know, one of the only assignments finn turned in this semester was an essay about the person they admired most. not only finn excelled in the task, handing a beautiful composition, well structured and showing a wide range of vocabulary; but the essay was about you, mr shelby. it professed how he wanted nothing but to be like 'his brother tommy'. he truly looks up to you. he still does, mr shelby. so, i think you will succeed at getting him to change his mind."

now it was tommy who seemed to have run out of words, only inhaling from his cigarette. his eyes studied you meticulously. how your eyes fluttered around the room, unable to settle, refusing to meet his; how you clutched your hands in your lap; how your chest rose and fell as you breathed.

“i’ll give it a try, eh?” he finally spoke.

a smile lit your face.

"wonderful. well, thank you for your time, mr shelby", you showed him your appreciation to him listening to you as you stood up.

"tommy"

"what?" you asked, genuinely confused; you thought you hadn't heard correctly.

"if i am to call you y/n, it is only fair for you to call me tommy. i suppose" he stated. though he refused to look directly at you, a smile was tugging at his lips.

"very well, then. thank you for having me this evening, tommy" you offered a tight-lipped smile.

he just gave you a curt nod, taking another drag of the cigarette. you smoothed some wrinkles on your clothes and, after giving him one last grin, you made your way to the door, ready to leave.

"wait" he uttered, his voice low, as if he was rethinking his decision.

you turned to him, hand resting on the frame of the door.

"would you- maybe, consider going for a drink with me?" he hadn't looked at you as he posed the question; but his gaze locked with yours when he was expecting your answer.

you felt heat creep up your neck and cheeks, praying to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.

"only if you stay true to your word, tommy" you responded before heading out, smiling like a fool when you were finally out of sight.

#heartcereql #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy

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bruciemilf · 9 months

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may you give us more thomas and martha wayne headcanon pls

🥹🙏

Thomas was Italian american and v annoying about it. "My 4th great great great great great great grandmother was Sicilian " type bitch (I mean c'mon he's from jersey)

Was on Jersey Shore and started fights for the fun of it. Has a BFF tattoo with Snooki

Tried acting for like a year, won an Oscar, married Paris Hilton for a week, got bored, became a surgeon. Profit

Bruce loved his accent and would constantly waddle after his dad with various objects, " Daddy what's thiiis" " That's a cuppa cawffe!" "Thiiiis?" " A cuppa wattah,"

Very much Margot Robbie in Wolf of Wall Street. " Who, who? What are you, a fuckin' owl?!"

His favorite TV shows were The Sopranos and Sex And The City. Was delightfully trashy and gave off strong "Keanu Reeves' "got rich and famous on accident" vibes

Martha was a figure skater. She and Thomas met at one of her shows, but she was a part time vigilante (killed abusive spouses and corrupt policemen)

Was an anti-war activist, which strained her relationship with her family. Served for a while as a Sargent. She and Alfred sometimes had nightmares and would talk for hours over a cup of tea

While Thomas had the organic power to make any story, as mundane as it was, into the most entertaining piece of dialogue you've ever heard, making you comfortable enough to feel like you've been best friends for years,

with Martha, not as colourfully but just as charismatic as her husband, just made you open up. She'd give you her undivided attention and gave you sharp but helpful honesty and warm, familial comfort when you needed it

I think we should talk more about how Bruce grew up with a functional, healthy example of romantic partnership, and how he's constantly trying to recreate that in every relationship

Martha and Thomas were chaotic and wild and so remarkably WAYNE. They were WEIRD! They were striking and strange and close knit. I can absolutely see Thomas' love language being extreme and strange but adorable acts of service, Martha's being words of affirmation and physical touch, Alfred bring sarcasm and grounding.

Thomas had ADHD, Martha had autism, and like many adults with these particular diagnosis, they were like. Huh I wonder what's this weird little thing. Let's not tall abt it ever

Thomas carried baby Bruce everywhere and bought him a mini motorcycle to ride around the manor. Damian finds it and by the will of everything he WILL fit

Whenever Bruce got into fights at school, Martha and Alfred would diplomatically give him the responsible, "Violance is not the answer" speech

As soon as Alfred isn't around, Martha is like " Good boy. Grab a lighter and put it between your fist next time." Thomas would straight up tell Bruce to stab

#bruce wayne #thomas wayne #martha wayne #the waynes #alfred pennyworth #pennywaynes #dc comics #dc #text #batman

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crowclubkaz · 6 months

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if characters from opla were books!

looking for more book recs? check out my bookstagram @hauntedstacks

book list with age range under the cut!

Monkey D. Luffy: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (Mid-Grade) The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (Mid-Grade)

Roronoa Zoro: A Clash of Steel by C.B. Lee (YA) Heart of a Samurai by Margi Preus (YA)

Nami: Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo (YA) The Girls I've Been by Tess Sharpe (YA)

Usopp: Big Fish by Daniel Wallace (Mid-Grade) The Assassin's Curse by Cassandra Rose Clarke (YA)

Vinsmoke Sanji: Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain (Adult) Bloom by Kevin Panetta (YA)

Koby: Radio Silence by Alice Oseman (YA) The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas (YA)

Red-Haired Shanks: The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune (Adult) Vicious by V.E. Schwab (Adult)

Buggy the Clown: Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare (YA) Joyland by Stephen King (Adult)

Dracule Mihawk: Empire of the Vampire by Jay Kristoff (Adult) Castlevania: The Belmont Legacy by Marc Andreyko (Adult)

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ariespellz · 2 years

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hand holding hcs !!

ft. genshin guys + gn!reader

includes: diluc, xiao, albedo, thoma, zhongli, itto, kaeya, childe.

one, two, three.

cw: fluff, established relationship, me simping (kinda), mentions of blood and battles, it gets kinda angsty in kaeya's (not too much. god im so in love with him it's unhealthy).

A/N: THEM!!! also this got progressively more informal KDHZJSBS sorry abt that lol. and sorry for having parts longer than others ://

DILUC

top tier hand holding. bless his soul.

his hands are warm due to his vision. they're big and strong, and his palms are a bit rough.

he also has some scars, most of them he'd rather not talk about.

"just... and accident" he'd reply softly, clearing his throat.

some others are from small falls he had as a kid, or from training.

he doesn't like the scars at all, so if you were to tell him something positive about them, his cheeks would turn pink (please compliment them).

he's not the fondest of PDA but hand holding is one of the few things he'll do in public

when it's just the two of you it's better, though. he'll take his gloves off and smile when you interlace his fingers in yours :'))

you know the rubbing thumb thing?? yeah he does that

it's just something ingrained in his brain, really. his father did it when he was only a child, taking walks with him through the forest whenever the adult had some time to spare.

to him, hand holding is sacred. it just feels so intimate in a way he can't quite describe. fingers interlocked, little glances you sometimes steal the other, and your light giggles when you catch him.

OH and he's totally the type to lean down and kiss the reverse of your hand

with EYE CONTACT

makes your knees wobbly every. single. time.

and he knows that

so he only does it behind closed doors. to save you from the embarrassment (and totally not because he can't help the smirk tugging at his lips and the small laugh that scapes his lips when you cover your face with the free hand)

(yeah definitely not that)

you were the one initiating the contact the first time.

you see him all suave and mysterious and cool

but the first time you held his hand?? he almost combusts right there

you were walking home after a dinner out. it was your second date together and the opportunity just presented itself when he suggested taking a stroll instead of using a carriage.

and you just... went for it when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours.

you had some mercy and didn't interlace fingers.

but still. WOW. the reaction was immediate. you could hear a sharp breath and a shivering exhale. if it wasn't for the silence that accompanied the night, you were sure you wouldn't have heard it.

but it also was the night and it's darkness that you couldn't clearly see his raging blush. you two were lucky he didn't accidentally set anything on fire.

the redness extended from the apples of his cheeks, to the tip of his ears, to his neck and collarbones.

and the fluttering in his belly, which had been bothering him the entire afternoon, was going wild.

he couldn't LOOK at you. he was scared that you could hear his heartbeat. humiliating.

for him of course. you had the time of your life teasing him (and it was also cute so it's a win-win)

"is something the matter, master diluc?" you ask feigning innocence, a cheeky smile adorning your face "you don't look too good. perhaps you have fever?"

"i am perfectly fine, (y/n). thank you." he muttered through gritted teeth after a long silence. you just giggled in response.

good thing he didn't get to see the flush adorning your face, and how you had to bite back the loving sigh that threatened to leave your lips.

archons. you were down bad.

XIAO

he won't initiate it but he won't stop you either (a.k.a he's too proud to let you see how soft it makes him)

"you mortals are weird" he scoffs. you don't fail to notice that he doesn't even try to pull away.

and that he won't meet your gaze.

his hands are so pretty omg. slender fingers that would look delicate if it wasn't for the sheer strength they have.

that's one of the reasons he's hesitant to touch you.

PDA with him is non existent. zero. maybe some acts or service, or the obvious way he favours you over anyone else present.

but there won't be a single touch that could confirm that.

(you swear you can see zhongli smirking behind his cup of tea, eyes flickering between the two of you full of amusement. oh, and archons forgive that hu tao's there, ready to point out the way his gaze softens when he hears your voice.)

the lack of contact in front of others is nothing to get worried over

it's just that he's kinda clueless when it comes to affection.

specially physical one.

but he's willing to try just to see you happy.

you don't initiate much either, considering how private he is.

to be completely honest, if he allows you to freely touch him without any grumbling (let alone hold his hand) it means that he's completely and absolutely smitten

you're the only one he could ever commit to. someone whose only purpose is to kill, to harm, to get his hands stained with blood. the same ones you're now cradling in yours, brushing your thumb lovingly over his knuckles, after practically begging him to take off his gloves, just to feel him.

"these hands have taken countless lives" he says, voice stern "why would you want to hold them?"

and he looks so genuinely confused.

golden eyes, perfect porcelain skin, teal hair moving with the breeze, watching the sunset in wangshuu inn's roof.

he feels himself melt. muscles relaxing for the first time in centuries.

and the way he looked at you, even if it was just for a moment. so full of love. so full of devotion.

you may or may not have had to sneakily dry a tear after that.

ALBEDO

hmm

he's a wild card

maybe because he doesn't really care

it's not like he dislikes it (not at all) it's just that it feels so casual, so natural to him that he doesn't see the point in lingering in the thought for too long.

his hands are perfect. they were carved to be like that, after all.

soft palms, slender fingers, and clean, perfect nails.

his digits grazing your skin feel like kisses covering every inch they touch.

even if the gesture isn't a big deal for him, it feels comforting. he won't really hesitate to take your hand in his while walking around dragonspine, or while taking a stroll in the city.

he silently slides his digits between yours. the usual between you two. you were taking a different path home today, after an afternoon in his lab.

"so you don't get lost" he says. you know that's not the real reason, but no words are needed.

he was the one who suggested it first.

"just to see how it feels" or some bullshit excuse like that.

lies. it was because he read it in a romance book LMAO

don't even get me started on how kaeya wouldn't stop mercilessly teasing him about it after he caught him reading it. twice.

"this is nice. we should do it more often" he suggests with a straight face.

your lips inevitably quirk upwards.

"yeah," you mutter, feeling your face heat up "we should."

he likes it. that's it.

not a big deal.

but, just a secret between you and me...

...he'd only ever do it with you

ZHONGLI

average hand holding enjoyer

seriously though. this man will NOT let go of your hand

(unless you ask ofc. but you probably won't lol)

going for a walk around liyue harbour? he's holding your hand. filling paperwork for a funeral? he's holding your hand with his free one. dinner out? hand holding OVER THE TABLE‼️ the waitress is swooning (it was me. i was the waitress/hj)

what can i say. a gentleman.

he's so natural with PDA, too. does not give a single fuck about who's watching.

oh and HIS HANDS

lord have mercy

we must stay focused brothers

they're strong and veiny, but also slim at the same time. for someone who as slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands, he has a surprisingly low amount of marks.

he heals fast. he's a god.

you may notice a few scratches if you look closely, but that's about it. he doesn't hesitate to tell you the full story if you ask for it.

"oh, that one?" he let out a low chuckle "it was a long time ago..."

yeah, get ready. he likes to ramble.

but his stories are interesting and you love to listen, sooo

just like diluc, he's 1000% the type to kiss the back of your hand.

he'll lean down, golden eyes boring through yours, digits holding your hand in place, and place a chaste kiss right in the middle.

dancing with him ugh<3

as stated before, he does NOT hesitate to do it in public. if hu tao or childe are there, get ready.

anyway back to the point.

he also does the thumb rubbing thing.

i don't know how to describe it but his hands are always the right temperature.

you'd have to be the one to do it the first time.

it's not that he doesn't want to, its more of a what if you don't want to.

so, you were walking around liyue harbour, and it was really busy

he's really tall, so you would've been able to find him if you two got separated

but it was the perfect opportunity to grab his hand.

when you suggested it he smiled softly and let you decide how you wanted it.

"the scenery is beautiful today, isn't it?"

"indeed, it is" he answered. he, however, could only look at you.

probably one of the best hand holders in teyvat ngl.

THOMA

THIS ONE

THIS ONE RIGHT HERE

your hand is always entangled with his

but it's less casual and more... passionate

going for walks in the nature, he'll interlock your fingers with his

he'll kiss the back of your hand, yeah, but hear me out:

he'll kiss your palm while looking at you in the eye.

dunno about you jut i'd just MELT

oh and going around through the market, buying groceries?? you WILL dangle your conjoined hands back and forth

it's so cute PLS the vendors have a heartache every time they see you two.

(honestly same)

he's a PDA guy. he's a private person, as extroverted as he can be, but he loves showing you off because he knows you're so cool and great and yadda yadda yadda

he also knows your worth

also!! imagine having a hotpot with the kamisatos at komore teahouse.

he's ambidextrous (a hc of mine) so he'll hold his chopsticks in one hand and yours in the other.

ayaka is practically fantasizing and sighing adoringly while ayato is being a dick teasing you

"my, thoma! i didn't take you for a showoff" ayato says. "when's the wedding?"

ayaka lightly taps his thigh, annoyance written all over her face. thoma just chuckled, tightening his grip.

his hands are rough thanks to all the work, but still delicate in some way. careful and precise, long fingers and veiny forearms. he also manages to always have his nails perfect?? clean and the right length.

same as diluc, his vision makes them warm.

he initiated it the first time.

"can i hold your hand, (y/n)?" he asked. it was your first date and he had just picked you up. nothing too formal, just a walk around the city at night.

your heart was racing, and you were sure your palms were sweaty.

and his emerald eyes flickered nervously, not quite connecting with yours

and his beautiful smile was trembling a bit with excitement

and his cheeks and the tip of his ears were colored pink

"sure, i'd love to." you couldn't contain the happy giggle that scaped your lips because oh my god you were holding thoma's hand.

another one who does the thumb thing

ladies, gentlemen and nobles of the court he is the PERFECT MAN. his hand holding will make you ascent to celestia.

ITTO

he's a passionate one that's for sure

sometimes he's a bit too passionate, and you have to ask him to calm down (otherwise he might just break your hand lmao)

oni stuff we don't get it

his hands are huge, and warm, and full of scars, and nghhh please i wanna hold his hand and kiss the marks

most of them are from doing dumb shit lol

shinobu always gets you to treat his scratches because she knows he won't resist you (an that he actually listens to you)

big PDA guy.

he OWNS it

he could make out with you in the middle of a busy street as long as you wanted him to

so it goes without saying that his hands are ALWAYS on you

but he specially loves to hold your hand

it feels so romantic to him hehe <3

it makes him lightheaded and his stomach fill with butterflies

he feels so joyous that he always chuckles when you do it

"so we don't get separated" you'd excuse yourself.

unpopular opinion YOU WERE THE FIRST ONE TO DO IT

yes his love language is physical touch, yes he was shy about it. so what?

you were in a beetle fight, the two of you cheering for your onikabuto to win.

and then...

it did!

you weren't officially dating yet, so kissing him was out of the question (even if you really wanted to, just by hearing his cheery laugh and seeing his adorable smile)

instead, you picked one of his hands with both of yours, looked up to him and thanked him

"see?" he stammered, trying to play it cool "what did i tell ya? the small ones are the best!"

he scratched the back of his head with his free hand, avoiding eye contact. he was a stuttering, babbling mess. face reddened, heartbeat quickening, and hands sweating.

it didn't take him long to ask you out after that.

loves to touch you and loves hand holding. totally worth it.

KAEYA

you'd assume he does it a lot

WRONG

wait not too wrong

he loves to touch you (same as itto, he's all over you) but hand holding somehow feels vulnerable to him

which means it makes him shy

hands holding your waist? cool. an arm draped over your shoulders? nothing out of the ordinary. his palm on your thighs, caressing and grabbing the flesh? how daring! still nothing new.

but your fingers toying with his? his thumb brushing over your knuckles? to feel your grip tighten or soften depending on the mood?

holy shit he's malfunctioning

because yes, he can be a smooth talker. a flirt. someone who's handsome and knows it.

he'll be as cool as a cucumber as long as it's not intimate.

because kaeya's heart its surrounded by an everlasting blizzard. because he's scared of commitment, of intimacy.

because he's scared of attachment, but even more scared of loneliness.

so he'll play it off with lingering touches that feel burning on your skin. with fingertips stoking your back. with a playful kiss on your cheek.

he wants to be liked, but he can't be important.

so when the touch is innocent, genuine, caring. when you allow yourself to wear your heart on your sleeve just for him.

it's when you see past the façade.

"oh." he gasped softly. thank barbatos the street was practically empty. you can feel his muscles tense for a second, but he doesn't waste a second to chuckle and dissimulate it with faux-confidence "feeling needy, aren't we?"

you just roll your eyes. what a guy.

still!! not as big on PDA as you initially assumed. if you're in a flirting/first dates phase, he might be a bit more public.

the moment it becomes official, he's more lowkey.

the grannies and grandpa's of mond remind you two how lucky you are to have each other.

OK OK BACK TO THE POINT

you were the first one to hold his hand (go get him tiger)

diluc had knocked on your door one day at around two in the morning.

"that guy is drunk and i don't want him making a mess" he had said. judging by the look on his face, he meant something like "im worried about him but i don't want him to know".

so, you tidied yourself as much as you could and went to angel's share.

the walk to his home was torture. he would not stop whining with his face in the crook of your neck.

at one point you got frustrated and told him to stop. your voice came out colder than you wanted and you instantly regretted it.

"i'm sorry. please don't leave me."

you heard your heart break. not wanting to push his boundaries, you settled for taking his hands in yours.

"i won't, i promise." you sighed. "let's get you home, then, yeah?"

"...yeah."

needless to say, he had a lot to think about the next day, when he saw you sleeping on his couch.

your response to his vulnerability was what made the difference for him.

CHILDE

childe would love nothing more than to spend his whole life with his hands on you.

but he can't.

PDA with him has to be settled to a minimum. the last thing he wants is to let any of those ten menaces and their minions to know just how important you are to him.

that's why holding hands is the most he'll do in public

when he's sober, at least.

due to the cold, it's the usual in snezhnaya to hold hands. not even in the romantic sense. just another way to maintain the heat.

so he doesn't really see it as something that intimate or relevant.

he does like it, though

specially with you.

he does this thing when he grabs your wrist and expects you to do the rest just so he can tease you for it and 'gaslight you' into believing you were the one holding him

"aw, (y/n), do you really like me that much, hm?

"not this again, please."

#Free(Y/N)

ANYWAYS his hand is always in yours, similar to zhongli or thoma.

unless his co-workers are nearby.

noone really knows who did it first.

you were going for a stroll one day and tried it at the exact same time.

an "accident".

(he saw you staring at his hand and tried to make it less awkward by doing that)

(king shit)

his hands are veiny and also a bit bony?? (is that a thing lol)

slim and long fingers

his palms are softer than you'd expect. he always wears gloves while training

still, he has a lot of scars. mostly cuts and scratches.

contrary to popular belief, he's not fond of his scars. he likes the stories that go behind them, and the experience they give him.

but god forbid that any of his younger siblings see them. specially teucer.

"i think they look good on you" you complimented one day, kissing them one by one. "it's in character of you."

he smiled softly, sliding his digits between yours "i think you look good in everything."

man that was SMOOTH /j

hand holding is a big deal in snezhnaya because of how common it is.

so he'll use it as an excuse not to let you go.

what a dork. i want to marry him.

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notyour-valentine · 8 months

Text

Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 12 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Just a lot - we have places to go with this story

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption.I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 5400 words

Part 12

Charlotte.

His head snapped up. All this time he had thought, he had been talking about Mary, but Charlotte?

How?

She was still practically a child. It simply wasn’t possible. How could she even come into contact with someone like that?

"I will do what I can to protect your cousin from harm.", He assured him, his grey moustache quivering, "however the safest way would be to remove her from Shelby's sphere of influence in it’s entirety.”

He pronounced every word with a sharpness.

“Can I trust you to do that?"

"Of course you can.", Matthew hissed. The man’s tone had been as insulting as his accusation shocking.

She was family too and he felt responsible for her, for all of them. Being the heir did not only mean that he would one day own the title and the estate, but he would also be the head of the family, tasked with protecting them all. And even if he wasn’t, she was still his family - Goodness’ sake!

After the Inspector had left, all and any idea of lunch at the club had evaporated as he immediately began to make inquiries, calling in favours and asking for references - anything and everything that could be found out about Mr Thomas Shelby from Birmingham.

"As quickly as you can, please."

The days of waiting on responses were gruelling and left him agitated and unpleasant. Since he knew in advance, he simply prolonged his London stay until he had to return to Downton, and even then he did not wish to leave the papers in the office in Ripon and so he brought them home with him.

A part of him wanted to act immediately, felt like running up to the big house, taking Charlotte aside and telling her, warning her, but then he realised that she would not know any of it.

She would know the charming handsome man Campbell had described as luring women in. And she wouldn't believe him, at least he couldn't be sure. If he couldn't convince her at once, she could go to him to ask him, or to confront him, and then who knew what could happen.

So Matthew needed evidence, concrete, indisputable evidence that would convince her enough to make her stay far away from that man.

But the more he found out, the less he understood.

There was no record of his birth, no criminal record, nothing- until he went to France.

It was as if he appeared in 1915, a man grown and ready for war.

There was no criminal record after the war either, no mention apart from a newspaper article that described him as partaking in a protest in Birmingham where they lit a bonfire with the King's portraits.

In the article he was quoted as talking about how the men loved and served their king but that they felt abused by the new police tactics- headed, incidentally, by a Chief Inspector Campbell.

So this might be personal.

Matthew didn't remember much of criminal law, but he knew that personal matters always muddied things.

And then, he tried to look at his businesses. Companies had to be filed, which was comparably easy to find, or so he thought.

The first was a bookmaking company with a gambling licence from 1919 for the races. It was quickly followed by some factories and a motorcycle and car business, focussing on trade, all established in the following year.

But to find his way through that web took time and energy. Companies owners by other companies owned by other companies- it was like walking through a labyrinth with moving walls.

It also made the paperwork on his desk at home pile up to astronomical levels.

Matthew looked up as the door clicked open.

"I thought I'd bring you some tea.", His mother said with a smile.

"Thank you, Mother.", He said, offering her a tired smile.

She put it down on the desk, her eyes glancing across the paperwork before she picked up a page from what the war office had sent him, detailing his outstanding report of his exemplary war record that earned him gallantry medals.

"Huh.", She said surprised, before placing it back onto the table. "Charlotte never said Mr. Shelby was a war hero."

She said it in passing, almost casually, before she walked over to open the window.

"Charlotte knows Mr. Shelby?", He asked, his heart thundering in his chest.

A small part of him had - up to this point - held out the hope that it had simply been a mistake.

"Of course she does. I told you about the charity initiative she has joined? It is his initiative. Didn't I mention his name?"

Matthew's gaze danced through the room as he was desperate to hold onto something - anything - other than the terrified feeling in the bottom of his stomach.

"Whatever's the matter?", She wanted to know. "Are you ill?"

"No,", he whispered, running his hand through his straw blonde hair. "I am not ill."

He cleared his throat and tried to avoid his mother’s piercing gaze, but to no avail.

“Matthew, I wish you would talk to me.”, she asked gently, sitting down on the sofa and inviting him. “It is no good to keep your grief locked in like that. Lavinia-”

“This isn’t about Lavinia!”, he snapped a little harsher than he had intended.

He didn’t want to talk about Lavinia, not to his mother and not to anyone and the very last thing he needed right now was a mention of his own greatest personal failure when he was trying to prevent another.

“What is it about then?”, his mother asked.

Matthew paced up and down the room, trying to think of what to say, knowing the wording was key. He didn’t have proof yet, and if it got out before he had that proof, there was no way of knowing what would happen. It was like being in France all over again - every moment could prove lethal but one simply had to move.

“I have heard things about Mr. Shelby that concern me.”, he finally said.

“What things?”

Matthew couldn’t say, not now at least, not until he had it in indisputable black and white.

“The point is, it is not a man Charlotte should be in contact with. For her own good.”

His mother raised her eyebrow. “For her own good? What harm could there possibly be in working for a charitable foundation?”

If that so called charitable foundation even exists. If it isn’t just a ploy to lure her in. If the man she works for wasn’t a criminal. At least according to Campbell.

“The cause does not matter. She should not be anywhere near him whatsoever!”

His mother’s jaw tightened.

“Matthew, this isn’t like you. You can’t just tell her where she can and cannot go!”, she scolded as if he was the one in the wrong here.

“Well someone has to forbid her and if that person is me then so be it!”, he insisted, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

His mother, however, seemed to be completely calm.

“Don’t you think you are overreacting? I don’t know what you’ve heard but Charlotte seems very taken with him and frankly, I admire him. But if you are unsure, perhaps we could invite him for tea.”

“Him?”, Matthew asked, his voice sounding breathless and foreign to his own ears. “For tea?”

Isobel Crawley nodded. “Charlotte does not want the family to know the extent of their workings just yet. She fears that Robert would put a stop to it.”

Oh how very soothing.

Matthew bristled. Things were far from good if he already had her keeping secrets from her father.

“I don’t want you helping her anymore. No covering, no helping her get away. Nothing like that, do you hear me?”, he demanded.

“Matthew, you are getting rude!”, she snapped right back, her cheeks flushing.

He raised his hands and took a step back.

“You’re right. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that harsh.”, he said, “but Mother, this can’t go on.”

“Whyever not?”, she asked impatiently. “You make such a fuss but refuse to tell me why!”

Because I can’t tell you yet.

“Perhaps I should just talk to her.”, he thought out loud.

I needn’t mention all of it, just perhaps find her a distraction, a new occupation to keep her busy. She was a good girl and far easier to sway than Edith or Mary.

The longer he thought, the more the idea of a distraction seemed suitable. Perhaps he could try and find a different man for her to be interested in, a decent fellow from a good family. She deserved that. Cousin Violet would have a list ready by sundown and he could work with that.

Yes, a distraction might be the very best thing.

Besides, he still had time. She was busy now preparing for the Wrinnington Ball next week, and shortly after was the races they would all be attending with Sir Richard. While Matthew knew these social obligations would cement the path of his future, he was not overly fond if them, but if they kept Charlotte busy and bought him time, he had to cherish them more as simply a necessary evil.

He thought of her even when he wasn’t thinking of her, simply put. Even in business meetings and while going over reports, she was never far from his mind, lingering in his thoughts like a dancer in the wings before a performance, awaiting what would soon take place in front of a packed audience, with blinding lights shone upon it.

And there it was again, the doubt, the guilt, the worry.

He had planned it out, had decided it long ago, had overthought and approved the plan, his plan.

It didn’t matter now, it shouldn’t matter, nothing should, because he had thought everything over, everything but this.

She trusted him.

She had trusted him, had trusted him longer than he realised, but the moment she fell asleep in his presence, her head slightly slumped, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hands resting in her lap-

It didn’t matter how or why, it mattered that she felt safe enough around him to allow her exhaustion to overcome her, to let her eyes flutter shut. She trusted him not to harm her, not to put her in danger.

Thomas Shelby couldn’t remember when someone had last trusted him so, without him demanding or ordering or threatening.

Even his own family members were beyond reluctant and persistent, often complying only because there was no alternative, or simply stopping to resist.

She had trusted him blindly, stupidly, the way only a person could who had experienced the world as a pretty, harmless place.

His men had trusted him, Tommy thought, back in France, though they had not trusted him, but rather their Sergeant Major. They had trusted him because they thought they knew him, because it was easier to follow the command if it came from a familiar face, in a known tone, but that made it no less deadly.

Men were dead now because they trusted him.

Dead in the mud, dead in the field hospital, dead in the canal and the streets of Birmingham - and dead in their prisons.

The boy had trusted him too, the one playing at being an outlaw, with a wooden gun and a holster made by the woman who did what mothers do.

He had trusted Tommy to protect him, to keep him safe and from harm and now he was buried like he had once been, only under far firmer, drier ground.

Sometimes, now, when he dreamt of that horrid night, of the creaks and cries of bursting beams, the frightened calls of his comrades and the deafening silence, he saw himself there, and Arthur and John, and Freddie and Danny and the rest of them. Sometimes, when he dug, his hands clawing at the earth, he turned to find the face of the boy right next to him, his eyes wide and still filled with fear, as if he was yet a few heartbeats away from death, as if his heart was still thundering in a feeble attempt to get the blood where it needed to go.

And if it wasn’t the boy and the mud, it was the shovel and whispers of German.

When he was awake, he could fight ehm with whisky and occupation, but in his dreams, he forced himself to think of her, of the loose strand of hair that fell in front of her eyes, somehow escaping both hat and hairties, a rare mishap in the perfection and poise she normally portrayed.

He could conjure the image even in his sleep, even in his nightmares. And in them, like she had in life, she was so calm, not even the noises coming from the darkness would startle her.

Breathe with her. Just breathe with her.

And he did. In and out, in and out.

The shovels were still there, but they wouldn't disturb her. She just kept sleeping and he kept breathing.

In and out. In and out.

To his shame, he found himself focussing on that every night before he tried to sleep, no matter where he was, which bed he was lying in, he always brought her with him.

He had tied her fate to his by parading her around in front of Campbell like a prized racehorse and as revenge, she held the key, the only key to salvation in her silk-gloved hands, the same he had tainted my mere association.

He had seen hell in France, and now he had created his own purgatory.

His plans, those he had made in sleepless nights, now finally came together but there was no satisfaction, no relief, no joy, even though it was going well, too well, really.

Tommy should have known that it was only a matter of time until it all went up in flames.

But like a house of cards, it all came crashing down in a matter of hours.

He had been at May’s, for the horse, and a distraction. He had things to get out of his system, probably. And there was no harm he could cause, not with May.

But before they got anywhere, really, he got that call.

Michael arrested in Birmingham.

Arthur arrested in London.

Billy dead, shot, and pinned on Arthur.

And Solomons and Sabini united against him.

It had been too much in too short a time and when he saw the smug smile under that hideous moustache, he knew. While he couldn’t pin it on Campbell, not entirely, he knew he had his fat little hands involved.

He called it insurance, of course, but it was nothing but retaliation, a strike back to punish him after aiming to humiliate him with Charlotte, or a test to see how quickly he would pull the strings he had threatened him with.

If he had aimed to call Tommy’s bluff, it had worked.

Despite his icy fear, despite Polly shouting at him to get Michael out, he couldn’t bring himself to make the call, to Downton or her uncle in the ministry.

All he could think of were May’s words.

You think your people are ruthless? Try mine.

He would have tried, he could have tried, but not with Charlotte. And the realisation cut deeper than he thought it could.

But failure always stung, still the mere thought of his original plan turned his stomach to the point where he knew he couldn’t come face to face with the girl, and instead skipped out on the meeting with the hospital staff for the foundation that had been nothing but a scam to lure her in originally.

The detailed, neatly written report she had given him was a sweet salt in the wound. Like always, she was trying so hard. She had done so from the very beginning and by now she was good at it.

He could spot the wit in her writing, the cheeky tone she used to describe one doctor’s reaction, almost mocking him for how he treated her as a near-deity due to her title, something she used to her advantage. To their advantage.

Tommy remembered her uncertainty, the refusal of payment for fear she would do more harm than good, and now?

There were things in motion, plans set to work, good plans, that would improve the lives of thousands. He had planted a rotten seed in burnt soil in the name of a scheme, but somehow she had gotten it to bloom either way.

Sweet, foolish Charlotte.

If she had been any less good, he would have had no qualms to fulfil his original plan, and now he was leaving all that behind to protect her. Payment, he found himself rationalising, for all the children who would profit of her work.

But beyond that, while getting his affairs in order in case his Epsom plan failed, he found himself thinking of her again, of how she talked about her father, her family, her duty to them, her uselessness with money, her utter dependence on them, and the risk her sister had taken in setting herself loose from it.

It must’ve worked, though, for her sister and the chauffeur, but Tommy knew a great deal of fools who let themselves be lured in by love. If her chauffeur loved her any less, she’d be stranded and penniless in a country not her own, disowned by her family and lured in by promises of love.

Charlotte had been lured in too, by Tommy and his schemes. Who was to say there wouldn’t be another one to try it for other reasons?

And was there not the risk of someone in his family blabbing? Polly, he thought, if he didn’t get Michael out quick enough would be on the next train to York, knocking on Downton’s door and threatening to bring the whole place down and Charlotte with it. She wouldn’t hesitate, hell, she had already demanded to know why he hesitated to feed her to the wolves to get Michael out of prison.

Even if he didn’t fail, there was still a risk of Polly pulling a stunt like that, one that would ruin Charlotte, one that could see her disowned and out on her own.

Because of me, Tommy thought, because she thought she was helping me.

It was yet another reason to keep him up at night, that allowed him to work until dawn if need be, longer than any other.

"Tommy, I'm going home.", Lizzie said, peeking her head into his office and waking him from his thoughts.

"Yeah. Go home, Lizzie. You should have gone hours ago.", He mumbled without looking at her., and diligently avoiding looking at his watch.

He’d have to give Lizzie a few notes extra.

"I was waiting in case you needed anything…", she said, her painted fingernails red against the black of his door.

I need Arthur back. I need Polly's son back.

I need peace with the backcountry boys again.

I need the clubs and the warehouses back. I need a bullet for Solomons and for Sabini and another for Campbell.

I need a fucking solution for everything.

He took the final sip of his whisky.

I need sleep.

His eyes wandered over to where Lizzie was still waiting.

She didn't say it out loud, but the offer stood all the same.

He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his closed eyes with his fingertips.

Why the hell not, eh?

If he couldn't find rest, he might as well find release.

He locked his office door and followed Lizzie towards the stairs. There was no talking, for there was no talking needed.

Lizzie knew what Tommy wanted - what Tommy wanted from her.

But that was just it, wasn't it?

His feet stopped and he watched her descend and with every step she took, with every step he didn't, he felt the miles of distance between them more than before.

She turned, looking up at him, a silent question written all over her face.

"Good night, Lizzie.", He said softly, before returning to the office.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over Lizzie's phone just like it had over his earlier.

But then he picked up.

The operator had connected him comparably quickly.

"Painswick Residence London.", The butler said. It was a familiar interlude and each time he thought that he really had to get her her own telephone. But by now he knew her too.

"Thomas Shelby. I need to…", he broke off, taking a deep breath. "I'd like to talk to Charlotte please."

He was surprised at how tired his voice sounded.

"The young Ladies and Lady Rosamund are not in residence."

"Where are they?", He asked. "Back at Downton?"

He could call there as well, but she was supposed to be in London. She had said so herself. Or maybe he had missed that too.

"No, Sir. They are attending a costume ball at Hasting's House."

Tommy scoffed, looking into the darkness outside the window.

Of course she's at a fucking ball.

He could almost see her, dancing under the glittering lights of a ballroom, diamonds around her neck and a tiara in her hair with not a care in the world as she was spun around by some red-faced lordling.

"Should I take a message, Sir?", He asked. "Although I doubt she will respond before tomorrow."

"No, thank you. Goodnight."

After he hung up, he unlocked his office once more and poured himself another drink.

Fuck.

Tommy braced himself on the desk and let his head hang.

It wasn't too late to go after Lizzie, or to find someone else who he could make do with.

Or maybe he could go to the yard and take one of the horses out until the sunrise came.

But he didn't want to fuck, not even to clear his head.

So he picked up the phone again. The voice on the other side was the same. “I changed me mind,”, Tommy said. “I do want you to take a message for Charlotte.”

The butler cleared his throat.

“And what precisely would you wish me to convey to Lady Charlotte, Mr. Shelby?”

He had begun the drive south in the earliest hours of the morning, after less than a few hours of sleep, arriving at Ada’s both unannounced and in the middle of the night.

But the night gave him time to make up his mind. In a way, it already had been, but at the same time, it removed all doubt.

In a week, he could be dead, a body rotting in the ground, with the only worth remaining in what he left behind.

Ada’s boy, John’s children - those matters were sorted now. The letter to the New York Post was written, in the hands of Ada.

The business would be in good hands with her and Polly.

That only left the foundation, and Charlotte.

After an early breakfast with his sister, who looked a proper bohemian with her silk robe and expensive coffee tastes, he left for Hyde Park.

By now he knew her mornings were when she was most flexible, and the park was close enough for her to meet him there. And she did, thankfully, alone. One could never be sure with her and her family.

When she came closer he could see beyond her cream coat that revealed just a hint of her pink dress underneath. The colour matched the shoes and the ribbon on her hat, of course.

All these little details he had grown to expect from her.

“Good morning.”, she greeted, offering him a warm smile that couldn’t hide the slight shadow under her eyes.

“Long night?”, Tommy asked.

She tilted her head from side to side, a slight blush creeping up. “Oh you know how it is.”

He really didn’t, but he didn’t want to push it. “Are you well?”, she asked, a line of concern forming between her brows.

“Well enough.”, he admitted as they began to walk. Well enough for a man that could be dead soon.

She huffed slightly, but she didn’t pry- not with her words at least. Her eyes dug into him from the side as if she wanted to see through his skull and into his thoughts.

That’s not a place you want to go, love.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”, she asked softly.

He shook his head.

“Whatever it is, I hope it improves soon.”, she said, giving his arm a little squeeze.

She leaned into him slightly, as they walked, passing nannies pushing prams, and little children running at their sides, a few men rushing to jobs, and a few women taking morning strolls. One could walk through this part of London during this time. Not even Sabini or Solomons dared to get their men into these areas- her areas. That was what calmed him. She at least was safe- safe from the Jews and the Italians and even fucking Campbell.

He had been considering asking her to take Ada and the baby in, just for the Derby day. That way they would be out of harm’s way in case…

She might even do that for him, but Ada wouldn’t go, not to her. He cursed her politics and the stubbornness they both shared. Ada would ask questions, questions he couldn’t answer. And the last time he had told her to get to safety she had stepped right into No-Man’s-Land, with the baby.

By pure luck, it had worked. But this time around it was more than Billy Kimber.

“I have some papers for you to sign.”, he finally said, stopping at one of the many benches by the fountain after glancing at his watch. She only had little time and would soon have to return in time for the train to Downton.

“Papers? Now?”, she asked surprised.

“Not much.”, he assured her,as he pulled forth three folded documents from the coat pocket.

Charlotte had to step closer to read them.

“Tommy, I don’t understand.”, she said softly, looking up at him. “Power of attorney?”

“Yeah.”, he said, holding the pen between his fingers.

“The money for the hospital and the other projects are already set aside, but I’ve slotted some more for the running of it. It should go smoothly.”

“But why?”, Charlotte asked wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry.”, he assured her. “It’s just in case.” “In case of what?”, she demanded to know.

In case my plan doesn’t work.

In case Campbell outsmarts me.

In case I die and I never see you again.

“In case I will be temporarily absent and decisions have to be made for the good of the foundation.”, he lied.

“Without consulting you?”, Charlotte asked, glancing at the paperwork once more. The uncertainty was ever present in her voice. “Yeah. You’ll be able to make calls on your own.”

This was the whole point of it, of granting her power and ensuring that the work of the last few months didn’t go arry. If he had to leave this world, then he would at least leave it with something decent behind and the only person whom he could entrust with that part of his legacy, was her. “Surely it would be better for that trust to be placed in Mrs. Gray or Mrs. Thorne, or even your sister in law.”

Likely.

“They are your family.”, she insisted. “This is as much your project as mine. We built it together. You know the workings better than anyone and you are the only one who actually knows how to run it.” She didn’t look convinced.

“I trust you Charlotte, and I want you to…”

To continue this in case I’m gone.

“I want you to sign. Just so I can rest easy, eh?”

She pursed her lips but she took the pen and signed all three papers.

“Thank you.”, he mumbled, as he took both pen and papers off her again.

“Was that why you were so worried?”, she wanted to know. Tommy decided to nod.

And he also chose not to tell her of the amendment to his will. Karl and John’s children would benefit from the trust fund. The family from the rest.

He chose not to tell her about the houses in Kensington, Mayfair and Belgravia which he had bought- large houses in good areas that she could rent out for a profit. They would bring in a good amount of rent money that should keep the foundation more than afloat as well as giving her not only security but also some form of independence if she ever decided to need it.

That would be his last gift to her, if it came to it. That, and the letter he had already written, kept in the other pocket, separated from her only by the thin material of the other coat pocket.

He already had the stamps on it, and the address, just waiting to be sent in case.

Four pages, he had written. Four fucking pages, scribbled down at Ada’s breakfast table like a madman.

It was the longest letter he had ever written and yet still felt so painfully short. There was so much more he wanted to talk about, so much more he wanted to tell her.

“Tommy, are you quite well?”, she asked, her hand reaching up, just barely brushing against his cheek. They were so warm.

A part of him warned him not to do it. But the louder voice inside him said fuck it.

He had put all his affairs in order, had sorted everything out. Now all the letters had been written, all the papers signed and all the preparations taken.

He could well be a dead man walking, Epsom drawing ever nearer, and a dead man had no time for regrets.

He may never get the chance again.

And so, with the papers back securely in his pocket, he reached for her cheek, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin as he leaned down to capture her lips with his.

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

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theygotlost · 11 months

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um so. here it is 👉👈 I've never written a fanfic before let alone posted one so I'm shy please be nice to me 😭

Son of Sam

After little Sammy has a disciplinary incident at school, Vimes finds a more enriching environment for his son.

G rated, 2,011 words, just vimes bein a dad :)

A rather nervous-looking young messenger was waiting at the door when Vimes got home.

“Er… Can I help you?”

The messenger startled into a stiff salute. “Your grace!” he said smartly. “I bring a message from the Primary Academy of Ankh! It has been requested that… erm…” he fumbled open the roll of parchment he had been holding. “The parents-slash-guardians of the student, er, Samuel Ramkin Vimes II, come to the office of the headmistress at once. We have a coach ready outside for you already, your grace,” he added as he rolled the parchment back up.

Vimes scoffed. ‘The Second’… Please. A title like that nearly made you forget the boy’s only eight years old. “Alright, what’s happened this time?”

“I don’t know, your grace. I’m only here to deliver the message.”

“Fine. And you really want both of us?” said Vimes, already making his way around the side of the house. “Sybillllll?” he called, in that sing-song voice used by all husbands everywhere looking for their wives.

He heard the explosion before he had even turned the corner. The backyard filled with a sharp, acrid, chemical smell that nearly would have made him retch if he wasn’t so accustomed to it already. He sighed at the charred black rosette that now decorated the lawn. Beyond it, in a wider blast radius, were… other bits of things.

A bulky figure nearly six and a half feet tall emerged from the dragon pen, decked head to toe in leather armor. “Oh dear, and he had nearly recovered from his case of slab throat…” she mumbled from behind her welding mask. She ducked back into the dragon pen for the shovel, too distracted to notice her husband on the periphery of the yard.

Vimes strode directly toward the carriage out front. “She’s busy. I’ll go by myself,” he said decisively to the messenger as he brushed past. The messenger considered protesting, but thought the better of it.

—

Vimes was ushered into a room half the size but almost as austere as the Oblong Office. Little Sam pouted in an adult-sized chair, grumpily swinging his legs back and forth. Vimes knew that look: the boy was in trouble for something. Sulking in the other chair with a bandaged nose was a boy who appeared the same age, though bigger-boned. Both of his parents were doting over him like a pair of storks brooding a rather large, and rather spoiled, egg. Vimes had been forced to socialize with these people at many a banquet or some such event, or at least this type of people, if not this particular couple. They all blended together in his mind anyway. He had yet to have a conversation with one of them that ended satisfactorily for both parties.

The headmistress greeted him primly from behind her desk and motioned for him to sit in the chair beside his son. “Thank you for coming, your grace. Her ladyship…”

“Couldn’t make it,” Vimes responded curtly. He swore he heard the other boy’s mother exhale derisively through her nose.

“I have called you here,” the headmistress continued, “because your Samuel has gotten into an… altercation with his classmate.” She spoke as though she were handling her words like a very fragile, very expensive heirloom vase.

Vimes turned to little Sam. “You got into a fight?” he asked, more conversationally than disapprovingly.

“I should hardly call that a fair fight!” the other boy’s father interjected. “It took two teachers to pull your little devil off our Thomas! He nearly bit his nose off!” Thomas began to whimper, and his mother cradled him in her arms while staring daggers at Vimes.

Vimes raised his eyebrows as he sized up the victim. He was taller and stockier than his attacker, but apparently that hadn’t helped him much. He turned back to his son, still without any trace of anger. “Why’d you do that, Sammy?”

“It doesn’t matter why he—” Thomas’s father began, but the headmistress held up a hand. “Let him answer,” she commanded.

“He took my spelling sheets from my homework daddy, ‘n he said that my daddy’s nuthin’ but a dirty scoundrel, said I’m ruinin’ the school ‘cause I’m dirty ‘n dumb like him, ‘n then he ripped all my papers up,” little Sam explained sullenly. Thomas whimpered again.

Vimes looked up to meet the father’s eyes with hawklike focus. “He really said that, did he? I wonder where he could have possibly gotten that idea from.”

The father’s features bubbled with the kind of indignation reserved for those who have just been accused of something they actually did. “Slander!” he blurted. “Not only is your son an aggressor, but a liar as well!”

The duke of Ankh stood up. “You’re calling my son a liar, is that it?” he nearly snarled the words.

“You grace—” the headmistress began.

“No, go on,” Vimes continued. “You think Sammy made up that little story, just to make you look bad? Your precious little Thomas would never have done something like that, oh no, because you’ve raised him properly, haven’t you?” He was practically toe to toe with the boy’s father now. He squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height, which unfortunately was still shorter than his opponent. He cracked a few menacing knuckles.

“Daddy, mama said you’re not s’posed to fight the other grownups at school anymore,” Sammy whined from his seat.

“I won’t be threatened by the likes of you,” the man spat. He leveled a self-important finger at VImes’s nose. “I won’t tolerate it. You and your son both owe us an apology for the injuries you have caused.”

“Oh, I’ll give you some injuries to apologize for, all right.”

The bureaucratic voice of the headmistress pierced through his haze of bloodlust like a letter opener. “Your grace, that is enough. To prevent another incident like this, you need to set a good example for your son. Children learn by imitating their parents.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do,” Vimes said pointedly without breaking eye contact with the nobleman. He took his son’s hand and led him out the door. “Come on, Sammy. We’re going home.”

“This isn’t over, Sir Samuel!” he heard the father call after him. “Her ladyship will be hearing of this, and she will not be pleased!”

Don’t I know it, Vimes thought.

—

Lady Sybil was, as predicted, not very pleased. “First I have to lay poor Lord Sharptalon Brightspark Blazeworthy VI to rest this afternoon, and now I hear both of you have gotten into a scuffle,” she sighed, and idly stirred her tea.

“News travels fast,” Vimes grumbled, not looking up from his own teacup.

“The headmistress was right, you know. He takes after you. He sees his father throw a punch or kick a shin, and figures that violence will solve all his problems.”

“It usually does.”

“Sam.”

“Sorry.”

“I spoke to the boy’s mother. She swears up and down that she has no idea why young Thomas would say those things about you.”

“‘Course she did. It’s all about appearances with these people. They’ll say whatever they want behind their expensive closed doors, but none of ‘em have got the spine to say it to your face.”

“As much as I agree with you, Sam, ‘these people’ are our people, even if you hate to think of them that way.”

“Still, good to know Sammy can hold his own in a fight.”

“Dear, I don’t think you’re taking the right lesson from this.”

Vimes grunted noncommittally.

“He just needs a different outlet for his aggression,” Sybil continued. “Something more…productive. Like an organized sport. The academy offers some rather robust athletic programs he could get into.”

Yes, organized sports… Sammy could wipe the floor with all those spoiled little brats, that was for sure. He needed a sport, but perhaps one that was less, well, organized.

—

“Daddy, you still won’t say where we’re going,” young Sam lamented.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more streets.”

After a few moments, Vimes heard the little voice from about twenty or thirty feet behind him. “Daddy, wait up! You’re going too fast!”

Vimes stopped. Damn. Without thinking, he had fallen into his normal Proceeding step.

“I’m tired of walking,” Sammy panted as he caught up.

Vimes almost laughed. Tired of walking? Then he realized. “You know, I ought to teach you how to walk properly. You swing your foot forward, like this. Get it right and you can keep going all day.”

Together they Proceeded, hand in hand this time to prevent another separation, to their destination. There it was…

Cockbill Street.

Gods, when was the last time I was here? thought Vimes. An investigation had led him back here some nine or ten years ago, but before that it must have been decades. The same peeling paint, the same worn cobbles, even the hopscotch game was still there…

“Where are we?” little Sam asked impatiently. “Looks like justa buncha ol’ houses.”

…And this was the first time the boy had ever seen it.

“Son, your old dad grew up in one of these old houses.”

“You used to live here?” Sammy looked doubtful. “They’re not as nice as our house.”

His father sighed. “Right you are. You’re awful lucky that your mother’s got a big fancy house and money to send you to a big fancy school. But you and I both know a big fancy school ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

The boy’s face looked blank. A chorus of shouts and hollers turned his attention to a particularly rough-and-tumble football match taking place down the street, mostly boys a few years older than him.

Vimes nodded toward the game. “They don’t let you play like that at the Academy of Ankh,” he explained.

Sammy considered this as more shrieks and curses echoed off the decaying edifices. “But I dunno any of ‘em,” he pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter. Cockbill Street boys’ll toss a ball around with any little bugger who can force his way into a match. Just get in there and start running around, you’ll pick it up.”

He still looked unsure, but he ambled up to the pack as they were taking a time-out, as there looked to be some sort of hot dispute between the teams. He addressed a boy who was currently wrestling another into a headlock. “Lemme play,” he said simply. The boy in the headlock used the momentary distraction to wrench free and scamper off, sending a few other players to break off in pursuit.

“Who’re you?”

“My name’s Sammy, ‘n I wanna join. I can kick a ball real far.”

The older boy looked incredulous. He turned around to give a consulting glance to the others, who shrugged. “I s’pose we could use another player, since STUPID JOEY’S A THIEVIN’ BASTARD!” He addressed this last comment to the direction that Joey had run. “Jus’ try to keep up, since you look pretty small,” he added. And that was that.

Vimes leaned back against a crumbling wall and, more out of habit than anything else, lit a cigar. He watched the game intently. Indeed, young Sam had ingratiated himself seamlessly, dashing and darting and hollering to keep up with the fierce competition. Once he took a nasty spill, tumbling face first onto the cobblestones, and Vimes sucked his teeth sharply. But before he could move in to help his son, the boy jumped up with an alarming fierceness, completely unbothered by his bleeding nose and scraped knees, and made a mad dash to get back into the action.

Tonight he would be brought home covered in scrapes and bruises and a tear or two in his clothes, Vimes knew. Sybil wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed, but he figured he could convince her it’s no more dangerous than herding spontaneously explosive dragons as a hobby.

Vimes couldn’t help but smile. Whenever little Sammy got knocked down, a vengeful little gleam sparkled in his eyes, and just like a certain someone, he got right back up.

#discworld #sam vimes #samuel vimes #discworld fanfic #mine #sorry to my buddy sam from real life for the elliot smith song title i know its your song #DONT BE MAD AT ME PLEASE IT JUST SOUNDS GOOD AS A TITLE FOR THE STORY #also im sorry women. sybil kind of ended up as a Nagging Wife in this one :( shes just concerned for the wellbeing of her sams :(

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cantsayidont · 4 months

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July 1983 to October 1986. In 1983, DC lured Doug Moench away from Marvel and books like MASTER OF KUNG FU and MOON KNIGHT to take over BATMAN and DETECTIVE COMICS under the editorship of Len Wein. Their run, which lasted 40 months, was the final phase of the Bronze Age Batman continuity; although it continued for some months after the end of CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS, everything up to DETECTIVE COMICS #566 and BATMAN #400 is functionally part of pre-Crisis continuity, in particular most anything to do with Jason Todd becoming the second Robin. (Jason debuted during the end of Gerry Conway's run in early 1983, but it was Moench and Wein who oversaw Jason's actually becoming Robin.)

From 1981 to 1986, there was a tight continuity between BATMAN and DETECTIVE COMICS: a story begun in one book would continue in the other two weeks later. This was something new for Batman; there had been occasional multi-issue storylines for years, and Steve Englehart and Len Wein had introduced a certain amount of Marvel-style continuity in the late '70s, but having around 40 story pages per month allowed more room for character-focused stories, supporting characters, and subplots. When Doug Moench arrived, a central focus was on leading up to Jason Todd becoming Robin, but there were also numerous other major and minor subplots, from Alfred's attempts to connect with his adult daughter, Julia Remarque (introduced by Conway in 1981), to Gotham's messy city politics and power struggles in the underworld.

In MASTER OF KUNG FU, Moench's signature storytelling preoccupation had been "kinky weirdos hurting each other's feelings," and his initial run on the Bat-books also featured a series of messy, sometimes bloody romantic triangles, the most important of which involved Batman; the now-reformed Catwoman; Nocturna (Natalia Knight), a pretentious Goth burglar who attempted to adopt Jason Todd; and Nocturna's adoptive brother Anton, who became a cat burglar out of deranged obsession with Natalia and later tried to kill her so no one else could have her. It was all very grandiose and inevitably somewhat florid, but then expecting gritty, understated realism from a comic book about a man who fights crime dressed as a bat is itself pretty silly.

The strongest story in this run actually has little to do with that soap opera: "What Price the Prize?" in BATMAN #372, is an intelligent, grounded drama about an up-and-coming young Irish boxer maneuvering for a bout with a Black champion obviously inspired by Muhammad Ali, featuring some of Don Newton's finest Batman art; the conclusion in DETECTIVE #539 isn't quite as sharp, but is still one of Moench's best. Other highlights include a clash with Catman (BATMAN #371/DETECTIVE #538) in which Thomas Blake's determined belief in the magical power of his costume nearly gets both him and Batman killed over and over; a wistful story about the private life and hidden depths of boorish Harvey Bullock (DETECTIVE #549); a delightful one-shot (BATMAN #383) in which Batman repeatedly tries and fails to get some sleep; the debut of Black Mask (BATMAN #385–386 and DETECTIVE #553); a comedic tale of Batman and Catwoman on an actual date, in costume (BATMAN #392); and a distinctly '80s-Bondian espionage adventure reuniting Moench and artist Paul Gulacy (BATMAN #393–394).

Artistically, the run got off to a good start with Don Newton on BATMAN (inked by Alfredo Alcala) and Gene Colan on DETECTIVE (generally inked by Bob Smith). Newton's departure in 1984 hurt, leading to a period of artistic musical chairs and some really bad early Pat Broderick art, followed by Tom Mandrake taking over BATMAN. Mandrake gets a bad rap in some quarters, mostly because his style is looser (and about two steps further in the direction of Gene Colan) than many comics fans care to tolerate, but his work here is mostly fine, and certainly an improvement over Broderick's. The Annual has some very nice early Denys Cowan pencils, inked by Alcala, and BATMAN #400 is an all-star extravaganza art-wise.

Maddeningly, DC has never properly reprinted a lot of this material, which I think is badly overdue. If it's not as epochal as some more familiar periods both before and after, the median level of quality is pretty decent (and certainly no worse than the 1987–1991 period, which has now been reprinted in its entirety); its emphasis on characterization wouldn't be matched again in the Batman titles for many years. Denny O'Neil supposedly hated much of what Moench had done (Moench has said O'Neil especially loathed Nocturna, whom he flatly refused to revive in any form), but Denny is dead now, and in any case, his Batman stories include their share of stinkers as well as gems. I don't know that DC has any kind of real reprint strategy anymore, but I hope they won't wait until Doug Moench is dead to properly remaster and collect these issues. Doing them all (BATMAN #360–400 and Annual #10, DETECTIVE #527–567) in something akin to Marvel's Epic Collection format would probably take four volumes — there's around 1,800 pages of material, more if you include Moench's Superman/Batman stories from WORLD'S FINEST — but why not?

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alastairstom · 1 year

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There's just something about Thomas and Alastair.

There's something about having a small pocket of time in the most romantic place on Earth. There's something about that being a secret that they kept from others, a shared consciousness for no one else's imagination. There's something about removing it from the real world and making it a joint dream.

There's something about Thomas looking at Alastair at his worst and then seeing the best parts of him underneath the façade anyway. There's something about Thomas loving Alastair as a 14-year-old and then later loving him forever.

There's something about Thomas checking in on Alastair after he pushes him away with unkind words and cruel rumors. There's something about him trying to make sure he's okay after tragedy, whether that's his friend's death or his father's.

There's something about Thomas really seeing Alastair's ugliest, cruelest, most painful trauma responses. There's something about him loving him for the things that he thinks make him unlovable rather than despite them.

There's something about Thomas loving Alastair's cutting wit and sharp tongue, things that he was forced to weaponize but now uses to jest. Something that everyone else fails to appreciate.

There's something about Thomas constantly standing up for Alastair to his loved ones that Alastair has hurt, insisting over and over again that he's just misunderstood and he's hurting. There's something about Thomas doing this for several years while angering his friends and pressing on.

There's something about talking so long, so well into the night, that they shut down a café. Something about sharing interests in history and poetry and literature, in travel and languages, and discovering it in that cafe.

There's something about the way that Alastair treats Thomas like an adult after a lifetime of being babied.

There's something about the way that Thomas takes care of Alastair after a lifetime of abuse.

There's something about Alastair making Thomas feel confident of how much space he takes up, something about him showing Thomas that he's worth every bit of it.

There's something about Alastair opening up emotionally because he loves Thomas, something inside of him unlocked and free.

There's something about Thomas and Alastair enjoying each other's company whether they're talking or kissing or simply sitting together while Alastair looks out a window and curses in Persian.

There's something about "I need to breathe," "I love you, let me love you," and "I am perfectly happy with everything just as it is." There's something amazing about the answer to "hate me on your own behalf" being a simple 'no.'

There's something about both of them spending their lives not just with their partner but also their best friend.

But, you know. There's just something about Thomas and Alastair.

#thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #chot #chain of thorns

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marzipanandminutiae · 2 months

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A Crimson Peak Timeline

(based on the art book, documents shown onscreen in the movie, and the character bios GDT wrote- where the bios don't contradict film canon. I've attempted to combine the two where contradicting elements are unavoidable.

Sometime during the reign of Charles II (1660-1685). Edward Sharpe created Baronet for services to the crown in providing clay for construction projects. Allerdale Hall built in the parish of Above Derwent, Cumberland, England.

1841. Carter Everett Cushing born the second son of six in an impoverished family that traveled the eastern US for his father's masonry business.

1863. Beatrice Alexandra Chetwynde, eldest daughter of a large, wealthy family, marries Baronet James William Sharpe. The marriage is contracted solely for the Chetwyndes' land, which adjoins the Sharpe estate.

April 1, 1865. Lucille Sharpe born.

Sometime between 1865 and ~1873. Carter marries 18-year-old socialite Eleanor Wyndham-Beckford, to the immense disapproval of her family. Though she is disowned and the couple struggles to make ends meet for years, Carter ultimately becomes a successful developer.

February 18, 1867. Thomas Sharpe born.

C. 1867-1872. The Sharpes employ a wet nurse- and later nanny -named Theresa, who would become the only adult to care about the children in their lives. She would ultimately be sacked after Beatrice caught young Lucille snuggling with her for warmth on a winter's night (on the grounds that a noble child should not be close with servants- a "crime" for which Lucille was beaten severely).

1876. 11-year-old Lucille murders her father with poison distilled from mine tailings, after he took Thomas on a hunting trip and left him in the woods to die of exposure.

Late 1876? A mining vein near Allerdale Hall collapses, killing several child mine-workers. I could have sworn I read somewhere that James foolishly dug a mining tunnel under the house shortly before his death, and that's what destabilized it, but I can't find it now.

October 9, 1877. Edith M. Cushing born, after Eleanor had suffered several miscarriages.

1878. Thomas and Lucille begin a secret sexual relationship.

Early August, 1879. Beatrice catches Lucille and Thomas together; Lucille murders her to keep their secret. The siblings try to run away together but are caught and brought back. Thomas is sent to live with an aunt and uncle in Whitehaven (who in turn send him to boarding school), while Lucille is forced into a mental institution.

Probably summer, 1885. Thomas finishes his schooling and rescues Lucille; they return to Allerdale.

1887. The Sharpe siblings travel to London seeking investors for Thomas' venture to reopen the mines. A wealthy, terminally ill gentleman, Major Richard Upton, takes a liking to Thomas and begs Thomas to marry his disabled daughter, Pamela. At Lucille's urging- since they're running out of both options and money -Thomas agrees. The two attempt to poison Pamela to death, but Lucille ends up strangling her instead.

Sometime between October 1887 and October 1888. Eleanor Cushing dies of cholera and appears to Edith as a ghost.

Early-mid 1890s. Carter and the recently widowed Mrs. McMichael have a brief flirtation that both Edith and Eunice oppose. Though it goes nowhere, the rift between the two girls is never healed.

Late October or November 1892. Edith (age 15) becomes infatuated with a 25-year-old poet who is having marital difficulties. After convincing Carter to hire him as a tutor, all unknowing, she confesses her feelings to him. He not only takes his leave of the Cushing family, but of Buffalo itself, quickly moving away with his wife and children.

1893. The Sharpes travel to Edinbrugh, where Thomas again finds no investors but does attract the attention of a 36-year-old widow of means, Margaret McDermott. Once again, he marries her and helps Lucille poison her, though she is ultimately killed via blunt force trauma.

Summer 1893. Edith asks her best friend, Alan McMichael, to kiss her so she can write about kisses more accurately. It means nothing to her, but sparks an unrequited passion in Alan

1896. Lucille falls pregnant by Thomas. He travels with her to Italy, which he loves and she despises. There he meets a wealthy woman named Enola Sciotti, widowed and bereaved of her only child, and decides of his own accord to marry and murder her in their usual fashion. The Sharpes and Enola return to Allerdale.

1897. Lucille is delivered of a son, who may or may not be sickly. Enola tries to care for her and the child, promising she can save him. The baby either dies of natural causes or Lucille smothers him under the conviction that his cries mean something is terribly wrong with him and he can't live- this is one contradiction in the bios vs. the movie that I prefer to leave vague, since it's possible not even Lucille remembers what happened. Either way, she blames Enola and dispatches her by unknown means. Thomas patents his excavating machine.

Late summer(?) 1901. Alan returns from studying medicine in London and sets up an ophthalmology practice in Buffalo. Edith's debut novel, Figures In The Mist, is rejected for publication by Oglivie and Sons. Thomas seeks investment in the mines from Cushing and Co., unsuccessfully. Edith and the Sharpes begin a friendship. Edith sees her mother's ghost for the second time.

September 14, 1901. President William McKinley dies after being shot at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo. I include this because the fact that the movie doesn't is hilarious to me.

October 21, 1901. At the Cushings' dinner party, Carter bribes the Sharpes to leave, instructing Thomas to break Edith's heart or he'll tell her about the marriage to Pamela. A deleted scene reveals that he was on the verge of relenting and investing in the mines when he read the private investigator's report.

October 22, 1901. Lucille murders Carter at his club, then departs to return to England. Thomas and Edith become engaged.

Late October-early November 1901. Thomas and Edith are married and travel to Allerdale.

November-December 1901 (possibly into early 1902?). The rest of the movie's plot.

#crimson peak #long post #meta

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darklinaforever · 2 months

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When I am accused of romanticizing incest and grooming because I ship Daemyra, whereas when grooming is involved I recognize it, criticize it and have a tendency to despise the character who carried out this horror ! Wasn't it Lucille Sharpe who manipulated and groomed her own little brother ?! (Attention, I still love the character of Lucille. She is a fascinating complex character, I can't take that away from her. On the other hand, I definitely remain objective about the relationship she had with her brother ; Thomas, my little darling for the life that did not deserve so much misfortune)

Not to mention the characters of Tyler Galpin and Kylo Ren having also undergone grooming ? But obviously no one talks about them since they are men! And that the anti will have a tendency to demonize these two characters, refusing to recognize their victim status in order to make them into pure monsters having manipulated the poor young women in front of them (Wednesday Addams and Rey) ! There is definitely this tendency to demonize men and infantilize women during our era which wants to be so feminist.

Especially since I've already seen the Grooming story come out for Wyler and Reylo, but reversed, claiming that these young men groomed these young girls ! Either by transforming the canonical age of Tyler in addition to ignoring the canonical events making him a victim of grooming (nice try but failed), and for Reylo, although the characters are both adults, use their almost 10 years (I think ?) of age difference to shout about grooming ! (Definitely the use of this word is really trivialized these days) Yes ! Let's infantilize women, such as Rhaenyra Targaryen (who ironically always goes from victim to whore / aggressor with the anti, sometimes within the same episode, showing all the consistency they demonstrate in their speeches) or Alina Stakov by saying that they were groomed by Daemon Targaryen and The Darkling (Both stripped by many fans of their complexity / the fact that they are gray characters to make them pure monsters who are attackers and rapists of women, while there are canonical rapists around them in these universes respective !) to fix our anti discourse and pretend to be feminist ! Great to compare that to womens who fully choose to be with the men they want !

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bruciemilf · 2 years

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Pitching my " Bruce and Harley long lost twins " AU because Margot Robbie and Robert Pattinson look eerily similar and it gave me brainrot-

I feel like Falcone had a hand in separating them, breaking the proud Wayne clan apart ,- what's a daughter missing? Gotham's mean to it's girls, so it'll be just fitting for one to die before they lived.

Maybe it happens when Falcone's still considered a family friend. He offers to drive Martha to the hospital when Thomas can't, and Alfred neither.

As Martha Wayne screams the town down, he has a friendly chat with the staff.

Martha KNOWS she had twins; she just knows. But when she asks, everyone's so puzzled. " Mrs. Wayne, you had a boy; Just... One boy."

" That can't be right," she sniffs, even if she's holding Bruce so tightly to her, a hollow void eats her where her daughter should be. " I had a girl. I know I did. Thomas- Tommy picked that silly name for her, after his pet rabbit. I know it!"

Martha Wayne wasn't thrown in Arkham because she was dangerous; She was locked up because she was a grieving woman, and Thomas Wayne can make that go away, but he can't get his daughter back. She did exist. She was someone.

They have Bruce, until they don't.

CONSIDER THIS; Harley and Riddler in the same orphanage. Him spitting on Bruce even after his parents were murdered, and Harley feeling a sense of wanting to protect Bruce from it??

She doesn't know why. Her fists itch and twitch to punch long and wiry Eddie Nygma in the teeth for saying Bruce deserves it.

Because yes, he's a rich kid. A rich kid with dead parents rotting in the ground.

" So? You're so fucking stupid, Harley. He has MONEY now! He'll be FINE. Meanwhile, US gutter spawns here-"

Harley remembers Eddie holding down Jenny Jameson. Four years old, playful and clueless in a way Gotham murders young.

She remembers her screaming while Eddie shoved rusty nails in her mouth for taking his apple.

He doesn't care about anyone but his goddam self. He couldn't understand Bruce Wayne. Or her.

She never had any family, but doesn't that suck more? To have something love you that only death could make it stop? She sees Bruce Wayne's grief striken ashy face in that square TV.

She grieves, too. She doesn't know why. She just does.

God I love Bruce and Harley being roomates; Meeting as adults, - or as close to adulthood as they'll ever be able to touch.

Bruce doesn't understand why she hangs out with Eddie and Jack. Jack just rubs him the wrong way and Eddie looks at him, hateful edge sharp and cutting and Bruce doesn't mind that;

But he does mind Harley being around them. Especially Jack. " Ah, ya just don't know howtta have fun, Brucie. This is COLLEGE. Be there or be square. Cause he doesn't invite just anyone, ya know?"

" He smells like... Smoke. And bleach," he scrunches his nose. " And he's...Mean."

" That's just how he jokes around! He's a funny guy if you have a sense of humor."

and he HEARD Jack make fun of the scars on Harley's back; He's seen them, because Harley's world doesn't have the word " shame" in it and changes around him frequently.

He did freeze, the first time he saw them. Pale and scarred. Close to unintelligible depending on the lighting. But he does see them. It'd be a kindness for him if he wouldn't.

Dragged. With a sharp object, mkst accurately a piece of glass or razor blade. Thin, but deep. Letters stretched from one shoulder blade to another.

Wayne

Propriety

To which Eddie laughed with, because he and the kids at the orphanage were the authors. They figured if Harley wanted to defend that family so badly, she'll have a sign that fits.

But she didn't need to know that. Bruce does. Bruce knows everything about anyone, seems like.

" No, I mean, - mean to YOU. He makes dumb blonde jokes even if you're at the top of their class. "

" Yeah, well, " Harley shrugs, painting her eyelids with green and purple; She doesn't like either, but Jack told her she'd be prettier if she changed her make up. " Told him I didn't like it, so he's gonna stop...Eventually. he's nice to me sometimes."

" He should be nice to you ALL the time. Just... Don't go. I'll watch that horrible Grey Ghost reboot if you stay with me."

Harley is weak for his puppy eyes; She really is. " Please, Harl. Don't go."

"... Fine," she groans. " I'll be a loser. Just for my favourite roomie."

" I'm the only person who responded to your ad."

" Wanna know why? We're probably meant to be in eachother's lives."

" I don't think Gotham is kind enough to give me a friend like you."

Harley actually tears up and CRUSHES Bruce in a hug, nevermind Jack's stupid " never touch Wayne" rule. " BRUCE. We're gonna be BFFS forever. I'll make you a teeth necklace."

" I think the bracelet's enough."

" You'll be maid of honor at my wedding."

" That's not what it's called."

" You'll be my kid's weird uncle that says phones ruin families and not decades of fermented generational trauma."

"...Sure."

Sure. Bruce can be anything, if he's with her, and she's with him.

#LONG BOI #bruce wayne #harley quinn #batman #twins au #dc #dc comics #batfamily #batfam #battinson #the batman #writing #writing prompt #text post #my writing #fluff #soft bruce wayne

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lyledebeast · 20 days

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Captain Vidal vs Colonel Tavington

Long ago, I rewatched Pan's Labyrinth (2006) with the intention of comparing its villain with from The Patriot's. Then and also in last week's rewatch, I was surprised to find even more similarities than I expected. In no particular order, some things these two men have in common: rooting out rebel forces, child-killing, torturing, speech-making, and shaving. So, why is it that Vidal is the most terrifying movie villain I've encountered in my adult life while Tavington is my babygirl? There are three reasons.

Vidal is crueler to his enemies than Tavington.

Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez) sees the rebels as vermin to be exterminated. Within about ten minutes of his first appearance he brutally and unexpectedly murders a young man with a wine bottle in front of his father for having Communist propaganda, and then murders the father. He seems to relish torturing rebels and attempts to do so on two occasions. In the first scene, Vidal addresses the man in a conversational tone while showing him the implements of torture he plans to use to get him to talk and explaining the effects he believe they will have. He taunts the man, who suffers from a speech impediment, that he will let him go if he can count to three without stuttering. He also makes a speech to Mercedes, but it is interrupted when she attacks him with the knife we saw her sew into her apron earlier. Although Vidal views the rebel man with contempt, he faces him during his speech. Mercedes is only able to escape because Vidal is so little concerned about her as a threat that he makes the whole speech with his back to her. Like Tavington, running his mouth gets him into trouble.

Colonel Tavington (Jason Isaacs), in spite of claiming to find "real pleasure" in his victim's suffering, is prepared to ride away from his first encounter with the Martin family without killing anyone. He metes out Martin's punishment for having aided rebel soldiers, threatens him and his children with his pistol, and seems content until Thomas ignores the warning and rushes to free his brother. After one rebel dies under torture, Tavington offers his companion a chance at more riches to add to his stolen ones if he gives up the information. I think Tavington is lying here and would kill this man even if he had accepted the offer, but that he is trying to get out of torturing him too provides a sharp contrast to Vidal, who is clearly mixing business with pleasure.

2. Vidal is crueler to those close to him than Tavington.

Vidal's men are as rattled by his murder of the farmer and his son as the audience, and yet he lays the blame for his actions at their door: "Let this teach you to search these fools before you come bothering me." He berates them similarly throughout other scenes. Tavington is clearly annoyed that the lieutenant he replaces as the highest ranking officer at the Martin farm does not know who carried the dispatches handed directly to Tavington in spite of having arrived two whole minutes before him, but he does not reprimand him. Tavington's second in command shows signs of being afraid of him both during his interview with the wounded soldier and after the first tortured militaman dies, but Tavington never behaves towards Bordon in ways that justify that fear. After Tavington's men follow him into Martin's trap, he does make some attempt to stop the charge and mitigate the damage he caused.

The sharpest contrast, though, lies in Vidal, unlike Tavington, having members of his own family on hand to mistreat. Initially, he seems to show some concern for Carmen, his wife and Ofelia's mother, but it quickly becomes clear that this is only a facade. When Dr. Ferreiro tells him that Carmen should not have traveled so near her due date, Vidal responds, "a son should be born where his father is," and when she falls dangerously ill, he tells the doctor to save his son, even at the expense of his mother. Vidal is indirectly responsible for Carmen's death, and, of course, very directly responsible for Ofelia's, but one particular incident of cruelty really resonated with me on this last rewatch. At the dinner party Vidal hosts, one of the officers' wives asks Carmen how she and Vidal met, and she explains that her late husband had made his uniforms. Vidal apologizes for her and says, "My wife is uneducated, and she believes these kinds of silly stories are interesting to people." If he is embarrassed at having married is deceased tailor's wife, perhaps he should not have married his deceased tailor's wife? Embarrassed or not, he saw a polite exchange between two women and said, "What in the fuck is that? I hate it!" Carmen is not a wife to him but a broodmare, and Ofelia is simply a nuisance. The only person he really cares for is his son, though even that care is questionable.

3. Vidal's evil actions are backed by evil principles

While Guillermo del Toro's heroes in this film are communists, the film is so much presenting communism in a favorable light as it is absolutely skewering fascism and the kind of masculinity that goes with it. Tavington and Vidal's attention to personal grooming initially appears to be a similarity, but closer inspection reveals the differences. The scene where Tavington shaves in the creek sets him apart from his own men, who are socializing with each other, but also the more rugged militiamen who cannot be bothered with such superficial concerns (and yet remain barefaced nonetheless . . . somehow). Vidal, though, is shown shaving on several occasions. And shining his boots. And cleaning his watch. As any second wave feminist can tell you, it's not about the final effect but the work it takes to produce it. Vidal is reproducing a rigid, militaristic masculinity like it's his job, which in some respects it certainly is. It is also a family legacy.

Both films provide stories about the villain's fathers, but while Tavington's is told by him in a scene of surprising emotional honesty given his usual propensity for lying his ass off, Vidal's is told by an unnamed man at the aforementioned dinner party. When he describes General Vidal breaking his watch in battle so his son would know at what time he died, Vidal replies, "That's ridiculous. My father never owned a watch." If you want to dispel a rumor, telling an even more ridiculous lie is not the way to do it. It is not a rumor, though, and Vidal confirms that when he hands his son to Mercedes at the end of the film and holds up his watch, saying, "Tell my son when his father died." In his eyes, this child is less a child than a replica.

Vidal's masculinity is one rooted in violent domination of both women and men that he sees as less than himself. He wants to pass these traits on to his son. As he explains to Ferreiro, "That boy will carry my name and my father's." Tavington also seeks to subjugate the local population, but like his shaving, this does not set him apart from the film's heroes in the ways the filmmakers intended. Vidal is evil because he's a patriarchal fascist in a feminist fantasy/drama. Tavington is evil because he's British in an American nationalist propaganda piece. I would argue that Vidal "works" better as a villain simply because Pan's Labyrinth is a better-written, smarter story than The Patriot. Of all the insights comparing these films has brought me, my favorite has to do with fatherhood. While Roland Emmerich sets it up as a virtue in and of itself. del Toro reminds the audience that being a father does not necessarily have to do with being selfless and caring. On the contrary, it can be narcissistic. Caring for one's own children carries little weight if it does not also entail caring for other people's children, as Mercedes does when she takes Vidal's son from his arms and when she tries to protect Ofelia from him. She breaks the patriarchal cycle when she responds to Vidal's final demand with, "No. [Your son] won't even know your name."

Indeed, it has been a real struggle to write this post without digressing onto the topic of how well-written and amazing the heroes of Pan's Labyrinth are in comparison to The Patriot's, but that's another post!

#guillermo del toro #pan's labyrinth #captainvidal #sergi lopez #william tavington #jason isaacs #the patriot #villain fandom #fatherhood #roland emmerich

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free-for-all-fics · 9 months

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Charlie Hunnam Character Prompts! This list includes: Alan McMichael, King Arthur, Raymond Smith, and Will “Ironhead” Miller. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of the ideas presented here. I’d love to read it! 💜

1. After the events of Crimson Peak, Edith and Alan eventually marry. Edith gives birth to a daughter (whether the baby is Alan’s, or Thomas’ from his and Edith’s night in the depot is up to you.) Their daughter inherits the ability to see ghosts just like her mother and grandmother before her.

2. You’re Thomas and Lucille’s daughter but you don’t know. You’ve been raised to believe you’re their sister. Due to the nature of your birth and years spent growing up in the darkness of Allerdale Hall, your eyes have a strong sensitivity to light. You’re in your 20s when Thomas takes you to an optician in New York while he’s courting Edith. Maybe an American doctor will have something to help you that the English doctors back home don’t. You meet Alan, who gives you an eye exam. He helps you when your eyes are giving you trouble by prescribing you a special type of eyeglasses and sunglasses so you can go outside for longer periods of time. He also prescribes you eyedrops/medications and recommends using a parasol for shade while you’re out on walks. Over time, his prescription notes become love notes.

3. You’re the youngest Sharpe and are much more petite than the average woman, standing only at about 4’9. Thomas assures you it’s not your fault, it’s just how you were born. You also attribute your small stature to the lack of necessary sunshine and fresh air from your years growing up confined to the shadows of Allerdale Hall. Your brother rarely let you leave the grounds while you were a child, afraid you’d get sick and your immune system would be too weak to fight off any infection. You’d never gone past the front yard before. Now an adult, you fall in love with Alan McMichael while Thomas is courting Edith. He dances with you at balls, sends you secret love letters, etc. When Thomas discovers these letters, he takes them and locks you in your bedroom. Your attempts to stop him or slow him down do nothing to deter him. Despite your protests and pleas to be let out and for him to give Alan’s letters back, he instead hides them where Lucille wouldn’t find them. You don’t realize he’s locked you in to protect you from her. When Alan comes to Allerdale Hall to rescue Edith, he wants to take you away too and demands to know where you are. During the confrontation, you escape. It’s because of Alan that you discover your true lineage: Your siblings are actually your parents and you’re the product of incest. You’re helpless and horrified when Lucille stabs Alan. You try to run to him, but she holds you back while Thomas stabs him too.

You believe him to be dead until Lucille takes Edith away to sign the papers and Thomas urges you to help him get Alan downstairs, quickly. He’s still alive and your tears of mourning turn into tears of relief. There’s no time for explanations, but Thomas begs your forgiveness and tells you he loves you. While he’s not proud of the act he and Lucille did, he wants you to know you were never a mistake. He gives you a goodbye kiss on the forehead before he rushes to help Edith. While you keep him stable, Alan reveals that, before he was stabbed, Thomas gave him his blessing to marry you. He whispered it so low so Lucille wouldn’t hear. After leaving Crimson Peak, you later wed. Neither of you care about Mrs. McMichael’s snide remarks or disapproval of you. But when you come to be with child, you’re afraid for their health. You worry that your body is too small to safely carry to term, or that your lineage means any children you have are at risk for birth defects. Alan soothes your fears and assures you that you’re strong and capable. No matter what, he will love his child. If they are born anything but healthy, you and he will find a way to still give them the best life possible. You’ll devote your lives to their happiness.

4. Alan McMichael meets you, a woman who has Heterochromia. As an eye doctor, he wants to study this rare eye condition but over time, he gets to know you and falls in love with you. You help him with his studies on the subject and tell him about your life, from your genetic history all the way to the hardships you’ve faced for being different from everybody else. You tell him how you used to wear sunglasses all the time to hide your eyes out of shame. But you’re not ashamed anymore, and Alan further compliments them. The eyes are generally considered the most beautiful feature of the human body and your eyes are no exception. They’re unique, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

5. Haunting of Hill House crossover AU (the novel, not the show): You’re Hugh Crain’s youngest daughter and the only family member who survived the hauntings of Hill House. While you grew up on the grounds, no corner of your house was safe. Your mother was killed in the drive up before the house’s completion, leaving you and your older sisters to be raised by a governess. Every room had its haunts. Even the outside garden was haunted by ghosts having picnics. Your eldest sister, Sophia, was given a disturbing monograph on morality from your father, signed in his own blood. As you grew older, you started to feel uneasy around your overbearing father and grew concerned about his intentions with Sophia. Though he was physically absent and often away in Europe with his new wife, you still felt the weight of his presence everywhere within the walls, along with the ghosts. It frightened you. You left Hill House when you turned 18 and never came back, though you missed your sisters dearly and kept writing them letters. You settled in New York, where you met and later married Alan McMichael, a handsome eye doctor. When he shows you his interest in ghost sightings through photography, you’re worried for his safety, still traumatized from your past experiences. You have yet to tell him the full story about Hill House.

Your middle sister sometimes visited with her husband, and you were saddened at her and Sophia’s falling out over the inheritance of the house. No matter how much you urged your eldest sister to leave Hill House, you knew she’d never visit. Sophia later died alone and you were devastated at the news of her death. Alan did his best to console you at her funeral. Your mourning was exacerbated when your middle sister died while trying to move some furniture and dishes out of the house, mere months after Sophia’s funeral. The coroner said she slipped and fell down the stairs, but you knew better. When Alan’s friend, Edith, marries Thomas Sharpe and moves into Allerdale Hall, you come with to help her settle in. But you realize immediately that Allerdale Hall is haunted, in eerily similar ways to how Hill House is. She confides in you about her ability to see ghosts and you do what you can to protect her and keep her safe since you couldn’t do the same for your beloved sisters. But you can’t stay in the house forever, so you go to Alan for help. You finally sit him down and confide in him everything about your experiences at Hill House. You urge him that Edith is now in great danger and needs both his help and yours before it’s too late.

6. You’re Eunice’s best friend and fall in love with her brother, Alan, when he meets you while attending medical school. Neither of you make the connection right away. After all, there’s tons of women named Eunice and you and Alan hadn’t seen each other since you were children. Uh oh when he takes you to meet his family and you realize you’re in love with your best friend’s brother.

7. You’re a mermaid-like creature in Camelot but unlike the Syrens, your magic isn’t dark and you don’t serve Vortigern. You stayed in hiding during his tyrannical reign, since you’re similar to a Ceasg and knew he’d abuse your magic. After Vortigern’s death and the destruction of the tower, the Syrens ventured back out to the deeper waters of the vast sea. You’re captured by Arthur’s men, mistaken for a Syren after saving the new King’s life by kissing him and granting him the ability to breathe underwater for a time. His knights mistook your actions and thought you were trying to eat their friend. You’re kept in the King’s bedchamber, in a large glass container full of water that has enough room to swim around in, but acts as your cage. Arthur interrogates you, asking you all sorts of questions about yourself, where you come from, your connection to the Syrens that served his uncle, etc. But over time, his questions become softer and he talks to you with a spirit similar to that of a young boy who just discovered fairytales are real. He and you fall in love. You use your magic to grant Arthur’s wishes, even if he unknowingly makes them. It takes him a while to realize what’s happening and that his wishes coming true is your doing.

One night, the door above your tank is left unlocked after you’re fed. You pull yourself out and crawl towards Arthur while he sleeps in his bed of furs. You’re so curious about the anatomy of humans and always wanted to see one up close. As you crawl on top of him to touch his face and play with his golden hair, Arthur responds as if in a dream and leans up to kiss you. When he jolts awake and realizes what he’s doing, he lets you touch and admire him, but only for a short while before he carries you back to your tank. He doesn’t want you to dry out. But you keep a firm hold on his hand and encourage him to join you, telling him you want to explore his body further. He relents and you make love under the water. Someone later tries to kidnap you and steal you away for their own greed, and your tank shatters. You flail around like a fish out of water before your tail dries and turns to legs. After he rescues you, Arthur gives you back your freedom. But instead you choose to stay and serve him as your King. Unlike Syrens, You don’t demand blood or human sacrifices. You simply ask for Arthur’s heart, his love, and he gives it to you. He makes you his Queen, as unconventional as his choice in a bride may be. There’s no other he wants for his wife.

8. Pirates of the Caribbean-esque AU: You’re a mermaid/siren but you’re a good natured one that isn’t bloodthirsty or man-eating like your sisters. Arthur captures you and holds you prisoner after he thinks you tried to kill him. He keeps you in a large tank in his private bedchamber because he needs a mermaid’s/siren’s magic to help him in a quest for something. But then you and he start bonding and developing romantic feelings for each other, especially when he realizes you actually saved his life that day you met and weren’t trying to kill him at all. Despite being kept in a tank full of seawater, you become very sick because you’ve been away from the actual sea for too long. Your skin and tail become ashy, your hair loses its luster, the sparkle in your eyes dims. Arthur grows so worried and remorseful for his mistreatment of you that he sets you free, returning you to the ocean where you belong. You wave to him as you swim away and he waves back with stray tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t see you for so long that he thinks you’re gone forever. But then you show up again while he’s sailing out at sea, swimming along the side of his ship and you’re mistaken for a large fish. He’s surprised to see you when you climb over the side and hold yourself up on the railing. He’s left speechless when you reveal you’ve brought him the treasure he sought after in the first place. It wasn’t easy to find, that’s why you were gone so long. You never planned on abandoning him. You kiss him and tell him a secret: If a mortal wins the heart of a merfolk, that merfolk is granted the ability to walk on land when their tail is dry. And a mortal fortunate enough to receive the kiss of a merfolk is granted the ability to breathe underwater. You show Arthur he’s earned your love when your beautiful shimmering tail dries and becomes human legs. He quickly finds you some clothes and asks you to stay with him as his bride and be his Queen. You accept, but tell him you’ll have to return to the sea for short periods of time periodically to stay healthy. When the King and Queen are both missing from the palace, it’s safe to say they’re out swimming.

9. You’re Arthur’s Queen and are once again with child after many failed attempts. You’ve been able to get pregnant before, but the trouble has been keeping it. You’ve suffered many miscarriages so early on that sometimes you wouldn’t even bother telling your husband you were with child, too afraid you’d get his hopes up only to lose it. This put an emotional and mental toll on both you and Arthur. This is the farthest you’ve carried in any pregnancy, so Arthur is especially protective and doting, making sure you have the best of healers. Naturally, everyone in the kingdom hopes the firstborn will be a boy to carry his father’s legacy. Arthur assures you he just wants a healthy wife and child. The birth itself is difficult and you nearly die trying to bring your baby into the world. There’s so much blood. Arthur is terrified but refuses to leave your side. This is his castle, his wife, and his child. So he’s going to hold your hand and caress your hair through it all, even if it takes hours. He encourages you and tells you you’re the strongest woman he knows. When the babe is born, it’s a girl. You’re afraid you’ve disappointed the kingdom and your husband, but Arthur is overjoyed at the arrival of his little princess. She is his heir and he loves both her and you unconditionally. A huge celebration is in order. But first, you must rest and recover.

10. Ever after AU: Your stepmother works you like a servant for years following your father’s death, while plotting and scheming to get her own spoiled and selfish daughter on the throne. You pretend to be a courtier to save a man’s life, inadvertently catching the eye of King Arthur. He keeps pursuing you despite all your attempts to evade him, so you give him your deceased mother’s name when he pushes for yours. You didn’t think you’d see him again, but fate has you crossing paths and meeting in secret. A romance eventually blossoms. You show him you’re a country girl at heart with a strong spirit, not afraid to get dirty, climb trees, use a blade, etc. You want more than anything to tell Arthur the truth of who you are, but keep losing your courage at the last moment. He’s just so wonderful and you love him so much, you don’t want to hurt him with your deception. A masque ball is being held for the King to choose a bride so Camelot may finally have a Queen. Your stepmother lashes you for your insolence towards your stepsister after she tries to take your mother’s dress. She locks you in the cellar but you escape.

Your stepmother tries to sabotage you by assaulting you and exposing you as a fraud and devious little pretender in front of the entire royal court, but her scheme backfires terribly when Arthur reveals he doesn’t care about your status as a servant. He holds your hand as he tells your stepmother that she seems to have forgotten herself and must be unaware of his own background. He grew up in a brothel under the care of prostitutes. He loved those women like family and he rose up out of gutter in the village streets of Londinium through years of hard work and blood, sweat, and tears. He has your stepmother and terrible stepsister taken away to be dealt with later and announces you as his intended bride. That is, if you’ll have him. The decision is yours. Meanwhile, your other stepsister, who is much more gentle and kind hearted, has been in a blooming romance of her own: She’s falling in love with one of Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table. Upon your marriage and coronation, your stepsister is appointed your lady-in-waiting and becomes part of the royal court. On your wedding night, Arthur discovers the lashing marks on your back and is horrified. He’s so livid he would’ve sentenced your stepmother to death for daring to lay such a violent hand upon you, but you talk him down. He strips her of her title in front of the royal court and, at your behest, sentences her and your horrible stepsister to lifelong servitude. Neither you nor your other stepsister have spared a thought for your cruel stepmother or odious stepsister, too busy in your happy new lives.

11. You’re thrown overboard when the ship you’re traveling on gets stuck in a terrible and merciless thunderstorm. As you try to keep yourself above water, you hear voices shouting what you think is your name. Lightning cracks and starts a fire on the ship, but that’s all you remember as you hit your head and black out. You awaken on the shoreline, found by men who later reveal themselves as Knights of the Round Table. They take you to their King, Arthur. When you reveal you don’t remember anything but a shortened version of your name, Arthur takes it upon himself to look after you while you recover from your ordeal. At least until your memory returns or your family can be found. He has his knights work on locating your family while he shows you his castle, takes you on tours of Camelot, etc. Over time, your friendship turns into a romance. Little do either you or Arthur know, you’re actually a Viking Princess who was on voyage to Camelot to marry Arthur. The very same Viking Princess who is believed to be dead. Your arranged marriage was meant to strengthen an alliance between Norway and England in exchange for protection, resources, trade routes, weapons, etc. But your supposed death has created a new array of problems for Arthur as he’s tried to draft up a new agreement with your mourning mother and/or father, not realizing he has their amnesiac daughter right under his roof. What happens when the truth is revealed?

12. Arthur stumbles across a baby girl in a basket drifting in the water. This child was watched over and protected by the Lady of the Lake, who instructs Arthur to take you in and raise you as his daughter. He does so, and you grow up a Princess of Camelot. But as you grow, you show signs of possessing magic similar to that of mermaids, water nymphs, or fairies. You have unique abilities over controlling water and can even influence people when you sing. You may have the ability to breathe underwater or swim at incredible speeds. Your father still loves you and does what he can to help you control your powers, but he may need the help of the Mage to further teach you, since he’s just a human man who has no knowledge of your birth or who your natural parents were. The Lady of the Lake didn’t tell him much when she gave you to him.

13. You’re either Roz’s sister and Mickey’s sister-in-law, or you’re Mickey’s sister and Roz’s sister-in-law. The choice is up to you. Either way, you and Ray find yourselves in a high risk, high reward romance as you try to hide your affair from Roz and Mickey. Ray started off as your personal bodyguard and you’re worried they wouldn’t understand or would be against mixing love and business for whatever reason. You’d rather not see Ray get fired or killed, so you keep it secret. Ray also enjoys living too much to die just yet, thank you. But maybe Roz and Mickey wouldn’t be angry that you’ve kept secrets from them, just disappointed that you’d think so little of them. You’re Mickey and Roz’s sister (in-law) and they love you. Ray has been like family for years too, and there’s no better man for you than him. But maybe at the time you were just too scared and foolish to realize that they’d always have your back and support you no matter what.

14. You’re Ray’s wife. You used to be a journalist, but your articles caught the interest of an espionage agency. They gave you an interview under the guise of a publishing company and, during it, you noticed the organization's hidden cameras and microphones. You discovered the interview’s true purpose and passed the test. Your set of skills got you hired on the spot, and you built a career as one of the top spies in the organization. You’ve obtained valuable intel while infiltrating galas, fundraisers, house parties, board meetings, etc. But you promised Ray not to go on any more missions once you became pregnant. So you retire, or work from the safety of your own office at home instead of actively being out on the field. Despite both you and Ray laying low and taking as many precautions as possible to keep yourselves safe, somehow enemies of your agency or Mickey Pearson had discovered your location and/or connection to Ray. They sabotage your vehicle and set you up to get into a serious car accident in an attempt to eliminate you. They want to use your death to get to your husband and ultimately yours and/or his boss. Your body is gone from the crash scene, so you’re believed to be missing or dead.

What Ray doesn’t know until later is that Mickey pulled some strings to get you out of there and sent you to a high security hospital without the enemy agents knowing. You were swapped out with a body too damaged for recognition while the enemy agents were distracted by a diversion and they took it, believing it to be you. Ray is sent your coordinates from a burner phone and drives as fast as he can to get to you, scared half to death about you and your child. If either of you are hurt or dead, there will be hell to pay. There were rules to this game, one of the most important being to never go after wives or children. The people who targeted and attacked you will pay. Once Ray and Mickey are through with them, they’ll wish they had never been born. There are fates much worse than death, after all. But first, Ray needs to be the doting husband and take extra good care of you and his unborn child. You need him now more than ever.

15. Ocean’s 8/11/12-esque fic with Ray and you. The plot is up to you, just imagine an action packed heist with him.

16. Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU: You and your husband, Ray, had been attending marriage counseling since it was on the rocks for a while and divorce seemed imminent. You were working for rival agencies at the time and were each ordered to kill the other. But neither of you realized you were each other’s target because the names you’d been given on the slip of paper were aliases you and Ray used. You also wore masks or disguises to infiltrate places. Your rivalry had resulted in multiple massive shootouts or perfectly laid traps that you and Ray survived and got out of. One such shootout nearly destroyed your house and ended with you aiming at each other’s heads, but once the masks/disguises got knocked off and you each realized who you were trying to kill, you stopped and threw down your weapons. Ray told you he loved you and couldn’t kill you. You told him the same. You made love and reconciled, then teamed up instead. You became such a power couple that your employers sent other assassins after you both to finish the job. In present day, you and Ray hold hands and tell your marriage counselor that your careers are going great and your marriage is thriving.

17. You’re Ray’s neighbor and have no inkling about who he really is or what he does. He befriends you and invites you over to his house to cook dinner for you on occasion. You enjoy these cozy evenings where you help him in the kitchen, then relax on the couch and watch a movie by the fire. Or sometimes you just sit and talk, his arm laying over the back of the couch behind you. In the darkness of the room while the movie plays, you’ve shared fleeting kisses and Ray’s arm has moved to your shoulder so he can hold you close. Ray has never experienced this kind of romantic affection before since he’s been so focused on his work, but it feels nice with you. You’ve asked about his job, but he’s told you something mundane that’s just a cover. The less you know, the safer you’ll be. You don’t even know who Mickey Pearson is and Ray wants to keep it that way.

On one of these date nights, he finally takes you to bed. While you’re making love, you tell Ray you love him. In the wee hours of the morning, you crawl out from underneath him without waking him up and throw on one of his shirts. You climb down the stairs leading to the basement, either in search of a midnight snack or wanting to make breakfast since he made dinner the night before. You open the freezer, only to discover the body of Aslan. Ray is awoken by your screams and grabs his gun, afraid you’re hurt or there’s an intruder. You hear his footsteps rushing towards where you are as he calls your name. Oh god, what do you do? What happens now?

18. Something similar to that scene from The Godfather Part 2: You’re Ray’s wife (maybe you’re pregnant) and you’re in bed when you ask him to close the curtains. That’s when he notices the snipers and has you get down as gunfire destroys your bedroom. While you fall out of the bed with a cry, Ray crawls towards you and lays on top of you to shield you with his body. He asks if you’ve been hit, and you’re maybe hit in the shoulder or have a superficial graze. Either way, seeing your blood is enough to make Ray livid. He’s like Mickey in that he doesn’t give a damn about money but he is very emotional about how someone dared to target his home, his family! Attacked in his bedroom where his wife sleeps and where his children may play with their toys. The people who did this are not going unpunished, and Mickey would definitely help his friend and consigliere in getting retribution. Those people will wish they’d never been born once he and Mickey get to them. Death is too quick a mercy.

19. Threesome between Will, you and Catfish. That is all. That’s the prompt.

20. You’re Catfish’s sister who works as a makeup artist in Hollywood. Your brother got his pilot license suspended on a coke bust because he was covering for you. You were in deep shit and needed his help to get out, nearly in hysterics from all your panicking. He loves you so much he’d do anything to protect you. But you know how much Frankie loves to fly, so you feel immensely guilty for what happened. For both yours and your brother’s sake, you go into rehab. You’re finally ready to accept help for your drug addiction. In the past you fell in with Dieter Bravo, an Oscar-winning actor who you used to do makeup on for his movies. You’d talk for hours while he was in your chair, and eventually you started sleeping together and doing drugs with him. For a while it was just about sex and drugs, but then you fell in love with him and he with you. You saved Dieter from an OD and that was when he realized he loved you.

You had a lot of fun and good times with Dieter when you were fuck buddies and dating, but you also had a lot of bad times and rough patches. Eventually you and Dieter made the mutual decision to break things off amicably, but you’re still best friends to this day. You meet Will when he picks you up from rehab while your brother is busy with his new baby, and from there you become friends. The longer you stay clean, the more you and Will get to know each other and fall in love. Catfish and the guys are so proud of you, supportive in every step of your recovery. When you run into Dieter again, he’s excited to tell you about Anika and his own journey towards getting clean. You meet Anika and Dieter meets Will. You’re both so happy for each other and how your lives have turned around for the better.

#charlie hunnam character fanfiction #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam #alan mcmichael x reader #will ironhead miller x reader #will miller x reader #raymond smith x reader #ray smith x reader #king arthur x reader #random fic ideas #fic ideas #random prompts #fic prompts #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 6 months

Text

On Death's Doorstep (pt 38/?)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 1421

Rating: teen

Pairings: Karrot Kings, background Anxceit

Warnings: kidnapping, villainy

~~~START~~~

Thomas woke with a sudden jolt.

He was staring at a plain, cream-colored ceiling. Memories of how he’d gotten here flooded his brain and he shut his eyes in a vain attempt to deny reality. Kidnapped twice in the span of twenty-four hours.

After a moment, it occurred to him that he was incredibly comfortable. He opened his eyes again and sat up.

He wasn’t restrained in any way. He was lying on top of a bed made up with a brown comforter and soft pillows. He was still wearing most of his clothes, but someone had removed his shoes. He was in a bedroom that looked like its primary function was of that of a home-office, but whoever’s office it was had moved out in a hurry; the desk had various filers and cork boards, but all were empty; there were some discolored rectangles on the wall where some frames had hung for quite some time before someone took it down; and there were several completely empty shelves on the walls. His and Nico’s suitcases were stacked neatly against the wall, and their shoes were placed to the sides.

Two very strange, but very different, kidnappings.

Thomas would have looked around more, but his attention was caught by the other two figures on the bed. There was Nico, which was a relief, but also…

“Patton!” Thomas exclaimed, a little too loudly.

Nico startled awake, but Patton simply stretched out like a cat.

“Hi, pop pop,” Patton whispered, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Janus said I could sleep in here with you if I promised not to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me, kiddo,” Thomas assured him, pulling his grandson into his lap. A strange feeling passed through him as he did — a sharp pang of relief and a slow wave of sadness, neither of which were his own. “We’ve missed you so much.”

Nico took in their surroundings quickly before sitting up and joining the two in a hug.

“Who’s Janus?” He asked cautiously after a moment.

A wave of affection washed over Thomas, and he began to wonder…

“Janus drinks coffee because they’re an adult!” Patton declared confidently and, ultimately, unhelpfully.

“Do you know where we are, kiddo?” Thomas tried, putting Janus, the coffee-drinking adult, off to the side for the time being.

“Um this is Janus’s floor,” Patton explained, still unhelpfully. “I don’t have sleepovers here.”

“Where’s your daddy, Pat?” Nico asked. That was a good question; if they could talk to Virgil, he would be much more helpful in answering questions.

But the slow waves of sadness turned into a sudden tsunami that took Thomas’s breath away and caused tears to spring to his eyes.

“Daddy’s gone,” Patton explained quietly, burrowing further into Thomas’s shirt.

Thomas and Nico shared a look. There was a lot to unpack here, but clearly, they would need someone other than a five-year-old to do it.

“Do you know where Janus is, Pat?” Thomas asked gently. He had no idea who Janus was — other than that they were an adult, apparently — but someone had to be around taking care of his grandson, and they would know what happened to Virgil. Probably.

One of Patton’s small hands uncurled from Thomas’s shirt and silently pointed at the door. Thomas and Nico exchanged another look.

“Do you feel safe here, Patton?” Nico asked tentatively, he had just been kidnapped, after all.

“Yes.” This time Patton left the safety of Thomas’s shirt to look Nico in the eye as he answered. Thomas felt a pulse of conviction.

(The random sensations were definitely something he would need to examine later.)

Thomas stood from the bed, taking Patton with him and allowing the kid to settle in his arms. He was heavier than he was the last time Thomas held him; Thomas squeezed him tightly and thanked whatever god was out there that Patton was okay, even… even if Virgil maybe wasn’t.

Nico took the lead, walking up to the door and putting his ear to it. After a moment, he looked to Thomas, shrugged, and then turned the knob.

The door opened into a hall. At one end of the hall was another door, but at the other end it opened into what looked like a living room. No one was in the living room, but as Thomas and Nico peered around a corner, they found a kitchen, occupied by two people.

One was seated on a barstool, drinking tea, and looking only vaguely uninterested in them when he noticed that they were up and about. The other one was somewhat aggressively washing dishes in the sink and muttering to themself quietly. It was dark outside.

“Our guests are awake,” the tea-drinker informed the dish-washer casually.

There was a small clatter as dishes were dropped into the water of the sink and the person turned around sharply. Thomas gasped and Nico stiffened next to him because that was the person who had been impersonating their Uber driver. This was the person who kidnapped them.

After a tense moment where it became clear that no one wanted to be the first one to speak, Thomas said the first thing that popped into his mind.

“I take it one of you is Janus,” he said, hitching Patton a little bit higher on his hip.

Their Uber driver grimaced. “That would be me,” they said. When they saw the looks on Thomas and Nico’s faces they hurried to add “I’m sorry about kidnapping you, but we weren’t sure how else to get you here.”

“You could’ve asked,” Nico rolled his eyes. Thomas and Nico would have definitely been suspicious of a stranger, but if that stranger had called Patton by name... maybe they would have taken a leap of faith.

“You were being monitored,” the man, still nameless, informed them. He seemed, at most, to be unsympathetic to Thomas and Nico’s situation or their feelings about said situation. “You have played your part, yes, but they haven’t achieved all of their goals yet. There would have been no way for us to contact you without alerting them.”

“Logan,” Janus hissed in warning.

“Cryptic, thanks,” Thomas snarked. Patton’s hand tightened around Thomas’s shirt in response to Thomas’s mood. “Before we address any of that, can you just answer one thing in plain English: where is our son?”

Janus grimaced again looking guilty and hesitant, but Logan had no such issues.

“When you were kidnapped yesterday evening,” he explained. “You were being used as bait to draw Virgil out of hiding. They have succeeded in capturing Virgil, but you may still have potential to help them get their hands on Patton, so while they let you go, they cannot afford to lose track of you — which, unfortunately for them, they have.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Nico demanded, stepping closer to Thomas and effectively placing himself between Logan and Patton. “And who are you? Stop being so fucking vague!”

“Bad word,” Patton muttered into Thomas’s neck.

“Ah, I am Doctor Frankenstein.”

“And I’m Serpentine,” Janus added apologetically. “And ‘they’ are the Metahuman Affairs Agency — or at least we think they are.”

Supervillains. They were in the home of supervillains. Their grandson was living with two supervillains, and Virgil had left him here to try to save them!

Thomas almost wished he could go back ten minutes ago to when it was just him, Nico, and Patton, safe in the limbo of the unknown. Ignorance was, apparently, bliss.

“Janus, can I have a juice box?” Patton asked, uncaring of the uneasy atmosphere in the room and squirming slightly in Thomas’s arms.

“It’s late, kiddo,” Janus answered apologetically. “You can have water.”

“Okay.”

Thomas watched Janus putter around the kitchen filling a water bottle with a strange sense of loss. There was a whole year of Patton’s life that he knew nothing about, and even before that, he’d barely been allowed to see his grandson at all.

He was practically a stranger in this child’s life. These supervillains knew Patton better than he did.

“We’ll get him back” Janus said as they handed Patton the water bottle, startling Thomas from his thoughts. “Virgil,” they clarified awkwardly. “I have the beginnings of a plan.”

“Why?”

This time Logan answered, sounding the most emotionally invested he had throughout their entire encounter. “He’s one of us now, and we take care of our own.”

“That includes you now too,” Janus added with a conviction that left no room for argument.

Yeah, Thomas thought to himself. This might as well happen.

~~~END~~~

I know that Thomas has made the distinction between real Thomas and C!Thomas, but writing C!Thomas is still uncomfortably close to rpf for me, I don’t know why I put myself through the torture of two C!Thomas chapters in a row 🙃

My grandma broke her hip last week (she’s doing alright, just got transferred to a rehab facility today) and my grandpa can’t drive anymore so I’ve been driving to and from the hospital. I’m so tired, human interaction is so draining 😴

ODD taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14 @lunatatic

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #thomas sanders #nico flores #character thomas #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #karrot kings #on death’s doorstep #superhero au #thursday writes #my writing #sanders sides fanfiction

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