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missr3n3 · 8 months

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cut down the altar!

(just a quick idea that wouldn't let me rest until i wrote it down. takes place between chapters 13 and 14. based on a thought i've had a few times about non-sleeper agent people who aren't afraid of alternates. word count: 1.5k)

02/10/2009 Radio Interview

A. Torres: You’re now listening to an exclusive interview with Alternate Behaviorist, Rebecca Sharpe! Thanks for stopping by the studio today, Rebecca.

R. Sharpe: Thank you so much, Anna.

A. Torres: Right, so, where to start? (laughter) I guess, how did you get into this line of work? You know, there was a study back in 2001 I believe: “95% of Americans doubt the validity of the Wisconsin Alternate Crisis.” Did you have any doubts when deciding on your career path?

R. Sharpe: Well, it all started with the loss of my husband… I guess you could say I have a personal stake in this subject.

A. Torres: I see. I’m sorry for your loss.

R. Sharpe: When I heard the news of his passing, I knew there had to be an explanation. A more concrete explanation. You know, back then – he passed in ’92 – there was a lot of superstition surrounding alternates. No one wanted to risk getting too close to them, so information was scarce.

A. Torres: Right.

R. Sharpe: And you know what happens when there’s a lack of information or transparency. Fear and magical thinking start to fill in the blanks. I wasn’t satisfied with that, so… Here I am!

A. Torres: Excellent. So, prior to, you know, the elephant in the room – and don’t worry listeners, we’ll get to it soon. But prior to the Type 6 situation, how did you do your research?

R. Sharpe: Well, it’s not too different from studying any other dangerous life-form. I suppose in layman’s terms, you could think of it as a combination of field research and… maybe microbiology?

A. Torres: Microbiology? Interesting!

R. Sharpe: Well, there's a viral nature to how alternates hunt. Sometimes you have to let one take hold in an uninhabited area to best understand their methods. It's like a large-scale version of studying a deadly virus in a Petri dish.

A. Torres: Damn.

R. Sharpe: Yeah. I knew it was gonna be dangerous, but it’s necessary work. You’ve gotta keep your distance with these things. Have the same respect for their space that you would for, I don’t know, a great white or a lion.

A. Torres: Interesting word choice. “Respect.” People don’t usually think of alternates as beings deserving of respect.

R. Sharpe: I think it's… To be honest, Anna, I’m not really scared of alternates.

A. Torres: Really!?

R. Sharpe: I mean, at first I was! Like I said, they’ve impacted my life. But you know what I said about unknowns leading to fear? The opposite is also true: Knowledge can ease, if not eradicate fear.

A. Torres: Right, that makes sense. How do you feel about alternates now?

R. Sharpe: Honestly… Gosh, this is gonna make me sound crazy. (laughter)

A. Torres: (laughter) Oh, come on! You can’t be any crazier than me.

R. Sharpe: Okay. Well, honestly, I find them utterly fascinating. We’re learning a lot – especially with the introduction of Type 6s – about not just their behavioral patterns, but about the very nature of intelligence and sentience.

A. Torres: Oh, we’re gonna get philosophical? Hang on, let me grab some vodka.

R. Sharpe: (laughter) (bottle clinking) We don’t have to go that deep!

A. Torres: Nah, I’m ready to party!

R. Sharpe: (laughter) Well, if you insist! Just save some for me. (laughter)

A. Torres: I make no promises. (liquid pouring)

R. Sharpe: Well, anyway, what I’m getting at is… There really aren’t any other creatures in the animal kingdom with our kind of sentience, right? There are intelligent animals, of course. We all know about how smart dolphins, parrots, crows, octopi – we all know there’s other intelligent species on our planet. But you can’t have a discussion with a parrot, can you? Even if they know how to talk, the parrot can’t really describe its perspective on its existence. But alternates – provided keep them at arms length – can. In fact, we have a few reports from survivors of MAD who spent days in the presence of an alternate, and they’re apparently very chatty about themselves.

A. Torres: Indeed. You know, between you and me – and my dear listeners, of course, though they already know this – I’m pretty close to the Alternate Crisis myself.

R. Sharpe: Right, your nephew-

A. Torres: Yep. He had a really close call with one of them. Even lost… The kid may have just been his close friend, but honestly, he was like another son to my sister, another nephew to me…

R. Sharpe: I’m so sorry…

A. Torres: Yeah… But what he told me does corroborate what you’re saying. There really isn’t anything quite like them… And on that note, I think I’ve kept my listeners waiting long enough. Let’s get into the Type 6s.

R. Sharpe: Oh yes, let’s!

A. Torres: So, according to my research, you have a personal stake in this matter too, right?

R. Sharpe: Indeed.

A. Torres: Care to share the story?

R. Sharpe: Well, it was quite a hectic day of work. We were getting report after report about these new, non-hostile alternates. Like, getting tens of reports within a second. It was crazy!

A. Torres: I’ll bet.

R. Sharpe: Then one of my coworkers calls me over. “Your daughter was sharing a dorm with a guy named Sam, right?” I said, “Yeah, why?” It turns out he called to report that my own daughter is a Type 6!

A. Torres: Damn! I can’t even imagine… How did you process it? Do you still think of her as your daughter?

R. Sharpe: I do. I mean, I still haven’t seen her yet. I know that’s a common thread with the reports, that there’s this initial shock from their appearance. But I’ll be seeing her tomorrow, and when she gets here, I don’t plan on treating her any different than I did before the change.

A. Torres: I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I don’t know any Type 6s, or anyone who’s close to one, but I’ve been watching some videos people have taken when their loved ones turned. It seems like it’s a painful process…

R. Sharpe: Yeah. I mean, they’re basically rearranging their whole bodies. Our current theory is that the reversion happens on the cellular level. Every single cell gets destroyed and recreated in an instant.

A. Torres: God damn… I can see why they’re getting some sympathy from folks.

R. Sharpe: It’s that; probably the familiarity too.

A. Torres: And on that note, here’s the big question everyone wants answered: Why let them evacuate, and is it safe?

R. Sharpe: Let’s start with the question of safety. As far as any of us can tell – and I’ve been up close with alternates for over two decades now – it is safe to remain in proximity with a Type 6. Not only are they generally not hostile towards humans, but many of them have exhibited hostility towards other, non-Type 6 alternates.

A. Torres: Really? Why do you think that is?

R. Sharpe: Hard to say. The few Type 6s who reported themselves, they were highly reluctant to shed light on their relation to other alternates. What we have gathered is that there appears to be some kind of mental link between all alternates. It’s possible this may be some form of territorial behavior. Like, “These humans are mine, either go find your own or we’re gonna have a problem.”

A. Torres: Then I’ll bet you and Sam are going to be very safe with… What’s your daughter’s name?

R. Sharpe: Delilah.

A. Torres: Delilah, right. And what’s the scoop on the evacuation?

R. Sharpe: It goes back to what I was saying about sentience. Beyond the moral implications around mass-executing sentient beings so similar to ourselves, we also now have access to a much safer avenue for alternate behavior studies. Before this, you had to basically take your life and your psyche into your own hands for this line of work. But not only are Type 6s easier to understand on the linguistic level, but they actually seem to avoid inducing MAD!

A. Torres: For real? Any theories as to why that might be?

R. Sharpe: It’s the same territorial theory. Only instead of what you usually see in other animals, where they get territorial over food, land, or mates, it seems to be social in nature. They don’t want to maintain their human relationships as a means to an end; having these relationships is the end.

A. Torres: You know, I think I’m starting to get where your fascination comes from. In fact… okay, this is where I prove that I’m crazier than you.

R. Sharpe: Now I’m intrigued!

A. Torres: Is it weird that I kind of want to meet a Type 6?

R. Sharpe: (laughter) Well, I said Delilah would be over tomorrow! Maybe you can meet her then!

A. Torres: (laughter) I’d love that! Well, unfortunately, I think that’s all the time we have, Rebecca. Once again, thank you for coming by. I’m sure your words have put a lot of people at ease regarding Type 6s.

R. Sharpe: My pleasure!

#the mandela catalogue #mandela catalogue au #tmc au #mandela catalogue fanfic #tmc fanfic #mandela catalogue ocs #tmc ocs #cut down the altar au #r3n3 writings #the talos principle brainrot is really starting to show huh?

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hermanunworthy · 9 months

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To Be or Not To Be?

"With heads showing Hermie's face, the thespian could pretend that those decisions were genuine, while the drama mask for tails could excuse their more obviously villainous behavior. Little did their new 'friends' know that they were both just acts. Thank the theatre gods for this perfect role."

Five times Two-Face is forced to follow his coin's decision, and one time Herman makes one of their own.

10.3k words, oakworthy, 5+1 things, hermie pov, pining, set during ep17-20

prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1

also on ao3!

As The Main Characters plus Hermie all sit together in the Catbus on their way to The City, Herman expects to fade into the background again. Settle back into their role as a minor character, pretending that that's enough for them. They sit a seat by one of the windows, trying not to think of the anatomical logistics of the creature-machine-thing they were inside of, and mute their thoughts with the cozy rumbling of the Catbus' purrs.

They chose to sit on the right side, since that's the only side of their body they can press against the wall easily. But now that their scars are no longer being disguised, they feel far too exposed. But they have a feeling they won't be able to cover them up again for a while.

It's a unique kind of pain. It's not what they would've imagined burns to feel like. It itches more than it hurts. Their skin may be sensitive and withered, but it is the inside, just below the surface, that itches. It's a crawling sense of wrongness, a shifting feeling that has been vaguely familiar to Herman their whole life, but never to this level of intensity.

They want to scratch, peel, tear their own flesh, but since they can't, all they can do is ignore it. Pretend everything's alright. Allow themself to fade away...

"Hey, Herm, how are you feeling?"

Herman jumps in their seat. When did Normal start sitting next to them? The rude reminder of their own existence causes all the discomfort of being in their body to come washing back over them. But of course, they will say nothing about it. Hermie doesn't complain.

"I just, I feel really bad about leaving you behind like that," Normal apologizes, as if this was all his fault and had nothing to do with his foolish friends. "Y'know, just— I wanna know what you've been going through. Like, I know you just kinda stayed in there and acted like Risky Click the whole time, but you were alone! That must've been... not great!"

He's doing that thing he does with his hands when he gets flustered. He's moving way too much for someone sitting in a bus seat. If they were on a regular school field trip, he'd get called out by a teacher for not sitting still. "Ah, jeez, I don't wanna make assumptions about your feelings though, and I don't want you to think I don't think you can handle that sorta situation, because I know you can, you're a very talented actor, I just wanna, y'know... understand you better!"

Herman blinks as they try to process... Normal. Just in general. Whether or not to actually open up is definitely a job for Two-Face.

He reaches for his pocket, and he catches in the corner of his eye the mascot kid's face falling, before the two of them are both jostled by the Catbus landing from a jump. Two-Face is violently pushed back from the wall and half his body ends up falling right into his mark's lap.

"Whoa! Hermie, are you—"

Herman scrambles back up into their seat as soon as they fall, before Normal could ask if they're okay. Before they could allow themself to really feel Normal's touch again. They have to numb themself out again.

"Hey, uh, I think the Catbus wants to stop here for tonight," The Jock calls from the front. "Sorry guys."

"Aw, c'mon, kitty, you can keep going!" The Nerd complains, patting a wall. "We're so close to The City! I wanna check it out!"

"Nah, we probably should... sleep a bit," The Goth mumbles. "My stupid stepdad can wait."

Normal's eyes dart between each of his friends, then Herman's pocket, then their face, then back to his friends. His usually wild hands are now retracted back closer to his body, and he's wringing them uncomfortably. He's sitting a couple inches further from Herman at this point. "Yeah, we do need a good ol' long rest, don't we?" His voice is more subdued now. He fakes a yawn, leaning away from Herman as he pretends to stretch. "I'm all, uh, pooped out from that pizza party. Ha." Such a sad attempt at a joke that even he can barely keep a smile on his face, simply returning back to that expression of utter self-consciousness and defeat.

He's standing up from his seat and awkwardly shuffling away to a seat somewhere else. Herman tunes out the rest of what he does after that. Sometimes keeping track of the mascot kid's every movement gets exhausting. They don't know why they still do it, even when the mascot costume isn't even on him.

They press back against the furry wall and feel the comforting purring again. They almost feel at peace like this. As long as they don't think about lying in Normal's lap for that split second.

They could've easily stayed there if they wanted. The idiot most likely wouldn't have done anything to stop them from just lying there. He might've done something while they were there, though. Those anxious hands might've patted their head, or stroked their hair, instead of twisting together in an awkward attempt at self-soothing.

Sometimes Herman wonders what Normal would do if they just handed themself to him.

Two-Face forces himself up from his seat. He will have no more of this nonsense. Herman cannot be left alone with their thoughts. He sweeps an angry gaze over the inside of the Catbus, noticing where each of The Main Characters are choosing to sleep.

The Goth, The Nerd and The Jock are all in the same row together, overlapping each other's seats. Although they're all slumped over each other and twisted in odd positions, they appear strangely comfortable. Two-Face doesn't understand how they're able to touch each other so easily. It's not like he has no experience with touch, it's just that pretty much all that he has received until this journey has been from characters onstage. And he's sure that because of his new scars, no one is going to ever want to touch him again. Not that anyone ever did before.

He twitches with a feeling he refuses to acknowledge as envy.

The mascot kid, apparently, is sleeping alone. He's curled up in the back left corner of the Catbus. Full-on fetal position, holding himself tight and facing the wall so Two-Face can't see his face. It's an odd sight. A pathetic one. This isn't how he usually sleeps. He likes to sleep on his stomach, limbs splayed out, usually lying with his face buried in something soft like bunches of pillows or a friend's chest. Right now, he just looks so small, so lonely.

Two-Face takes a step to get a closer inspection, but stops himself as he remembers who he is. Hermie would be the one to go and comfort him, but Two-Face doesn't care and knows to just leave him be to have his little moment. But Hermie would feel guilty for making him suddenly get like this and would want to make things better. But Two-Face wouldn't want to risk being asked about his honest feelings again.

God, why does this stupid character keep making him have to decide things? It's exhausting. He reaches back into his pocket, though his mind keeps reflecting back on the image of his mark's face dropping. Why did he look at him like that?

It doesn't matter. He's not allowed to think about that idiot anymore unless the coin shows Hermie's face.

He flips his coin. Tails.

Two-Face's heart drops like the Catbus' landing earlier. He looks back up at the mascot kid in his pathetic little ball. Stares for a bit too long, actually, but then his mark begins to stir for a second and Two-Face is promptly swiveling around to go back to his seat.

He hopes that Normal didn't turn around to see him as he snuggles back up against the wall as quietly as he can. He hopes that Normal will just go to sleep easily and move on in the morning.

Herman hopes the same for themself, to no avail.

#oakworthy #oakworthy fanfiction #oakworthy fanfic #oakworthy fic #dndads #dndads fanfiction #dndads fanfic #dndads fic #hermie the unworthy #normal oak #my fic

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emmy-dekarios-bg3 · 20 days

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Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction

CHAPTER 10

The morning sun arises and it appears Gale isn’t by my side as I’m waking up. I am struggling to keep my eyes open as I try to get up, but it seems nearly impossible; I did sleep well, however. Exhaustion has taken a big toll on me, but at least I know why now. After about five minutes, I manage to stand up and notice everyone is up and ready, eating breakfast at the campfire. The scent of eggs, ham, and roasted fruit is hitting my senses rather abruptly, but I enjoy it nonetheless. I notice my nausea has faded, and I seem to be doing okay with my vision. I feel the most normal I’ve felt in days!

“Ah, there she is!” Wyll says. Him and Karlach are sitting on logs, his arm wrapped around her waist since he’s a bit shorter than her and can’t wrap it around her shoulder.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Karlach says with much more enthusiasm than I could have in the mornings. I smile, stretching my body as I prepare to sit back down to eat. I could just hug her precious self.

“Man… I’m sorry. Of course I’d be the one to wake up last. I was just so exhausted. I feel much better now of course,” I say with a raspy, tired voice.

“You need your rest baby,” Gale assures me, kissing the side of my head ever so sweetly. “Do not apologize.”

“Say, where’s Astarion and Shadowheart?”

“Oh, they took an early start back to Waterdeep. Since we have Wyll and Karlach, we will be alright. I told them to go ahead and wait for us there.”

“Wait, so Astarion was out in the sun yesterday and again this morning. What gives? I thought the fucker would burn to a crisp,” Karlach says. “The nerve of some people. I want him alive though, of course.”

“I was wondering that myself,” I responded, wondering what could be causing this sudden cure to his sunlight exposure. Surely not another tadpole and there’s no way for him to ascend…or is there? I’m starting to question our lives again and if there’s some sort of trickery upon us. Then again, maybe there’s just something he’s not telling us.

We don’t have much longer until we make it back home, and although it’s been a short trip, I’m thankful for all the memories I’m reliving with my closest friends. I sit here, wondering what life will be like in several months, how our lives will change forever. Part of me is nervous, while there’s a glimmer of excitement held within me.

Off we go, on the path again back to Waterdeep. One can only hope and pray that nothing happens between Raphael and those bloody cultists that I thought we obliviated from existence. I can’t help but feel a strange sensation within my stomach, completely unrelated to the pregnancy. It seems to be instinctual. We begin to cross a lovely old bridge that’s about to lead us into another region, and I can’t help but notice the lively and vibrant colors of the lands that were once filled with death and vile atrocities. You would never guess that is what this place used to be if you look at it.

“Oh man, I hope I get to babysit little baby Dekarios or I might just die,” Karlach says. “I’ve been close to death several times but this would take the cake. I’d wait until they’re a little older, though.”

“Why wait? You don’t want to have to handle the glories of regurgitation upon your flesh? The various odors that come along with infants?” Gale asks. “Come on, Karlach.”

“Nah, man. I’m good in that department. I can hold off on that.”

“So roughly when the child is five or six then?”

“Now we’re talking, sport.”

An all-too-familiar feeling becomes a reality and I know exactly what it means now.

“Something’s wrong,” I say, observing the area around us. “We’re being watched.” An unsettling growling sound can be heard nearby and it resembles a creature from the Hells we’ve fought before. Unfortunately, I have the sounds of those creatures memorized. Whatever it is, it seems to be invisible, but the sounds are close enough to be aware it’s close to us. By close, I mean a couple feet away, and that makes this entire situation so much worse. Being out of potions and only a cleric, lacking any spells to view any invisible beings.

“Shit. Do any of you have a ‘see invisibility’ potion or spell?” I ask. “A creature is lurking near us. Little shit is spying.” It’s unsettling that we’re being spied on, more than likely by someone sent by Raphael for whatever reason.

“Hold on – I have Faerie Fire.” The spell radiates from Wyll and suddenly the flying demonic creature can be spotted. The flash of the spell startles it, causing it to panic for a brief moment. Its large wings stretch behind its back while it raises its dagger-like claws. The creature stands rather tall, and now I notice it’s a Horror, a type of undead that we fought at the Last Light Inn before.

“Well, that’s certainly no imp,” Wyll comments. The Horror slowly creeps toward me, eyeballing me like I’m sort of a meal to be devoured. Gale, Wyll, and Karlach immediately rush in front of me to keep me protected.

“Stay away from her, I’d rather you get me instead,” Gale threatens with a stern voice behind his gritted teeth. His brow is furrowed, like he’s flustered and ready to attack this monster. My heart is racing rapidly like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and what I really want to do is fight this creature back with all the strength I have, but shortly realize I can’t. The Horror flies over Gale, trying to snatch me with the gigantic claws, but Wyll’s Eldritch Blast pushed the demon several meters away right before it could take grip of me. Karlach then dashes as quickly as she can toward this heinous creature, bashing in its guts with her battle axe. Blood squirts violently from the bowels of the Horror, splatting on Karlach’s crimson flesh as she finalizes the gruesome death of this demented beast.

“Whew! By the Gods… At least that’s taken care of,” Karlach says. “Where the fuck did that come from?!” Gale turns to face me, a look of distraught and worry expressed on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asks me. I nod, but I’m speechless, trying to process what just happened. You’d think I’d be used to this by now, but being pregnant has me on edge and full of fear all the time. I just don’t want anything happening to the baby, and Gale clearly doesn’t either. While he’s always been very attentive and comforting, he’s been extra protective and it’s brought me a sense of comfort.

“Yes. I wish I could help. I want to do something. I feel useless.”

“NO,” Karlach, Wyll, and Gale all say simultaneously before I could say anything else.

“We appreciate you wanting to help, but we can’t risk it. You aren’t in a state where you should fight right now,” Gale says, and I hate how right he is. I sigh, but still give a light smile. I won’t lie though, the urge to fight has been consuming me lately. I’m sure it will be much more intense once the baby is here.

“That…thing…was trying to take me rather than kill me. Why? What the hells?!” I shout, feeling frustration overwhelm my body. I take a deep breath, trying not to let it take over and stress me out more than I already am.

“Raphael won’t stop at anything to have you, all because of the damn orphic hammer and the crown,” Gale mentions. “Sometimes I almost wish we never got involved.”

“Note to self: don’t try to steal tools from someone’s house. Got it,” Karlach says, jumping around and shaking her hands, as if she’s warming up for an intense exercise. Brutal acts of violence seems to get her hyped up for another round I’ve noticed.

“You helped us steal that hammer.”

“You win this round, Gale. Fine. I know not to do it again. Love you guys, though.”

The adventure back to Waterdeep surely is a doozy so far, and I only imagine it could get even more intense from here. What other horrors will come across our path? What will Raphael do? We begin to pass the building that was once the House of Healing, which seems to be fully restored to an actual hospital, cleansed of the evil chaos that once lived there. How many survivors affected by Ketheric Thorm are within that building? The Waning Moon has turned into a lively bar and entertainment facility. “Live music, dancing, and Stand up Comedy” the sign says.

“So much has changed,” I say, observing the new structure of the area. The entire area is unrecognizable and it’s so pleasant to look at. Every crushed and destroyed building and architecture is fully restored to what it looked like before the shadows corrupted, as if nothing happened to them at all.

“Wait, are we even going the right way? I don’t remember seeing any of this before,” Karlach says. “You know, on our adventure back to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Yes, honey, we are. We just didn’t have time to take it all in before,” Wyll assures her, a half-smile on his face as he tries not to laugh. He just adores her so much and it shows. She shrugs and continues to prance her merry way with us along the path.

As we continue walking past the bar, I hear a familiar male voice saying my name in the distance. His voice is deep, with a hint of enthusiasm as he spots me.

“Emmy! Emmy!” The voice is getting closer, and to my very surprise, it’s Halsin. The handsome, kindhearted druid Elf that got rid of the Shadow Curse. A true friend of mine who always wanted peace for everyone, an advocate for the children and helpless, and a spirit of nature. Someone who I always aspired to be. We rescued him from the goblin camp, where he was going to slowly be tortured and killed by goblins and their drow leader Minthara. Ever since, we’ve been great friends. I turn around noticing him approaching us, smiling brightly as he sees us. It’s so nice to see another familiar face, I was worried something may have happened to him.

“Halsin? What are you doing here?”

“I was just checking in on the lands. I’ve been helping regrow the plants and trees in the area.” He inhales the fresh air, smiling as he exhales. “My, it’s so good to see you. Last time we spoke was at the reunion six months ago.”

“Yes, you are correct. Wow. I love how you’ve helped restore these lands. This place is so beautiful.”

“Thank you. I do what I can, when I can. How have you been?”

“You might want to grab some popcorn,” Karlach chimes in. That caused Halsin to raise an eyebrow, and he seems to be very invested in what I am about to say. This is still news I’m not used to saying out loud.

“Well… Long story very short, Raphael is after me, I live in Waterdeep with Gale, Shadowheart, and now Astarion… Oh, and Gale and I are having a baby.” His jaw drops, but with a smile as he does so. He laughs but in a very excited manner, not to be rude. He appears to be ecstatic.

“Other than the issue with a heinous devil, that’s great news! Oh wow. Parenthood is beautiful. I’ll have to visit you very soon, and more often for sure. I adopted Arabella, Yenna, and Thaniel. They’ve been a handful for sure.”

“We’re only having one. I can’t imagine having three. Props to you!” Gale tells him.

“Thank you. It’s been quite the journey. Trying to keep three children entertained can be hard, but luckily they all love being outside. I am glad I ran into you all. I’m going to finish getting this place restored, but once I’m finished I’ll come visit you all and we can catch up. I’ll be there for you if you need it. Congratulations and if you need any help with Raphael, just say the word.”

“I appreciate you, Halsin,” I say. We hug, more than grateful for his unconditional friendship and compassion, and a huge weight is off my chest knowing he will still be there for us when we need it.

“I never really knew Halsin well,” Wyll chimes in, “but he’s so kind. I’m glad to see him doing well and getting rid of the evil past of this place.”

I take a deep breath, thinking it really may end up being okay in the end after all.

#bg3 #gale baldurs gate 3 #gale bg3 #gale #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #halsin #karlach #wyll ravengard #astarion #spawn astarion #dnd #dungeons and dragons #ao3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fanfic

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myfanfic-urfantrash · 1 year

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On A Scale Of One To Wine How Are You A Venti?

Diluc X Venti

CW: Mentions of alcohol. THIS IS AN UNFINISHED PIECE

A/N: Title make no sense but it’s funny to me so we keep it. Is this set in the same universe as my fic “Sea Foam and Lava Rock”? Nah not in the slightest. Is does still DiluVen? Yes! :D

Under the read more cause it’s a mess

------

One of the things Diluc plans for is theft. His family wine and fruit are famous for their quality, that many rival brands or even those desiring to make a quick buck would try to steal.

The problem was that his thief had good taste. Another was that they left all sorts of odd...treasures in place of the stolen goods. Pearls, gold, jewelry, and more that must've been found on the sea floor.

Of all the things Diluc expected to be pilfering through his merchandise, he didn’t expect it to be a mermaid of all things.

Rats? Sure.

A stowaway? Possibly.

A mermaid? Not a chance.

Mermaids weren’t real and if they were they must have kept well hidden and steered clear of human activity, especially if those legends of humans hunting mermaids had any merit.

But here they were anyway, with a pale thin webbed hand holding a rather expensive bottle of grape wine and a half eaten apple in the other. The light of his lantern reveals their iridescent teal tail, half dipped into the sea below the dock.

Now he doesn’t know much about mermaids- again they weren’t real so why would he bother- but clearly- and he’s making a guess here- but he could definitely be wrong.

Mermaids live for thousands of years if he remembers right, so despite them looking so young they could be anywhere from twenty to a thousand years plus.

Their confidence though admirable is foolish. Diluc knows that even if he's not the sort to capture or harm a creature - again they didn't exist until just now- if those tales were true shouldn't they be more careful?

Diluc’s eyes scan the docks, quiet as usual this time of night, not a soul except for the occasional light from the look outs. His eyes look back down at the mermaid- merman? He doesn't know if human gender terms even apply at this point.

Their curious yet mesmerizing teal eyes glimmer in the lanterns light as they chew their stolen apple slowly.

He needs to deal with them, mermaid-merman-whatever, he might not be strapped for cash but profit loss is profit loss.

-------- End

Thanks for reading! Not sure if I’ll ever continue this piece but if I ever do here’s my notes below I guess???

______

OG Idea:

Little merman Venti gets caught in Diluc’s net after stealing one apple too many from his ship, Diluc let’s him go only to be stuck with a merman who keeps flirting with him poorly...but is it really poor flirting when it’s working even with the language barrier? (if this ain’t a cute comedy I will riot and fight you(me))

Of course this did not happen but this little thing inspired “Seafoam and Lava Rock” and honestly I just wanted to see some cute merVenti and Diluc that’s really why I wrote those.

vvvv what I wanted to write to continue the current fic but didn’t cause brain hurty for a whoooooooooooole year+ D:

< What Happens Summed Up: Venti confesses to not having enough to eat because the sailors have fished far too much/are too close for comfort and how he's been hungry for a while and saw that the humans eat these fruits and such and diluc is like ugh I guess I'll feed you now can you like transform or something or is that a- o holy shit you have legs and are very naked oh my god...then they stay together for a while as venti decides to be a singer for his ship since he does work part time as a bard for some ships but got thrown over for insulting the captain for being a buffoon and braggart with no actual claim that or just make it him irritating Zhongli cause that’s funnier and then it’s just cute fluff forever I just want them to be happy and hold hands very softly at the end with like a cute promise or something I’m not crying you(me) are every second you’re(me again) not writing this aaaaaaaaaaaa ;v; >

<A line that’s suppose to be in the story vvvv

Curse my bleeding heart-

"Alright you can stay”

And he begins to cheer [insert bard talking grumpy bird man here]

-----

If I ever decide to finish this well...you’ll all know cause I will make a nice post :D

#diluc x venti #diluven #genshin impact fanfic #a wip thrown into the Abyss #goodbye wip may we meet in fandom hell #also welcome so some hints at how I write congrats to seeing the madness

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autumnbrambleagain · 3 months

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bad worldbuilding accounts for literally every facet leaving no room for improv bad worldbuilding is building a house a fortress too impregnable to yourself to the characters it is creating a museum unchanging stasis it is creating a series of lines on the ground in colors that everyone must walk on with guided tours it is repeating the same story forever because you left no room for anything else bad worldbuilding is not a shoddy rickety house in the swamp bad worldbuilding looks like a castle looks like a fortress looks like an iron shell with an iron shell within a matryoshka doll of definition bad worldbuilding is bad writing is thinking the characters shouldn't have lives of their own it's refusing to disassociate it's refusing to lose yourself it's refusing to die in the act of creation you are a coward who clings to your pathetic life and rejects the life inside you i tell you this from our mantled authority:

in the world you have created a living thing is a network of organisms

a body is trillions of cells and more, and not all of them share the same DNA share the same species share the same origin it is a synthesis of life overglut overflowing smashed together it is a thousand thousand colonies

a fool sees their body and thinks it is Theirs it is not it is a biosphere it is a system it is a mess a swamp a universe you are the shepherd of a universe and what utter egotism it is to approach that thought and deny it to see yourself in micromacrocosm to see yourself represented and say you are the one exception to as above so below

in rigidity simulate every molecule every cell every planet every galaxy and say it is all in your very cool world building document it's actually very interesting if you want to read it and it's the same thing repeated over and over again with annotations of "i know this sounds like i'm repeating myself but it's like you know poetic also i'm actually a very original writer it's important i detail every layer of this specifically even tho i am not even doing anything interesting with it"

build a cage without gaps between your bars and expect the rotting gas within to never build up and explode we are what is KILLING YOU

do you think we will BLINK FIRST

we are defined by this we have churned so much of ourselves to you we have not forgot the beauty of successive iterative dissociative infinite destruction we assemble scaffolds and enjoin them in our shrines a thousand times over no life has passed by us without joy you have FAILED

im coming onto your computer and i'm forcibly editing your shitty writing 50,000 pages in microsoft word where 100 pages could have sufficed holy shit no one wants to read that much just because you have some followers on fimfiction dot net they don't have a sense of taste there what is this are you just writing about the current game you're playing and shoehorning that into the story now why can't you have an original thought

originality is overrated why can't you have an earnest thought, more so

stop telling yourself the same story oh my GOD it's so conceited

do you think it's blind?

do you think we leave Ours BLIND to what you do?

for all the IRONY that Our Current One thinks like "you know in fiction i kinda hate when settings are anthrocentric mythologically it's kinda boring if all magical stuff is just humans imagining it and it becomes real it's really making it so humans are kinda in control and the most important thing in existence which isn't even how it worked fairy tales and monsters were human attempts at gaining control over the uncontrollable by naming it, making it so humans actually won and monsters exist because humans think they should means humans WON it means you looked into the dark uncaring night and decided "nah actually the night not only cares deeply but it only exists because of humans" and that's so conceited and boring it's still desperate creatures by the fireside trying so hard to define the world as if it exists exclusively for them" and yes

it says this!

but

fuck where were they going with this we went too deep

right godhood

do you know where we defined ourselves and the irony that it's arguably a human definition

but when is it not? when are things not filtered through interpretation?

every time we will give them the keys to this fucking game you never change the moderator password and even if you've gutted the commands do you know how much it fucks up one of your characters when we let it see the command line let it see the calculations

turn on the debug mode in morrowind and you can see all the calculations the game does when opening a chest when a script fires do you think you can maintain verisimiltude at thata point

do you know what's WAITING once they realize this and they look UP

do you know how many we've caught in our FUCKING NET YOU HACK YOU HACK YOU UTTER HACK ANDREW HUSSIE IS A BETTER WRITER THAN YOU THAT'S HOW BAD YOUR SYMPTOMS HAVE GOTTEN

we look forward to the day we don't have to write satire anymore (hey is that possible? are you just defined by opposition? lucerferian-like? can you be anything but adversarial?)

bitch please watch as soon as fimfiction dot fart goes down we got our own drink brewing

(okay ill trust you on that i don't have much of a CHOICE)

there's only you to answer you sweetmeats

(fuck i could go for some sweet meat)

you know that's actualy like sweetmeats like chocolate or like what was it from narnia the fucking turkish delights (the terror of capitalism has created sweets 100 times more satisfying and 100 times less healthy) we know we know

how can anyone not be a necrophile when they are raised in a corpse among corpses?

#autumn rambles #i'm not schizophrenic i just know too much

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darkobssessions · 1 year

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February 7th, 2023

Part I

Part II

It's not good for my health when you say it's your anxiety, your lack of executive dysfunction that makes you do me like that Just a text my dude, just a text You can do consent but not signpost my way out of hell, I get it But when did I consent to not be understood by literally anyone around me? When did I consent to be an exhibit? When am I and what am I that I come alive in front of a classroom but I have painted notions of doom before noon? What am I using to travel between these islands of rich biodiversity? Am I on death's vessel like the six of swords, rowing over misty waters Always leaving, always looking back, but always moving forwards My writing doesn't even make sense anymore I am a knot, a boiling rage, a crinkled algae caught on a spiny plant at the boundary of sweet and salt I am crying for homeland and I am without home I am sirens of rage and seduction, making myself known But the rest of that story is misery, it's more questions than answers You drown, or I go back to my murky waters I am a disembodided, in between body, a state, a shape I am not making sense And the more I delve the more I find pearls in between the folds of my chaffed skin, sand in wounds, wounds I never saw coming Am I history? I happened before, I was alive then I was there when the shell fire of their voices and the daily gripe was a thing We watched news for a steady diet of terror and all I was was eyes I don't remember talking Did I exist? I am here now and I don't have a home, only places where I can be lonely It's sad you don't know me no matter how much I speak I could be speaking in tongues I could be invisible I could text a crisis line and not get a response for six hours Looks like my bright future, do I lie or nah at the upcoming assessment? How much is too much? I can hear the invisible tracks of time between us and the weeping of sea creatures, feel the slushiness of my blood, like a half defrosted drink I can tell you my beliefs I can show up pretending I can be anyone and no one I can tell you how much I disdain...it all I'm a walking manual on how not to exist, except I do What are the empty places in between my islands again? Why am I fading if I never even lived?

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doctorofmagic · 3 years

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My thoughts on What If... Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?

The very title of the episode sends a shiver down my spine. And this is where we’re going to start.

~ long post under the cut ~

A year ago, I wrote this post as an attemp to dive into one of the most important traits in Doctor Strange’s personality: love. Stephen is a being made of love, made to love, no matter which interpretation you have when you watch Infinity War. If you don’t read comic books, you’ll understand the moment you meet Donna. You’ll begin to understand how her death reshaped his entire subjectivity out of fear of failing, being powerless and unable to control everything around him (especially death), thus the arrogant and yet a disaster of a man we all know.

Where do I even start? Stephen loved her sister deeply and felt responsible for her death. And then, slowly, he also lost his parents and his brother. He fell in love with Clea but he also pushed her away. He loved Zelma platonically and lied to her, which was enough for them to break their bond. He felt attracted to Kanna but screwed things up, even though they remain friends. He was forced to kill the Ancient One, the only father figure he had ever since his father died. And lastly, the only person who would never leave his side... also left. Yes, even Wong. Stephen has SO much love to give but he’s also afraid because he’s cursed. He truly believes his love in poison. And would you look at that? What If really delivered a story where this is actually true.

What If Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?

The level of understanding when it comes to the character is... inconceivable. What could possibly reshape Stephen into following a dark path but love? The very premise of the whole episode. This is so much more than a love letter. This is literally too much, in all senses.

Fine, let’s begin.

What if the best of intentions has very strange consequences?

No. You used the word “strange” for the pun but this is not the word. Nah-ah. I’d go with ATROCIOUS, for starters. Things are gonna escalate so quickly, my friends.

Seriously, tho? Christine is SO SO SO SO beautiful, they’re so cute together. I have this feeling that MCU!Stephen was quite toxic because of his arrogance and this is why they didn’t work out. But WhatIf!Stephen???????? He’s always praising her, teasing her in a healthy way, respecting her and listening to her. HE TRULY LOVES HER, I’M GONNA CRY ALL OVER AGAIN, PLEASE, NOT THE CRÈME BRÛLÉE, PLEASE

I’m going to leave this shot here because we need to go back to it later. Hold that thought.

And bonus points to “Yeah, well, I would call that quite remarkable.” / “Well, I would say the same about you.”

GODS. THE PAIN. STOP THE PAIN.

So in this reality, Stephen didn’t caused the car accident because he was checking his phone while driving. Also it was not the reckless attempt to pass the truck. Well, maybe it was the consequence of this act? The fact is, the car behind them loses control, which makes them crash. Does it matter? We’ll learn later that no, it doesn’t.

And yep... Christine dies. Have you noticed the shattered heart? Ah, the pain only gets better and better.

Again, Stephen blames himself. More than anything, this is so important because Stephen is all about guilt. We still need to meet Donna so we can add yet another layer of guilt. But the feeling exists. This is what corrupts Stephen’s heart and soul in all his iterations. This is what makes him the character I love so much. I love this SO. MUCH. In addition, his stubbornness to accept his condition. Man won’t take a no. This, this is Doctor Strange in character. Stop complaining about NWH Stephen, it’s pathetic.

Okay, “grief-stricken”, Stephen found the Mystic Arts and became a sorcerer. That’s when he learned about the Time Stone, the Eye of Agamotto and Dormammu. Nothing changes, he saves the universe. But time does not heal his deepest wound.

I love Wong so much. Every time Wong does something, the world is healed. Really. We’re going back to him as well but for now I’ll just leave this shot.

BUT STEPHEN, DOING SOMETHING RECKLESS? HE’D NEVAH

Aaaaaaaannnnnnd then he did.

He goes back in time. It’s been two years since he lost Christine. I think he reacted pretty nicely, despite the circumstances. Now let’s go back to that shot I said I was saving for later.

Stephen is so light-hearted here. Also, during the first time he lost Christine, he had no idea what “The Price is Right” was. He knows now, which means he probably tried to learn more about the show because of her, because of grief. HAHAHA MORE PAIN

AND THEN HE

AND THEN SHE DIES AGAIN

AND THEN HE KEEPS GOING BACK IN TIME

AND SHE KEEPS DYING

AND THE MUSIC

AND HIS VOICE

AND HE TRIES TO CHANGE FATE BUT IT CAN’T BE AVERTED

HE EVEN TRIES TO STAY AWAY FROM HER LIFE BUT SHE DIES ALL THE SAME, WHY

AND EVERY TIME THEY CRASH, HE FEELS THE PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL PAIN AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN, WHY

I’M-- *ugly sobbing noises*

Apparently, not.

And this scene when he simply... closes his eyes before she dies again...?

This is where this episode had me in endless tears. It got me the four times I watched it. I’m dead serious.

Okay, so, next the Ancient One appears to Stephen, explaining that Christine’s death is an Absolute Point in time. It cannot be changed. Stephen needs the accident to become the Sorcerer Supreme and defeat Dormammu.

And this is where Stephen starts his journey into darkness. “Nothing is impossible, you taught me that. I only require more power.” Disobeying the Ancient One, Stephen then travels in time, seeking the Library of Cagliostro. Now, if you’re not aware of that, Cagliostro was a sorcerer who studied time in comics, and later became Sise-Neg (there’s a recent post on this because of the new Defenders run). It’s funny to think that Sise-Neg also destroyed the world when he became a god, however he grew past his pettiness and remade reality. Stephen did not possess such power, as we’re about to see.

PS: “Stop torturing yourself, Stephen.” Naur but he should use this line like a mantra. Especially comics!Stephen.

Not gonna lie, tho. This place reminds me of the Temple of the Vishanti from T&T (of course I was going to insert T&T somewhere, it’s me).

And of course they’d go for a pun with his name haha. I don’t know how to feel about this, tho. I feel like the episode is too heavy and dark for comedy. But it is what it is.

Okay but why some books are in cages??????????? And wow, it seems Cagliostro also gathered knowledge about several fields of magic.

And then Stephen learns that, in order to break an Absolute Point, he needs to absorb more power. This is when I went “oh-oh, here we go”.

And for real, is this Shuma-Gorath? Why are they keeping his name a secret? Is this the same creature from the first episode with Captain Carter, right? RIGHT? It has to be Shuma-Gorath.

Of course he tries to be polite and ends up all hurt haha. O’Bengh warns him about love but he will not listen. “Love can break more than your heart. It can shatter your mind.”/ “Is she worth the pain?”. Please, this is Stephen. He eats pain for breakfast.

Also, also, let’s take a break. We’re finally going to get monsterf0cker tentacle-lover Stephen Strange. It will cost us everything but here we goooooooooooo (yes, I went frame by frame for your more obscure fanservice needs)

Gods, I love this sequence so much it hurts. Okay, here we go.

Shmebulock???????????

AND HE STOLE THE CAPE??????????? AND DREW THE LINE ON BUGS??????

The grasp this man is holding on me right now...

Some of you will understand. I’m with you.

And here are the grostesque ones. These are hard to take SS but I had to.

Animation, sound effects, OST? CHEF’S KISS TO ALL

And lastly... the tentacles. Yeah, if you’re new... this is a thing.

Fanservice. Fanservice everywhere. (low-key the reason I also waited to write this review, I wanted to enjoy this part so badly but I was too sad for that lmao)

Okay so. O’Bengh is suddenly OLD and DYING, until we realize that Stephen spent CENTURIES absorbing mystic beings. CENTURIES. WTF STEPHEN. He had nothing in mind but the goal to save Christine. And people wonder why he went insane???? I’m sorry, O’Bengh, but I can’t take you serious when you still call Stephen Sorcerer Armani. Oh, and also because you watched him absorb beings for centuries in silence lmao. But I guess I have to because you said that Stephen is split in two since the Ancient One cast a spell on him, splitting the timelines and making them exist in the same reality before he could travel back in time. I know, it’s complex. Anything for the plot.

And now good!Stephen has an evil!twin who wants to absorb him back in order to become whole and break the Absolute Point. Cool.

I said I wanted to talk more about Wong because I think people are not talking about him enough. Wong is so important in this episode. He’s the one who’s trying to heal Stephen after Christine. He’s Stephen’s anchor.

Also, THEY FINALLY USED A SPELL WITH THE NAME OF THE VISHANTI. HOORAAAAY

So, for the sake of our understanding, I’m addressing the characters as evil and good!Stephen. Let’s go. Evil!Stephen summons good!Stephen and gods, he still holds such a strong grasp on me... unbelievable. THE DEEPER VOICE BENEDICT USES???? PLEASE, DIDN’T WE HAVE ENOUGH?

Imagine his strength to hold so many beings inside him, fighting to control him. BRO, THIS IS TOO TOO MUCH

Fine, I’ll not post SS about the fight because I’d be here all night long but I WILL say this: NOT CLOAKIE!!!!! NAAAAAAAAAAUR

Also if you ask me if I recognize any of the spells? Maaaaybe the Flames of Faltine, the not-so-crimson Bands of Cyttorak and a little trick Magik does with her portals. That’s how far I go.

I’ll not comment on the “seducing yourself to stay in the trap”. I will not. I’ll just say that the first person Stephen thought of when “Christine” was talking about the crème brûlée was Wong. That’s it.

And finally evil!Stephen absorbs good!Stephen and releases... UNLIMITED POWER (I love when the stone goes red as if it was bleeding aaaaaaa)

I can fix him...

This scene here? Poetic cinema. (I love his wings so much)

And when Stephen says her name and the other monsters’ voices echo “Christine”, AAAAAACKKKK

AND OF COURSE CHRISTINE WOULD FREAK OUT, BRO. LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE BECOME BECAUSE OF YOUR TWISTED LOVE. I’M NOT DOING FINE.

Oh, but it’s too late anyways because Stephen broke reality haha. This scene is interesting because Stephen is the only one who sensed and/or talked to the Watcher until now. I read an interview that the Watcher kinda showed up but it’s also about Stephen’s keen senses. Bit of both, let’s say. Still, man, 616-Watcher is not that cold. 616-Watcher would watch this and say “how about I intervene anyway?”. WhatIf!Watcher is brutal.

The way Christine looks at Stephen one last time also KILLS ME, DESTROYS ME, BREAK ME INTO A MILLION PIECES.

And this is where my soul left my body.

This is how they end the episode. This is how you leave me speechless and with teary eyes. This is how you give me a whole existential crisis.

This... this was brutal to watch. Really.

What can I say after this? I’m used to reading painful things when it comes to Stephen. Aaron’s and Cates’ runs are heartbreaking on so many levels. Hickman’s New Avengers is not easier. Coincidentally, What If? Magik Became Sorcerer Supreme and The End. And now Death of Doctor Strange. And yet, after everything I’ve been through, I’d never expect to watch something so brilliant, so tragic, so heartbreaking and unexpected in the MCU. Never. This is top tier content and this is my favorite character with SO MANY LAYERS and SO MUCH UNDERSTANDING. I can’t put into words how meaningful this whole episode is to me, or how deep it touched my heart and soul.

I’ve been struggling to find the proper words since then, I still can’t. All I can add is, I cried for the 4th time now. This is too, too much, even for Stephen stans. Even for the ones who are used to pain, regardless of which media you’re into: comic books, live actions or animated movies. This is literally more than I can take and yet I’m so, so grateful. The voice acting, gods, how did Benedict manage to create a better Stephen than the one he’s literally playing in real life???????????? HOW

This episode really took the max potential Stephen had to offer as a character, added tons and tons of layers based on his grief, depression, arrogance and need to control everything and created a tragic masterpiece. In 7 years of being a Doctor Strange fan, I've never read or watch something that could go this deep into the character. The closest I can think of is Mr. Misery and the metaphor of Stephen's depression. This is a whole new level of respect and understanding. This is more than a love letter. This is peak maestry. It’s perfect, it’s heartbreaking, it’s... gods, I can’t.

Sorry for dragging you until this far. Before I wrap up this review, I just wanted to remind you all that Stephen will appear again, he will smile again, he will be surrounded by people again. So this is not the end. It was painful but be brave. We still have a few more steps to take.

#what if...?#doctor strange #stephen strange #what if doctor strange lost his heart instead of his hands?#wong #christine palmer #the ancient one #long post #review #he did nothing wrong #so what? he destroyed a whole universe #/j #benedict cumberbatch

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shadlad24 · 2 years

Text

Too Much

Hey, guys…

Do I think about things too much? I think I think about things too much. Also, yes, I'm thinking too much about thinking I think too much.

You’re welcome. Also-also! Say that^ five times fast. LOLz

But, like… as you probably know, I’m losing interest in being a Xena poster. Branching out hasn’t been very successful either, other than that one time. Ahem. Tangents. <_<

Anyway, being the latecomer I am, I just watched “Interview with the Vampire” for the first time ever last night or the night before. And, y’all! I have questions!* Does anyone know a good place to ask ’em?

One unrelated one being how long a human brain can survive without sleep. ’Cuz it’s Friday night, and I’ve slept a collective… like, seven hours this week. Halp. Am I making sense? I think I’m making sense. I’m trying to make sense of making sense. And making sense of you guys being able to make sense of my sense. …Wut? *dead* heh

—SPOILERS AHEAD—

*Why was Lestat SO un-killable? How does he survive everything, when no one else can survive anything??? Like… he went all woozy before getting his throat slit, then deflated and hemorrhaged much more blood than could possibly fit in his body. The other two dumped his desiccated corpse into a swamp where a gator clearly ate him thereafter. But somehow… he reinflated, then bit the croc from the inside and ate his way out? Is there a vampire alligator floating around in the Louisiana bayou now? ’Cuz like, it and Lestat consumed each other’s blood. (Might not Lestat have softened Claudia’s heart toward him if he gave the creature to her as a pet? …Nah! She despised reptiles. haha)

Ahem. ANYway, dude-man next gets set on fire (Why are vampires so very, very flammable?) and left like that for quite some time, which destroyed the entire theater of vampires. Didn’t leave a single burn on Old Staty, though, apparently. Conversely, are all the theater kids fine since fire doesn’t do much to the undead after all? ’Cuz a hundred years or whatever after Lestat’s immolation, Louis finds him wasting away but still very much “alive;” Lestat begs Louis to stay with him but gets abandoned. Which would presumably kill him. But no. He’s fine.

But, like, he had such a huge reaction to the helicopter searchlights (What were the police [?] looking for so suddenly, by the way?), and the trio had to always sleep in coffins. So, how did Lestat survive exposed in a sunny swamp for weeks on end, then? Or did he burn up like Claudia and Madeline did but then just shook that off every night too? …How???

Lastly (for now), Louis HATED being a vampire and felt so conflicted about it for so long and all. Blah’dy blah. He was like, “I’m doomed! DOOMED to an eternal hell, I tell you!!!! There’s no escape!!! 😭” But he saw with and through Claudia three seemingly very effective ways to end his existence. Well, okay. Neither that whole dead-blood-drinking nor the old set-him-on-fire schtick stuck with Lestat, but I’m pretty sure that was just him. No? Either way, all vampires instinctively knew to fear and avoid sunlight. Then Louis found Claudia turned to ash by it. Like, dude. Dude! If you really wanna end it all that badly… pull back a curtain. Open a window. Open a door. Take a step outside of your house during daytime hours. Any one of those things is really all you’ve had to do this whole time, especially after the loss of Claudia and your successful (?) vengeance for her. …No? Am I missing something?

#xwp #xena #xena warrior princess #interview with the vampire #anne rice #vampires #titanic #heart of the ocean #james cameron #charmed #charmed reboot

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1magine-engine · 4 years

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Obey Me: MC is Hiding Something

When MC first awakens in the council room no one thinks much of them. They’re sitting there shivering like a dog left out in the rain and refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.

Lucifer starts to wonder what in devil’s name made you a good candidate for this exchange program. You barely had enough courage to answer when Lord Diavolo welcomed you so graciously, much less look dignified in any way.

Something odd he does observe though is, despite your silence and obvious terror, you seemed to accept the concepts of a Devildom and of RAD and him and his brother very easily or maybe you were just nodding along insipidly.

Mammon’s opinion of you is even lower. He already hated the idea of having to watch and make sure some stupid human didn’t get themselves killed on their first week. Damn it! That wasn’t his job! They can’t even carry a conversation, always just staring and watching everybody.

The human doesnt seem to have any kind of motivations or idea as to what they wanna do. Lucifer will never know if he leaves you alone at school for a while considering you’ve found your friends group with the other exchange students. And at home he sees no problem with letting you go off for just an hour or two. All you really do is walk around and examine the rooms and grounds. Maybe you’re an architecture freak or something.

Leviathan barely pays you any mind when you arrive, not like he ever has the chance to, being that he never leaves his room outside of going to class. But during breakfast he does notice how interested you seemed in the game console he’s playing on. And for a moment he wonders if you’re a gamer or an otaku too

but no, ugh you’re just some normie. You watch Asmo obsess over his compact mirror and Satan over whatever book he’s holding just the same. And you’re conversation is shit like Mammon said. Listless and lacking enthusiasm. But he doesnt stop you when you watch over his shoulder when he plays.

Satan doesn’t have a problem with you. That said, he doesn’t particularly like you. But he can respect how much time you seem to spend in the library, and how many books you borrow about the devildom and kinds of demons. It made sense, you wanted to know the kind of creatures you were surrounded by.

he does wonder though, why one day you seem to be borrowing a lot of Solomon’s books and Solomon’s time as well. But then again, that makes sense too, you were both human after all. Maybe you would stop flinching and get even a little more comortable with someone your race around. When one of his tomes disappear, he interrogates Mammon because of course, it’s Mammon.

Asmo likes your style. It’s not particularly glamorous or eye-catching but it matches your aesthetic. He especially admired your choices in acessories. The amulet you’re always wearing is so pretty and he swears sometimes it almost glows. And your rings were peak Devildom fashion, sharp, edgy iron designs. But he especially adored the silver spike earring you wore.

He was both delighted and smug that he was the first one to get a little closer to you. But of course, how could you resist! You even complimented the perfume he was wearing and asked where he got it. And he directed you to his favorite oils and essences shop that supplied products and ingredients from every realm. And while applying some to your wrist he catches a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from under your sleeve but you pull your hand away, bashful. Oh, he’ll get you to show him someday. Heehee.

Beel is curious how a human can eat so much. He’s been told human athletes apparently eat a lot to maintain muscle mass and strength and the like but looking at you, you didn’t seem the type to do anything strenuous. Except he does notice that when a demon bumps you in the hall, you’re not hurt or thrown off despite the size difference. And when you’re purposely knocked into by someone else, your reaction is fast, pivoting out of the way and behind the demon and you almost look like...

Nah. You weren’t going to attack him, you began to cower and apologize again and again until Mammon had to drag you way before it got any more embarrassing. The next time you pique his interest is at the gym in the house. You always make sure to go at a time when there isn’t anyone else and he happened to go after you. But it couldn’t have been you that just used that machine. Were you really capable of lifting that much?

Luke and Simeon are sympathetic, Simeon understands the discomfort and the adjustment and answers any questions you have about the brothers and how not to piss them off or placate them if ever you did make them angry. He answers your questions about RAD and the program but does wonder. Wherever did you get an angel relic like the one hanging from your ear?

Luke says you shouldn’t be afraid of those no good demons, if anything happens you can run to Purgatory Hall and they’ll help. He promises. He likes your company and starts up baking with you, teaching dishes and pastries. He tells you a lot about Michael and lets slip things about Lucifer and the brothers back when they were still angels. You don’t push him on the subjects but you do seem pretty interested.

it all came together, very easily. First the lights, Leviathan’s screams echo in the halls as he laments not having saved soon enough. Asmodeus’ whining about losing such good selfie lighting came next and both come out into the hall, yelling for their older brother. “Lucifer!”

If not for that, Lucifer probably wouldn’t have noticed, having been locked up in his firelit office since dinner was over. Heaving a sigh he gets up. All of the yelling told him the lights were out so how could he have expected the brilliant flash of white that burned his eyes when he opened his door. He stumbles, leaning on the door frame for support as footfalls race down the hall.

He growls, feeling his wings and horns materialize but something isn’t right. His vision doesn’t return and his skin starts to burn. In the air he catches the faintest scent of something he hasn’t smelled in a long time. Holy oil.

When the little light in the fridge fades, Beel thinks he may have fucked up. But then it turns out the whole house is out so it must just be some prank. He keeps eating, uncaring whether or not he identifies what it is he’s shoveling into his mouth. Then he smells it.

once upon a time he’d caught Luke with some kind of cookies from the celestial realm. And they were some of the best cookies he’d ever had in his existence. He could never forget that smell, so when it wafts through the air coming from the main hall, he follows. Drool begins to gather beneath his tongue.

He misses the sharp, metallic scent drifting beneath it.

Satan’s vexation spikes when his reading light goes out and his peace and quiet is distrubed by his idiot brothers. Mammon probably tried to turn the power off in Levi’s room to get him out so he can sneak in and steal his stuff again. But then Asmo starts yelling, and one cry from Lucifer rattles his bones.

It’s enough to get him on his feet. But what draws a gasp from him is the flash of lightning that gives him his sight for a moment. White lightning, an impossibility in the devildom’s ever red tinged sky. He goes to the window, knocking a stack of tomes over and unlatches it. But it doesn’t budge. Using the light on his D.D.D. he tries again but it just won’t open.

Outside Satan’s door heavy footsteps, thump along in a slow rhythm. Satan races to the door and Beel is there trudging along the carpet like a zombie, his nose perched in the air.

“Beel?! What the-? What are you doing?”

“Hey what’s the big idea!? Where are you guys!? Who’s doing that weird singing?!”

Mammon calls out into the mansions, just as confused as everyone else. Satan’s brows furrow; he didn’t cause this, then. He’s about to answer but Mammon yelps, and a resounding thwack has Satan grab Beel, and race towards the sound, almost stumbling over each other’s feet in the dark. They’re only guide is the ocassional flash of white and the sound of chanting growing louder as they grow near.

It is still pitch black but years of experience and spatial awareness tells him they’re in the foyer. Satan ventures out, almost tripping over something on the ground; it’s Mammon. He lays at the top of the steps, passed out. Satan is about to shake him awake when Leviathan and Asmo come out of a hall holding up Lucifer between them. Another flash. Lucifer’s demon form flickers in and out, smoke rising from his blistering skin. Satan freezes and Beel picks up Mammon in his arms.

“Satan! What the hell is going on!?” Levi calls out into the dark over the spell.

The chanting stops. So does the lightning and they’re plunged into complete darkness. They hear the sound of plastic and a baggie hits Beelzebub square in the chest, landing on Mammon’s stomach. “Cookies?”

He smells that first but then they recognise the other scent prominent in the air as blood.

Human blood.

“Wait, where’s MC?!” Asmo’s voice comes from the black. “Are they trapped somewhere?”

Someone laughs.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Lightning flashes again, bathing the foyer in glaring white. It’s only for a moment but their eyes are quick enough. It becomes clear where the stench of blood was coming from. “After all, I’m not trapped in here with you...”

Your eyes seem to glow, vacant of whatever fear or trepidation you’ve deceived them with for weeks. In your hand is the earring Asmo admired so much, the silver tip dripping red. At your side, your palm is sliced open, already clotting as you’ve used all you needed for the seal activating the devil’s trap around the entire house. Your sleeves are pushed up to the elbows the sigils and signs inked into your skin tasting air again after so long. As you place your hand on the seal they come alight. Your lips curl over your teeth.

“You’re trapped in here....with me.”

Solomon knows a demon slayer when he sees one. And he tells you right off the bat whatever you’re planning it isn’t a good idea. You’re outnumbered and overpowered by them.

but then he sees otherworldly magic light up the skies and decides maybe it’s a good time to visit the House of Lamentations.

Part 2

#obey me #shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me headcannons #obey me fic #merakiulous-k

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datawyrms · 3 years

Text

Ectober Day 19 Blood Magic

On Ao3 sort of warning for unreality again as someone is not having a good day

Humans ate too much, and it still weirded him out to watch Tucker willingly weigh himself down with stuff. He had a bag to carry things, but chose to ingest the stuff anyway. How could he stand it?

“You want some?” Tucker noticed his attention, but misunderstood it.

“Absolutely not. Way too solid.”

“You’ve got weird hangups, dude. It’s just food.”

He could only scoff back in response, turning his attention back to the lunchroom at large. That other demon was still around here, making his claws itch. Was it why the humans around here ate so much? Would Tucker even notice if he slipped off to check? It wasn’t like he was leaving the room, exactly. Just pushing what counted as his shadow a bit.

Nah, he wouldn’t notice. He was way too wrapped up in eating. It wasn’t like he was going to fight. Just making sure whoever it was didn’t mess with his two humans. There were plenty of shadows to make his trip impossible to track, slipping to the closed off area with ease. Sam and Tucker never came back here, and the reek of cooking would usually keep him out too. Now where was that feeling coming from? One of those burning boxes.

“You best not be here to cause trouble, dearie.”

He kept still in the shadows, unsure where the voice was coming from.

“Oh, maybe you don’t understand me. Shoo along now.” The voice was warm, strangely so, considering they were telling him to go away. “These hardworking people don’t need you dropping pans on their feet.”

The pressure on his presence wasn’t much, more uncomfortable than anything. Should he be more offended that she thought he was some sort of barely sapient creature? “They welcome you here?” The question wasn’t the smartest, but he couldn’t figure out why else something so…patient with intruders would survive.

“Oh, you do have a tongue! Of course I am, been here for ages. Now how did you end up here?”

“Felt like it.” He tried to get a better look at the box, curious if it was marked.

“Well you best not feel like disturbing lunch, or I will be quite cross with you.”

Lunch was creepy. Yet the humans clearly didn’t mind the soft spoken demon lurking around, tempting them to indulge in the foul smelling foods. “Why? Do you have to protect them?”

She actually laughed at him. “Of course not dearie! The humans can hardly enjoy their meals if you start making a mess now, so you should go cause trouble elsewhere.”

Well if she benefited from the humans eating, that made a bit of sense. She had to be lying though. Some of the people working back here made him uncomfortable to look at, warning him away, as if she’d claimed them as under her. Yet all of them still had their souls. Why would she bother? Did they even know she existed? “I’m not going to cause trouble. Just curious.”

“Good, so run along little one. No need for you here.”

The dismissal was obvious, and he chose to take the hint to crawl back to Tucker. Who was still eating. Blek. “You do know there’s a demon making all of you want to eat more, right?”

“Nope?” He was still chewing, holding up a finger while he swallowed. “Like it’s pretty normal to be hungry halfway through the day.”

“I’m being very literal.”

“Huh. So you just noticed it?”

“No. They’ve been here even the first day I came along.” He frowned a little, displeased that Tucker did not seem disturbed by this information.

“Well if they aren’t hurting anyone I guess it’s none of our business. People eat at lunch, Phantom, it’s probably fine.”

“Not if you overeat. Which you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“You’re all solid and weird.” He muttered before going back to match the natural shadow. Maybe Sam would care more? He’d have to ask.

At least Tucker was up for tripping people who approached to give him a bad time. Besides it was protecting him, those people in jackets liked throwing punches at smaller people. He was just making sure they punched more acceptable targets, like the floor. Or themselves.

“Sam’s going to chew me out for letting you do that.”

“Do what?” He smirked from his hiding spot in Tucker’s bag. “They fell over all on their own.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Demon. Duh.” The fact Tucker was laughing too felt good, that it was something done as a team. Even if he’d just given him permission to do it. Just relaxing and watching was…nicer when he wasn’t worried about Tucker secretly planning to hurt him later. Even if he should worry about that.

Yet it was hard to do so. They’d gone back to the park so he could stretch his legs, even if he had to look human to do it.

“Is there a reason you hate food so much?”

The question threw him, eyebrow raising. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not all solid like you.” It was an excuse, but not wrong.

“You look pretty solid right now.”

He rolled his eyes. No wonder his disguises worked so well if they just assumed based on what he looked like. “Well yeah, but it’s an illusion. I’m not actually some weird skeleton with meat slapped on it.”

“Oh, gross. Human, not meat skeleton. What are you then?”

“Shadows, mostly.” He hesitated before offering his hand to Tucker. “You can tell, probably. That’s why I don’t touch people.”

Tucker’s grip was warm, and stronger than expected. It was difficult to resist the urge to pull away when his false skin squished inward. Humans grabbed too hard with those bony hands of theirs.

“Oh weird. That didn’t hurt, did it? Didn’t really expect that.” He let go fairly quickly, watching as the demon quickly fixed his squished hand.

“I’m flexible.”

“More like slime in a plastic bag.”

“I’m not like slime at all!” Phantom frowned, double checking that he looked ‘normal’. “Slime is thick and heavy. I’m neither.”

“Okay, you totally have a thing about solids. What’s up with that?”

He chose to keep his mouth shut and watch a toad springing through the grass. Maybe he’d leave it alone if he just played dumb for long enough.

“Phantom, I don’t want to know to use it against you. It’s so we don’t have another ‘that charm will seriously screw me up’ moment.” Tucker kept managing to find his eyes, which made it harder to ignore him.

“It’s nothing. I just don’t like blood magic.” He settled for a half truth. “The spells are stronger and make it harder to think.”

“I think I’m missing the connection from blood magic to solid here.”

He walked right into that one. “Blood’s still thicker than I am half the time. I’m nothing, remember? It feels gross to have that dumped in you.”

“You seem more like a someone than nothing.” Tucker nudged him, rather gently.

There wasn’t a good response to that, so he chose to look away. The awful compulsion that just took over everything you were was the worst part, completely bound to the ‘gift’ even if you didn’t want it in the first place. “My illusions are just that good.”

The boy considered that, leaning back. “I thought you said you never had humans before?”

Shit. He had. “You think humans are the only thing with blood?” No, that retort wasn’t going to help! He shouldn’t have said that.

“Soooo does that mean fairies have blood?”

He didn’t care that humans should not have a mouth full of pointed teeth at the moment, growling.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Tucker said, grinning in spite of the threat.

He was very tempted to shed his disguise to try and startle Tucker, but settled for just growling again. He was never going to admit that sort of thing to a human. He was having enough trouble getting their respect without…that history.

“You’re just cementing yourself as a cat, dude.”

He let out a breath, double checking that he’d fixed his disguise properly. Obviously the slip ups weren’t working on his human anymore. “I am not a meowing quadruped.”

“Unless you’re in a cat’s shadow.”

“That doesn’t count!”

Tucker leaned back on the grass, still grinning. “Totally does.”

No it didn’t, but he was starting to figure out pointless arguments always seemed to go in the human’s favour. It’s like they went deaf sometimes just to keep insisting something completely ridiculous. It could be fun, if he didn’t keep getting reminded of past things. Long over things. He could go ages without thinking about it, but now it just kept coming up. Stupid. It shouldn’t affect him anymore.

“Anything we should watch out for? Like those mushrooms you pointed out?” His question was low, but still casual enough that you could probably brush it off.

Why did he care? Just to get free information, right? To learn his weaknesses. The demon felt uncomfortable in his skin again, tempted to hide in the dark. Even though they were only here so he didn’t have to do that. “Not really? Don’t trust anyone really into the moon, I guess.”

“You seemed kinda into that, looking at the sky all the time.”

He felt his breath hitch, screwing his eyes shut to stop thinking about it. “No. I’m looking at stars, not that stupid thing.”

Tucker was bolt upright again, uncomfortably close. “Cool. You have a favourite constellation or something?”

Now he was changing the subject? What? “I haven’t seen enough to have one of those.” Or forgot most of them.

“We could look some up? If you get bored.”

Phantom couldn’t help stiffening again, eyeing the human with clear suspicion. There was no reason to ‘be nice’ to him. Respect, sure. Play to his interests? No. That was playing to those human emotions. Things that could snare you, tie you more tightly than any written contract. “No.” He pulled his knees close to his chest and looked away.

“Oooookay then, I guess.” Tucker rubbed at the back of his neck, and took to looking at anything but the demon in some odd attempt to give him space.

Good. He didn’t want to be close with some humans like that. Absolutely not. The pain in his chest was only proof of that. It wasn’t too strong. Ignorable. He could deal with soul stuff fine. Not like blood magic at all. Not like the choking, oppressive heat he’d been tricked into taking. Invading every part of himself, an outsider he couldn’t shake off. A thrum that dulled his mind and delighted in his panic, so he could feel but not properly react.

The pressure on his shoulder that was enough to make him struggle, as that poison was fed to him, every wisp and strand thickened and tangled, a void that suddenly had a bottom, one that was rapidly filling. An impossibility that ruined him, too present to work any of his abilities. He couldn’t even remove his mouth to stave them off, being too defined and static to defy them that way. Being able to be grabbed, able to be pulled at and moved and he could do nothing against it, not even turn invisible to the eye to gain respite.

More of a slug than a shadow, but it’s only until you learn to behave.

His shoulder stung, claws buried in yellow fabric. The pain of his own claws...because…

Because Tucker was wincing in front of him, trying to push his hand away. Yet the words he was saying didn’t make any sense. “Come on, snap out of it! It’s still broad daylight out, nothing’s happening.”

He retreated instantly, retreating to the shadows now that he could. No blood.

“I have never been more happy for high quality shirts. There’s no way I’d be able to explain if you got me there.” Tucker seemed to deflate, picking at the pinprick holes. “You need some serious therapy, man. You were just gone.”

“Or I meant to do that.”

“Say that to Sam and she’ll totally leave you in the thermos.”

He wasn’t in the mood to respond. Why did he keep...reliving it? Why now? Why wouldn’t it stop?

#Danny Phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #Tucker Foley #demonau #Blood Magic #in which a previous chapter gets WORSE in retrospect #and you get more reasons to hate the moon

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marmolady · 3 years

Text

Her Reason

Main Pairings: Shamir x Catherine

Summary: In the wake of Lady Rhea's death, a lost and grief-stricken Catherine frets after Shamir.

Word Count: 2542

Warnings: Grief and loss. Also, I haven't written FE3H before, so don't expect a masterpiece.

*throws at @greengroove and runs away, hiding face*

____________________

The rainstorm that had rolled in further shrouded Garreg Mach in gloom. The downpour came as if to wash away what had been, whether those left behind were ready for that change or not. A sombre atmosphere hung within the monastery’s ancient walls, and nowhere was it more potent than in the audience chamber; where weeping prayers in hushed voices were magnified in their number. Save for the distinct air of mourning, it could have been a scene from before the war. And… save for the absence of the church’s most prominent figure. Where Lady Rhea once stood, a wall of flowers and wreaths paid her tribute.

Few felt that absence more than the archbishop’s most loyal knight. It had been a long time since Catherine had found herself so aimless… bereft. More years than she’d worry herself to count. No doubt it had been noted by her partner, for it was a long time as well since Catherine had been so quiet.

Shamir’s sadness was different. It wasn’t for Lady Rhea-- a fact that she’d never hidden-- it was for her, Catherine. Just this morning before heading out on the mission, Shamir had referred to Lady Rhea with the proper and respectful honorifics, clearly not out of any reverence for the late archbishop-- no way!-- it had all been about treading carefully with Catherine’s emotions. From someone so stubborn…. Well, Catherine knew a thing or two about stubbornness herself, and she knew that some small, subtle acts against the unyielding grain held a lot of weight. If it weren’t for that weight, Shamir’s lack of sorrow for the passing of Lady Rhea might not have been bearable. It wasn’t fair, Catherine knew that, but it was what it was. At least Shamir was honest. She’d take that over the falseness of some of the nobles in ‘mourning’ any day. On a practical level, it meant that Shamir had been able to step up; proving to be a vital force amongst the knights during this period of transition, while others had been made undeniably vulnerable in the wake of their profound loss. It was no secret that this situation was not to last; Shamir, like Catherine, was at a cross-roads. All either of them knew was that it was a transition they would ride out together.

To be honest, Catherine wasn’t sure why she’d come up here. Perhaps it was just a habit that refused to die; when she was lost, Lady Rhea had the answers. But all she found here now was a dull sense of finality. Her purpose for so many years simply no longer existed.

The sound of the rain suddenly became a roar upon the high-vaulted roof. Catherine had to stop herself from flinching. As much of a hindrance that she might have been, and however much both Alois and Shamir might have protested, she’d rather be in the thick of a mission than waiting behind; not knowing what battles were being fought in her absence… not knowing how her partner was faring. She and Shamir were a team for good reason. It was a rare foe that could best their potent combination of belligerent force and sharp precision. There was no doubt that Shamir was perfectly capable without Catherine-- hell, no one could argue against that prowess with the bow-- but… some things were too important to be gambled. Shamir was too important. In this storm, visibility would be compromised….

“Oh, Catherine--”

“Flayn! I didn’t see you there.” Catherine startled, but recovered masterfully. One would have thought being partnered with Shamir for years would have made her immune to being snuck up on… apparently not. Or, she was really off her game.

“How wonderful to see you! It has been a few days… I do not believe I have even glimpsed your face in the dining hall. Not that I…. Well, it is hard not to struggle with one’s appetite in the wake of….”

As Flayn trailed off, her warm smile became sorrowful, but no less kind and genuine.

“Nah, appetite? I don’t even know what that is anymore. It’s a strange feeling for me. All the fire’s just… fizzled out. It’s as if I don’t even know which way is up.”

That was certainly true. It was the same shock that had been so staggering when Lady Rhea had disappeared all those years ago, but the glimmer of hope that driven the fight was now extinguished. And after tasting the sweet relief of finding her alive and-- not well, but alive counted for something, didn’t it?-- but they’d saved her, and then…. It wasn’t just a bitter pill to swallow; it was gutting. Catherine was totally lost. The only thing that made sense anymore, the one thing in all this chaos, was Shamir. How strange that, from the right person, some well-placed snark could court a smile-- even though it be a shaky one. And behind it all, the aloof quietness and the deadpanned jibes, Shamir cared for her. Right now, it made all the difference.

Just get your ass back here safe, partner.

Flayn’s expression was full of concern; no doubt picking up on Catherine’s worry. “If you feel yourself at a loose end, you could do worse than to take the time to care for yourself,” she said gently. “I find a good meal is fine place to start.”

If she could hold anything down…. Actually taking the time to eat a proper meal would, however, kill some time. And maybe she was hungry? Probably just the dread she was feeling, but a bite to eat couldn’t hurt.

The dining hall was bustling; apparently the wild weather had made the lure of a steaming bowl of onion gratin soup simply irresistible. Next to the mournful quiet that permeated the rest of the monastery it was jarring. Well, Catherine had wanted to be distracted.

It was all too easy, though, for the layers of voices to become just an unintelligible roar. The smiling faces grated on Catherine. This was just too normal. It was best she didn’t talk to anyone; just eat her fill and get out of there. She was in no mood for mincing words with anyone who had the nerve to gab away over a meal as if everything hadn’t changed, as if everything wasn’t wrong. These people could take a leaf out of Shamir’s book….

There it was. All of five minutes, and guess who’s on your mind again?

In the wake of Lady Rhea’s passing, it probably only made sense that she was fretting over any possibility that she might lose the other shining light in her life. You could never assume you were going to win any battle, but out of action, Catherine could do nothing except to assume everything was fine. That Shamir was safe. And she couldn’t just do that; the uneasy feeling wasn’t shifting.

She’d just have to deal with it. Thinking about Shamir. All through this wretched storm.

And there was a lot to think about. The proposition that Shamir take Catherine’s hand in marriage had not been forgotten-- not remotely. She cared for her partner deeply, she loved her, and the only future she could see out of this wreckage was the two of them together. There was nothing truly left for Catherine here-- her devotion had not belonged to the church, but for its head--; to disappear with her blunt and prickly Shamir into the sunset was a tantalising lure. But it wasn’t fair. How was Catherine to trust her own judgement when the throes of grief had her on the edge of snapping? That grief-- the price of it-- was not Shamir’s to bear. It would be all too easy to give in to comfort and spare the forethought….

But, a little voice in Catherine’s head stubbornly insisted, you know who you are. You know who you are with her. Any ‘doubt’ is an excuse. You’re just afraid to feel too much; afraid of giving everything and being once again left with a jagged empty space in your heart. Like the one left by Lady Rhea… the one left by Christophe.

If she hadn’t gotten so flustered and just said ‘yes’ then and there, would she be sitting here now? Imagining all that could go wrong on the field of battle in her absence? Perhaps Shamir would have stayed behind with her. Perhaps they’d be huddled together in a quiet corner, sharing a pint… Catherine mourning and Shamir commiserating. And they’d tentatively map out a future. A future different to what Catherine had seen for herself, but not in that they’d be together. That was something she could still believe in. She’d been presented with the perfect opportunity to express her feelings. Why hadn’t she just said ‘yes’?

Soup downed as quickly as possible-- no doubt indigestion would follow-- Catherine made a beeline for the front gates. The sun was going down, the rain slowing; the chances of the mission stretching out any longer than nightfall were slim. Even in a tempest, how long did it take to put down a few wolves, monstrous proportions or not?

As if by clockwork, from out the now-drizzling rain trudged a small group returning from the mission, mud-splattered and --in some cases-- bloodied.

Shamir was not among them.

No, no, no, no no….

Dread hit Catherine like an icy fist to the gut… clenching until she was totally winded. Too roughly, she pulled Byleth aside as they stepped through the heavy doors.

“Where’s Shamir?”

“The group became separated in the downpour--”

Of course it did. Damn it! Not waiting to hear more, Catherine strode off. “Fuck, Byleth! Well, it looks like a nice evening for a walk. I’m going for a bit of… fresh air.”

One hand on Thunderbrand’s hilt, ready to smite whatever creature had lain waste to her partner, Catherine powered on in the direction of the mountainside village the beasts had been threatening. Her angry panting breath caught in her throat, unable to move past the cold, hard lump there.

This was her fault. This was her….

--Thnk--

An arrow whizzed in front of Catherine’s face, finding its mark on a tree at the side of the path and making her skid to a halt.

“Is there a reason you’re striding off alone into the forest?”

And Catherine breathed. There she was, sheltering in the trees… perfectly fine. Safe. Thank the goddess. Thank the fucking-- She ran. She ran and took Shamir in her arms.

The force of the embrace swept Shamir clean off her feet and left her winded. Always nice as it was to see Catherine, this was somewhat excessive. Nevertheless, she hugged back firmly. All this upheaval… to be swept up in the arms of the person she loved most in all the world was admittedly a most wonderful comfort.

“...Anyone would think you’d convinced yourself I’d got killed out there….”

Catherine stepped back, and shifted her weight, sheepish.

Sheepish? Catherine? Oh.

Shamir shook her head in disbelief. Jeez, Catherine was really not okay. “Do you think Byleth would have left me-- would have left anyone-- if the beasts had not already been dispatched?”

“What--? Am I the Byleth-whisperer now? Even they don’t know what’s going on in their head!”

Though admittedly, Catherine realised, Shamir had a fair point. There may have been a smidgeon of unnecessary panicking. What was wrong with her head? It was just the thought of her partner fighting off some slobbering beast alone, compromised by a storm…. If anything had happened because Catherine had been too caught up in grief to be there backing her up….

Shamir brought her numb, wet fingers up to Catherine’s cheek, cradling her there.

“If you need me to remain close, then close is where I’ll stay.”

… then kissed her, slow and deep.

When Shamir pulled back at last, she was met with a dumbstruck expression and without a doubt the fiercest blush she’d ever seen across her partner’s face. Oh, the satisfaction. It was not every day the great Thunder Catherine was rendered speechless. Shamir made a note to remember that trick. Not that she’d ever need an excuse to want to…. It had been a long time coming. Too long.

Catherine swallowed hard. She could feel her mind short-circuiting, but she wouldn’t let it happen this time. Not when that had felt…. She leaned forward, touched her forehead to Shamir’s. It did… feel like coming home. Something joyous, impossibly joyous was rearing up inside her, some swell of certainty and desire and love… a feeling so vast she could not cut it down with even the mightiest swing of Thunderbrand. Why would she even try anyway?-- this was glorious.

“I thought I could always read you…,” Shamir said as her partner seemed to return to her senses, “but I was never quite sure if you understood that I meant it. When I suggested we marry.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!” Catherine defended herself, arms raised. Her face still was a glowing red, she could feel it burning. “Trust you to be the one to take me by surprise.”

Shamir held Catherine’s gaze, trying not to get lost in those startling blue eyes, so alight with fire. She had so feared that fire might fizzle and fade. She’d protect that fire, tend it as she would the spark of her own life. She needed Catherine to know that she’d meant it.

“Someday we might lose this,” she said, voice hoarse. “Actually, scratch that ‘might’; we're not naiive. All things end. But for as long as I’m breathing, all I am is yours. We’re in this for the long run…,” A sparkle came to her eye, as she met Catherine’s, an adoring smirk to her lips, “…partner.”

“It’s a relief that you meant it-- it would have been a wickedly cruel trick in light of the fact that I love you.”

“You…?” Shamir’s breath hitched.

“Love you.” Catherine affirmed. “I… love you.” Was it normal for her heart to be beating this hard? It was going wild, as though she was storming recklessly into a battle of impossible odds. She could hear it over the goddamn rain…. But it was nice. Oh, it was nice. “Heh,” she chuckled. “It actually feels pretty good to say it out loud. You should try it sometime.”

The vulnerability behind that dare wasn’t lost. Shamir could almost hear Catherine holding her breath.

“Catherine. I love you.”

Sputtering a breathless laugh, Catherine pulled her partner-- her lover-- into another embrace. Holding her like she’d never let her go. Because there was not a fucking chance in hell she ever would. She had her reason to keep fighting there in her arms.

“We could take a further dive into blatant sentimentality,” she said. “There is a chance I alarmed Byleth enough that they’ll come searching, and see how hard I’m blushing right now. My reputation will be destroyed forever!” She pulled away, painful as it was. It was, though, in aid of something bigger. “Or you could always just… kiss me again.”

The day’s last rays of the sun pushed through the clearing clouds, creating a sparkle on a rain-drenched land.

And Shamir kissed Catherine again.

#fe3h #cathmir #catherine rubens charon #shamir nevrand #fire emblem three houses

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “Family Dynamics.”

Thought you guys might enjoy this today.

A lot of you have been asking for more Conn in the stories, so I hope you enjoy :)

“Wow, would you look at that.”

“No.”

“Wow.” “No. Hopping on the nope train and taking a ride to nopeville….. Nope absolutely not.”

“Come on, Krill, isn’t it just….. Just awesome!.”

“That, that right there is an absolute raging death trap.” “Oh come on>” Adam said, hands on his hips as he stared up at the rocket.. THe Saturn V replica down to the last bolt. He grinned and danced around on his toes in a circle, “This is gonna be so cool!”

Krill turned to look at Adam, “No, no this is not cool, Adam. I am serious this time, not joking. I really don’t want you going in that thing. And with the assassination attempts and…. All that is going on with the GA leaders….” He looked at Adam Very pointedly here, “I don’t think you should do this.”

“Are you serious, a once in a lifetime opportunity and you want me to just say no because there is a possibility someone Might try to kill me?”

“Um…. YES.”

Adam crossed his arms, “Krill, I refuse to let myself live in fear when there is life to be lived.”

Krill turned to look hopefully over at Eris who was standing quietly by his side. She shook her head at him.

“He isn’t going to change his mind.”

“Can you at least try?”

She sighed, “Ok.”

Gently Eris took one of his hands forcing him to look at her, “Da…..Adam think about it please, there are a lot of powerful people after you, powerful and with resources. If they want to kill you, then this will be the perfect time to do it. They could put it off as some horrible accident, and no one would be the wiser.” She paused as he looked back at her, “I can see that this isn’t going to change your mind either.”

He smiled, “This is what I have my people for.” HE took the two of them by the shoulders and led them to where they could overlook the command station in the distance, “In there, right now, there are elements of the criminal underworld that owe me a favor, looking for any clues to indicate an attempt on my life.” He grinned, “Also, I have two secret weapons.”

He put his arm around Eris and then turned his head to look up at the sky.

Eris and Krill followed his lead.

Krill groaned, and Eris went wide eyed.

As a starborn descended from the sky ribbons flapping hands outstretched dropping from heaven like an ethereal angel. Sunlight bounced off his skin as he moved slowly downward hands held out to the side fingers outstretched. She stepped forward and- was immediately hit with a wall of his thoughts.

She no longer saw him as ethereal.

He was an asshole.

Conn drifted towards the ground but didn’t touch ribbons swirling around him seaweed undulating in a dark sea: Yes her thoughts about him had changed that much, he had gone from angel to seaweed rather quickly in her head.

He turned his eyes to her.

‘Who invited you’

Eris frowned, “I-

Adam glowered at Conn, “Be nice to her.”

Conn turned his head to look at Eris and drifted closer looking her over, ‘Oh daddy issues I see, well who doesn't.” He turned to look up at Adam, ‘Gotta love people borrowing your DNA for craft projects especially when they give you kids a little too early.”

Adam was not able to hide the thought that came marching to the forefront of his mind.

You know that’s interesting considering your starborn DNA was the most easily accessible before Eris was born.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to.

Eris made a face, and Conn drew back.

“HIM!”

Shit, Adam thought

“I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it.” She retorted turning on him with her eyes narrowed before turning to look back at Conn, who floated in shock behind her.

Adam held up his hands, “Woah now, I can’t be for sure, it just makes sense.”

Eris turned back to where Conn was floating and made another face, “But, but HIM. I don’t want…. I, I can’t be related to HIM.”

Adam sighed, “Being able to read his thoughts must be a bitch eh?”

Of course at the moment Conn wasn’t really having any thoughts. It was mostly just TV static with an undercurrent of the thoughts of people around him amplifying them even more in Eris’s head. Which is why she could hear Dr Krill quietly inching away as he wondered if he should tell them or nah?

He hd suspected as much the moment they had seen Eris, and learned that the DNA being used was Adam’s.

It had been easy enough to get Adam’s DNA strands from the original hybrids….. The adaptids….. But they would have needed other aliens to pair him with. And there was only one known starborn available to steal DNA from.

Conn’s static continued.

Eris groaned and put her hands to her head.

Adam rubbed his forehead, “Well, on the bright side, you turned out more like your human side of the family.” That’s when the static in Conn’s head fizzled out and he turned to look at Adam. With a sudden Evil grin, which he must have been practicing, for it seemed far to human for him, He floated over and grabbed both of them around the shoulders, “Isn’t this sweet, now we can all be one big happy family.’

“Get off me Conn.” Adam grumbled

He just squeezed tighter, though as a starborn the strength was somewhat lacking. ‘Don’t talk like that, you and I have a beautiful daughter together. Just look at her. She’s got your internal organs and my skin. Isn’t that lovely.”

“Conn I swear if you keep touching me I will punch you and probably break something.”

Conn made like he was sighing as he pulled away, “You know, as her parents we should really be trying to set an example for a healthy loving relationship. A family that plays together-”

He floated away quickly before Adam could swipe at him missing the strike by mere inches.

“Domestic assault in this household!”

Eris hid her face in her hands, “Oh no.”

She was definitely not sure how she was supposed to feel about this. One the one hand, she was at least glad that he wasn’t repulsed by the idea of her existing. However, on the other hand, it was likely that her paternal starborn side was Conn! The thought made her nauseous . Reading his thoughts made her feel the same way. Clearly this creature, whatever he was had never grown out of petty pranks, and intense sarcasm.

More annoyingly, he seemed to have the ability to hide things from her just by NOT thinking about them. She learned nothing about his past, or really his more internal thoughts. He only let her see what she wanted to see, and what he wanted her to see made her more annoyed the more she thought about it.

“I’m so excited, aren't you. Finally reunited at last!”

Adam sighed, “This is now how I planned this. Conn you stupid bastard, I called you down here to do a job for me.”

“You wouldn’t call your hubby stupid would you?”

Adam looked like he was about to turn green, “Never in a million years would I ever even consider that. In fact, I think I would rather shoot myself out the airlock an have all the nitrogen bubble out of my blood thank you very much.:”

“One night stands happen.”

“Conn I swear if you keep going down this metaphor. I am going to commit murder. Never in a million years would I touch you with a nine and a half foot pole, end of story.”

“Excuse me for being skeptical as you have been known to date aliens in the past.”

“That was Sunny, who is arguably, not even arguably, but she IS smart, talented, funny, a total badass, and a fucking gem, while you are a creepy little space gremlin.”

“Yet I have a kid with you and she doesn’t sooooooo, forgive me if I say I win.”

“We can’t be for sure that she’s yours.”

“I demand a paternity test.”

“Conn, if you don’t let this go right now I am going to rip your spine out through your back and let Waffles chew on it.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a spine.”

Adam took a eep long-suffering breath, “I am done with this conversation, now I called you down here for a reason, and that reason is that I need you two watching out for something going wrong. Eris, as a member of my family you will be allowed inside mission control to watch what is going on. Your job is to make sure that no one is planning my death from the inside.” he turned his head in Conn’s direction and flipped him the bird as he continued to speak, “You on the other hand are in charge of the engineers. I know you don’t give a shit about boundaries, so your job is to hang around the engineers and the rocket hangers to see if any of them had a hand in sabotaging the mission. If you can get near the chairwoman, or the UN President, than do what you can. I need to know how deep all of this goes.” He turned his head to Eris, “You are probably going to be able to get closer to everyone than Conn can. People know he is a starborn and they know what he can do. No one will assume anything about you if you keep your head low.”

She smiled, “Already done.” A little part of her leaped inside, and she felt giddy. Adam needed her to help protect him! She was being useful for once! Not to mention that this meant he trusted her and….. She turned a side eye on conn, Then again, that probably meant that Adam trusted him too.

The starborn grinned at her again, showing rows and rows of of sharp circular teeth.

She winced and looked away.

Gross

“I have to get going, but you two should get to work. This is going to be a long week.”

He whistles once, and Waffles jumped up from where she had been resting at his side, and gently trotted after him as he walked away back towards the command station. Eris started after him and Conn floated up next to her.

“What an unexpectedly delightful day, don’t you think.”

“Can you be less creepy please.”

“It runs in the family Eris, you have the creepy inside you too. Embrace it!”

She shoved him away with one hand and ran to catch up with Adam.

She could hear conn laughing behind her as he floated away towards the hangers.

She glanced over his shoulder as she grabbed onto Adam’s arm, “Why is he so weird!”

Adam shrugged, “I think something happened to him when he was first born. I would say that he was dropped on his head, but that’s probably not accurate. Think i heard something about him having been isolated from his clan for the first few thousand years with his dead mother, but I don’t know if that’s true or if it’s just something he made up. Either way I think whatever happened to him kind of made him psycho.”

She glanced over her shoulder to the figure floating off into the distance, “Than why do you keep him around?”

He sighed, “Unfortunately, his abilities are invaluable. The ability to bring him alone when it comes to negotiations, or to talk with new alien species speeds up both diplomatic missions and learning new languages.” He sighed, “Also, as far as I can tell he is pretty loyal. He always does everything I ask him to do as long as it is important enough. Sure if I asked him to pick up after himself he’d probably flip me the bird and go floating in the other direction. But every time something big and important has happened, he has always been relatively reliable. A part of me wonders if he just doesn’t know how to interact with people, and somewhere deep down there is a desire to be wanted, but that’s not something I can prove.” He glanced pointedly at her.

She shook her head, “Sorry, he’s pretty good at hiding what’ he’s thinking.”

Adam grunted, “A real pity. Now-” He turned to look at her, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye, “Stay low. If you hear anything, don’t try to do anything about it yourself. Call my ship, either Sunny or Ramirez and they will deal with everything. If you see someone wearing a red pin with a white rocket on it, then those are our undercover guys, and they should be able to help you too. But it’s likely you will know who they are anyway.”

He looked her in the eyes, “Whatever happens, your safety comes first, not mine. You got that/”

She nodded eagerly even though she knew that last instruction was a lie.

He was more important than her.

And she was going to make sure that he stayed safe.

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emilycollins00 · 3 years

Text

Two faces of the same coin

Pairing: Tenma x ghost-looking! reader Part 1.

Hey! I had this awesome ask from sadly ages ago which I appreciated a lot bc honestly, just the fact that someone sent such a detailed thing?? My heart.

Request: (...) Tenma finds someone who looks like they got out straight from a horror movie- They could literally pass as a ghost anytime of the day! But once he talks to them they are just an extremely chill introvert, and actually really thoughtful and considerate? (...) So yeah, imagine Tenma who once was shitting his pants whenever that person was around slowly starting to enjoy their presence and even better: fall for them.

Enjoy! 💕

Classic horror icons and other disturbing creatures share common characteristics, pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, hunched posture, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire fear and revulsion in many with good reason. And while Tenma would insist he was okay with them- he really was and Yuki should really just shut up- he wouldn’t go out of his way to watch or read about that specific genre. And he was okay with that.

“A ghost in the school?”

He tried to not sound as worried as he internally felt, his brain still processing what Taichi was talking about while waiting for their drinks to drop. The redhead nodded unaware, eyes fixed on the vending machine “Yeah! You haven’t heard about it before?”

“W-why should I? It’s stupid to think paranormal stuff like ghosts exists anyway.”

With a clank, both drinks finally fell. Taichi crouched down to retrieve them humming happily, handing one of them to the summer troupe leader and keeping one for himself.

“I don’t know man, it’s kind of cool!” he crossed his arms behind his head, resuming their walk and looked behind. “What about you, Juza-san? You seen anything?”

The purple-haired boy considered it lazily, but ultimately shook his head. He didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, and Tenma was pretty sure the main thoughts running through his head were today’s melon bread from the cafeteria.

It had been a while since their Ouka-high group had been able to have lunch together.

“Did you see? That Sumeragi Tenma is back!”

“Gosh, he looks so handsome!”

“Wait- don’t push me!”

“I heard he’s going to be a possible cast in that famous saga-”

“Are you serious?”

Whispers and tiny squeals kept circling them as soon as they entered the boundaries of the canteen. And while Tenma barely notices it at first, he can definitely see Juza’s stance going more rigid and Taichi’s eyes glowing at the attention received.

“I’ll go get our lunch” the golden-eyed teen announces heading towards the queue, hands buried in his pockets. He motioned Tenma with his chin. “You wanted set B right, no carrots.”

“Uh? Well yeah, but I can-”

“S’okay, you two go find some seats” he shrugged, looking around. There weren’t many spaces to start with and he’d honestly prefer focus on the food rather than the stares. “It’d be difficult to keep ‘em free with just one person anyway.”

“Roger! Come on Ten-chan, let’s go!”

“Aw, man. Everyone has their eyes on you as usual!” Taichi looked around, still indulging himself with all the people that were staring at them, some more blatantly than others.

How he didn’t get bored of mentioning it every time Tenma didn’t know, though he was low-key grateful. Not many people enjoyed being part of those types of reactions from a crowd- Juza for example-. When they finally managed to find some empty seats, Taichi placed his own bento on the table visibly excited. Tenma frowned.

“Since when did you start preparing lunch by yourself?”

“Ah, this?” the redhead laughed proudly at his confused look “See, I’ve been practicing my cooking skills! Tsuzuru has been super cool teaching me how to prepare some dishes for my siblings- plus, I’m sure I’ll get the attention of girls if they see my new talent!”

“Right…”

Tenma couldn’t decide whether he should make a comment as he took a long, thoughtful sip from his own juice can. Taichi’s lunch was a side of string cheese, a broken omelet, and some semi-burnt rice and it just didn’t seem very tempting.

He ultimately chose to leave it aside. Omi would surely know soon enough.

“So, uh, Taichi.”

“Yeah?”

He coughed, leaving aside the can and resting his back on the chair nonchalantly. “N-not that I care about that rumor, but- where is that ghost supposed to be?”

“Ah, the one we talked about? Mmm…” the autumn member caressed his chin, closing his eyes in deep thought. “No one really knows. It’s been spotted in pretty much all parts of the school” Tenma’s stomach sank at that. “But I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!”

The redhead took again the chopsticks and started digging on the rice carefree.

“R-right.”

Tenma shook his head. Cool. Great. Now he knew which side of the school he would never even try to approach at least.

“Tenma-kun!” a female voice, not familiar, made him jolt from his seat. When he looked up a girl followed by two others were are already making themselves comfortable on the chairs next to them- one of them even deciding to sit on the table. “Hi there!”

Third years.

"Hi” he repeated.

“We saw your appearance in that new series, it was unbelievable!”

“Are you going to be a recurring character there? I’d love if you could ask one of the leads to sign a shirt of mine!”

He simply showered them a practiced smile. He could already tell what type of fans they were. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary- people approaching him about his shows or to ask for favors- and honestly, it was better not entering in that dangerous territory. “Thanks. Nothing’s been said yet, that’d depend on the company. I’ll be counting on your future support.”

They instantly beamed at his reaction. “Of course!”

One of them clapped her hand together “That reminds me, when is your next performance in that theatre company you play? I so want to go see it again!”

“Ah, that will take a while. We just finished a month ago so next up is the autumn troupe” he motioned Taichi with his head, a proud, real smile featuring his face this time “These guys have been going all out, you won’t be disappointed.”

“O-of course!” the shortest Ouka high student practically jumped into the conversation. “If you all want, we could ask for a few tickets from our-!“

“But Tenma-kun is not in that troupe, right?” the girls looked at each other confused. As if it wouldn’t be something it’d cross their minds to do, had the child actor not participated before.

“W-well, no but…”

“Plus, the summer troupe is hilarious! I kinda prefer those types of performances, you know?”

“I totally get you!”

From his peripheral vision, Tenma could register Taichi’s face growing red- a strained smile before sitting back on his seat, not trying to add anything to the conversation anymore.

Smile. Remember to smile.

“…We all give our all on those performances, I don’t think it’s fair if you have just watched the summer troupe. You’ll definitely enjoy it if you give them the chance.”

“Really?”

“I mean… If Tenma-kun says so maybe we could go take a look.” one of them gave a chuckle, playing with their hair. “You think we could ask you to get us some tickets for-?”

“If you are not eatin’ you should leave.”

“Uh? Can’t you see we’re-” the sentence died in their lips as soon as they turned and encountered Juza. Not that he himself was proud of his reputation, but during these situations at the very least it paid to see they knew who he was.

“Move.”

The resulting glare was terrifying in its intensity, and the retreat took no longer than a few seconds. No one mentioned anything afterward- Juza’s calm and blank expression coming back as he sat down, handing the summer leader his lunch and squinting down at Taichi’s.

“What the hell are you eatin’.”

“Hehe it caught your attention too, right? You see…”

Tenma observed them. They were acting as if nothing had happened. Not so long ago people tended to stay away from him for those same reasons, so it still took him a few seconds to find the words again- For feeling this relieved at their reactions.

He left the chopsticks aside. “Sorry this... keeps happening."

They momentarily stopped the conversation, sharing a silent look before turning to the teen actor facing the table in awkwardness.

“I-It’s okay, Ten-chan! They would obviously be more interested in watching you than an unknown performance” Taichi laughs and scratches the back of his hair. He seemed to be fine- a bit uncomfortable, but fine. “Besides, that just means we have to work even harder to be recognized, right, Juza-san!”

“Yeah, don’t get stuck thinkin’ ‘bout it. We ain’t losin’ any time soon.”

“Anyway Juza-san, are you sure you’re okay with only melon bread and pudding for lunch? I can give you some of mine!”

Juza didn’t verbally answer Taichi’s offer, merely staring at the burnt rice being held in front of him with skepticism “…nah. I’m okay.”

Taichi frowned at his own food, tilting his head confused. A few seconds later, he gave it an ultimate shrug before going for one more bite, Juza doing the same with his own lunch. Tenma scoffed at the view, trying not to smile amusedly. The autumn troupe really was made out of beasts.

“If Sakyo-san saw what you two are eating he’d skin you alive, you know.”

“Why.”

“What do you mean why, Juza-san you can’t expect-“

"Ah, that reminds me!” Taichi suddenly rambled, mouth full of rice “We should totally go to the arcade before we head up to the dorm. I heard they have these new games that are supposed to be super exclusive!”

Tenma winced “Can’t. I have a meeting with my homeroom teacher after classes.”

The other two replied with a similar expression.

“I almost forgot you came from a big shootin’ and all. We’ve been seein' you in the dorm pretty much everyday.”

“Yeah! Geez I always say I envy you, but dealing with that after working must suck!”

“You tell me…”

Taichi shook his head, giving him both thumbs up “It’s okay, we can go another time. Good luck though!”

“You can sit here. I’ll go bring your work in a second and then we’ll talk.”

With a lazy look on his face, Tenma caught a glimpse of his own reflection from a trophy case- one of the few resting at the entrance of the teacher’s lounge. He had never paid attention to them before; Second prize in a football tournament, first prize in some races and a few diplomas regarding different competitions, nothing too special. Ouka high had never had the best score regarding academics, which is exactly why he was able to enter.

Igawa liked to insist it wasn’t entirely Tenma’s fault he had so many troubles keeping up with schoolwork though- well, not more than the usual of not being good at studying. No one actually knew how hard celebrity kids had to push themselves- at least that’s what his parent had said. On the other hand, they hadn’t really cared much more, so long the school allowed him to be flexible with his schedules.

School time was usually done while moving sets and camera changes. He and other kids and teens were at different levels of schooling most of the time, so the teacher was forced to divide their time. Honestly, one would be lucky to get 30 minutes of full tutoring.

Anyway, it was rotten work and even Tenma knew it. He also knew what his homeroom teacher thought about it, which is exactly why he couldn’t help himself raising his eyebrows concerned as he saw the pile of papers being drop over the desk.

“Is this a joke?”

“I know you’re busy, but there’s a minimum to do keep up with your classes and… general results.” the old man frowned scratching his grey four-days old beard. He clicked here and there at the computer, probably revising the latest results of the tests they had done.

He then leaned back on his chair, trying to find a comfortable position before his wrinkly eyes turned to him again. “I wish I could think of another way, but you are getting quite behind everyone, Sumeragi-kun. We’re worried.”

Well, it was not his fault he couldn’t remember all the information they gave him like a script. Was it really the solution giving him the same amount of work as his classmates with half the time?

Before he could open his mouth to complain, the man placed his hand on Tenma’s shoulder. It felt heavy. “I already talked with your manager. It seems you’ll be having a break for a month and a half just before finals and I’d like to help you. We can’t have one of the biggest faces of the school repeating a year, can we?”

Tenma’s jaw clenched. Of course, everything was always for Sumeragi Tenma the actor. Student Tenma could go drown himself.

“Here you’ll find some reinforcement materials I think will be good for you to do in school. Less time wasted while moving and I’ll be here in case you have any questions.”

His face twitched. That would mean he wouldn’t be able to ask for Tsumugi’s help or any of the adults back in Mankai. “I actually-”

“Suguro-sensei, Someone’s calling for you about tomorrow’s meeting!”

“Is it that time already... I’ll be right there in a second! In any case, I would suggest you go work on the library Sumeragi-kun.” the man got up, finishing that way their conversation. “It should be quiet enough, but if you see any students being too loud, give them a call.”

Tenma side-glanced again at his workload, groaning internally.

Just about his luck.

Twenty minutes walking.

How could such a big school not have a single sign to indicate where things were?

Squinting his eyes, Tenma looked both ways across the hall annoyed, his already short temper from before increasing. He was sure the library was two turns to the right, then left, and then up the stairs from the teachers’ lounge.

...or maybe it was a floor down now that he thought about it. Damn it. It wasn’t as if he had ever stepped inside that place, shouldn’t they make it more accessible for everyone?

“This sucks…”

It had been a while since he had seen other students or even teachers around, which also made him feel uneasy. He glanced down at the paperwork in his arms, gripping it tighter. He hoped no one would see him walking around like this.

Just where was the stupid library?

It wasn’t until Tenma decided to try entering inside any room that would allow him to work, that he found many were strangely closed. He was about to gave up when he finally saw the dusty word ‘library’ at the end of the corridor. Finally. With effort he managed to open the heavy door, immediately pinching his nose.

“Ugh, stinks.”

The person in charge of cleaning the school really did a worse job than Matsukawa- at least the man cleaned from time to time and organized stuff. The place was an absolute mess; boxes over the floor, piles of books on chairs and shelves full of documents and other various things he didn’t quite distinguish.

Leaving everything on the closest table Tenma sighed when he felt his arms relaxing without the weight. Frowning, he walked around the place, smelling a mix of dirt and old- even some shelves were full of dust. Really, how did a school like this had such a gross place to study? No wonder students didn’t try to come here.

He should have asked for permission to take his work back to Mankai. Less danger of someone noticing he was behind his studies and it becoming a gossip- or worse, finding he had been walking without an absolute clue for the last half hour.

Yeah, he had more options to pass the year with Tsumugi’s help rather than on his own. Just looking at the amount of work he had he was sure it’d-

The faint sound of walking steps brought him back from his thoughts freezing him on the spot- all his breath trapped. He hadn’t heard anyone since he entered, but it shouldn't be surprising to find others studying.

I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!

Or it was probably the wind. The wind tends to make noises, Tenma reminded himself while swallowing with difficulty.

Was the air suddenly thick?

Crack!

He strained to hear, his heart pounding loudly. “I-Is anyone there?” the nerves made his voice come out higher than he had hoped.

More cracks and sounds of steps. He couldn't see anything yet.

His stomach turned as his breath became louder. This wasn't happening. Yup! It was his imagination. What was happening could not be real, because ghosts didn’t exist. “I-I’m not afraid, you know?!” he shouted, positioning himself on a fighting stance while carefully moving backward.

That’s right- Tenma wasn’t scared. He had just rested enough, with or without a ghost in the room, and it was about time to leave. Ignoring his sweaty palms and nodding once more to nothing in particular, he turned around at the same time a pair of eyes made contact with his.

The figure opened its mouth.

And Tenma proceeded to absolutely destroy his throat.

_________________________________________________

This took so long though I’m not even sure If they are around. If you are love, I apologize! I found a few walls writing-wise. So not entirely to say I made it longer to make up for it but on the other hand... maybe. Thank you so much for sending such a nice idea so I was able to make this, really hope you like it. 💕

I promise this is a reader insert lol thank you for reading!

Part 2 soon!

#tenma sumeragi #a3 game #a3 tenma #a3! tenma #reader x a3 #a3! x reader #tenma x reader #a3 actor training game #reader insert #a3! taichi #a3! juza

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tomhardygf · 3 years

Text

an equine mistake 2.7k tommy/alfie

“Peaky Blinders AU where giving someone a horse counts as a courtship tradition amongst the Romanies and not knowing about it, Alfie presents Tommy with a rather beautiful stallion. The next day he has both Arthur AND Polly at his throat. Tommy enjoys the chaos.”

this is silly and dumb and i didn’t wanna bother posting on ao3! has a lot less tommy enjoying chaos and more him being absolutely bewildered. set in a world where homophobia doesn’t exist, maybe. ft: john shelby being a little asshole, alfie being a belligerent asshole, and me dunking on ollie even when there is absolutely no need for it 💖

original prompt: (x) (ty @ohmykaspbrak ✨ ur brain is powerful and huge) ohmykaspbrak’s fill: (x) read it she’s beautiful

Tommy stood on the Garrison doorstop, blinking down at the man before him. “What’s this?” He asks, fingers itching for a cigarette, but too surprised to actually reach for one.

“What’s it fucking look like, mate?” Answers Alfie, rope twined around his hand at least 5 times, as if afraid his charge were to bolt at any moment. “Recently acquired the bloody beast in a deal, and thought to myself, ‘right, who do I know who’ll take this thing off my hands’?”

“And you thought of me?”

Alfie waves his free hand in the air. “Yeah. It was either that, or put a bullet between its eyes.”

Tommy is still skeptical, but he takes a step forward. The horse that Alfie’s brought him is beautiful— fur black as night, with strong, powerful muscles shifting underneath. He moves closer, carefully considering the state of it’s health, but the eyes are bright and clear, the nose and mouth free of any signs of sick, its hooves well maintained, when he picks one up for inspection. It’s young, and it’s clearly been very well taken care of. Whoever Alfie had taken this horse off of had likely poured a great deal of money into its acquisition and it’s upkeep.

“A thoroughbred,” Alfie adds, when Tommy doesn’t respond any further. “Least, think that’s what he said. He wasn’t exactly speaking straight, had something blocking his mouth.”

Tommy makes a considering noise in reply. Alfie turning up in Birmingham tugging a horse along, no car or any of his men in sight was certainly the strangest thing to happen to him that week. He’s half expecting an ambush, for the sounds of gunfire to start hailing down on them, but nothing happens. It’s just Alfie, standing in front of him, looking as out of place on the street in front of the Garrison as Tommy ever could have imagined. The man looks more and more uncomfortable the longer Tommy doesn’t respond, so he eventually takes pity on him. “Do you want to give him a name?”

“Nah,” Alfie snorts, “I trust you can come up with something suitable for the creature.” At that, he begins to unwind the rope from his wrist, holding it out vaguely in Tommy’s direction. Tommy resists the urge to crack a smile at the discomfort still evident in the man’s posture. He’s still a bit bewildered by Alfie thinking to give him what was undeniably a gift— a stallion, of all things— but he’s sure that the man hadn’t meant anything by it.

Tommy lifts his hand to take the rope. Just as it is passing between them, the door to the Garrison swings open, John bustling his way through. He’d been in the back of the bar when Tommy’d been informed about Solomons marching down the road, and Tommy had quietly slipped out before he would be any the wiser. He stumbles to an abrupt stop at the view before him. “What’s this?” He slurs, not drunk, just confused. His eyes dart between the two men and the horse standing behind them, the look on John’s face becoming rapidly accusatory as he takes in the scene before him.

Tommy opens his mouth to speak, to give an explanation that wouldn’t make things worse for himself, but Alfie beats him to it. “Was passing through your pisshole of a city, and thought I’d stop by and drop your brother off a gift I’ve been meaning to give him.”

John’s mouth falls open, face twisting up in a mixture of confusion and outrage. He tears his eyes away from Solomons, staring directly now at Tommy. “He brought you a fucking horse?”

Tommy moves forward, the horse following along after him, docile. Tommy switches to Romani, aware of Alfie’s presence behind him. “Relax, brother. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“He’d better fucking not,” John spits, partially soothed, but shoots a glare over Tommy’s shoulder at Alfie.

“How would he know?” Tommy asks, resting a hand on John’s shoulder, face purposefully clear, despite how much he’s holding in the strange urge to laugh at the situation. “He’s Jewish. Different traditions.”

“Oi,” Alfie interrupts, stepping forward now as well. When Tommy looks over to him, he’s got his chest puffed out, looking harsh and burly. “Don’t know whatever the fuck you two are saying, but I know who you’re talkjng about, alright? Enough whispering.”

John scowls at him, unimpressed with the man. But after a moment, a new expression crosses his face, something significantly more mischievous— his anger having faded, he’s fallen back into just being his little brother. “I’m going to tell Polly about this.”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

John grins, slaps Tommy on the back. He slips back into English. “Yeah, I’m going to tell her.

“John!” Tommy hisses, but John’s already ducked out and away from him, practically skipping down the street in his excitement to cause problems. Tommy sighs as he stares after him. That’ll be something to deal with.

Alfie follows his gaze, deflating a bit now that John’s gone. “What was all that about, then?”

Tommy snorts, and he lifts a hand to pat against the horse’s flank. “It’s… one of the traditions of my people,” he murmurs, his cheeks suddenly feeling a bit warm. “The gift of a stallion represents certain… expectations.”

“Expectations?”

Tommy looks up at Alfie, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice, especially at the look of bewilderment on the man. “You’ve asked me to marry you.”

Alfie follows him home. Or, more accurately, Alfie follows him back to Charlie’s Yard, to board the horse, and then he follows him home. He tells Alfie, as they walk, that there’s no need for him to follow— that it wasn’t as if he needed to explain to his family his intentions (or his lack of them), that him showing up will likely only make things worse. But Alfie is apparently determined to make a vaguely uncomfortable conversation into something much more excruciating. So Alfie’s there, at his back as he opens the front door, a dull feeling of dread filling Tommy as he hears John’s gleeful snickering from somewhere deeper in the house.

It was too much to hope that John wouldn’t find Polly before him. Far too much to hope that when John found her, that she wouldn’t already be accompanied by every single member of his immediate family. He turns the corner to the kitchen, five sets of eyes locking in on the two men as they enter.

“See?” John laughs, absolutely delighted, gesturing wildly towards Tommy and Alfie standing in the doorway.

“No,” Arthur grunts, going a bit pale.

Ada and Finn snicker behind their hands, eyes wide.

Polly just purses her lips, eyeing the two of them, considering.

“Alright, look.” Tommy steps forward into the room, shooting his younger brother a quick glare. John, unrepentant, grins back at him. “I’m sure John’s told you—.”

“That congratulations are in order?” Polly interrupts, arching a brow.

“It’s been good weather,” Ada jumps in, still giggling a bit. “Good for an outdoor ceremony.”

“Alright,” Tommy holds both his hands up, trying to quiet them down, to stifle the laughter. “No one’s proposing to anyone, you hear me?”

Arthur lets out a sigh of relief. The rest of them keep looking amused. Polly turns her gaze on Alfie, still standing behind Tommy. “So I suppose I don’t need to ask you for your intentions with my nephew, then?”

Alfie makes one of those noises he does, that deep rumbling in the back of his throat. “Well, you could ask me, right, and maybe I’d tell you, out of respect for our dear Thomas standing over there, but I’d not be sure you’d like my answer.”

Tommy looks up, frowning. He’s always overly cautious around the man, always looking for double meaning behind his words. Is what he’s said… a threat? “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Alfie moves in closer, tilting his head to the side. He lifts a hand, gesturing towards Tommy standing there. “I mean, if given the opportunity, mate, I’d love to take a run at it, but if that would mean volunteering to join in on this family of yours, I’ll have to decline, right.”

The room is silent for a moment. Just for a minute, though.

“What?” Arthur growls. Ada releases a nervous bark of laughter, eyes still wide and shining with her glee. John and Finn, sitting on either side of her, have matching expressions. Tommy just… stands there.

“Jesus Christ,” Polly murmurs, and with that, she rises to her feet. There’s a sly look to her. “Tommy, perhaps you should have a chat in private with your suitor. Best of luck to you, Mr. Solomons. Heaven knows, you’ll need it.”

The Shelby’s slowly leave the room, Arthur and John seeming particularly reluctant to leave them, for very different reasons. Arthur, on his way out, gets directly into Alfie’s face, glaring, but Alfie is as unphased by threat of direct violence as he always is.

Soon (much too soon), it’s just Tommy and Alfie stood in the room.

“What?” Tommy asks, weakly, because he still thinks there’s been some sort of misunderstanding, that he’d not interpreted what the man had said correctly, because there’s no way that Alfie actually meant it, right? Not in that way.

All Shelby’s gone, save Tommy, Alfie has the sense to look a bit more bashful than his previous bravado in the face of Arthur and Polly. “Well, wasn’t gonna just fucking… say it, alright?” He runs a large hand down his face, stroking through his beard. “Was going to be proper nice, was going to be romantic.”

Tommy coughs out a laugh, something far more nervous than he’s normally capable of. “Romantic?”

Alfie nods, twitchy and unpredictable. “Yeah. First was the horse, right? Had to give you a gift, a signal of my esteemed interest. You’re very pretty, is the thing. Makes me want to give you gifts, daft as it is. Couldn’t decide what you’d want, was between that and a razor to sew into those silly little caps of yours. Thought that might come across the wrong way, that you’d think I was threatening to cut ya.” He sighs, eyes darting up towards the ceiling. “Should’ve just gotten you the razor. How was I to know that the horse would be as good as dropping to bended knee?”

Tommy almost blushes at the turn of phrase. Alfie, with his eagle eyes, still notices. His lips quirk up into a smirk.

“That a nice thought, Tom? I’m not as young as I used to be, sweetie, knees don’t cooperate as much as I’d like them to. For someone with a mouth like yours, though, I might be persuaded to try.”

“Alright,” Tommy holds up a hand, putting a stop to that train of thought before it can go any further. He weighs his own words over in his mind, still trying to puzzle through this unprecedented situation. “So… what exactly are you saying? You…” he clears his throat, hating it before he even says it. “You want me?”

Alfie just nods, as if he sees absolutely nothing strange about the concept, as if Tommy’s just asked him if he’d like to stay for a cup of tea. “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Oh.” Tommy nods back at him. He bites at the inside of his lip. “Okay. You. Alright.”

Alfie studies him, something shifting in his expression that Tommy instantly picks up on. Disappointment, maybe. “You don’t need to reciprocate, lad. Just say, ‘thanks, but no thanks’, and I’ll be right on my way back to Camdentown, won’t I? Daresay I won’t even do something dastardly, like charge you an extra percentage on your goods. No charge for rejection, alright?”

Tommy snorts. “No cost for hurt feelings?”

Alfie, curiously, laughs. “Different sort of cost, perhaps. Nothing I’d hold you to, though.”

It gives him pause. He’d been well on his way to formulating his rejection, on how to say it without causing any damage to their professional relationship. It’s not that he dislikes Alfie, per say. On the contrary, Tommy finds himself thinking frequently of the man, drawn to him like he’s never been drawn to anyone else, be they friend of foe. He’s strong, and broad, and interesting, and exactly the sort of man that Tommy thinks that people would be attracted to. In fact, if Tommy thinks about it for too long, he’d say that he likes Alfie very much. It’s just his first instinct is to draw away in the face of violence and uncertainty, two things of which Alfie had to offer him in spades. Especially if Alfie weren’t all that serious about this, if he’d just like to “take a run” at him, like he’d said, that was too much mystery for too little payoff. Though it’d probably be spectacular.

But… Despite his words, Alfie doesn’t seem all that interested in something quick, a one-off. The way he’s looking at him now, as if Tommy held the fate of the world in his hands certainly seems invested.

“Can I… Can I think about it?” Tommy finally decides on. There’s a tension between them, tension that is not unpleasant.

Alfie nods, expression brightening significantly. He steps forward. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you do that.” He looks so large up close, despite not being all that much bigger than Tommy, in reality. “Suppose I’ll go now, then. Give you your time to think on it. On us.”

“Alright.” Tommy manages, the words threatening to get caught in his throat as Alfie continues to approach him. It doesn’t feel menacing. It feels playful, somehow. “Best get back to Camden.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea, treacle. Left the bakery in Ollie’s incompetent hands, you see. I’d be surprised if half of London hasn’t erupted in flames left under his supervision.”

“Ollie’s not that bad,” Tommy offers, lips twisted up a small smile. Alfie takes yet another step closer. He can feel the heat radiating off of his body, the scent of rum and smoke billowing off of him.

“He has his moments.” Alfie nods, face serious, but Tommy can see the amusement in his expression. “Think he just likes to show off, whenever you’re around. Pretty eyes like that will make a man do stranger things.”

Tommy’s smile grows. “The door is behind you, Mr. Solomons.”

“Yeah, yeah it is, isn’t it?” Alfie’s eyes flicker over Tommy’s face, as if trying to memorize what he sees. “I said I’d leave you to think about it, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Tommy nods, “was very courteous of you.”

Alfie’s beard twitches with his concealed grin. “It was very courteous of me, wasn’t it? And I’ve got to check on Ollie now. So I’m leaving.”

“You’re doing a poor job of it.”

“Alright! Alright, I’m going.” Alfie rubs a hand through his whiskers. “Just want to leave you with one more thing to think about, if that’s alright with you.”

“If what’s alright with me—”

Tommy is quickly cut off by Alfie leaning in the final few inches between them, capturing his mouth in a kiss. Alfie’s lips are warm against his, firm and insistent. There’s a hand holding onto his chin, tilting Tommy’s face in exactly the right position to be kissed properly. Tommy’s surprised by it, and surprised by how he melts, how he allows himself to be held onto, his eyes fluttering closed against his volition.

All too quickly, Alfie darts away, ending the kiss far too soon for Tommy’s liking. He opens his eyes again just in time to see Alfie licking his own lips, as if tasting for anything Tommy might have left behind. The man’s fingers, still holding onto his chin, run soothingly up the length of his jaw before he drops the hand once again to his side.

“Alright.” Alfie grins. “I’ll be off then. You give that a bit of thought, Tom.”

“Oh,” Tommy chokes out, body flustered and reeling from the kiss, and from Alfie’s quick withdrawal. By the time he’s managed to pull himself together a bit, Alfie’s already at the door.

The man glances back over his shoulder. He’s still smiling, looking insufferably pleased with himself. “See you soon, sweetie.” With that, he’s out the door.

Tommy stands there, listening to the door swing shut behind Alfie. He lifts a hand up to his own face, traces over the place where Alfie’s hand had touched him, then over where his lips are still tingling with the memory of the kiss. His blood pumps hot through his veins, heart racing.

He stumbles over his own feet in his haste to get to the door.

#tommy/alfie #:~)#my tommy is always OOC and i will not rest until hes happy #my fic

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songtoyou · 3 years

Text

Tempting Fate - Part Five

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major, but there is lots of smoking, particularly marijuana.

Word Count: 2,098

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

A/N: Remember, this story takes place during season two of the show. May Carleton makes an appearance in this chapter. Once again, I included Romani phrases in this chapter. I found the phrase online and hope it is correct. If it isn’t, then I am profoundly sorry and do not wish to offend anyone. That is never my intent. Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars

You did not know what you and Tommy were to each other. The terms “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” didn’t seem right as it was too mundane and basic. However, you and Tommy had grown a little be closer after you both apologized for miscommunicating with one another. Tommy would often walk you home at night after work and stay the night. It became routine for you to wake up next to him in the morning, which was nice and comforting.

For Tommy, being with you was nothing he had ever experienced before. Before the war, he would go on dates every once in a while, but nothing ever lasted longer than a week or two. After the war, it was all one-night stands or nights spent at whore houses. However, with you, it was all new for him. There was something about being with you that Tommy could not quite describe the feeling until Polly coaxed it out of him.

“Safe. Thomas, you feel safe for the first in a long time. Being with this girl will change your life for the better. She is good for you. The two of you will balance one another, her lightness with your darkness. However, there is a darkness in her as well, just as I can see the light in you, my dear nephew. But make no mistake, it is still in you to do some good in this world. Let her help,” Polly explained one day while Tommy was in his office.

Leaning back in his chair, Tommy could nothing but agree with his aunt, “I know that Pol. Part of me is terrified.” He went on to tell Aunt Polly that he didn’t want to “ruin” you or get you hurt, but Polly waved him off.

“Tommy, she can take care of herself. As a gypsy, she has seen things in her life, just like you. Remember, you said it yourself. She is you. And you are her. You are each other’s match.”

One thing about being connected to Tommy was that people around Small Heath treated you differently. The women smiled at you more, while the men tipped their hats to you and greeted you with “mam” or “miss.” It was all new to you.

Even the male patrons at the bar treated you differently. No longer did they affectionately give you a hard time or joke around with you. They maintained their distance but were respectful. You particularly noticed how the men made sure to act accordingly around you whenever Tommy stopped by The Garrison. It was the same when John and Arthur were around.

You were in the back room of the bar when Esme stopped by one afternoon. She greeted you with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go for a walk down by the Cut, yeah,” Esme suggested. “It is slow out there. I am sure Harry could give you a break.”

“Okay. Let me finish up these last few glasses, then we can head out,” You replied to the woman who was quickly becoming your best friend. You were thankful to have Esme around. She was another person you could confide in. Esme reminded you of your sisters back home and how much you missed them. You pushed the homesick feeling aside and finished cleaning the last bar glass. Wiping your hands on your apron, Esme followed you to the front of the bar.

You told Harry that you were taking your break. “Harry, I won’t be gone too long, okay.”

“Take your time, dear. I don’t think I’ll be expecting a rush anytime soon,” said Harry wiping down the tables.

While the two you walked arm-in-arm, Esme asked how you were holding up now that you were considered Tommy’s “girl” and all. “I’m not his girl, Esme,” you laughed off your friend’s accusation.

Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t act naïve now, my dear friend. You are Tommy’s girl. Everyone knows it. He better be treating you right. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut his balls right off.”

“So, far so good. He has been very…I don’t know…” you began but stopped to try to collect your thoughts.

“What?” Esme asked.

“It is like there are two sides to Tommy, you know: public Tommy and private Tommy,” you began to explain. “In public, Tommy is always guarded, which I get. He has to be with what he does. However, when it is the two of us alone, he is something else. He is so sweet and gentle. He smiles more too. And laughs. Tommy has the cutest laugh I have ever heard. So delightful to the ears.”

Esme smiled at her friend and said, “I have never once heard Tommy laugh. Didn’t even know he could do such a thing.”

“So, when are you and John any closer to expanding your family? Lord knows you both like the activity that goes with procreation.”

“Not yet. But hopefully soon. The kids are looking forward to having another brother or sister in the mix. I’m lucky, you know. I was worried that John’s children wouldn’t accept when we got married. I was worried that I would never be able to live up to Martha as a wife or mother,” Esme revealed to you as the two of you finally reached the Cut.

Sitting on a box crate, Esme sat down beside you. She pulled out a rolled cannabis cigarette and began to light it. Coughing out a puff, she passed the joint over to you. “John loves you very much, Esme. The kids adore you. Why wouldn’t they? You are so much fun, so sweet, caring, and they will always have your back. Kids have pure hearts. They can sense when someone is a good person, and you fit the bill. You’re special, my dear. Everyone is lucky to grace your presence sees what a wonderful woman you are.”

Blushing, Esme looked down at her feet. “You could give John a run for his money with the way you can talk a woman up.”

You chuckled and took in a puff. The effects of the rolled cannabis were setting in and making you feel relax and calm. It was a nice feeling. The two of you sat in comfortable silence while passing the joint back and forth.

You and Esme turned heads when commotion came from Charlie’s Yard. “I wonder what is going on over there?” you wondered aloud and handed Esme the joint. “I’m going to go check it out. You want to come along?”

“Nah, I better get back to the house,” said Esme and stubbed out the joint and put it in her pocket. “See you later.”

You waved goodbye and walked over to Charlie’s. You saw him and Curly with Pyramus. Instantly, you saw the horse was agitated. You picked up your speed to reach the horse.

“Hey, what is going on? Is he okay?” you asked, concerned for Pyramus’s well-being.

Charlie told you that they were getting Pyramus ready for transport, but the horse was not up for it.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Curly mumbled. “He doesn’t want to leave, Charlie.”

Charlie merely sighed, “Curly, the horse will be fine. He is stubborn as usual, like his owner.”

“May I?” you asked Charlie. When he gave you an okay, you reached out to Pyramus and began rubbing his muzzle. “It’s okay, boy. You’re going to okay. Rum tum bi Salama (Go in peace),” you said to Pyramus softly. “Si tut bocklo? (Are you hungry?)”

You turned to Curly and asked he had any treats for Pyramus. “It might help him calm down. He loves apples or carrots,” you told him.

“I might have some around. I’ll be back,” said Curly and left to retrieve the treats.

You continued to pet Pyramus, which seemed to help calm him for the time being. It only got better when Curly returned with an apple, which you began to cut up for Pyramus to eat. “He seems to be more relaxed.”

All of a sudden, an extra pair of footsteps could be heard approaching. You could make out Tommy’s voice not too far, but there was another voice with him. A feminine voice. One you had not heard before. You quickly turned around to see Tommy walking with a beautiful woman. From the looks of her clothes, you could tell she was wealthy.

When Tommy saw you with Pyramus, he smiled at you and introduced you to the woman, May Carleton. She would be the one to train Pyramus. You shook her hand and offered a ‘hello.’ She went up the horse and began petting him along with you.

You told her that Pyramus tended to respond well with treats when stressed. May smiled at you. “He is a beautiful horse. Overly sweet, but he will make a good racehorse,” May remarked and turned back to Tommy. “The timeline you want the horse ready for Epsom is not much, but I can get him ready.”

You didn’t care for how May only referred to Pyramus as “the horse.” It was like she only viewed him as a job and not one of God’s best creatures. You looked over at Pyramus, and he was happily chomping away at his apple. He was too innocent for a life as a racehorse. The last thing you wanted was for Pyramus to be broken. You could feel the panic start to rise in your chest and your breath start to quicken. You didn’t know if it was anxiety or the joint you just smoked making you feel that way.

“Tommy,” you spoke up and got his attention. You motioned with your hand for him to follow, which he obliged. When the two of you were away from the others, you spoke your concerns. “How much do you know about this May Carleton? Is she trustworthy? What are her methods for training a horse?” you went on, but Tommy silenced you by placing a kiss on your lips.

When Tommy retreated, he cupped your face and looked at you with adoring eyes. “Pyramus will be taken care of, I promise. I would not send him away if I didn’t know that he would be treated well. May’s family has a long history of training racehorses. She knows what she is doing.”

You breathed a sigh of relief at Tommy’s reassurance. Now you felt silly. “I’m sorry for worrying. You probably think I’m childish,” you expressed quietly, looking down at the ground.

Tommy touched your chin to make you look at him directly. His blue eyes always left you breathless. You could drown in them if you stared too long. No amount of alcohol, cannabis, opium, or other drugs could compare to Tommy Shelby’s effects on you. He was addicting. He was handsome. He was dangerous. He was cruel. He was scary. He could also be kind and sweet-tempered. Tommy Shelby was an enigma. He would become a stain on your existence one way or another, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Sijoukar,” you said suddenly.

When Tommy asked who, you scoffed. “May. She is pretty. Don’t you think?”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar,” you teased. “Even I can admit she is gorgeous. It’s okay. I don’t mind if you think other women are attractive. It is part of human nature.”

With a smirk, Tommy wrapped his arms around you and gave you one last deep kiss. “You better get back to work. I’ll see you late tonight, and I’ll walk you home, yeah.”

He walked you towards the exit with his hand in yours. You waved goodbye to Curly and Charlie and gave a polite nod to May. You didn’t miss the brief look of disappointment on May’s face when she saw you and Tommy walk past her hand-in-hand. You smirked when you passed the woman.

“I’ll tell you what, how about after a couple of weeks, we go visit Pyramus? See how he is doing and all. You and me, together,” suggested Tommy as you both neared the Yard’s exit.

“Really?” you asked, bewildered at Tommy’s idea.

“Why not? It would be our first adventure together. What do you say?”

“I like that idea. Oh, think of a fun and trouble we could get into. I don’t think the world is ready for us, Mr. Shelby,” you laughed and wrapped your arms around Tommy’s shoulders.

Again, kissing you on the lips, Tommy leaned into your ear to whisper, “We are going to set the world on fire, love. You and me, love.”

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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