ourbleakmidwinters - Tumblr blog

[ourbleakmidwinters]

HARRY VILLIERS

“All yours.” He greets with the smile that had gotten him his first blowjob by Charlotte Waterford, leaning back into his chair, chest proud, an arm flourishing at the free seat. 

Conspiratorially, he leans across the miniature table between them suddenly, a leg leaning into the space between Damon’s. Hands intertwine in front, elbows perching against the tabletop. “Listen, mate, big thanks again for the other night. You really know your way around a good time.” 

ourbleakmidwinters​:

Dazed & Confused || Harry x Damon

HARRY VILLIERS

He can’t remember quite exactly, but he’s pretty sure that Damon had been into him. He thinks there might have been a hookup, but there is also a span of time that’s black. If not black, red. If not red, foggy like a good tea. Somewhere in there, it made sense that they had done blow and then been blown. But he’s not exactly sure about the arrangement of all that. He could picture the dark-haired man gripping his hair and pulling him down. If he really tried he could remember his knees hitting the floor, sticky with spilled drinks and stray glass, as adrenaline pumped through him. 

Fuck, he hated not remembering the good nights. So he’d try to recreate them instead. Texted the best looking dealer he’d ever met and asked for a meetup to discuss a more permanent arrangement. He’s had a day to recuperate, and he’s back to his usual self; perfectly arranged hair and vintage Armani. 

Maybe it would be better if they met somewhere not so public, but that would imply that Harry only wanted one thing from the man. Instead, he sips a five quid espresso at the new craft coffeeshop near his dormitory and waits with more nervousness than was usual for someone used to getting what they wanted.

DAMON SALVATORE

Damon wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Villiers asked for a face-to-face. Why he’d asked Damon to meet at a coffeeshop was beyond him – he was posing as a drug dealer not a poli-sci major – but he agreed to it nonetheless. This was no time to have his vapid new friend doubting the integrity of their bond.  Sauntering past the unfortunate little preppies Instagramming cups of coffee no one cared to see, Damon immediately spots Harry. The freshman-at-her-first-Sadie-Hawkins-dance look in his eyes gives Damon a chuckle, and he has to try hard to recall just what he compelled the twerp to believe happened that night.

But it was more fun to go in blind.

“This seat taken?” Damon flirts.

[ourbleakmidwinters]

Dazed & Confused || Harry x Damon

HARRY VILLIERS

He can’t remember quite exactly, but he’s pretty sure that Damon had been into him. He thinks there might have been a hookup, but there is also a span of time that’s black. If not black, red. If not red, foggy like a good tea. Somewhere in there, it made sense that they had done blow and then been blown. But he’s not exactly sure about the arrangement of all that. He could picture the dark-haired man gripping his hair and pulling him down. If he really tried he could remember his knees hitting the floor, sticky with spilled drinks and stray glass, as adrenaline pumped through him. 

Fuck, he hated not remembering the good nights. So he’d try to recreate them instead. Texted the best looking dealer he’d ever met and asked for a meetup to discuss a more permanent arrangement. He’s had a day to recuperate, and he’s back to his usual self; perfectly arranged hair and vintage Armani. 

Maybe it would be better if they met somewhere not so public, but that would imply that Harry only wanted one thing from the man. Instead, he sips a five quid espresso at the new craft coffeeshop near his dormitory and waits with more nervousness than was usual for someone used to getting what they wanted.

[ourbleakmidwinters]

you’re in love with a boy who is a prayer on your lips with no god to go to. he’s bleeding sunlight and you’re trying to patch up the holes in his heart with trembling fingers and the blood keeps spilling. you’re in love with him, here’s the best part: he loves you more than his own life. he’s golden as they come but he’s bleeding out. one day, someone will strike a match on him and he’ll explode. so, here’s the worst part: he loves you so much more than his own life.

sunlit lovers | m.j. (via fairytalesques)

[ourbleakmidwinters]

[ourbleakmidwinters]

@douglasbooth: 🇪🇸 Gracias Barcelona 🇪🇸

[ourbleakmidwinters]

bewitchingbygones‌:

ELIZA MONTGOMERY

Eliza could not stand being spoken to in such a fashion, each of his words dripping with a cold disdain and chilling disinterest she would never have permitted even William take with her– not even on his worst day. Though she would take part of the blame for her own childish teasing towards a man whose name she had not received, she maintained that the gentlemanly thing to do would have been to dismiss himself rather than seek her continued humiliation. But of course, this Thomas Shelby knew nothing of gentleman or their mannerisms. She had known that since he had scrawled his quick rejection and sent it to her by post.

But he knew horses.

That was what she had been told, at least.

“A lengthy letter is warranted when he who holds the pen has thought and vocabulary fit to fill a page,” her lips turn up in a pleasing smile, one that any passerby would assume followed an innocent compliment or musing. It was, she’d been told at one time or another, the way Wharton women won their wars. “However, out of consideration, I will practice brevity. I only wanted to see you in person to further discuss Monaghan Boy, and your decision to condemn him to…where is it again you keep him? Birmingham?”

She steps away from him in her irritation, “You reject that there is something others can do for your gelding that you yourself cannot. As though the Montgomery Stables are in some way beneath you. As though £200 is not fair compensation for a beautiful, but fading racehorse.” 

Remembering herself, Eliza turns to Thomas again with a small flush. “It feels cruel, Mr. Shelby. He is aging before your very eyes, tiring and seeking comfort. And if the horse you spoke of earlier, the horse fit to race was he, then you and I have different definitions, indeed. And you are a cruel man.” 

THOMAS SHELBY

He wondered, briefly, why she had chosen to make an appeal to emotion when it seemed she had already discarded him into the refuse of lesser men. And yet, she did, in a way that only someone who knew horses would. Even if he willed himself to believe her proposal had been about money, he knew now that it had nothing to do with monetary gain. Only sheer stubbornness could force him to believe otherwise now, and it was not a day that Tommy wished to unfurl that beast of his. 

“I have no intention of racing him any longer. It’s why I came here today.” He makes no mention of any other horses, or their fitness to race. “But let me ask you something, Mrs. Montgomery. You’ve raised horses, yes? Watched them grow? Cared for them? Soothed ones who spook easily? Earned the trust of the stubborn ones? Tell me then, would you so simply give one away to a stranger?” He quirks a brow at her, jaw tightening. 

“You think your stables are the best place for a horse, just like you must think the best place for a person is in a house you can get lost in.” He looks away from her-- past her. “There’s other places to get lost, Mrs. Montgomery. Other places to grow old.” 

Eyes trail back onto her. “Perhaps you should see for yourself.”

A Racehorse Named Dangerous (September 1919) - Tommy x Eliza

[ourbleakmidwinters]

bewitchingbygones‌:

LUCIENNE DUFORT

Stunned by his kindness, Lucienne lets out a small gasp. To take care of Valentina in her time of need was beyond anything anyone else had offered. Even the Shelbys who had professed her to have a loyal past with them had made no move to support her convalescence. And what family she had, she did not speak of, nor did she expect anything from them. So Lulu weighs the offer in her mind, wondering if she had the power to accept or decline on Valentine’s behalf.

“You go too far,” Lucienne stammers, expressing the very thoughts bubbling over one another in her mind. “How am I to say no to your offer to ease her suffering? And, in the same breath, how am I to say yes knowing all that I know? Or believing what I believe, at the very least.”  Lulu pauses and wrings her gloved hands. He’d given her far too much power, he had to know that. She was just a barmaid; no life should rest in her grasp. “Comme vous voulez, Mr Mikaelson. Faites comme vous voulez. But I beg you – tell me what your brother has done to her.” 

ELIJAH MIKAELSON

In the moments before her response, Elijah settled it with himself that he would offer Valentina aid nonetheless. It would be a step in cleaning up his brother’s mess, and whether Miss Dufort thought it wise or not, it would show her that his family was capable of kindness. 

His face contorts, almost to hint at pain, as he hears first her admonishment, and then her questions. Looking away, Elijah searches for an answer in the bricks lining his view, begs them to offer an adequate response. He forces himself to look upon her again, searching in her own eyes for the meaning behind ‘Or believing what I believe’. Did she believe them to be monsters? Scoundrels? Cruel men? Did she believe Niklaus acted of his own accord-- that Elijah had no bearing on his actions? Or did she think them a wicked pair? 

“Miss Dufort...” A throat clearing ensues, as if cut. “My brother can be a cruel man. Impulsive. Violent. Uncontrollable, at the best of times. Disastrous, at the worst.” He can’t bear to look at her when he speaks of Niklaus. A recollection of his deeds had no place in Elijah’s mind when she was within sight. Yet, the images the come. The bloodshed. The destruction. The bodies. 

“He was overcome by Miss Rossini-- perhaps she displeased him in some way, or some exchange of words occurred, and he--” He can’t force the words out because they hold no weight in her world. Men were monsters, that she could imagine. But monsters being men, that was another ordeal entirely. Instead he has to settle metaphor. “She likely doesn’t remember much, I presume?” He moves on quickly, not allowing for speculation. “You see, Niklaus has made a habit of this behaviour, unfortunately. The women who fall prey to his actions, they never remember much of anything. He gives them a medicine of sorts, to make them forget.” He despised the lie, to the point that it made him ache to have to utter a falsity to her. But it was for the best, for her own safety. 

“I can assure you though that there will be no lasting effect of the drug on her. She won’t have a recollection of what happened, but perhaps for her own sake, that is for the best. She need not think of what happened.” 

He allows himself a step forward. 

“And once she’s fully healed, from the best care that I can acquire, she’ll be back to herself.” He risks his next movement, hoping that if anything, it would be his one and only chance at feeling her touch. His hands reach to clasp hers between his own, a gentle firmness. “I am so terribly sorry for what happened. And if I could, if it was within my power, I would go back and ensure none of it occurred. But I cannot.” He pulls her an inch closer with the grasp. “Please, allow me to do at least what I can, until you may see that I am not my brother.” 

Comme Vous Voulez (September 1919) - Lucienne x Elijah

[ourbleakmidwinters]

Douglas Booth for Rake Magazine by Pip

[ourbleakmidwinters]

Arthur. Tokyo - it’s fuel for races, eh? But you’ve seen a doped horse after a race. Grand openings and race days only, brother. All right?

[ourbleakmidwinters]

bewitchingbygones‌:

ELIZA MONTGOMERY

Her hand rests queerly in the space between them, a gesture of formality too late in their conversation to be appropriate and yet a gesture he could not refuse. The knowledge that his identity would be revealed on her terms and not his warmed her the way besting anyone in a game always had. Eliza could recall James tugging a ribboned curl many summers ago when she’d become unbearably smug after capturing his queen, teasing that ‘it was only a game’.

In the end, it was that same smugness that had cost her the game.

Her outstretched hand slowly loses significance as the gentleman speaks, and with a few cleverly cited words from her companion, Eliza gains the clarity she should have insisted upon beforehand.

Thomas Shelby.

Eliza drops her hand to her side and wills her mouth not to fall open in shock. The dark, mannerless man before her was the very man she’d hoped to meet. This was the Mister Thomas Shelby who had responded with cold rejection to her much more courteous letter– a letter which he clearly had not forgotten. And here she stood, embarrassing the both of them and behaving like a child.

“Mr. Shelby,” Eliza finally utters, unable to stop the flush of scarlet to her face. She manages to catch the thread of conversation before the humiliation sets in, calms her mind, and says, “Forgive me. After the letter I received in response to my inquiry, I would never have mistaken you for a man who could engage in civilized discourse. However, it appears when you do not feel so above the requests you receive, you have the ability to be quite cordial, indeed.”

THOMAS SHELBY

Tommy imagined that there may be men who would find amusement in his present circumstances. Particularly when said circumstances lead them to be in the company of a society woman. However, Thomas Shelby being Thomas Shelby, could only fixate on the particular ways that this woman had not only insulted him, but now stolen from right underneath him what was supposed to be his. 

“My apologies Madam. I wouldn’t have dared offer any form of nicety if I had known whose presence I was in.” Too agitated to even drag on his cigarette, his hand waves aimlessly away from his mouth. 

“Of course, moreso to avoid-- what I can only imagine from your letter writing tastes--would have been an unnecessarily lengthy conversation.” A slight uptake of his brows cuts at his point. 

But he is curious about a particularity, and despite his better judgement prodding at him to turn on his heel and find his brothers, he keeps her eye for a moment longer. “You did want something further from Mr. Shelby, though? From your inquiries? I expect my response wasn’t satisfactory then.”

A Racehorse Named Dangerous (September 1919) - Tommy x Eliza

[ourbleakmidwinters]

We were always going to say goodbye, weren’t we?” “Yeah. I think so.“ “I loved you though. I loved you so much.” A pause. “I know. I know. “I loved you too.”

S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #185 (via blossomfully)

[ourbleakmidwinters]

it will feed you, it will ravish you, / it will not keep you alive.

Louise Glück, The Seven Ages (via henrydear)

[ourbleakmidwinters]

sir, with the greatest respect… thomas shelby is a murdering, cutthroat, mongrel, gangster

[ourbleakmidwinters]

bewitchingbygones‌:

ELIZA MONTGOMERY

“Yes,” Eliza replies plainly, and looks in the direction her brother last stood. She watches him laugh with men who care about horses more than him and less than she, bonded by what’s between their legs rather than what lives in their brains, or hearts. James had always been able to leave a good impression on others, all while never bothering to get to know their interests at all. Now he looked up at her, suspicion furrowing his brows as he looked from the gentleman to his recently-widowed sister.

Eliza turned back towards the man before her brother’s expression humiliated her. Instead, she chose to focus on the few words her companion had strung together. There was something aloof– almost snide –in his tone that Eliza did not much care for, but she could perform pleasantries better than any of her siblings, and therefore better than most of England. 

“My brother and I have more horse business with Thomas Shelby, I’m afraid,” Eliza offered, afraid to give too much information to the man in front of her lest he seduce Thomas Shelby with a better offer. 

It occurs to her at exactly this point that she ought to introduce James to her new acquaintance, as a single woman. Instead, she chooses to do what neither of them has done yet. She places her hand palm down between them and says, “Forgive me, I’ve not given my name. Mrs. Eliza Montgomery.” 

THOMAS SHELBY

Again, Tommy didn’t know what to make of her, and deciphering her particularities was turning out to be far more challenging given that they were on, what he could only describe as, her territory. Apparently, she was of the impression that she held knowledge not privy to him, and was almost proud of the fact, if she allowed herself to display even that publicly-- and yet, she still remained engaged in conversation with him. Her condescension ran only so deep, as it was. 

Taking another drag of his cigarette, Tommy mused on the game between them, preparing himself for another parlay about his identity, but her introduction stops any and all amusement he had found in the situation. 

Eliza Montgomery.  

Tommy eyes her hand before him, without reaching out his own. He clears his throat, biting at the annoyance which had crawled itself up his spine. 

“Eliza Montgomery, eh?” He repeats back at her, head tilting to the side as he meets her eyes again. “Née Wharton. Of the Ascot Whartons?” He repeats the introduction she had detailed for him in her previous letter of inquiry. 

“I take it you were looking for a gelding then, today-- seeing as you couldn’t purchase mine.” He leans in just a fraction further into the space between them. “Tell me, Mrs. Montgomery, did you set your own auction prices as well, or do you reserve that only for written demands?”

A Racehorse Named Dangerous (September 1919) - Tommy x Eliza

[ourbleakmidwinters]

I honestly can’t imagine loving a person as much as I worship and adore the Jensen.

[ourbleakmidwinters]

bewitchingbygones‌:

LUCIENNE DUFORT

Lucienne begins to smile before she can help herself. Invisible strings tug her eyebrows upwards, and her mouth contorts into an expression of muted delight. She could do nothing to prevent her heart’s recognition of the tall, proud man who had charmed her so effortlessly on her first night at the Garrison. Elijah Mikaelson was refined perfection; magical enough on his own, but with the backdrop of Birmingham, truly extraordinary. He was unimpeachable in every conceivable way, but for his relations.

Now Lulu’s smile falters with the memory of Klaus Mikaelson, and whatever had passed between him and Valentina that had nearly cost her her life. She knew Elijah was good, that a man such as that could only be good, but that did nothing to quell her anxieties regarding his brother. Something had happened in that back room before the Shelbys arrived, and the confusion and terror that had pervaded Lulu’s waking moments since could not be soothed, nor could her loyalty to her friend be moved. Even if Valentina was insisting she had done it to herself.

Lucienne recalls Thomas Shelby’s haunting visage gazing upon them in the lamplight as he demanded honesty from the both of them. Valentina had kept to her story that neither Mikaelson had harmed her, but that she’d done it with a pin. Lulu could not make sense of the lie or the desire to lie, so she – like the younger Shelby brother – defended Valentina’s retelling of events as a ridiculous truth rather than a ridiculous falsehood. Still, they’d been permitted to leave, Lucienne had tried to get her friend to confide the real truth to her and her alone, and still her story had held.

She had questions for Elijah, but part of her was afraid of what the answers might be.

“It is dangerous,” Lulu starts in a whisper, walking past him quickly and avoiding onlookers. Elijah follows, and she continues, “To be seen talking with you after all that has happened. It is dangerous for me, and for Miss Rossini as well. Thomas Shelby made that very clear to me.”

She turns left on a backstreet where fewer passersby might disrupt or recognize them. Lulu glances around nervously, before settling her gaze on Elijah. “Valentina has survived her injuries, Dieu merci, but she will be bedridden and unable to work for many days. For the time being, I am helping her get well again, doing her washing and tidying up in the early mornings and late afternoons. She does not have the luxury of servants or maids that you might be accustomed to, Mr. Mikaelson. Now if you’ll excuse me, sir…”

ELIJAH MIKAELSON

He had feared she would turn on her heel and run from him immediately. He could not blame her if she had, and a part of him wished that she would. It would make it far simpler if she was frightened of him. It would keep her safer than she could ever imagine. 

But she did not run from him, and more than that, she deigned to speak to him. He had already settled within himself that she was far too good for the likes of this place or for him, but now he was certain of it more than ever. Elijah wished for nothing more than to turn back time to their initial meeting, to ensure it did not end badly, to save her the trouble and the worry. He wanted desperately to place his hands on her at that very moment and comfort her. But he forced himself to remain composed and keep a distance from her. 

He wanted to tear the heart out of the Shelby man, whose threats to Lucienne he could only imagine. Elijah was forced to recall the manner in which the two Shelby brothers, whose identity they now had learned, had spoken to her. The way they had looked at her. Again, Elijah was forced to keep his composure. He had to focus on what little he could do of the situation, to make it right. 

Relieved to hear the girl’s survival of the incident, Elijah notes that this Valentina may just be the only way to remedy himself in Lucienne’s eyes, and perhaps salvage the entirety of their plans in Birmingham. 

“I am very thankful to hear that.” He clears his throat, and allows himself one step towards her. “If I may-- I can offer some help with her recovery. I’ll have a proper doctor sent to examine her, and a maid to visit her lodgings regularly to help her. Some funds perhaps as well, to help her manage during this time...”

Comme Vous Voulez (September 1919) - Lucienne x Elijah

[ourbleakmidwinters]

bewitchingbygones‌:

ELIZA MONTGOMERY

She watches the minuscule changes to his posture in her presence, the subtle shift of weight and the sidelong glance. Good breeding would insist on a certain level of cordiality and formality upon meeting a lady, and certainly some form of introduction. But before she’d walked over, she’d made the assumption that propriety would be lost on this “gentleman”.

That was why she’d let a measure of her own good breeding fall to the wayside,and acted in a way almost undignified of a widowed woman. Eliza allowed herself to converse publicly with a man whilst both remained unaccompanied. The whispers surrounding them would be deciphered later, but for now she would try to control her flushed skin and excited nerves.

“Goodness! You’ve another horse fit to race at Epsom this year? Then perhaps I’ve done you a favour by taking that filly off of the market, so you might focus your attempts on the animal already in your possession.” Eliza smiles sweetly, folding her hands together in front of her.

He hadn’t bothered to offer her a cigarette, and he still hadn’t given his name.

“ Now that we’re on the subject of favours, I do wonder if you’re acquainted with a Mister Thomas Shelby. We’ve intentions to meet with him, my brother and I.” She gestures vaguely behind her to the spot she’d last seen her brother making nice with Mr. Walker. “However, we run in entirely different circles, as you might see.”

THOMAS SHELBY

Tommy had become well acquainted with the new popularity of gangsters in London society. His knowledge on the matter had even played into his plans for the city. His kind was being let into social circles and events for the sheer entertainment of it. Not truly belonging of course, only allowed on the periphery of it all. 

And yet Tommy couldn’t read that same air in her. She certainly looked like she needed a good time-- and yet in the same turn, she appeared wholly unwilling to consider anything remotely indecent to waver her. But nonetheless, she was the one doing the bidding at the auction, despite being the silent party in the process. There was something to be said for that. 

He thinks to correct her momentarily about the horse, but she continues on her commentary for a minute too long, allowing him to fill the conversation with another drag of his cigarette. And with mention of his name, Tommy becomes thankful for the cigarette at his mouth, doing a half-job of hiding the smirk that had appeared. 

She was something else, now wasn’t she? 

“That’s your brother then?” He asks with a brow raised, considering the man who had been by her side during the auction, his thoughts shifting on her moment to moment. 

“As for Mr. Shelby, you’re quite in luck. I happen to be very well acquainted with him. Busy man, though. What with all those different circles to run in and all.” He takes a step closer towards her. “What exactly is this regarding?”

A Racehorse Named Dangerous (September 1919) - Tommy x Eliza