#Are you quite done Mr Mosley

[divinekangaroo]

oh my god they kept chamber pots in the debating chamber

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read the Hobbit! Chapter 12

Well folks, we've finally made it to the Lonely Mountain. Will our heroes survive? Will Smaug be slain? Will Gandalf find a way to provide the dwarfs with more false facts even though he's hundreds of miles away? Let's find out!

“Now is the time for our esteemed Mr. Baggins, who has proved himself a good companion on our long road, and a hobbit full of courage and resource far exceeding his size, and if I may say so possessed of good luck far exceeding the usual allowance—now is the time for him to perform the service for which he was included in our Company; now is the time for him to earn his Reward.”

I get what you're saying and all Thorin but let's be real: he's more than earned his Reward. At this point it's more about making it possible for him to collect while the fat cats steal 93% of the working man's labor. At least good ol' BB calls them out on their crap.

He did not expect a chorus of volunteers, so he was not disappointed. Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable and stood on one leg, but the others made no pretence of offering—except old Balin, the lookout man, who was rather fond of the hobbit.

I'm so glad Balin doesn't die because he's really the only likeable one in the set. Well, him and Bombur, but I like Bombur mostly out of spite.

This was no goblin entrance, or rough wood-elves’ cave.

It was a hobbit hole, and that mea-

Wait no that's way at the beginning.

There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don’t expect too much.

You can really see how Tolkien got that one Nazi fan who wrote him a letter expecting him to be an anti-Semite. Considering how the dwarves' conlang is literally based on Semitic languages, describing them as calculating folk who can be alright but never great is... Yeah.

Still though, based on Tolkien's reply to the Nazi, it should be remembered that he's not hateful himself, but just kinda ignorant and awash in Britain's awful attitudes about everything. This is not much of a bar to clear but considering how many Black Shirts Oswald Mosley led around it is something.

“I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures, and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home!”

Is THIS the last time he'll think of home?

Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light.

And yet, the most valuable thing in the room was a ring that wasn't Smaug's.

His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he clutched the cup, and his chief thought was: “I’ve done it! This will show them. ‘More like a grocer than a burglar’ indeed! Well, we’ll hear no more of that.”

One treasure down, sixteen thousand to go! At this rate they'll have Smaug properly burgled by... Friday next.

No, not from Bilbo's perspective. OUR Friday next.

Could there be a draught from that little hole? He had never felt quite happy about it, though it was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion and wondered why he had never blocked it up.

Well I wasn't going to ask before, but if you're going to lampshade it yourself Tolkien, why didn't Smaug do the smart thing?

Up came Bofur, and still all was safe. Up came Bombur, puffing and blowing while the ropes creaked, and still all was safe. Up came some tools and bundles of stores, and then danger was upon them.

Probably should have just stopped at Bombur, gang. Also shut up Tolkien.

The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped wildly off. The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone.

People need to stop giving Thorin horses.

"Personally I have no hopes at all, and wish I was safe back at home.”

Is THIS the last time he'll think of it? Odds of his demise would be increasingly rapidly if it weren't for the fact that I know he'll survive.

He had forgotten or had never heard about dragons’ sense of smell.

Silly One Ring, barely pulls Bilbo out of the material plane at all!

“Do you now?” said the dragon somewhat flattered, even though he did not believe a word of it.

Smaug's probably thinking, "Yeah the invisible guy's crazy but... maybe he's not making up the tales? Maybe they do say good things about me down on the lake. I should go burninate them and find out once I've got my drinking cup back."

“Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I’m a lizard. I haven’t been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!”

Aren't you a lizard taxonomically? I mean sure evolution's not real in his setting but if a biologist was going to place them somewhere they'd have to be under Draco, right?

So far all his thoughts and energies had been concentrated on getting to the Mountain and finding the entrance. He had never bothered to wonder how the treasure was to be removed, certainly never how any part of it that might fall to his share was to be brought back all the way to Bag-End Under-Hill.

Is THIS the last time he thinks of home?

The dragon stopped short in his boasting. “Your information is antiquated,” he snapped. “I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems. No blade can pierce me.”

But a woman-

I mean, an arrow can.

He had been feeling rather pleased with the cleverness of his conversation with Smaug, but his mistake at the end shook him into better sense.

He may be an old fool, but he's an incindiary old fool.

“Drat the bird!” said Bilbo crossly. “I believe he is listening, and I don’t like the look of him.”

I'd say this is something that doesn't quite seem to fit the overall Legendarium, but LotR actually does have that bizarre bit where there's a fox PoV character so you never can tell. In any event, the thrush is one of the more valuable members of the party, which says really bad things about the indistinguishable mases.

“Well, well! It cannot be helped, and it is difficult not to slip in talking to a dragon, or so I have always heard,” said Balin anxious to comfort him.

Alright folks help a guy out. Is there any Bilbo/Balin fic worth reading? Because it seems like a way better pairing than Bilbo/Thorin could ever hope to be.

He seemed so much in earnest that the dwarves at last did as he said, though they delayed shutting the door—it seemed a desperate plan, for no one knew whether or how they could get it open again from the inside, and the thought of being shut in a place from which the only way out led through the dragon’s lair was not one they liked.

Rather a poor door that can only be opened from without once a year on special circumstances and can't be opened from within at all. Though I guess there could be other spells and they just don't know them.

I am sorry if you are worried about transport, and I admit the difficulties are great—the lands have not become less wild with the passing of time, rather the reverse—but we will do whatever we can for you, and take our share of the cost when the time comes.

Really it's a good thing for Bilbo that there wasn't anything properly scary back west or Tolkien could have added a whole extra section to the book!

But fairest of all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the roots of the Mountain, the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone of Thrain.

I'm a little surprised it never came up before, to be honest! I suppose the dwarfs didn't like Bilbo enough to talk about it until they were basically in constant crisis, and in Lake-Town they were too busy being celebrities to be friends.

He was breaking rocks to pieces, smashing wall and cliff with the lashings of his huge tail, till their little lofty camping ground, the scorched grass, the thrush’s stone, the snail-covered walls, the narrow ledge, and all disappeared in a jumble of smithereens, and an avalanche of splintered stones fell over the cliff into the valley below.

Though this is not exactly the same in the strictest sense, this is of course the birth of D&D's "Rocks fall, everyone dies," employed here as is often the case when the PCs are lingering at the entry to the dungeon instead of properly adventuring. Smaug flying off to destroy the beloved peasant village because of their idleness is another good D&D tradition.

He rose in fire and went away south towards the Running River.

And for some ungodly reason they hired Ed Sheeran to write a song about it. Not that it's in the top 100 stupidest choices made in the live action adaptation, but it's one of the ones that are easier for me to mock because

1. I haven't been fully able to repress the memory thanks to Reddit

and 2. It has something to do with the text of this book, as tangential as it is.

In any event, that's chapter 12! Next time: a lake gets set on fire and a guy named Bard shows off his class levels in Ranger.

[samurairobotics]

* Reprise Records (April '98)

Article from Reprise Records

Faith No More Exists No More

Contributing Editor Colin Devenish reports

Following a steady slew of swirling rumors about their imminent demise, Faith No More have officially called it quits 13 years after the release of their first album, We Care A Lot.

The San Francisco hard-rock quintet, which last recorded for the Reprise label, has been long rumored to be on the rocks. The members of the band put an end to speculation regarding their future with a statement issued Monday by their management.

Howie Klein, president of Reprise, said he was not completely surprised, but that he was disappointed by the breakup of the band that he said he's followed since the recording of its first album. The band released five albums in total.

"Long before I was associated with Reprise, I was a disc jockey at KUSF in San Francisco, and the band had recorded We Care A Lot," Klein said. "They brought it into the studio and said, 'Can you play this?' We put it on, and it became a number-one record at the station. I've loved the band ever since."

During their career, Faith No More were briefly fronted by Hole singer Courtney Love and then by rapper/singer Chuck Mosley. But the band enjoyed its greatest success after Mike Patton took over as lead vocalist. With the charismatic Patton, Faith No More recorded their best-selling album, The Real Thing, which included the hit single "Epic."

Various members of the group are proceeding with their own projects. Drummer Mike Bordin, who has toured with heavy-metal giant Ozzy Osbourne, is in demand as a session player. Keyboardist Roddy Bottum's band, the San Francisco quartet Imperial Teen, will release its second album, What Is Not To Love, in May. Meanwhile, Patton will continue with his longtime side-project Mr. Bungle and a new collective called Phantomas, featuring Buzz Osbourne of Melvins fame on guitar, Mr. Bungle bassist Trevor Dunn and ex-Slayer skinsman Dave Lombardo.

Greg Werckman, who will manage Phantomas, said the band will play its first gig on June 18 at Slim's in San Francisco and described the group as being the brainchild of Patton.

"Patton made a tape of himself playing all the instruments, and then he asked his favorite bassist, guitarist and drummer to join him," Werckman said. "Each of the members sent the tape back to him with tapes of what their parts would be, and it's evolved into a tape of what they'd like to be done."

Werckman added that the foursome plan to be a full-time band that tours and records and that they are leaning toward a fall release for an album of new material.

Asked about the prospect of Reprise picking up Phantomas or any other possible Faith No More offshoots, Klein left the door open.

"I love those guys," Klein said. "I'm open to anything they do. They're very talented."

[misscarolineshelby]

A Political Threesome

31 Days of Kink: Day 18

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader x Oswald Mosley

Warning: Smut, MMF Threesome, Group Sex

Words: 978

Notes: Alright, I am not sure about this one, but you asked for it guys!

Imagine being invited to a political party of a different kind to service Oswald Mosley and Thomas Shelby.

***

‘Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?’ you heard Mosley groan behind you until, finally, he let go of you, turning his attention to one of the other maids in the room. You were glad that he was done with you after ten minutes as you dug your nails into the large desk. He was pounding into you relentlessly, fucking you like an animal, but thankfully not finishing inside of you.

He was an attractive man but he fucked like rabbit, that much was true.

After you barely had any time to recover, you found yourself being encouraged to turn around by one of the other maids, looking at Thomas Shelby as you did. He chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly before laughing at the exhausted look on your face.

He wanted to see you, see your face. That was unusual as most men who attended these things didn’t care about any sort of connection whatsoever.

Without warning, he suddenly kissed your neck, eliciting a low moan from you. Kissing on the lips was forbitten and so was leaving marks. But you didn’t care at this point. If he wanted to mark your neck with his teeth, that was fine with you.

Moments later, he pressed you back against the desk. Now your hands were behind you, propping you up again as he lifted you up slightly.

‘Your turn Mr Shelby’ you smirked, opening your legs widely for him.

You still felt a little out of it as you looked down at the length of your body. Your dress was rucked up, tucked under your belt. You could see your mons, the light reflecting on your skin. Where were your panties, you wondered.

Tommy’s trousers were down and his cock was sticking out. Sticking way out. You hadn't had a chance to see the size of what Oswald had to offer but he'd be hard pressed to match what Thomas Shelby had on display.

‘Fuck’ you gasped, seeing that erection moving confidently towards you.

‘Relax. I will make sure you enjoy it Love’ Tommy whispered into your ear before giving you a quick wink.

You bit your lip suggestively. You certainly hoped that, after having been pounded into relentlessly for at least ten minutes without any sort of effort to make you climax, this handsome man would be able pleasure you.

With that you found that Tommy wasn't moving towards you, but into you. Staring down you could see his cock pushing past your lips and you could feel it sliding down your passage, a very well lubricated passage, a passage apparently quite happy to receive this unexpected present. After all, you were already highly aroused from watching Anne suck Tommy’s cock from across the room earlier that evening and couldn’t wait until it was your turn to have him.

‘Oh god’ you moaned, biting your lips as you found yourself struggling to believe how big he was, stretching you open.

‘Look at me Love’ Tommy groaned and you lifted your eyes to look Tommy as he was watching you with a very aroused look on his face. He didn't say anything, just pressed in even harder. Eyes flicking downwards again and you were in time to see his groin press firmly against you, his cock very nicely sheathed inside you.

Not that he stayed sheathed for long. He was already pulling back and you gave a startled yelp when he turned and drove firmly home again. The harsh movements from Oswald Mosley promptly fell by the wayside as Tommy started giving you his all just as deep and sensual as he could. You felt a little confused at first, trying to adjust to the sudden change of pace.

You started moving with him, pushing towards him as he drove deep but gently in then relaxing as he pulled out. Satisfied that you had his rhythm you moved carefully, timing it just right. He pulled back, you waited until he'd pulled back to his fullest then, before he could drive home again you pulled a little further back, watching him pop free, Tommy uttering a very rude word as it happened, making you both chuckle.

A frantic adjustment by Tommy and he was driving in for a new start and it wasn’t long until his driving cock was getting to you closer and closer towards your climax.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as you settled down to moving in proper unison with Tommy, your arousal growing with each thrust.

You were not at all surprised to find Tommy increasing his speed dramatically for his end run. But his movements were precise and angled, hitting your g-spot over and over again.

‘Oh my god, Mr Shelby, fuck yes’ you moaned again, opening your legs even wider as he thrusted into you.

By this point your legs were shaking and your walls began to clamp down around Tommy’s cock, squeezing him while your orgasm washed over you.

You had forgotten everyone else in this room, but everyone else watched you and Tommy as he finally pulled out of you and came all over your stomach.

His hot cum was running down your stomach towards your mound as one of the other maids caught it quickly with her fingers before bringing them up to your mouth.

You licked Tommy’s cum from her fingers while everyone watched and, once you were done, Tommy whispered into your ear again ‘how would like you like to work for me, at my house?’.

Tag List (Cillian):

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[sirensmojo]

“KINDRED”, 1 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Guns, Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Word Count: 5k+

*London*

The man entered the library in a hurry, the door making a grinding sound as he paused for a second, his eyes wandered on the areas as if looking for something. 

Your face popped off the book lying on the table where you had been sitting for almost an hour now. 

Quickly enough, when you caught sight of the individual that had just entered your space, your head went down to the printed lines again as the tip of your fingers were scratching, up and down, the back of your neck. 

You heard footsteps navigating through the shelves to which you paid no mind. It’s only when you heard them walking towards your desk that you tuned your ears to the sound.

A shadow fell over the pages and the clearing of a throat resonated in the peaceful silence.

 You sighed at the interruption and looked up at the intruder. 

Your eyes encountered a not so tall man, wearing an elegant and costly-looking dark blue suit, adorned by a neat long coat. 

He remained silent as he opened his coat with one hand, searching his pockets for something. Your eyes stared at his hand as it came out with a cigarette between two fingertips, which you followed with your gaze to his mouth.

That’s when you finally saw his face and recognized him to be Tommy Shelby.

“Searching the political area” the blue-eyed man voiced, not a single look thrown your way. 

He was too occupied lightening his cig. 

You pointed, nonetheless, at the direction of the section he’d asked. You then, hassled back to your book, not giving him a second glance as you turned a page. 

As you did so, Tommy frowned, squinting his eyes. His focus fluttered from your face to the novel a couple times. 

Afterwards, he puffed on his cigarette and walked toward the politic’s shelves. 

(...)

Book in hand, shaking it proudly he reappeared in front of the desk.

“Found what you were looking for, eh?” You offered him a smile as if you hadn’t totally ignored him several minutes before. 

He chuckled to himself. “I’d like to take that for some hours”. 

“If it’s only for a couple hours...” You begin, pointing at the tables in the corner of the building, near the huge windows.

“you must do what you got to do there. Else, you must pay and keep it for at least three days before returning it” You muttered outright. 

Thomas scoffed, turning towards the tables and stared at them with contempt before he turned back at you. He shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening as if to speak but he didn’t seem to be able to find his words. 

So, with a final frown, he gave up and went back to staring holes into your head. 

You basically just put Thomas Shelby back in his place.

Of course, he knew there were rules, but none of the librarians he has met before actually told them to him.

Too afraid to look a Shelby in the eyes, even more, to surrender them to some rules about borrowing a book. 

But here he was, in front of you that seems not to care what his last name was. 

You let go of your reading, turning it paper against the wood to keep your page. 

Fetching some papers out of the drawer, you began to fill a form with what he recognized to be his name, then as you got ready to write his address, you finally lifted your head and addressed him.

“Would you mind giving me your home location Mr Shelby?” You asked, eyes devoid of emotion.

“Are you going to come and fetch the book yourself if I don’t return it in time, aye?” He returned, tilting his head to the side.

Even if his voice wasn’t capable of wording it playfully, you knew he didn’t take the process seriously. You decided to ignore the peaky blinder and wrote down the address you were well aware of from the very start. 

The man clenched his jaw, watching you write down the address of his mansion as if you knew each other intimately. 

“I’ll do without your signature” You murmured utterly to yourself even though Tommy did hear it. 

“It’s 13 shillings.” You added, staring right at Thomas, not an ounce of fear in your expression. 

He just placed on the table the money he owed and walked away, letting himself turn back to peek at you. 

Some research will have to be done to uncover your identity. He had never until now seen you at the library, although it had been a meeting place for Ada and him multiple times as his sister works here as a counselor.

(...)

Back home, Thomas was met by Lizzie, a shoulder against the frame of the open door, her arms crossed on her chest.

“Pol’ is here, she says she wants to talk to you about Michael”. Her sweet voice contrasting her worried eyes. She was trying to read her husband’s expression.

He walked past her, greeting the maid that indicated to him the presence of guests she had guided to wait in his office. 

“Tommy!” Polly exclaimed, her eyes lit up at the sight of him. 

She had been on Tommy’s side since Michael’s return, but this meeting was leading him up to believe that perhaps, she had finally heard her son out and was here to convince him to do so as well.

Without sparing them a glance, he went behind the large desk and speak to them:

“I’m busy.” 

At the dismissal, Polly’s hopeful face fell.

“There are some things you might want to know”.

At the sound of this voice he had long ago hoped to never have to hear again, his shoulders tensed. Taking his coat off, the two individuals forward him could see the whitening of his tightened hands. Wanting to calm himself down, he lit a cigarette and sat.

After a few strained minutes of silence, during which the other occupants of the room could only stare as Tommy poured himself some whiskey and proceeded to drink it as if no one was there, he finally got sick of seeing their faces, eventuating in him breaking the silence.

“The American gentleman has decided he wants to speak, now.” 

He emphasizes the first words as if to provoke Michael, who knew it wasn’t a question but a statement. So the younger Gray clenches his jaw to remain silent.

“Where’s your wife, Michael?” 

He mockingly said, sipping on the liquor.

“Tommy,” Pol’ warned.

“What? It looks like they make a hell of a couple, ready to take on the world, my business even, eh?” The family leader continues to incite, with a merry tone.

“It’s not like you haven't had your day” Proudly spit his younger cousin, ignoring the staring battle between Tommy and his mother.

The eldest Shelby looked up at Polly’s son with an unreadable expression on his face. He straightened up in his chair and grabbed a cigarette with two of his fingers that he pointed toward the man in front of him.

“See, Michael, you keep saying that you’re willing to take the head of the family business in America out of care for the family. But to me, it looks like you were always lurking at the back, waiting for the moment you’ll be able to take everything for you.” 

He was blankly staring at the younger Gray, waiting for an answer that never came.

Polly’s back stiffened, the insinuation of her son having schemed against Thomas making her unable to even make the slightest move.

She couldn’t blame Thomas for thinking that as it all made sense, but she wouldn’t... couldn’t think her son of being capable of such a thing.

Or at least, that, she wanted to believe.

(...)

Days later, Tommy met with a couple of people, from policemen to bureaucrats, whilst attending the usual business tasks, to learn more about you. 

He had to know if you were a potential risk to his family, after all, you knew his address, what if you communicated it to his enemies, or if you were an enemy?

Not that he thought you were, but something was off. He couldn’t quite yet put his finger on it, but he had a feeling, probably a gipsy thing, he thought to reassure himself. 

The primary reason he got the book was to better study the ascension of different politic’s sides. His actual main focus being to stop Mosley by any means, he needed more knowledge to be able to think of a strategy.

With Mosley, he just couldn’t afford defeat. At least not without giving it a good fight.

Nonetheless, while it began as a business matter, this book gave him an opportunity he would’ve never thought to exist.

(...)

Early in the morning, as he lit up his first cigarette, he heard two quiet knocks at the door. Tommy stood up in a hurry, almost running to the front door, a hand grabbing his gun as he uncocked the safety. 

Nobody knew about this house except the family, and it was far too early for a Shelby to come and visit.

The blue-eyed man took a peek through the window, before opening the door. Gun pointed toward the individual’s head, the tip of it centred right between the brows, Tommy exhaled. 

“I’ve been expecting that book for two days..” the figure paused, sliding a hand in their suit pocket to glance at their watch.“... and 5 hours exactly”.

One of their brows lifted at Shelby’s lack of reaction. Who other than you could it be?

Without a word, you entered the house, your heels echoing against the walls of the elegant mansion’s hall. You looked around as if to confirm that you indeed were inside the house of the famous and feared gangster.

“How about you put down the gun, eh.” You commanded, turning around to look him in the eyes as a snicker slipped through your painted lips. 

“Well, Y/F/N, what do you fucking want?”He was holding the gun steady, ready to shoot whenever, whatever.

“Huh, you researched me. That warms my heart” You mockingly let out, disdain in your voice. “I bet you have questions. So? Did my several years as a nurse at the war impress you, Mr Shelby, or perhaps my calling for illegal & criminal activities?”

You scoffed at yourself. By enunciating those things he probably knew already, you showed him you weren’t impressed he researched you.

“Anyway, all this fuss isn’t necessary.” You tried to convince him again, but this time, your hand went flat on the top of the gun still pointed towards you and pushed it down very softly, taking the blue-eyed man’s hand in yours.

At the touch of your skin, an electric current ran down his spine making Tommy step back. 

Your eyes flickered a quick instant, a curious gleam making them shine. He wondered if you too had felt it.

“Plus, I heard you have children? We wouldn’t want them to see their father holding a gun.” You simply put.

He let you pass him by and continue your walk out of the house, toward the garden.

Coming back to himself, Tommy realized he hadn’t blinked for a whole minute. He exhaled deeply and put back the gun in his shoulder holster. 

It was only when they reached the little table, that the peaky blinder allowed himself to take a closer look at the stranger sitting in front of him. 

Your suit was dark-blue, ornamented with stripes of lighter grey complimented by the various golden rings that adorned your fingers. 

You hair fell beautifully on your shoulders, framing your face. 

His eyes finally reached yours that were underlined by charcoal liner and your E/C iris were shamelessly staring into his heathen soul.

Tommy had heard of the English political party that shook traditions about women, norms and rights. And from the masculine way you were dressed up to the way you refused to fit women’s 20’s haircuts, he thought you might've been a member of the Women’s Social and Political Union. 

Once again it was his intuition talking to him. If he was right and that you were into politics, that means you could be useful in Mosley’s downfall. 

He had to figure out a way you two could get along. 

“What business do you have in Birmingham?” Tommy managed to word even though he is not used to be the one initiating talking.

“I was born here. But ‘am also the owner of the London library where you borrowed your book. And I came here to give the first warning.” You playfully returned, lighting up a cigarette. 

So you were the new owner of the library Ada mentioned when he questioned her. But it just couldn’t be it.

“What? Don’t you think there is enough criminal in here for me to join ‘em, Thomas?” You said as if knowing he didn’t believe you were here solely because of a library. You were reading his silence with a disconcerting facility and it started to get on Tom’s nerves.

“You’re not from here, War Service Record mentioned you were from Paris--”

“My father. I, myself am very much from Birmingham.” You snapped back without even letting the Shelbys head reach the end of his sentence.

Noticing the annoyance all over your face, he felt a sudden need for fresh air aching in his chest. He grabbed a cigarette and ignited it quickly. 

Your mysterious stare was still persistent, almost making the Shelby brother uncomfortable. 

“Is that all, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Call me Y/N. And yes, That’s all.” You got up, ready to leave.

“Then, Miss Y/F/N,” He emphasized your full name as if to put a distance between you two “the next time you step foot in my mansion without being invited to do so, it’ll be a bullet to the fucking head.”

You leant forward as your hands laid flat on the table. You were so close, he could feel your warm breath on his skin. And as you placed your lips to his ear:

“If you ever again point a gun at me, better aim right cause if you don’t, I’ll shoot back and I don’t miss, Tom” You patted his shoulder. 

The Peaky Blinder didn’t know what annoyed him the most, the words or the touch, although if being honest with himself, he would admit the touch wasn’t as annoying as he wanted to believe.

A torrent of thoughts overwhelmed him as he slowly processed the words you had murmured to him. It wasn’t a menace, it was worse than that, it was a promise.

“I’ll be looking forward to your visit, Mr Shelby.”

He stood up, but you were already far away, your coat flailing behind you.

(...)

On an evening, coming back from London, Tommy got home, walked through the hall, joined the dining room and looked at Lizzie that was already sitting at the table:

“Dinner will be without me tonight.” He said, putting on his béret.

“Where are you going?” She asked, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heels and walking outside. “You agreed on letting me in sometimes, Tommy.” She urged as she followed him.

“Well, Lizzie, I’m trying to make today a good day.” He coughed away anything his wife could want to object. 

He drove to the old yet refined London’s building. After he parked, he paused to look intently at the imposing glass doors. 

The building hadn’t always been this huge library. Actually, the last time he was here, it used to only occupy the first floor, but it seems the new owner had bigger plans. 

Now, the whole structure had been remodelled, bookshelves could be seen through the wide windows on all 3 floors, the fourth one had a soft light emitting from it and from where he was, the Shelby brother could see a shadow pacing back and forth.

Only five days had passed since you came to the manor and pressure Tommy with your fearless fierceness, and he could see the arrangement work was almost done. 

While workers were leaving the library, Tom was getting in and envied them as their headache would disappear as soon as they walked out, whereas Tommy’s appeared as soon as he walked in.

He somehow felt like talking to you would be worse than a full day of work.

He opened the heavy doors and as he was approaching the desk, noticed a golden plaque on the nearest wall:   

 Floor 1. Novels.

Floor 2. Science.

Floor 3. Politics.

Tommy paused and read the plaque a second time. 

He counted four floors, didn’t he?

Why would they omit the presence of a fourth one when it was clear someone was up there. The absence of its mention aroused his curiosity, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as a voice approached him.

“Hello, sir, this’ a library. The pub’s the other side o’ the street.” Said the woman with judgment underlining her strong accent.

Tommy looked at her, dismissing her insult by a cough, as he waved the object in his hand.

“Came to return it.” He placed the book on the table, the tip of his fingers patting its cover as the woman put on a fake smile.

“A name?” The voice resonated, its owner opening the drawer full of files.

“Shelby.” 

At the mention of the name, the desk woman raised her eyes to the man standing in front of her and blinked a couple times before glancing at the stairs against the furthest wall. “The fourth flo’, you’re expected.” She leaned toward Thomas murmuring as if telling a secret.

“Fourth floor?” He repeated to himself. So he was right, the top of this building was indeed occupied.

As he wondered who the mysterious shadow he saw earlier belonged to and what might wait for him there, his attention instinctively drifted to Miss forced-smile again. 

She was staring at him as if he owed her something, so he lifted a brow at her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’ll need a pound.” She simply put. 

“‘S’cuse me?”

“The book, Mr Shelby. It’s the penalty.”

He scoffed at the revelation, the woman staring at him until he placed the pound on her desk. She then started filling the returning paper without a second glance to the peaky blinder.

(...)

The fourth floor was a never-ending corridor with brown and cream patterns on the walls that led to an imposing wooden door. 

Apprehension seizing him, Tommy frowned. He wasn’t sure he could trust that fucking desk lady, but the adrenaline led him to knock anyway.

“It’s open.” Stated a distorted voice.

Tommy entered the room, stumbling on a vast sophisticated office.

Classical music could be heard in the background, variations of piano only. Golden framed paintings were hanging on the wooden decorated walls, matching the golden details of the little marble table on his right. 

It was encircled by two leather armchairs and an opulent lion paw sofa. 

On the counter against the opposite wall rested a collection of fancy glass-bottled alcohol and near it was a snifter cabinet.

Ahead of him was a large sculpted desk with an artistic lamp enlightening loads of papers. A desk nameplate indicated Tommy was in your office. His eyes lift to the familiar face. 

“Here you are,” You muttered, getting up from your chair, your heels making a muffled noise on the seemingly expensive carpet. 

A folder in one hand, a cigarette in the other, you passed by him, so close you briefly touched. Your bewitching perfume filled the man’s nostrils with fragrance as his gaze followed you going to the door to close it. 

“Whiskey? Irish, right?” You spoke, joining the counter and pouring two drinks.

For the first time since the blue-eyed man entered the room, you looked up to him. 

“Perhaps Mr Shelby lost his tongue?” You asked with curiosity. 

You looked surprised by Tommy’s lack of enthusiasm as if you were waiting for him to ripost when you cast the barb.

“Is being rude pre-required to work in this library?” He ignored your previous comment.

You frowned in what seemed to be confusion, but quickly smiled in understanding. “Oh, right, Ana. I take it she left quite an impression.”

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head at your ridiculous reaction.

“You do realize that she’s supposed to be welcoming, and not make you want to leave and never return, right?”

You laughed leaving Thomas aghast. “Ana’s not the desk lady. She was only here because I trusted her to send you my way, and she did.” You said with a satisfied smile on your face.

While Shelby was surprised at the first half of your sentence, curiosity took over at the second half. “So this is the first of your gangsters I’ve met, a woman.” 

You knew Tommy wasn’t the type to diminish women’s work according to what you read about him, you surmised it was more to gauge your reaction to him talking about your organisation, which you were fine with.

“All of ‘em, women.” You accentuated your words, mimicking disgust.

He let out a snort, but you kept on as if you hadn’t heard him.

“I bet if you tried to know her you would in fact, like Ana.”

Raising his eyebrows at your admittance, Tommy decided to drop the light talk and get to business.

Even though he was still quite taken aback by the settings of this meeting he hadn’t forgotten the thing he wanted from you. 

He knew you were “prosperous” according to his readings, but this office showed him the chosen adjective didn’t do justice to reality.

“I want to deal with Mosley, Miss Y/L/N. And I’d like to believe you’re here to do the same.” His grave tone filled the room.

“Call me Y/N,” your arm invited the man onto the sofa. 

You handed a cup to the peaky blinder that gladly took it before moving to him with your own and the folder that you dropped on the table while sitting. “here is a list of every man you need to keep an eye on in order to accomplish your plan safely.”

He looked over to you at the announcement of his plan. Of course, you were informed, of course, you weren’t only here for a library. 

He took the file and started to flip through the papers, his index patting on a specific name. He glanced you. 

“Michael Gray” He read out loud.

“You have to know Captain Swing from the occupied six counties and I had met a couple times. I found it funny how you ignored the fact your cousin, who had lost nearly $2 million in America, was serenely aboard the SS Monroe in Belfast dock, plotting with men that want you dead.  Some representatives from County Tyrone and Glasgow UVF--”

“She told me.” Tommy cut you as if he wanted to dismiss the call he had with Captain Swing.

You, aware of what he was trying to do, continued to remind him where his cousin’s betrayal began.

“They were talking ‘bout how they’d divided up the English racetracks after they’d blown away your legs.” 

You were intently looking at him, accentuating some words as if to show the urge for him to realize the gravity of the situation.

Tommy wasn’t waiting on a specific call that day, so he knew trouble was coming when the operator told him the call was from Belfast. 

But God, it was worse than anything that could be expected. 

A certain Captain Swing captured his cousin that was returning from America. She said he was dealing with some men that were Shelby’s enemies, talking about his downfall and the benefits of it. 

She offered him two options: Put a bullet in the head of Michael right away or send him “home”, to Birmingham.

Tom did choose the second one... after a long minute of thinking.

“And may I ask… why are you doing me this favour?”

The woman on the phone clicked her tongue before responding, 

“Because, Mr Shelby, we’ve been informed by people at the very highest level, that since your conversion to socialism, you’re now on the side of the angels. And angels can be useful to us.” 

The last thing the peaky blinder heard was the line disconnecting.

“People at the very highest level, eh. So it was you.” He chuckled to himself, getting up to face the windows. 

He placed a hand into his coat searching for something and as he did so, you placed your fingers on your gun that was still in your shoulder holster. 

Even if he didn’t show it, it was clear the news startled him, and you didn’t know what he would do next, you had to be ready.

“You spied on me.” He turned to you and you let go of your gun seeing he pulled out his cigarette case, an unreadable expression on both his face & tone.

As if he needed time to discuss internally with himself, he lit a cigarette and smoked half of it before exhaling deeply, rubbing a hand on his face. 

You waited patiently for the expression of the Shelby brother to tell you you could go on. Even if it wasn’t an easy task to understand or read Thomas Shelby, you were arrogant enough to think you succeeded at it.

“You did it too. You’re just not used to being searched the way you research others.” You managed to slide your hair from one shoulder to the other, to light a cig. 

“You get used to it.” You assured him, inhaling as much smoke as you could. 

“Listen, you don’t get the right to erase crucial information because it’s about a member of your family. He is a threat that needs to be dealt with, Thomas. I know you trust no one, even less me, you have no reason to, but I’m saying it anyway because I want you to understand that not every time you do something right, innocent people have to die.” 

As soon as he heard your last words, he turned to you, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t worded yet.

“Who’s going to die?” He muttered.

“We are to be partners, so I’ll give you an ounce of who I am: my father died at the beginning of the war, leading me to enter it. When I joined the nurses I wanted to die, just like him. He was all I ever had, I didn’t think I could be anything without him. You damn know war, so I’ll skip to what happened after: I came back. I’ve failed to die, but my profile caught the eye of a police officer. He saw I could use my head and logic to know my enemy’s strategy and predict their next move. So I worked for him nearly one year before I killed him.”

You totally ignored Thomas' question, hoping your monologue will keep Tom’s mind busy so he’d forget what you previously said, and it worked. 

Tommy’s face met with your piercing-eyes as you shrug.

“Corruption. Soon enough, the police department found a bounty killer in me.” You stop at Shelby’s scoff. He shook his head, brows raised as reaching for his alcohol. He then led his cup to his mouth and drank it in one go.

“Didn’t you find that?” Your high-pitched tone expressed your surprise.

“Nah.” He clicks his tongue. “So you’re a copper?”  You shook your head.

“I stayed in Paris, as I already had quite a reputation there. People respected me despite my gender, so I was able to do most things women are forbidden to do. On one hand, I was still a bounty killer with some girls, on the other hand, I’d started a counterfeit money’s enterprise. And given all of my options there, I opened a bar for women to debate and learn. It wasn’t easy as I wasn’t married, there was no man to “tame” me as high society people said, but I managed to buy a racetrack, and with a little bit of fighting, gave women the opportunity to bet. And even if I fought for the women’s cause, men liked my face along with what I represented... “ Thomas' stare got heavier as questions came to his mind at almost each of your sentences.

“I used their attraction towards me to get what I wanted. And ultimately, I entered politics.” You sipped on your drink.

“You forgot to mention you being a librarian, aren’t you, Y/N?” It was the first time he’d called you that, but it somehow felt natural. 

As you smirked looking away, he could tell you’d noticed how good your name sounded on his lips.

“It only helps for the public image. People like to ask questions about your income sources if you hadn’t noticed. And for people like us, it’s better to have sturdy explanations.” You served yourself another full cup of whiskey.

“Was it the chase of gangsters that made you like whiskey over gin, eh?” Tommy teased you.

“Are women solemnly allowed to drink gin, Mr Shelby?” You raised a brow at him, curiously waiting on his answer. 

“You were indeed a suffragette.” He firmly stated, nodding to himself.

“Bonne intuition *speaking french*(=good intuition). That’s good.” You were pleased. 

“I, when leaving Paris, was told to beware of you. ‘The bastard thinks’ were their exact words. Even out the borders, people know the peaky boys.” You gave a faint smile while Tommy chuckled, smoking his cig.

“We’re going to need it for this new war.”

“Need what?

“Instinct.” You got up, turning up the volume more. When back, you filled Tommy’s glass. You found the man looking through one of the windows, arms crossed in his back.

“Not so sure it works that way around here.” 

You joined him, handing him his cup. He stepped aside, putting a certain distance between you. You were faster than he to noticed.

“All the big cities work the same, Mr Shelby. I’ve been here before, once you know the flaws in one of ‘em, you know the flaw in ‘em all.” You assured him with confidence, stealing the man’s cigarette from his lips.

You stepped into his space.

“You’ve been here before, hm. And what part of your business does this library cover for?” The peaky blinder took his cup from your hand.

He stepped into your space.

“The right question is not ‘what part’, rather ‘what business does this library cover for?’. I branched out, remember? Like you should.”

Tommy was uncomfortable regarding the turning of the meeting.

“Do you like music, Mr Shelby? I, meself enjoy very much Erik Satie. He was french and died in Paris a couple years ago, unfortunately. I’ve met him, several times in fact, at some events such as festivals, ballets, theatrical performances, and other fancy evenings, you know?” You were restlessly talking, seeking any emotion in Tom’s face.

Even if his primary idea was to come and suggest that the two of you could work together, he didn’t think this would’ve been this easy to convince you, or that you would be so open about yourself, you didn’t behave the same as you did during your previous meetings, which confused Tommy.

“No--No, I don’t know, I was born gipsy, not born with a silver spoon in me mouth” His tone filled with sarcasm, he caught you staring at him. You didn’t release the look, nor did he.

“I wasn’t either, I just worked my way up there.” You handed back the cigarette to Tommy.

He glanced at you that was standing beside him, you were now looking at the movements in the street with an unreadable face.

“Guess politics offer diverse opportunities?”

You were fierce, without a doubt, but for some reason, your guards were down this evening. Perhaps this meeting established your partner status?

“Would you drive all the way to Westminster in London to talk every week at the House Of Commons, if not?” You retorted a brow raised high.

So you were aware of his position there... It wasn’t too much to say your whole character was a mystery to him. 

Sometimes you were head-on & aggressive, sometimes you seemed confident and serene. But overall, you were aware of yourself and everything you might be concerned about. 

You knew how to collect information and use it to your advantage. He didn’t doubt you were smart, but the best thing he’d seen about you so far was your patience. 

You knew everything would fall into place as you handled it with a tight hand, so you weren’t rushing over anything nor slipping key information to demonstrate your power. 

You used them at the right time, always reminding the people working with you that you were to be taken seriously.

The more he knew about you, the more emotions were settling in him. Which didn’t happen in a long time. 

He couldn’t even get something as basic as sleep, so how could he afford to feel things? But here he was, his heart fluttering at the idea you were maybe what he was looking for: a man that he couldn’t defeat. A woman, innit.

He was reassuring himself thinking “it’s only business” when catching his thoughts drifting to the tornado that you were, but as you succeeded to impress him every time, he admitted there was something about you that was calling him.

“You’re on your own?” The words left his mouth softly.

“Beg pardon?” You drank your drink taking your time, appreciating the burning spreading in your chest. 

“You’re in town by yourself, no one to call family then?” Tom tried to cover his thirst to know more.

You didn’t respond right away, looking into the liquid in your drink as if searching for the answer there. You were unreadable again.

“I am.” You finished your cup.

The man didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring at you, his deep blue eyes searching your soul in the slightest of your move or expression as a peaceful silence settled between you. 

Following Chapter ❱

[winterscaptain]

three’s company.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: and here we are! the final installment of the ajf 100 arc. this takes place right after mosley lane in season five, and from here on i promise we’ll see some happier days :) i can’t thank you all enough for coming on this adventure with me, as hard and fraught as it was. 

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! (the pieces stand alright on their own as well, for the most part!) one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.” - william shakespeare, the tempest

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“You’d never believe it, Hales. The sass on your kid these days is unreal.” A laugh leaves you as you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “He pulled one right out of your book the other day with Aaron when he told him it was time to come in out of the snow...” 

It’s just one of those Saturdays where you needed to talk to her. Not for any particular reason, but just knowing that if this was any other timeline, the two of you would sit out in the breakfast nook in the big house, watching the snow fall and the sun set as the February evening wore on. 

There’s a crunch of snow under day-off boots behind you, but you ignore him and continue talking, just as you would if she were here. 

“We miss you. I think the weirdest thing so far was skipping your Christmas present. Had it all wrapped and everything and then I remembered you wouldn’t be there.” You look up, taking a little breath. “Had a good cry about that one.” 

“It is getting better though, all things considered…” You trail off, not sure what to say. Sharing silence with a headstone is a little less companionable than the alternative. 

It wasn’t a lie, though. The grief didn’t overwhelm you now like it did those first weeks. It sometimes clocked you at the oddest of times, drawing a few tears (or more than a few) or a little smile. 

Sometimes, both. 

You huff a little laugh to yourself. “We had a really good case outcome last week. Found three kids who’d been missing, got them all back to their parents. It was just one of those that reminded us why we do it, you know?”

Aaron sits beside you without a word. 

“And you’d be proud of Aaron, Haley. He’s saddling the rest of us with the paperwork and going home early, most nights. It’s kind of impressive. Though, I know it’ll wear off and he’ll be back on his bullshit soon enough.” 

There’s a snort from beside you, and you finally acknowledge him. 

“Tell me it isn’t true and I’ll take it back,” you say, looking over at him.

He shrugs. “Can’t. But then again, you’d never lie to Haley and you’d never lie to the dead, so we’re two for two, there.”

You smile at him for a moment, gesturing vaguely to the headstone. “We were just catching up.”

“Of course. I thought it would be one of those days.”

“Where’s the kiddo?” You look over your shoulder, halfway expecting Jack to be playing somewhere in the snow. 

“Helping Jess with dinner.” He addresses Haley’s headstone. “Hear that, Hales? Your son is helping with dinner, now.”

You both pause, acknowledging the laughter you know you’d get if she were here. 

Looking over at him, you wryly note, “Yeah, see, Jack might be helping with dinner, but you still aren’t. What’s your excuse?”

“I have been sent to bring you to the apartment for dinner by request of my son and my sister.”

You tut at him with a little smile “Nice to see Jess has been promoted.”

He rolls his eyes. 

+++

The first time the entire team gathers at Dave’s after the New Year is a refreshing return to something that feels halfway normal.

You’ve got Henry in your lap so JJ can actually eat something. He’s messing around with one of the rubik’s-cube-like toys Spencer got him for Christmas. To everyone’s delight, the novelty of them has yet to wear off and they’ve saved the entire Jareau-La Montagne household a couple of meltdowns. 

“How’s he holding up?” JJ asks between bites.

You glance over at Hotch, on the floor with one leg outstretched and the other tucked underneath him. Jack’s holding his attention, explaining some advanced maneuver with his army men. “He’s doing alright. Better every day, I think, but there will always be bad days.” 

She hums. “And Jack?”

You shrug, catching Henry’s toy before it can fall from your lap. “He’s still adjusting, of course, but Jess is doing a great job at keeping up with his routines.” 

“Actually, that’s really all kids need at Jack’s age, other than socialization and physical affection,” Spencer says. “The retention of a consistent routine is key to development after the toddler stages of childhood.” 

You toss a grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s just true.” 

JJ huffs a laugh and puts her napkin on the table. You pass Henry back to her, and he’s more than happy to tuck back against her chest. 

Dave, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, takes your plate. You follow him back into the kitchen, turning the water on and starting on the silverware while he tackles the glasses. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

Your brow furrows. “Yeah. Why?”

He glances over his shoulder. “Just not used to seeing you so far from Aaron, is all. Fifty feet is quite a far distance for a shadow to cover, don’t you think?” 

With an eye roll: “Give me a break, Rossi.”

He raises his soapy hands as if to surrender, but you know he’s not even close to done. “I’m just sayin.’” He relents after a moment. “There’s only so much the rest of us can do for him.” 

“What do you mean?” You direct your question at the dishes, remaining studiously focused on your task. 

Unlike you, he pauses, turning square to face you. “For a pair of profilers...You know what? It’s not worth it.”

+++

Aaron stamps the snow off his boots and hangs his coat and scarf on the hook by the door, fresh from an afternoon of errands and paperwork at the office. 

Belatedly, he realizes he missed the fort in the living room when he first came through the door. The couch cushions and dining chairs have all been arranged in an elaborate configuration, supporting the duvet stolen from Aaron’s bed and a fair few flat sheets from the hall closet. All the linens are secured with carefully knotted neckties, or pinned together with some spare clothespins you found God-knows-where.  

Creeping forward, he picks up the corner of what he imagines is a door flap by design. 

In the dark of the fort, he finds you and Jack curled together on your sides around the portable DVD player. Jack’s out like a light - his little hand pressed against his cheek where it rests on your arm. You’re awake, waiting for him. 

Aaron finds your eyes. You smile a little and keep your voice at a whisper. “He’s only been sleeping about twenty minutes or so. He wore himself out playing architect, so I figured a quick nap wouldn’t keep him up too late.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Aaron assures you in a whisper with an equally small smile. “I’m just glad he had fun today.” 

“Yeah.” You arc an arm over Jack’s shoulders and brush at the feathered hair on his forehead. Returning your gaze to Aaron, you playfully (and quietly) ask, “Want to join us for another movie, or are you too old for stuff like this?”

He shakes his head, a real, genuine smile on his face. It’s the first one you’ve seen in a while and it warms you beyond measure. 

When he stoops inside, he rests his head on your calf and his hand on his son. You gingerly stretch for another DVD, and Aaron takes over the logistics after you hand it over - replacing the disk, lowering the volume, and starting the next movie. 

In the quiet darkness, you think of Haley. A few tears slip out of the corners of your eyes, landing between your temple and your arm. You don’t dare move for fear of waking Jack, but it’s as if Aaron can read your mind. He lifts his head just so, finding your lashes inexplicably wet in the light from the screen. 

Your eyes flicker down to his and your close-lipped smile is shaky. 

His eyes narrow. What’s wrong? 

Nothing. You shake your head just a little. I just miss her. 

You watch the inside of his lip pinch between his teeth as his mouth presses into a thin line. 

A trembling breath leaves you as you refocus on the screen, your fingers playing with the hem of Jack’s sleeve as he sleeps. 

Aaron watches you for a moment. He thinks perhaps you are the only person alive who understood what was between him and Haley - the love, the tiffs, the history. Somehow, you managed to see right through them, right through him, right through her, to the heart of it. 

He’s sure you love his son like your own. He remembers the desperate way you held his son when you found him in that trunk. It was that day - when he saw the panic flash across your face when you realized you hadn’t seen Jack, hadn’t found him - he realized that you’d kill, risk life and limb, drop everything, for Jack. 

That day tested you as well. If you thought too long about it, you could still taste the metallic tang of anger in the back of your mouth when you thought about Foyet getting his hands on Jack. It was that overwhelming flood of emotion that brought you to the same conclusion. 

Now, the secure weight of Jack in your arms lulls you into a kind of bone-deep peace. 

You let your eyes close, falling into the sheer comfort of the moment. After a few minutes, Aaron follows suit.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc

[an-army-of-nightmares]

Here's notes I made on the lodgers awhile back that I never finished nor do I want to 👉😎👉, but I figured the bits I did may be useful

You may reblog this dw

------

Jasper Kaylock, Crypto-Biologist:

Mr. Bird, Crypto-Horticulturist:

I assume that means he practices in taking care of rare plants?. Wait actually Jasper also has Crypto in his title, so Mythical/Supernatural plants?

Archer and Bird share a room

Mr. Archer, Botanical Clockwork Engineer:

Well, clockwork means the inner workings/machinery. Engineer when combined with that makes sense? But how does botanical fit into this? I guess he studies the inner workings of plants? How does engineer fit into this then-

Bird and Archer share a room

"Mr. Archer is based off Bleeding Heart Kickstarter backer BlindSide, making this the third cameo of the Bleeding Heart Cameo Tier! Paraphrasing from his description, Archer is loyal, energetic, and ambitious, but also quite stubborn. He often butts heads with the much mellower Mr. Bird and prefers to spend his free time with the other young Lodgers, often staying out late on the town. In other words . . . he's one of Jekyll's problem children." -Arythusa on Page 10 Chapter 2

Dr. Maijabi, Ectoplasmic Pathologist:

Ghost grandpa! Hes one of my favorite lodgers <3. Ah well Ectoplasmic is clearly ghosts, Pathologist is pretty much always stated as the study of diseases. He works with ghost diseases? Helps sick ghosts? Likely its actually connected to possession? Ghosts? Help?

"Dr. Maijabi's covered eye has a kind of "spectral vision"--the idea came from an episode of the short horror fiction podcast Pseudpod called The Nightside Eye. As the story explains, one of the reasons pirates may have worn eye patches was to preserve their night vision. They would cover their eye when entering bright sunlight and uncover it when descending below deck, so that one eye was always adjusted to see in dim lighting. Nightside Eye adapts the idea to the sixth sense--keeping one eye covered allows it to remain always adjusted to the supernatural world. The story is Australian, and so Dr. Maijabi is also Australian (aboriginal, that is)." -Arythusa on Page 12 Chapter 2

There is a zombie monkey in Maijabi's room, that is wearing a red bellhop(?) Uniform, and sits on a chair

Maijabi's room is filled floating objects, has a blue look to whole place, with "Ghost's Blood" hanging from the ceiling, there are many objects holding blue "lights" that I'm not sure what they actually are, there are mirrors filled with some grey rather tormented looking people with long necks. Hands fill most of the mirrors inside however, all fire in this room is a light blue/purple

"I've got a family back in New South Wales. I send money back every month, but I long to see them again, face to face." -Maijabi on page 31 chapter 8

Dr. Helsby, Exploratory Bathynaut: Submarines (but they can go really deep) Apparently Helsby is based on Captain Nemo, I didn't know that and I only vaguely know who Captain Nemo is but I thought that was neat.

Miss Lavender, Junior Extremofaunic Zoologist:

Zoologist means the study of animals. I assume faunic is meant to mean fauna, which is all the animals that live in a certain time, place, or environment. Extremo is a Spanish word that from what I can gather can mean extreme or far. So?? They study a wide range of animals? I'm certain just saying zoologist would have done the trick,,

Mrs. Cantilupe, Senior Extremofaunic Zoologist:

Griffin, (I dont think Jekyll ever officially introduced him, rip):

He make thing invisible

He has turned a number of lab rats invisible, at least 16

Currently trying to turn a blond cat with an extremely fluffy tail invisible. Interestingly, the cats eyes are large and pure white. When becoming visible there was a ball of electricity, and the cat had apparently been floating right above Jasper, (which might be because we're still in Maijabi's room)

The invisible mice are visible in Maijabi's mirror

Mr. Pennebrygg, Automatonatomist: robot

Mr. Sinnett, Phlogistonic Pyrologist: fire

Mr. Mosley, Hollow Earth Submariner: dirt

Mr. Tweedy, Galavanic Engineer: electricity bill

Miss Flowers, Entomologic Interlligencer: bugs. Robot snail

Mr. Doodle, Experimental Confectionist: dessert (mystery flavor)

Nicholas D. Bryson, Aeronaut Explorer: a hot air balloon that goes to space

Mr. Luckett, Detonative Homopath: set himself on fire

[moral-turpitudes]

Deal with the Devil: Ch. 2

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Isla Maxwell (OC)

Word Count: 1,274 

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | *7* | 8 | 9 | 10

The rain picked up over the streets of Small Heath as the sun peered through the clouds, illuminating the otherwise dreary shop of Shelby Company Limited. The chatter amongst the workers buzzing through the air as the newest addition to parliament sat in his office, quietly going over paperwork. The peaceful silence only temporary, as a familiar booming voice rang near him.

“Tom! You have a letter. Quite fancy fookin’ writing if you ask me.” Arthur said, slapping the letter in front of Thomas as he smoked at his desk.

With a raised eye brow he opened it, glancing at the thin handwriting.

“Greetings Mr. Thomas Shelby,

I’m sorry to hear your assassination attempts on Mr. Oswald Mosley went awry. It was quite sad to watch.

If given the chance, I would like to help you...considering we seem to have the same goal in mind. You see, I managed to get the location of the next rally out of the three men that were missing from his meeting this month, but it was a bit bloody as you can see. If you’d like to continue your efforts, I’d be glad to help. But it most definitely will be at a cost.

- I.”

Thomas read, sitting the letter on his desk before downing the last of his whiskey.

“That bad aye?” Arthur asked, sitting across from him.

“This person wants to take down Mosley. After all that’s happened...I was ready to end it but then this comes through my fucking door aye?” He said, slamming his glass down.

“Handwritings a bit odd, what’s the red stains on the bottom?” Arthur asked.

“Looks like the bloody thumbprints of the men that went missing this month.” Tommy said, looking at the dried prints with tired eyes.

“Jesus.” Arthur remarked, getting up from his seat.

“They said they’d help...but it would be at a cost.” Thomas said.

“Right, well you have fun with that brother. I’m not messing around with mafia shit Tom. Not again.” He said, running a nervous hand over the scar around his neck before walking out the door.

Thomas sighed and looked at the letter, his eyes wandering to an address on the top. It was an unusual one at that. No one ever went there unless they had to, but this whole thing was bizarre in itself.

The cold air nipped at his skin as he walked through the gate and past the tombstones. The letter in hand as he went towards the morgue. With a loud knock, the mortician opened the door, wearing a toothy grin on his face.

“I’m here to deliv-“ Tommy began, watching the man put his finger up to his mouth in a shushing gesture.

“Can’t talk. Thank you.” He said, grabbing the letter and shutting the door.

Tommy stood there for a moment, his usually stoic face a bit confused as he left the cemetery.

When he arrived back at the shop, all was well until he got back in his office.

“Did you deliver it?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.” He said, sitting down at his desk.

“Well what did they say?”

“Nothing. Said he couldn’t say, so he just grabbed it and sent me on my way...Arthur, out of all the deals I’ve done this is the most bizarre one of all...” He said, lighting a cigarette.

“You know how to pick em’ Tommy-boy. I’ll give ya that.” He said, walking out to pester Polly and Michael who’d been discussing their business dealings in America.

At Isla’s apartment, she sat at her desk, nursing a glass of wine as she twirled her pocket knife in her hand, aiming for the dart board across from her.

Just as she flung the knife towards it, Jay walked in, almost fatally colliding with its tip.

“Jesus. I didn’t even say anything yet and you’re trying to kill me boss?” He asked.

“Knock next time, Jay.” She said, getting up to retrieve it from the bullseye.

“What’s the news?”

“Well he got the letter. I picked his up where you asked. That mortician is one weird fellow.” He said.

“He’s happy to be doing something besides cutting up bodies all day. I can’t say I blame him. It’s hard to do.” She said lighting a cigarette.

“Well here’s his letter. Hope it was worth our time.” He said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck anxiously and leaving her to read it.

“Hey before you go...here’s your check....make sure to give the boys their pay though. If I forget again they’ll be sniffing at my door like dogs.” She said, handing him the three envelopes.

“Thank you. I’ll do that. Let me know when you need that sent out.” He said, a nervous gait in his walk as he went towards the door.

“Will do, now fuck off.” She said, opening the letter as she sat down, not registering his nervousness. She waited until he was gone though to read it, sighing as she exhaled smoke once again.

“Hello “I,”

Thank you for reaching out. I do apologize for the botched assassination. It was supposed to be a show for the ages but I guess he was meant to live another day.

Unfortunately for us, that day has turned into one too many.

In light of that, I’m writing this to let you know I accept your offer. Therefore I’m willing to pay you for your efforts. Just name your price and I’ll name mine.

- T.S.”

She smirked, knowing she struck a nerve criticizing his failed attempt. But nevertheless she wrote back, surprised she even got a response in such a timely manner.

“Hello, Mr. Shelby,

I’m glad you accepted my offer. I will accept 300 pounds as my price. Consider it a deposit, if you will.

Therefore, I expect this amount in the next week, especially if you want the location.

I’ve named my price. Now it’s your turn.

- “I”

She wrote, folding the paper neatly and tucking it into another sleek, black envelope. It was her favorite color after all, easy to hide at night, and a reminder of what she’d fought for, with death and all things considered.

As she made her way to her room, she opened her journal, where she kept a detailed record of every interaction she’d had with targets or connections, along with letters she’d written and received, knowing one day she may need the information.

With a sigh, she sat on her bed as she quickly jotted the information down. The dim light from the morning sun seeping in through the windows as she glanced at the thick, bounded book. Often at night she’d lie awake after writing, dozing off into a nightmare. Seeing the flames and hearing her mother’s screams, causing her to thrash awake with heavy breaths. The scar often burning in the vivid dream, making her wary of it after waking up, with the raised skin reminding her of everything she’d lost.

When she wasn’t consumed by the nightmares, during the day she was training in her apartment or visiting her dads friend who’d aged terribly over the years. Even though she put up a wall between her and everyone else, she always let him in. But she hated the thought of being alone in the world again, knowing it was inevitable.

That seemed to be her one vice in life, knowing things were inevitable. Knowing almost everything and everyone were finite and fragile. She’d always had a bit of wanting to save the world in her, but she knew not everyone could be saved, and that’s what tore her up the most.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 31

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 31: An old conversation is brought back up again, allowing Ella and Alfie to realize something that had been stolen from them. 

     When Alfie’s stitches were taken out, he requested to leave the hospital. Ella was a little unsure but couldn’t convince him otherwise. Besides, she’d gotten sick of spending nights alone and having to stay in the sterile environment all day. She didn’t like leaving Alfie on his own at night, knowing that if danger came their way, she would need to protect him. With Tommy’s help, they traveled to Margate to hide away.

           As Ella got Alfie settled, Tommy helped bring their things inside from the car. The siblings passed each other in the hall.

           “Have you considered what we spoke about a while back?” Tommy wondered.  

           Ella turned on a few lights in the entryway to brighten up the place again. It had been quite a while since they’d been to the beach home. “What did we speak about a while back?"

           “Adoption. I was just wondering if you’d talked to Alfie about it.” He explained and handed over her purse that was in the front seat of the car.

           “We did a bit before all of this.” She answered. “I think…” She sighed and shut the front door. Open entryways were starting to worry her. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. We agreed to it but now look at us, Tom.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “What do I mean?” She scoffed in disbelief. “Tommy, we’re basically hiding away. You want us to adopt while we’re in this state? I don’t want to put a child in danger, we don’t even know if we’re out of the woods yet.”

           “I didn’t mean right this second I just-” He frowned and reached into his inner coat pocket. “There was a delivery at the Grace Shelby Institute last night.” He reported and handed her the telegram that had been sent to him early that morning. “A box with two babies inside. They’re guessing they’re about three months old, at most. Twins. Boy and a girl.”

           Ella read over the brief note, tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t understand…”

           “They were abandoned. The home took them in but I,” Tommy shrugged. “I wanted to know if you and Alfie would take them in.”

           His sister wiped at her eyes and let out a noise of confused happiness. It certainly wasn't the news she was expecting that day. “I don’t know what to say, Tom.” She gasped.

           “You can have time to think about it.” He assured her. “Ask Alfie. Maybe this is what you two need right now. Something good to wash out some of the bad, aye?”

           “Do they always tell you about abandoned children?” She asked, dabbing at her eyes.

           Tommy put his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Ever since you were shot, I asked them to report to me.” He answered honestly. “I just wanted you to have options.”

           Ella hugged her brother tightly. “Thank you, pral.” She whispered.

           It had been the first time she’d called him brother in years. Tommy hugged her back. “Just call me if you decide on it and I’ll have the paperwork along.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie groaned and set down his Torah. Reading, as it so happened, gave him a nasty headache. It didn’t help that he was trying to adjust to reading with just one working eye. He muttered a few curses under his breath and leaned back in the comfortable armchair.

           The front door shut and Ella came into the sitting room. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, considerably in a better mood after talking to Tommy. A rare occurrence.

           “Head hurts.” He mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment to try and quell the pounding ache. “But I’m alright. Tommy leave?”

           She nodded and went to sit on the arm of his chair. “He told me something.”

           “’Bout what?” Alfie rested a hand on her knee, hoping it was good news.

           “A set of twins that were abandoned at the orphanage in Birmingham.” She spoke with shaky excitement. “Nearly newborns, only a few months old.”

           Alfie looked stunned at the news. They hadn’t spoken about children since he was shot. It didn’t seem to be a priority with everything else going on. “I uh…” He could see the hope in his wife’s eyes. Hope that he wouldn’t want to crush but they needed to be reasonable. Alfie had seen himself in the mirror. What Ella described as a noble injury, he described as positively ghastly. What child would look at him and smile? In fact, he’d venture to guess that he would frighten most children.

           He cleared his throat. “El…don't know if I’d be much of a good father after-” He gestured to his eye.

           “What does that have to do with parenting?” She asked, not seeing what he saw.  

           “Well, don’t ya think I’d sorta be a monster to them?”

           “Alfie!” She leaned forward and touched his cheek that wasn’t scarred. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that. You’re perfect in every way and I won’t hear otherwise.” She scolded. After hearing him ramble in his drugged-up state about all the things he loved about her, she felt like she needed to repay the favor. Even if he didn’t remember saying the things he did. “This wasn’t your fault and I hardly think appearance has anything to do with how perfect of a father you’d be. Once the pain gets easier to manage, you’ll be perfect. Doesn’t matter what you look like.”

           He wanted to trust and belief in her. But there was hesitation that was hard to get over. He could imagine the children getting older and wondering what happened to dad’s face. But when had he ever denied his wife? “You want to go through with this?” He placed a hand over hers.

           “I know it’s a big decision but I just want some good in our life. I don’t want everything to be hijacked by this psychopath. We deserve to have happiness, you deserve happiness, Alfie.” She said softly. “Please believe that.”

           No one deserved happiness more than his wife. “Alright, love. Figure we can convert the second bedroom into a nursery. The one that overlooks the ocean.”

           Tears fell down Ella’s cheeks as she embraced him, slipping from the arm of the chair and into his lap. “Oh, Alfie…”

           He smiled and kissed her temple as he held her close.

           Tommy was busy, but he put the adoption on the forefront. If he could do this one thing for his sister, maybe it would right the ship. Especially once the assassination at the rally went through. Things were stabilizing, they had to be.        

~~~~~~~~~~~`

           Some documents had to be forged. Legally, Alfie was dead so he couldn’t be put on the adoption papers. And Ella herself couldn’t adopt them on her own, so Tommy doctored some of the paperwork. Not that anyone would question him. An MP that ran the orphanage, no one would dare tell him no, or inquire about little bits in the paperwork.

           Ella had to travel to London once for a signature. She arrived at the House of Commons as to not interrupt her brother’s work schedule too much.

           Tommy stood and smiled when she walked in. “How was the trip in?” He asked.

           “Not too bad.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek.

           The two silently agreed that Alfie wouldn’t be a topic of conversation anywhere outside of Margate. Neither of them knew how safe they were anymore. Any sliver of information could lead back to Alfie and could cause their world to fall apart.

           “Here’s the paperwork.” Tommy produced the papers and handed her a pen. “I’ve marked where I need your signature.”

           Ella stood over his desk, signing her name. Her hand wobbled a little when she signed Solomons. It had been tough leaving him on his own, but Alfie assured her he’d be alright. The maid was there to help if needed and he had a loaded gun nearby.

           “Shelby, excellent speech today.”

           Ella’s entire body locked up when she heard Mosley’s voice enter the office. The pen blotted as her hand tightened.

           “Ah, Miss Shelby, I wasn’t aware you were coming around. I did want to give you my condolences on the loss of your husband.” There was an obvious smugness to the MP’s voice. He knew exactly what he was doing to taunt her.

           She turned around and laid eyes on the man that attempted to murder her beloved husband. The man who had cost Alfie half of his eyesight and forced them into hiding. “I don’t want your fucking condolences.” She spat.

           He maintained his measure of steady arrogance and the confident belief that he had won. If it didn’t put Alfie at risk, Ella would’ve gladly told him how he hadn’t won.

           “I do say, Miss Shelby, you become ever-increasingly hostile towards me.” A faint smirk tugged on his lips. “Have I done something to upset you?”

           “My husband may be dead but I am still Mrs. Solomons, nothing will ever change that.” She dropped the pen on Tommy’s desk and gathered her things with a huff.

           “You poor dear, widowed at such a young age, unable to have children. Hardly the life of any respectable woman.”

           Ella lunged at the man, not afraid of the consequences of a punch to wipe that smug look off his face. But Tommy wasn’t about to allow his sister to be brought down by Mosley. He grabbed her by the forearms and held her back. “You slimy, arrogant, disgusting, pathetic bastard!” She shouted. There was no telling how Mosley acquired such a detailed report on everyone in the Shelby family. It could only speak volumes about the contacts he had stretched across the country. There was no telling how long it would be until he found out the truth about Alfie.

           And that only angered Ella more. But Tommy successfully reined her back in and began pushing her towards the door. “You’ll have to excuse my sister, she’s grieving. You must imagine.” He explained.

           Ella fought him but he managed to get her outside of the office, even if he had to nearly pick her up and drag her out. “Let go of me!” She demanded and wriggled out of Tommy’s grip. “How dare you stand there and let him speak to me in such a way!”

           “Do you want him dead or not?” He hissed back in reply.

           “Yes!” She exclaimed. “We all fucking do!”

           “Well I can’t do it in the House, now can I?” He sighed. “Patience, Ella, is what wins wars.”

           Her face scrunched up in disgust but didn’t argue any further. “Sometimes I think you like to drag things like this out just for the fun of it.” She mumbled and reached into her purse for a cigarette.

           “Trust me, he’d be cold in the ground by now if I got my way.” He replied under his breath. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” He touched her shoulder and veered her off towards the stairs so she didn’t get a second wind and go back after Mosley.  

~~~~~~~~~

           Despite her encounter with Mosley, the focus turned to the arrival of the twins and Alfie and Ella felt like they could heal better. Ella could put the anger she had for Mosley out of her mind. Because she simply didn’t have the time to worry anymore. In the end, she couldn’t stop the man. Tommy had the hands on the steering wheel and knew more than anyone else did at such a late stage. No matter how much she wanted to put a bullet in the fascist’s head, she had to leave it up to Tommy. Patience.

           Alfie mused about the concept the nights they spent together in Margate. Although he continued to have headaches, he made a point to read even just a little bit of the Torah every day. He mentioned the idea of giving power up to God.

           Ella remarked that Shelbys weren’t great at relinquishing power. Least of all, Tommy. Even though she knew that her husband was keen to be the one in control, he knew when to step back. Tommy had no concept of such a thing.

           “Why’d you think that is then?” Alfie inquired.

           Ella was curled up on the floor by the fireplace. She rested her head on Cyril’s stomach and had Anthea sprawled out over her feet. “Because none of us had any power when we were growing up.” She turned her head to look at Alfie. “Just poor gypsy children being raised by the streets. I always felt safest when I was on the road. Small Heath was home but…” She sighed and folded her hands over her stomach. “Being around the other Travelers was more comforting. People outside of the community always looked down on us. They were the ones in control, not us. But Tommy and Arthur, they always wanted to prove them wrong. They wanted to come out on top and then one day, they’d stand up and look down on the people who tried oppressing them. Then they’d say ‘who’d you think is in charge now, aye?’”

           Alfie seldom forgot how similar his childhood was to the Shelbys. Poor children of an oppressed people. The worst card to draw. “That’s the end goal then. Keep finding thrones to take until he dies by the sword.”

           The words were chilling and Ella swallowed fearfully. Family was a funny thing. No matter how many times Tommy raised hell, he was still her brother. Family was the key to their survival; it always had been. “I hope not. I hope he sees that there’s more to life.” She whispered.

           Alfie stood up with a grunt and went to sit beside her on the ground. “He’ll be alright, love.” He said softly. He hadn’t meant to make her fearful of Tommy’s future. Although, it was a rational concern.

           Ella sat up and went to cuddle up in his lap. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she sighed softly. “I’ve probably spent my entire life worrying about him. And everyone else for that matter.”

           He gently stroked her hair back and kissed her forehead. “So maybe it’s time to worry ‘bout yourself.”

           She smiled weakly and shook her head. “Selfishness isn’t really a desired trait, Alfie.”

           “Nah, it ain’t selfishness.” He disagreed. “S’called priorities. Soon you’ll have two major priorities, aye?”

           Ella’s smile brightened. “That’s right.” She murmured. “It almost doesn’t feel real.”

           “Because it’s something good, yeah? Something you deserve.”

           “You deserve it too.” She looked up at him and traced her fingertips down the nape of his neck.

           Alfie gazed back adoringly at her. “Aw, love, you still look so fucking beautiful even when I only have one good eye left.”

           She laughed and tugged on the collar of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

           One morning, Tommy gathered the babies and birth certificates and drove them down to Margate.  

           Ella and Alfie were waiting outside when he pulled up. His sister had been crying on and off all day, waiting for the arrival of the twins. Alfie was leaning on his cane, a look of happiness mixed with apprehension on his face. It had been the first time in weeks he’d been able to focus on something other than the pain.

           Tommy got out of the car and opened the backdoor. “Congratulations, it’s a boy and a girl.” He announced with a smile.

           Ella ran up and burst into tears. “Oh, Alfie…” She carefully scooped up the little girl and handed her to her husband so she could pick up the boy.

           Alfie cradled the baby in his arms and felt his chest tighten. Blood-related or not, he instantly felt the fatherly connection that others spoke about. The undying commitment to protecting them and the unconditional love.

           “Both healthy.” Tommy continued. “I’ve got their birth certificates with Ella’s name. When the time comes, Alfie, we can add yours as well.” He explained. Ella was too busy crying over the tiny bundle in her arms, cradling him close and kissing the wisps of brown hair already growing on his head.

           Alfie swallowed and held his daughter in one arm so he could shake Tommy’s hand. “Thank you.”

           Tommy simply nodded. He figured it was the least he could do for his sister and brother-in-law. Even with the adoption, he still had a lot of things to make up for. But there would be more time for that. Once Mosley was dead, they would all have more time.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Since they’d agreed to adopt the children, Ella and Alfie had been discussing names leading up to the arrival. They settled on names that meant a great deal to Alfie. Sofia Eliana, named after his mother. And Ezra Shai, after an uncle killed in Russia.

           With the names given and the nursery set up, Ella and Alfie found themselves immersed in parenthood. The experience that had been robbed from them once before. There was a peace that blanketed over their life. The outside noise of Mosley and the fascists were far in the distance and quiet compared to the ocean waves and heartbeat of two babies.

           The first night, Alfie found his wife sitting in the nursery. Ezra slept peacefully against her chest as she rocked back and forth in the rocking chair. Sofia was awake but merely quietly observing the world from her cot.

           Alfie walked over to the crib, reaching in so she could hold his index finger. The young child smiled up at him and yawned. Overwhelmed with all the emotions of a new parent, he could only smile back and gently wiggle her tiny toes.

           When Sofia let go of his finger, he went over to his wife and son. “Tired yet?” He asked quietly.

           Ella shook her head. “I’m too happy to be tired.” She whispered. She gently stroked back Ezra’s soft hair. Her eyes fondly watched him sleep. “I keep thinking they’re not real. They can’t possibly be real, they’re too perfect. I’m afraid that if I fall asleep, they’ll only be a dream when I wake up.”

           Alfie knelt down in front of her, touching her cheek. “They’re real, love, I promise ya.” He murmured softly. “I’m just happy, right, you can have what you deserved all along. This is a second chance for us.”

           His wife bit her lip and nodded, tears in her eyes. She kissed Ezra’s head and carefully stood up to put him in his cot.

           “Besides, love, I don’t think we’ll be getting much fucking sleep. They’re still gonna wake us up in the night.”

           “I can’t wait.” She giggled and embraced her husband tightly. “I’m so happy, Alfie, I can’t even explain it.”

           He knew what she was trying to grasp. The emotions that pressed right against his heart. The unbearable love and adoration he had for these little tiny beings. The worry that he wasn’t enough or that something bad would happen to them. The realization that time was passing right before their eyes. Soon enough these tiny babies would grow and grow. Soon they’d be walking and talking. Running around outside and going to school. It was tough to slow down his racing thoughts and hammering heart. It was a cocktail of feelings he’d never experienced before.

           “I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I am too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was correct in his prediction that the twins would keep them up that night. Not that either of them slept very deeply. Ella dozed off in her husband’s arms but he merely stared up at the ceiling. The sound of the ocean rolling in from the ajar window beside them.

           Alfie waited, his arm around his wife, his other hand resting on his stomach. His ears were open, waiting for any sounds from the nursery. Eventually, about an hour of staring blankly at the bare ceiling, a soft whimper traveled down the hallway. He slipped away from Ella and stepped carefully over Cyril and Anthea sprawled out on the floor.

           He entered the nursery and discovered it was Ezra who was awake. “You up already, mate? Hungry?” He asked gently and scooped up the tiny baby. “We’ve got a bottle in the kitchen.” A tremor went through Alfie when he realized how utterly unprepared, he felt. How could he ever know what his children needed until they were able to voice their thoughts? “Maybe a nappy change?” He proposed too as if Ezra would answer him. “Erm…right.” For a moment, he stood in the center of the nursery, holding his crying son. “Let’s try…let’s try a bottle, aye?”

           Ezra wailed and thrashed about in Alfie’s arms as he carried him into the kitchen.

           “There, there, daddy’s got ya.” He did his best to balance the babe while he retrieved a bottle. He went to sit in the sitting room and offered the bottle to Ezra.

           The baby’s face was red from crying but settled down enough to touch his hand on the bottle curiously. He hiccuped a few times and began to suckle on the bottle.

           Alfie sighed in relief and relaxed his shoulders. “There ya go. Good, lad. We did it, huh? Figured this whole thing out. Scary as it is.” He chuckled weakly. Ezra’s eyes began to slide shut as he continued eating. “Not so bad, huh? Think I could actually be good at this thing? I dunno. Your mum seems to think so. I’ll certainly try me best, that’s all I can promise, I s’pose. One day at a time, yeah?" He hummed and rested his head back against the chair, letting his eyes rest for a moment. "'Ccording to your aunts and uncles you'll grow faster than a fucking weed. Will blink and you and your sister will be walking 'n talking 'fore your mum and I even realize. That's alright though. We'll just take things as they come."

           Father and son stayed up together a little longer. Alfie cradling Ezra close, talking softly to him as he fed. There was such a stillness to the night that it almost felt like time wasn't moving forward. They were stuck in some sort of pause in the Earth's rotation. A quiet haven in the universe for only them to bond and enjoy the peace.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye @octaviareina @mylovelykelsifer @doubletriplepowerbomb @ramblingbaby @fuseburner @kaetastic

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[cottonwren]

What’s my name, Mr Mosley?

Summary: Oswald Mosley forgets Ada’s name. She reminds him.

Word count: 1.5k

---

“You are aware that without a chaperone they’ll kick you out.” 

Ada’s skin crawled with his voice, with how fucking smug he sounded, with the fact that it was him. She looked at Jessie with a sigh and gestured behind her. “I’m going to sort this out, Jess, I’ll be right back. Look after my drink.” She handed Jessie her bag - her gun was concealed in her dress pocket, should anything actually happen.

“Mr Mosley, as I’m sure you’re aware, I am currently in the pub. I have been here for the past three hours, catching up with a friend who anyone can see is also a woman.” Ada told him, gesturing to Jessie behind her, who looked positively murderous. “As much as the sentiment is appreciated, I would like to get back to my friend.”

“I’m sure your brother wouldn’t like to hear you talk to me like this, Ada.” His voice was crooning and sickly sweet, painfully so. Ada could feel her bones rot, and knew it was bad for the baby.

“My name, Oswald, is Miss Shelby. You will do well to remember it.” She told him, getting more and more agitated, but keeping her cool. “First names are unprofessional, and I don’t want to know you in any other capacity than as my brother’s adviser.”

“I think you’ll find that we’ll get along incredibly well if you just talk to me - it doesn’t do a widow well to be hostile to pleasant gentlemen.” Mosley hummed, as if it were just a simple fact. “Your brother calls you dangerous, but I wonder if that’s just due to the lack of company.”

“It doesn’t do an uncastrated man well to come near me and talk not only about my deceased husband but my capabilities.” 

Mosley placed his hand on her forearm - her arms were crossed over her chest, shoulders bulking out. “I’m sorry, the death of your husband must have been hard on you. I overstepped the mark, dear Ada.”

“The death of my husband is none of your concern. Get your hand off of me otherwise you’ll end up without it.” Ada told him, grabbing his wrist with her hand after he hesitated to move and beginning to twist. 

She heard a pop and smiled, keeping him doubled over. “So, Mr Mosley. Let’s try this again. What’s my name?”

He began to try and struggle through the pain, and people began to look. They saw her face and turned away - she assumed it was Jessie she could hear telling the staff that she was the worst of the Shelby clan and it would be safer to have it just happen without interference. 

“What is my name, Mr Mosley?” Ada repeated, spitting on the back of his head. 

“Did you ju-Ah!” 

Ada began to twist further, wondering how far up the arm she could damage. She’d carry on until she got her reply, of course, but she wondered just how much she could do. Tommy would kill him anyway, once she got back to his. He would have to, realistically.

Plus, he always got overprotective of her. For once she didn’t mind.

“What is my name, Mr Mosley?” She hissed, issuing a kick to his shin. Her blood was boiling, and she knew she was giving him too much time to think of his next moves.

“Miss Shelby.” He gasped out, apparently weaker than Ada had assumed.

“Good. Now, you’re going to leave, and we’re never going to speak about this again, are we? Because you know that the fate that lies before you if you do is so much worse than anything you’ve experienced, don’t you?” Ada asked, her voice sadistic and just as sickly as his was. “And you’re not going to try and intimidate any women in pubs again, are you?”

“Let me go!” He shouted, now beginning to try and move, but ending up on the sticky wood floor. 

“Answer. Me.” Ada growled, her voice like gravel. She glared at him and then let him go, taking her gun out. “I’ll see you in the House of Commons, Mr Mosley.”

He left, and the pub fell into silence. Ada dropped back into her seat and downed her drink, shaking her free hand. “I swear to God, Jess. That vile pig.”

Jessie sighed, having bought herself some pork scratchings as she waited. “Look, Ade. As great as that would have felt, and as sadistic as you are, you need to go tell Tommy what you’ve done. It’ll come back to bite you in the arse, even you can see that coming, right?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” Ada groaned, laying her head on the table. “I’m normally the smart one, what have I done?”

“You protected yourself and your unborn child, and that’s reasonable. He was being vile.” Jessie reasoned, but Ada knew Jessie too well, and knew that she wouldn’t let bias give in. It was all the politics, she reckoned. “But you need to go see your brother. Like now. From what you’ve told me, it’s already serious.”

“Fucking hell, Jess! Fucking fuck.” Ada groaned, pounding the seat cushion of the booth. “Right, let’s go. I’ll drop you off at yours.”

“Do you not want me to come with you?”

“Jess, as much as I adore you, I wouldn’t subject you to me and Tommy at the same time.” Ada sighed, pulling on her coat. She had always gotten on with Tommy best for one main reason - they were almost identical. They were, before the war, only Ada was more twisted than all of them, and planned. He came back and they were on an even field, only Ada still believed in love and justice.

It was their contrast in morals that made them such an incredible team - Tommy having no morals, and Ada thinking economically when she bought vegetables. It was because of Ada’s morals that they knew how to fuck people up the most, how to truly traumatise should the occasion arise.

“That’s fair.” Jessie nodded, downing her drink and passing her her bag. “Let’s go then.”

Ada dropped Jessie off quite quickly and without any fuss, urgent to get to Arrow House. The more she thought, the more she panicked. As a general rule, Ada Shelby did not panic. She screamed, she fought, she harmed, but she did not panic. It was a waste of time.

Once she pulled up to Arrow house it was just turning midnight, and Ada knew that Lizzie would be pissed off at her for disturbing the house. Ada also knew that if she didn’t, Lizzie might wake up without a head. Tommy might thank her.

“Miss Shelby, I wasn’t aware you were coming.” Francis told her, her expression vacant and empty. Ada wondered if that was what happened when you had to wait on Tommy Shelby MP OBE hand and foot every day.

“I wasn’t, but there was an incident. I need to talk to Thomas. He will tell you that it can wait until the morning, but please could you tell him that Ada is panicking.” Ada smiled, walking in and hanging her coat up. 

“I will go talk to him, Miss Shelby.” She nodded, quickly scuttling off like a strange cross between a nun and a crab. Aquatic, but modest.

Within five minutes, Tommy was running down the stairs, a panicked look in his eyes. “Ada, what happened? Francis said you were panicking.”

“Mosley came to the bar Jessie and I were at and wouldn’t stop coming onto me, and then he brought up Freddie, and called me dear, so I started twisting his arm…”

There was a prolonged silence of anticipation between them, though Ada didn’t need say any more. They knew each other like clockwork.

“I dislocated his hand, spat on him and made him run out of the bar.” Ada admitted, running a hand through her hair. “Jessie made me come tell you. With what happened in the field, and what happened with Bonnie, I didn’t want to take any chances. Karl is with Polly for the night, he couldn’t be safer.”

“Fucking hell, Ade.” Tommy sat next to her on the sofa - he was wearing a jumper she had gotten him for his birthday as a joke. It was a silvery colour, and reminded Ada of him.

“Tell me you’d have done any different.” 

“I’d have done worse.” Tommy didn’t need to say it, because she knew it to be true. Even though she hated him half the time, she always knew that were she or Karl in trouble, he would be there with a machine gun.

“Maybe that would have been better. Now he’s just angry.”

Tommy looked at her for a second, the initial adrenaline of Ada being in a bad way subsiding now that she was right in front of him and very obviously what a Shelby could consider fine.“I know we’re both thinking that we kill him but I’d like you to convince me otherwise.” 

“He said that you wouldn’t like it if you heard me talking to him like that. I think killing him might do some good, he’s pretty shit.” Ada reasoned softly, dropping her head on his shoulder and kicking her shoes off. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to have to kill him eventually.” Tommy reasoned, an arm on the back of the sofa. It had been a while since he and Ada had even spoken without fighting or disagreeing.

“You’re going to kill everyone eventually, Tommy. We need an actual plan.” 

“We need to see if he’s actually backing off…”

“Tommy, I might be dangerous, but there is nothing more dangerous than a rejected fascist who stinks surprisingly of piss.”

“Piss?” He asked softly, surprised. 

“Yeah… not what I was expecting, really, Tom.”

“No, I wouldn’t either… there was an article about pheromones in the daily mail, you don’t think..?” Tommy grinned, almost beginning to laugh.

Ada burst into giggles, which turned into full on belly laughter. 

Charlie found them first in the morning and cuddled in with Tommy and Ada, only to be found by Francis half an hour later. 

She let them lie in.

[mariacallous]

In April Vidkun Quisling had helped the Nazis  to power in Norway, placing himself at the head of a collaborationist government. Writing to Mark Ogilvie-Grant on 24 May, Nancy observed: ‘I’m glad Sir Oswald Quisling has been jugged, aren’t you, but think it quite useless if Lady Q is still at large.’

Mosley had been arrested two days after the government had pushed through an amendment to the Emergency Powers Act, known as ‘18B’. Under the new clause, the home secretary was empowered to detain anyone who was a member of an organization believed to be ‘subject to foreign influence or control’ or whose leaders ‘have or have had associations with persons concerned in the governments of, or sympathetic with the system of government of, any power with which His Majesty is at war’. Special Branch had reported to Sir Alexander Maxwell that the BUF [British Union of Fascists and National Socialists] was ‘not merely advocating an anti-war policy, but a movement whose aim it is to assist the enemy in every way it can’.

Nancy opened the letter to Mrs Hammersley in which she admits to denouncing Diana with the ‘heartbreaking’ thought of all ‘our’ refugees, no doubt now destined for execution under Franco. She wrote that Peter was back for a brief visit before joining his battalion, then describes the visit to Gladwyn Jebb. She says she really knows very little about Diana’s activities, but had advised Jebb to examine her passport. There is a narrative of justification in this letter: first the refugees, then Peter, then the admission that she has done her unsisterly duty. Diana’s home had already been raided (luckily she had the presence of mind to hide the photograph of Hitler she kept by her bed) and on 29 June she was taken to Holloway, where she remained for the next three years. She did not learn of Nancy’s actions until after her sister’s death.

Diana was not imprisoned because her sister betrayed her. Her former father-in-law, Lord Moyne, had written to Lord Swinton, the chairman of the Security Executive, about his concern at her ‘extremely dangerous character’. His letter was passed to MI5 and a member of Swinton’s secret committee. Sir Alexander Maxwell at the Home Office, conversely, advised caution, but by then it was too late. Diana’s own unrepentant testimony when she was questioned by Norman Birkett on 2 October led the advisory committee to conclude that: ‘It would be quite impossible, having regard to her expressed attitude and her past activities with the leaders of Nazi Germany, to allow her to remain at liberty in these critical days...Lady Mosley could be extremely dangerous if she were at large.’

Nancy has been accused of the most grotesque hypocrisy in writing to her sister when she was permitted to do so, for sending her books and accepting gifts, including the money to buy a rare Guerlain lipstick, for playing the supportive sister. But she had done her political duty, and now she did her family duty. She was unrepentant about the conidtions Diana had to endure: the dirt, the squalor, the confinement and the terrible pain of being separated from her eleven-week-old son Max. True, Diana had committed no crime and had not been tried, but under 18B there was nothing illegal about her imprisonment. Diana herself was appalled to find herself condemned for nothing more than her political beliefs, but then she did not seem able to make the connection between this and the regime she supported. In Nancy’s view, Diana unequivocally deserved prison, and her feelings of sympathy could not be allowed to get in the way. She wondered what Diana did after 5pm lights-out in Holloway - ‘I suppose she sits and thinks of Adolf’. Such remarks are quoted as more evidence of Nancy’s callousness, her attempts to joke her way out of her own treachery. They were written at a time when London was suffering the worst of the Blitz and Nancy was caring for Jewish refugees at the Redesdale town house in Rutland Gate. In that context, they appear quite restrained.

From The Horror of Love

It should also be recognized that in addition to proclaiming support for the Nazis, Diana Mosley had also been working with her husband to set up a radio station in Germany to broadcast BUF material, had regularly been meeting and socializing with Hitler and other top Nazis (at one dinner she was at, Hitler and Goering had discussed their plans to take over Czechoslovakia, something she had withheld from reporting to the British government), had been soliciting funding for the BUF and the radio station from Nazis and Nazi supporters (and who had been getting funding from Mussolini already but which he stopped) and had been doing this for years. Further, the BUF pretty explicitly wanted to do what Quisling had done, and so it’s not unreasonable to view both Mosleys as dangerous and possibly treasonous individuals.

I don’t know that I’d let any sort of family connection override that but then I’m not totally like Nancy Mitford, either.

[mindfulwrath]

The Door Ajar - Chapter 1: Introductions

I’ve never written any fic with OCs and I’ve been feeling like a damn coward because of it, so here it is, my very first OC and/or lodgersona fic.

The general conceit is that Frankenstein and the Creature never turned up during Hyde’s night out, so Moreau never turned up and the Society remained intact (for the moment).

Fandom: The Glass Scientists Words: 3,548 Warnings: None yet

Dr. Leslie Fletcher was a handsome, well-dressed man, with a boyish face and a lanky figure. His suit was tailored, and his hair, while longer than was fashionable, was glossy and neat. He wore no beard or mustache and carried a slender black cane, which he did not lean on when he walked. He had a firm handshake and made uncomfortable amounts of eye-contact.

"Dr. Jekyll," he said. He had a pleasant tenor voice. "Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me."

"Thank you for contacting me!" Jekyll returned. "I must say, your offer of sponsorship was, while unexpected, certainly not unwelcome."

"Yes, alas, science is a pauper's profession with a princely price tag," Dr. Fletcher said.

"Ah, how true," Jekyll lamented, shaking his head. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Dr. Fletcher said, settling into the indicated chair.

"Could I get you a drink?"

"I'm afraid I shall have to decline," Dr. Fletcher said. "Anything stronger than Earl Gray plays havoc with my sleep."

"Even coffee? How unfortunate," said Jekyll. He sat himself down and glanced cursorily at Dr. Fletcher's letter, although he'd read it eight times through by then. "I find that so long as I keep the coffee to the morning and the wine to the evening, I manage."

Dr. Fletcher offered a polite laugh, which Jekyll echoed.

"I do envy you that," Dr. Fletcher sighed. "A cup of coffee in the morning will have me up 'til dawn and a glass of wine in the evening will keep me in bed past noon."

"I'm sincerely impressed with your ability to attain a doctorate without the use of coffee," Jekyll said. "I practically lived off the stuff my last year."

"Oh, as did I," Fletcher assured him. "I simply forewent sleep eight nights out of seven."

Jekyll laughed. "I wish I could say I don't miss those days, but at times I do."

"They had their benefits," said Fletcher. "Out of curiosity, where did you attend?"

"Cambridge," said Jekyll. "And yourself?"

"Ah, I was an Oxford boy," he said. "With a brief stint in Italy."

"What did you study? I was ostensibly in chemistry."

"I was a scholar of religion," Fletcher said, then added playfully, "perhaps the with same ostensibly as yourself."

"Religion? Fascinating," said Jekyll, raising his eyebrows. "You mentioned in your letter that you were interested in becoming a member, as well as a sponsor."

"So I am," said Fletcher.

He did not elaborate, and Jekyll's conversational footing slipped, like Fletcher had been building a staircase for him and suddenly omitted a step.

"And what is it, precisely, that you do?" Jekyll asked. He could have kicked himself. "Not to discount you, of course, I realize that came out a tad more condescending than I had intended."

"Not a worry," said Fletcher. "I was, admittedly, purposefully vague."

"I had wondered," Jekyll said, scrunching up one eye halfway to a wink.

"Mainly, I dabble," Fletcher said. "A dash of astronomy, a touch of botany, a pinch of chemistry. Religion carried me a certain distance in the beginning, but I found it . . . lacking, in some points."

Jekyll watched him for a moment, searching his face.

"Lacking in which points, precisely?" he asked.

"A person might get the sense that you're accusing me of something," said Fletcher, laughing. "I'm no mad galvanist, more's the pity. Have you seen the play next door?"

"I have," Jekyll said. He winced. "It was . . . interesting."

"In a word," said Fletcher, his eyes alight with amusement. "I could certainly think of a few other choice words to describe it."

"And how would you describe your profession?" Jekyll asked. "In a word."

Fletcher considered the ceiling. The light caught his eyes, turning them to topazes. He bit his lip and arched a brow.

"Extraplanar explorer," he said, turning his gaze back to Jekyll. His mouth pinched with amusement. "Although I recognize that's two words."

"And, again indulge me, but what does that have to do with religion?"

Fletcher sat forward, holding Jekyll's gaze.

"Dr. Jekyll," he said, his voice low and intense. "Are you a religious man?"

"I . . . would say so," said Jekyll, apprehensive.

The corner of Fletcher's mouth twitched, a smile instantly fought down.

"Do you believe in angels?" he asked.

"Yes," Jekyll said carefully, narrowing his eyes. He was too curious about where this was going to play hard-to-get.

"You must, then, believe in demons, as well," said Fletcher.

"The Good Book says that they exist, so yes."

"I don't," said Fletcher.

"You don't?" said Jekyll shocked.

"No," said Fletcher, "I don't. There are creatures that have been described as demons, and as angels, but they are all simply more monsters. God is a monster."

This blasphemy was proclaimed with such frank sincerity that, again, it threw Jekyll off.

"I cannot imagine why you might have difficulty in polite society," he said, before he could stop himself. Fletcher laughed.

"Yes, that one would certainly earn me a few thrown stones," he said. "I don't mean it in an . . . accusatory way. God is a monster, much as that little church-grim I passed on the way in is a monster. What I think, Dr. Jekyll, is that the monsters we see in our world are but . . . shadows. Mice and cockroaches that have wriggled in through the crack under the door."

"And angels, demons, and God are behind the door?"

"They're what we see when we peek through the keyhole," Fletcher allowed. "Ezekiel describes the ophanim as wheels with rims full of eyes round about, wreathed in flame. Does that not sound monstrous to you? God is so terrible to behold that to look upon Him is to die! There is, I believe, a world outside of ours, surrounding it on all sides but invisible and walled off. I am simply trying to find the door."

"Are you trying to open it?" Jekyll asked, excited despite himself. Dr. Fletcher could certainly paint a tempting picture.

Fletcher smiled. He had not blinked in quite some time, and did not do so now.

"I suppose I shall make that decision when I find it," he said.

Clearing his throat, Jekyll wrestled his enthusiasm under control.

"What I am asking," he said, "is if you intend to summon demonic forces into my Society."

"No no," said Fletcher. "Under it."

"Oh, under it, of course," Jekyll said, rubbing his eyebrow.

"The esteemed Mr. Mosley lodges here, does he not?" said Fletcher. "I'm certain I could make use of some of his shallower excavations."

Jekyll looked up at him sharply. "You seem to have done your research," he said.

"Of course," said Fletcher, smiling pleasantly. "A scientist never enters into anything without doing the proper research. I trust you've done your research on me, hahah."

"Some," Jekyll said. "Only . . . shallow excavations, shall we say. Admittedly, even the topsoil is saturated with unpleasantness."

"Only the topsoil," Fletcher said. "I understand your misgivings, I really do. It may please you to know, I've developed a stringent containment protocol that has yet to fail me."

"Safety is . . . a primary concern, yes," said Jekyll. "But why us? Why here? It doesn't seem like what you're doing is, if you'll forgive my bluntness, particularly scientific."

"Anything is science if you apply the proper methodology," said Fletcher. "As to the why's: what I intend to do is never going to be completely safe, and is on the verge of becoming extremely dangerous. There's no safe place for it. Your Society is, however, the safest place I can think of to do it."

Jekyll didn't answer right away, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"I'm also very rich," Fletcher added.

"So I've heard," Jekyll sighed. "Would you like a tour, or would you prefer to find your own way?"

Fletcher grinned, preening. "I think a tour would be lovely!" he said.

"I will warn you, the lodgers are incorrigible gossips," Jekyll said. "There's doubtless a contingent of them with their ears pressed to my door, even now."

"Ah!" said Fletcher. "That would explain the whispering."

For a moment, there was silence.

"What—what whispering?" Jekyll said, the back of his neck prickling.

"I have excellent hearing," Fletcher said with a wink. He got to his feet, and Jekyll, for politeness's sake, was forced to rise as well. "I should mention, I don't intend to lodge here. I have my own place in Whitechapel."

"I have no doubt it's infinitely more comfortable than anything we could provide you with," Jekyll demurred.

"Not at all," Fletcher said brightly. "It is, in a word, austere. Still, it's home, and I should hate to have to let the servants go."

"I see," said Jekyll. "Well, should you ever change your mind or simply require a nearer bed, there will always be room for you here."

"It's much appreciated."

Jekyll went to the door and opened it. He caught the tail end of Archer's coat vanishing round the banister at the bottom of the stairs, and could smell the distinctive gunpowder perfume of either Luckett or Sinnett. Miss Flowers, Miss Lavender, and Mrs. Cantilupe were all conspicuously nearby and all wore varying attempts at innocent faces.

"Perhaps some introductions, to start off with?" Jekyll said, raising his voice just slightly more than was necessary. Flowers, Lavender, and Cantilupe all looked up, cranking the intensity on their innocent-faces.

"Capital idea!" said Fletcher, following Jekyll down the stairs. His cane tapped on the marble, slightly out of sync with his footsteps.

Jekyll introduced him to the three women, and he kissed their hands with perfect grace and sincerity. Jekyll paid closer attention after the first one, memorizing the details of the motion—the half-bow, the softness of his hand, the nigh-flirtatious eye-contact after the fact, the slightest brush of lips against knuckles, as though he had intended to place the kiss on air and just missed it. The performance left Flowers blushing and smiling, Lavender rolling her eyes, and Mrs. Cantilupe properly charmed.

It left Jekyll burning with jealousy.

Is it that you know you'll never be that good, or just that you want your hand kissed? Hyde chortled. Jekyll clenched his teeth.

Fletcher's eyes flicked to him, just for a moment, and his ear wiggled. Jekyll nearly crawled out of his skin.

"Henry, I do believe this is the first gentleman you've managed to drag in," Cantilupe declared.

"I mainly dragged myself in," Fletcher said, turning his attention back to the ladies. "Much to poor Dr. Jekyll's consternation, hahah."

"Certainly not," said Jekyll, although his charm was sitting slightly askew. "I'm simply unused to being—solicited, is all."

"He pulled most of us in off the street," Lavender said. "Generally out of the path of screaming mobs."

"Good heavens," said Fletcher. "It seems to have been tremendously good fortune for everyone involved!"

"Oh, yes," said Flowers. "That's part of why we're all working so hard for the exhibition."

"I wouldn't say that," said Lavender, side-eyeing her.

"It's part of why I am!" said Flowers. "The fate of the Society hinges on it!"

"You're always so dramatic, Camilla," Lavender sighed. "The exhibition isn't make-or-break, it's simply an opportunity for improvement."

"That's what you think," Flowers said. "But you know how things go wrong. Next thing you know, all of London will be up in flames!"

"It will not!" Luckett shouted, from somewhere near the stairs.

"I imagine it would be difficult to get all of London up in flames," Fletcher said kindly. Flowers shrank into herself and dropped her gaze. "Though certainly not impossible!"

"Are you going to be presenting at the exhibition, Dr. Fletcher?" Cantilupe asked.

"Me? Goodness, no," Fletcher said, laughing. "I doubt that would go over well. No, my contributions to the exhibition will be purely fiscal, and I think that's for the best."

"Surely not," said Lavender. "We'd love to see some of your work, if you'd be willing to show it."

Luckett and Archer both materialized at either side of the conversation, a pincer-formation of gossips.

"Certainly would," said Archer. He stuck out a hand. "Flynn Archer, pleasure to meet you."

"Leslie Fletcher," said Fletcher, shaking his hand and grinning. "Fletcher and Archer, what a pair we make!"

Archer laughed. "What a pair, indeed!"

"And this is Mr. Luckett," Jekyll said, presenting him. Fletcher shook his hand, too. The elbow of Luckett's sleeve was currently smoldering.

"A pleasure," said Fletcher. "Perhaps I'll run into all of you again later on the tour, and you can demonstrate some of your work for me. I'd love to see it, up close and in person."

"Ah, not everything ought to be seen up close," said Luckett, making a face.

"At a reasonable distance, then," Fletcher said with a wink.

A few more politenesses were exchanged before Jekyll managed to extract Fletcher from the conversation, which he had to do as quickly as possible because more lodgers were converging on the knot. He took him around the back way of the Society, which was generally less populous in the daytime, and where the lodgers would have to spend a few minutes inventing a reason to turn up.

"Most of the interesting things are upstairs, of course," Jekyll said. "The downstairs is primarily for showing off, in the case of the atrium, and for mundanities, in the case of the kitchen."

He gestured to the large oak door as they came to it. Thankfully, it was closed, although the smell of baking bread filled the corridor.

"Do you employ a cooking staff?" Fletcher asked, strolling past the door with Jekyll.

"In a manner of speaking," said Jekyll. "The staff currently consists of—"

"One moment," Fletcher said, stopping on a dime and leaning back on one leg, swinging his cane jauntily for balance. "I distinctly heard the phrase murdered his whole family. Excuse me."

Before Jekyll could catch him, he had doubled back through the door to the kitchen, and Jekyll was forced to scurry after him.

"I'm certain it wasn't—" he began.

"Speak of the Devil and he shall appear," Fletcher said, leaning on his cane and crossing one ankle over the other. Rachel and Jasper nearly leapt out of their skins. Rachel knocked over a bowl of apples, and Jasper let out a loud squeak and tried to hide behind her. Fletcher grinned like a shark.

"Ah, Jasper, Rachel, this is Dr. Leslie Fletcher," Jekyll said, laying a careful hand between Fletcher's shoulders.

"Please don't touch me," Fletcher said amiably, his smile unmoved.

"Yes, sorry, terribly sorry," said Jekyll, removing his hand from Fletcher's back. "Dr. Fletcher, these are Mr. Jasper Kaylock and Miss Rachel Pidgley. Mr. Kaylock is a lodger, and Miss Pidgley is our cook and day manager."

"And evidently reader of gossip columns!" Fletcher said. His eyes were fixed on Rachel. He crossed to her and stuck out a hand. "A pleasure."

"Y-yes, of course," said Rachel, taking his hand gingerly.

Fletcher raised it to his lips and kissed it, holding her gaze the entire time. Rachel flushed, but not, Jekyll thought, from any sort of flattery. Fletcher let her go and turned to Jasper, sticking out his hand again.

"Er, good to meet you, sir," Jasper mumbled, shaking his hand.

"Very!" Fletcher said. "What is your field of study, Mr. Kaylock?"

"Um," said Jasper. Fletcher still hadn't let go of his hand. "Er, cryptobiology, sir."

"Sir, I'm not a professor," Fletcher said, laughing. "Please, call me Leslie. Everyone does. Except the newspapers, of course, but when have they ever called anyone what they wanted to be called."

He turned and looked very pointedly at Jekyll, who could only incline his head and smile.

"Rarely," he said. "Ah, while we're here, I suppose I might as well mention, the kitchen is open at all hours, although lodgers are encouraged not to attempt anything . . . shall we say ambitious after-hours."

"Of course," said Fletcher. He pivoted and pinned Rachel with his gaze. "And what is it a day manager does?"

"Um? Well," said Rachel. "It's—it's all a bit dull, really."

Fletcher leaned on his cane and crossed his ankles again.

"Really?" he said.

"Dr. Fletcher," Jekyll said, approaching sidelong. "I'm sure Miss Pidgley is very busy just at the moment. Perhaps you could catch up with her later, after our tour?"

"Capital idea," said Fletcher, finally turning his gaze back to Jekyll and locking eyes with him. "Where to next? I'd love to see some of the labs, if possible."

"Yes, of course," said Jekyll, trying not to let his relief show. He had a feeling he'd failed, partially because Fletcher was so intently watching his eyes. "They're mostly upstairs."

He'd almost, almost gotten Fletcher all the way out when the man turned back for a parting shot.

"By the way," he said to Rachel, "it wasn't the whole family. Just the sister."

"Um?" Rachel squeaked. Jekyll herded Fletcher out the door before he could make it any worse.

"Dr. Fletcher, I would sincerely appreciate it if you would refrain from menacing the other lodgers," Jekyll said, his voice taut.

"I wasn't menacing," Fletcher said, insulted. "It was a joke! As was the investigation. I was in Venice when it happened, for goodness' sake."

"Ahah, yes, well, these things do tend to get blown out of proportion in the rumor-mill," Jekyll said, fighting down an embarrassed flush.

"Have I just met the miller?"

"I regret to inform you, Dr. Fletcher, that they are all millers."

"Oh, excellent," said Fletcher, sounding genuinely amused. "I'm certain that helps when separating the wheat from the chaff."

Jekyll laughed politely.

I hate him already, Hyde drawled.

Again, Fletcher looked at him, and Jekyll was struck by the sudden and insane terror that he could hear Hyde.

"It, ah, it can prove, in some cases, beneficial," Jekyll said. He resisted the impulse to tug on his collar, although he couldn't stop himself from sweating. "To have such an informed . . . body of people."

"I'm sure," said Fletcher. He kept looking at Jekyll's eyes, like he was expecting to see something. "And speaking of bodies of people, I really haven't murdered anyone. In case you're harboring doubts."

"No! Me? Certainly not," said Jekyll. "As you said, the investigation was unwarranted."

"I never said it was unwarranted," Fletcher said, still watching him. "I just said it was a joke."

"Ahah," said Jekyll. "Quite. Shall we head upstairs? I believe Dr. Maijabi is in, you'll probably enjoy his work. . . ."

Fletcher finally turned his gaze back to the Society at large and allowed Jekyll to get on with his practiced, polished rambling. The rest of the tour went off without further incident, Fletcher playing the perfect gentleman and Jekyll playing the perfect host. They concluded in Mosley's underground launch bay, where Jekyll left Fletcher and Mosley to discuss the specifics of where Fletcher might set up. The sense of relief when he got back to his own office and shut the doors behind him was profound.

He definitely murdered his whole family, Hyde said, lounging in the cheval-glass. He's mad as a bat in a belfry.

"He is, admittedly, a touch unsettling," Jekyll said, moving to his desk. "But none of the lodgers are strictly speaking sane. I doubt he'll cause any trouble."

You're only after his money, Hyde scoffed. If he wasn't rich, you'd never have given him the time of day. What a pretty whore you are, so sweet and desperate.

"Must you do this every time?" Jekyll asked, exasperated.

Oh, I must, dear doctor, I must, said Hyde. And you had better be careful about talking back, now that Batty Fletcher's Incredible Ears are wandering the halls.

"I'd be less tempted if you didn't talk in the first place," Jekyll muttered.

Where would be the fun in that? Hyde said. You should let me meet him.

"Absolutely not."

I want his cane.

"Absolutely not."

He doesn't use it. It'd look much better on me. And think of what fun it would be, to burgle Batty Fletcher! I can see it now: Robbery in Whitechapel, Police Baffled!

"Neither you nor I is robbing any of my lodgers, and that is absolutely final."

We could pin it on somebody else. Think of the ~drama~!

"You really are in a mood today, aren't you."

Maybe whatever Fletcher's got is catching.

"I think he has some very sound and interesting ideas," Jekyll said stiffly.

Of course you do, said Hyde. You're just as crazy as he is.

"Neither one of us is crazy," said Jekyll.

You so are, said Hyde. I give it a week before he figures you out. Before he sees how cheap and hollow you are. I bet he can hear it.

"So long as he doesn't withdraw his funding, I don't much care," Jekyll said.

Bo-ring, Hyde said, yawning. Call me when the first demon turns up. We'll see if Batty Fletcher can't give you some more interesting fears.

"Good, go away," said Jekyll.

Just for that, I won't, Hyde said. He then launched into the longest drinking song he knew, raucous and off-key.

Jekyll sighed and put a hand over his eyes.

[otisoverturf]

Faith No More: The Inside Story Of The Real Thing

In these days of genre-blurring artists and playlists, it can be difficult to comprehend just how radical Faith No More were when they released breakout album The Real Thing in 1989. Nirvana are generally credited (or blamed) for the death of ’80s hair metal but Faith No More certainly played their part in making rock music a more freeform and twisted playground.

A version of the band had formed as early as 1979 but they struggled to find a vocalist, trying out a succession of hopefuls (including a pre-fame Courtney Love) before finally settling on Chuck Mosley. Chuck was reckless ball of energy onstage and, while he was hardly a technically gifted singer, his roughshod delivery added a raw punk edge to the band. He also clashed with the other members however and his antics began to be seen as a liability. There were altercations and even a reported punch-up onstage between the singer and bassist Billy Gould.

After two albums and too much time spent together in a crappy van, Chuck was booted from the band, leaving Faith No More in limbo. “When we kicked out Chuck we hadn’t written one new song for [The Real Thing], we had no idea what we were gonna do, we’d toured the last album for two years and I personally thought we were all used up and dried out,” Billy told Kerrang! in 1990.

Rather than letting their at-the-time cult act momentum disintegrate, the remaining members of the band got to work on writing their third album without a vocalist. That missing part of the puzzle would soon arrive in the form of the mercurial Mike Patton. The 20-year old singer was still a student at the time but gave FNM a demo of his quirky, experimental rock band Mr Bungle. “I gave (drummer) Mike Bordin a tape of my band because I thought he’d like it, then they just gave me a call one day and said, ‘Let’s jam’,” he told K! at the time. “It was quite casual. It felt comfortable for them and for me too.”

Patton’s powerful, versatile and acrobatic vocals brought a whole new dimension to the band. In a 2019 Q&A with fan site Faithnomorefollowers.com, Billy recalled the first time he heard one of their songs played back with Patton’s vocals. “The first song I heard with Mike P was [From] Out Of Nowhere,” he said. “We had a rehearsal recording and he came over to my house to work on his vocal ideas to a few songs. I hadn’t heard his voice recorded before, and within 30 seconds of hearing his contribution, it almost freaked me out on how well it worked.”

Not that it was always easy to get the best out of the new vocalist at that point. Producer Matt Wallace, who had been with the band almost from the start, described working with Patton as “like trying to ride a bull or a racing motorcycle”. Wallace had recorded FNM’s first two albums and he even shared a loft space with the five members when they were working on ’85 debut We Care A Lot. He certainly has a claim to be described as the band’s sixth man and recognised the talent they’d found. “He and I had disagreements about ‘tone’ and the fact that we weren’t able to capture the full range of his voice,” he told Faithnomorefollowers. “But, I don’t believe that I’ve ever worked with anyone who was built to sing like Patton because he made everything sound and appear to be effortless. But, if you really listen, he’s doing some amazing singing, phrasing, and lyric and melody writing.”

The new singer had come in too late to contribute to the music on The Real Thing. That was already done and the band were resistant even to suggestions on tweaking the arrangements. It’s perhaps telling that when Patton did become a full creative partner on follow-up Angel Dust, the band created a much heavier and far more awkward beast. “I don’t think people will like this record at all,” he told us at the time… but that’s a story for another day.

People did like The Real Thing. To coin a phrase, they cared a lot. They liked the way it mixed metal, punk, funk, prog and half a dozen other elements. They liked the often twisted, dark, surreal and humorous lyrics – which did come direct from the often twisted, dark, surreal and humorous mind of Mike Patton. “Ugly things,” he replied when K! asked him what inspired him lyrically. “Orgasms, nausea, frustration, dandruff and carving up the wife! Underwater Love was basically about murdering someone you love.” People liked The Real Thing a lot but it was a slow start and it was the UK that embraced the band first.

After a show in Newcastle on the band’s UK tour in support of the album, Mike Patton pondered why that might be. “Tonight at the show we were sitting in the dressing room afterwards saying, ‘Why do these people like us?’ he told Kerrang! “It’s a good question. We seem to be getting a lot of good press and all these rock stars like us.” This was true but not every rock star liked them, it seemed. Anthony Kiedis accused Patton of ‘stealing his style’ in the video for Epic, telling us: “My drummer says he’s gonna kidnap [Patton], shave his hair off and cut off one of his feet, just so he’ll be forced to find a style of his own.”

Patton initially refused to respond but eventually told us. “Reading that article gave me a good laugh - it sounded like old Anthony felt a little threatened, I dunno. If he wants to give me press instead of his band, his girlfriend or whatever, that’s fine by me.”

Inter-band feuds aside, things were starting to look up for Faith No More. In the UK they were selling out venues like the Hammersmith Apollo and in the U.S. the arty, surreal video for Epic - which featured a flopping fish as well as a wet Patton dancing in a way that may or may not be similar to Mr. Kiedis – started to propel them up the album charts.

By the end of the cycle, Faith No More were global superstars. They didn’t exactly embrace fame and fortune wholeheartedly but the world of rock and metal would never feel quite as straitjacketed or constrained as it had before their success.

Posted on June 20th 2019, 11:14am

The post Faith No More: The Inside Story Of The Real Thing appeared first on Social Juicebox.

Source: https://socialjuicebox.com/ Faith No More: The Inside Story Of The Real Thing published first on https://socialjuicebox.com/

[natashabaker86]

5 Best Documentary Films About Vaping You Have to Check Out

Documentary films about vaping is not a topic covered all that well. Did you even know that vaping related movies or documentaries existed? As vaping is expanding, so is the culture, such as vape tricks and vaping events – which has evolved some people into what you can consider vaping celebs.

With not a lot known about the effects of vaping and the industry, many filmmakers have taken to the subject to document, offer facts and shine provide relative information into this “hot topic.” Without further ado, we have compiled 5 of the best documentary films about vaping for you to check out.

5 Best Documentary Films About Vaping

1. Beyond The Cloud (2016)

Two French directors Ghyslain Armand and Sébastien DUIJNDAM have taken on the “hot topic” by creating a documentary into the world of vaping. The narrator (Armand) gives us insight into all of it by interviewing tobacco executives, business owners, politicians and health advocates on why public health institutions are opening up to vaping.

We thought, the documentary offered a lot of insight into current issues and was overall well made. Beyond the Cloud is a great documentary into the world of vaping, which is in need of more positive publicity.

Youtube.com/VAPEXPO France

Synopsis

“With more than 6 million deaths per year worldwide, tobacco use is the major cause of premature mortality in the world. WHO estimates that half of current tobacco users die from a disease caused by their addiction. The health authorities, even when not radically opposed, remain very cautious with this new device. Against a backdrop of scientific and political war, the electronic cigarette is currently shaking up public health codes.” (source: VAPEXPO France on YT)

Directed By: Ghyslain ARMAND and Sébastien DUIJNDAM

Produced By: Vapexpo and co-presented with the Vaping Post

2. A Billion Lives: The First Vaping Documentary (2016)

This documentary by Aaron Biebert promotes vaping in a way that may be of interest to smokers. The film confronts the projection that a billion people will die from smoking this century. The first section of the film deals with tobacco corporations their products and their effects. The second part talks about the market shift into e-cigarettes while the last deals with how the tobacco industry is keeping up with the ever-expanding vaping market.

Overall, the film is great and has awards and nominations to back that claim. Such as a Silver REMI – WorldFest Houston (2016) and nominee for “Best International Feature” – Finalist, DocEdge film festival (2016).

Attention Era Media LLC

Synopsis:

“The United Nations’ World Health Organization projects that a billion people will die prematurely from smoking this century. In the next 20 years, there will be nearly 1.6 billion smokers around the world. A Billion Lives takes a critical look at the history of smoking and the corruption that’s led to the current situation where safer, other alternatives are banned or heavily restricted in most countries, while the cigarette trade is continually protected. The film examines major conflicts of interest and corruption between governments, big pharmaceutical companies, and public health officials. It also takes a look at the history of e-cigarettes, as well as the role vapor technology and Swedish snus have played in the current health crisis.” (source: A Billion Lives on Facebook)

Directed By: Aaron Biebert

Produced By: Attention Era Media

3. E-Cigarettes: Welcome Back, Big Tobacco – the fifth estate (2016)

The fifth estate is a Canadian documentary about how England is taking steps on embracing e-cigs over big tobacco companies, and if Canada will follow suit. The documentary goes into the projection for continued smokers and the size of the vaping industry. The interviewer Mark Kelley asks the tough questions to big tobacco on competing with other alternatives.

This documentary provides an excellent insight from multiple angles on big tobacco companies plans, vaping as a whole and the potential benefits and risks involved with it all. If you are interested in recent tobacco and vaping information, this documentary would be a great watch.

Youtube.com/The Fifth Estate

Synopsis:

“The filmmakers travel to the world’s second largest tobacco company – British American Tobacco – and witness the work being done to produce the ideal vaping experience. Inside their top secret labs, over 800 million dollars is being spent on the development of e-cigarettes and other nicotine-based products which are designed to be less harmful than traditional cigarettes. But can a tobacco company really be relied upon to regulate itself, and encourage consumers to stop purchasing their most profitable cash cow?” (source: topdocumentaryfilms)

Directed By: Bob McKeown, Gillian Findlay, and Mark Kelley

Produced By: CBC Canada

4. E-Cigarettes: Miracle or Menace? – Horizon: E-Cigarettes – BBC Two (2016)

In this BBC documentary, Michael Mosley takes an in-depth look into vaping and its potential. Mr. Mosley as a non-smoker himself tests out a device with nicotine. He attempts for himself and us to discover the effects of vaping. After using the device for some time, he felt the nicotine did not affect his overall performance.

This documentary is quite interesting for someone looking for a more personal and direct look into vaping and its effects.

BBC Two

Synopsis:

“Michael Mosley investigates the dramatic rise in e-cigarettes. They’re everywhere these days, but what does the latest scientific research on them reveal? Michael reveals what e-cigarettes are really doing to your health. Are they really better for you than cigarettes? What is actually in them? Is passive vapour harmful? And can they really stop you from smoking? Michael meets some of the scientists around the world studying them, asks a group of volunteers to try to give up smoking regular cigarettes using them, and even takes up ‘vaping’ himself, smoking an e-cigarette every day for a month to see the effects on his own health – no easy task for such a committed non-smoker.” (source: BBC Two)

Directed By: Emma Hatherley

Produced By: BBC TWO, Emma Hatherley

5. Vape Life Documentary – EP1|EP2 (2014-2015)

Vape Life is a multiple-episode documentary on everything vaping such as the technology, industry, community, and the culture. The first episode offers an insight into the reasons behind tobacco addiction, and the possible influence nicotine plays. The second episode is a bit shorter and takes a quite thorough look into the invention of e-cigs and how vaporizers work.

The documentary is not the longest out of the others mentioned. However, it is short, informational and to the point. This film is recommended for those interested in the subject, but do not have an overabundant amount of free time. Overall, a recommended watch.

Youtube.com/United Vapers

Synopsis:

“Episode 1 of a multi-part documentary about vaping; the technology behind it, the vaping industry, the culture and community and the movement. Episode 2 of the Vape Life Documentary, we take a look at the invention of the electronic cigarette and how these vaping devices work.” (source: Youtube.com/United Vapers)

Directed By: Joey Kayo

Produced By: Joey Kayo

The post 5 Best Documentary Films About Vaping You Have to Check Out appeared first on Vaping Daily.

from Smoking News https://vapingdaily.com/blog/best-documentary-films-about-vaping/

[sirensmojo]

"KINDRED",6 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Plot(s), Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: You're a reconverted ex war-nurse and join forces with Thomas Shelby to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: This is the end of the Serie guys... The next part is the epilogue. II Gina's family is totally OC & It's Tommy POV.

*Masterlist*

❰ ​Previous Chapter

“I dreamt about a black cat,” Tommy went to sit down next to you, he was so close to you that your shoulders were touching, to his greatest pleasure.

After Polly left him, he stayed in his office for what seemed to be hours. It was his thirst for whiskey that hurried him to leave the room, and after he wandered in Small Heath’s streets & pubs, he conceded to do what he wanted to do since Pol left his office, see Y/N.

She was now in front of him, intently looking into his blue iris while remaining silent, a sign that she was waiting for him to continue.

“Thought it was Michael,” he raised a brow, “You told me it was Gina.” He pointed to her with his hand that was holding his cup of whiskey.

“Now Polly resigned.” He scoffed to himself. He couldn’t believe it was true that she left the company. And the worst part was that she was leaving to be on his enemy's side, Michael’s.

“Resigned?” Y/N raised her brows, quite surprised by the revelation.

Tommy didn’t answer, too occupied looking at the void in front of him. The woman didn’t know the Shelby family for quite long, but they seemed close. It was hard for her to understand the actual situation, and it’s in her head that she was making the additions to fill in the blanks in Thomas’s speech.

“She joined with Michael?” She concluded fast enough to catch Tommy desperately looking at her. It wasn’t simple to read his face, but she was used to him now, and their intimacy made it easier for her to see that Tommy was truly hurt by the event.

Y/N was seated on her knees, turned toward the Peaky head with one elbow at the top of the sofa and her chin in her palm. Her free hand was fidgeting with the tassels of her dress.

It was what Tommy firstly saw when she got out of the car ten minutes ago.

They arrived at her manor at the same time, both of their vehicles facing the other. Tommy got one hand onto his gun that was in his shoulder holster under his suit and Y/N was holding a rifle she kept on the passenger seat.

It was only when they turned off the headlights and that their stare connected that their bodies relaxed, the tension being replaced by the desire to possess the other.

Once out of the car, Tom couldn’t look at anything else other than the dress the Y/E/C eyed woman was wearing, it was a form-hugging grey satin one that reached her knees with a split on one of her legs, revealing some more skin.

At each of her actions, the tassels would move to accompany her figure, which mesmerized Tommy who forgot the reason for his coming.

She lifted her hand to Tom’s arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. She didn’t want to use words as she knew he didn’t admit to himself that he was hurt. Y/N remained silent a little more before an idea crossed her mind.

“There is going to be a meeting, Tommy. A last one.”

He exhaled deeply and lifted his stare to her, intrigued by the confidence in the woman’s voice. She knew what he was thinking and nodded to him, “A family meeting. I will take the lead. I know exactly where to hit.” Her fingers slide to Tom’s hand as she was brushing the tip of her fingers on his skin.

The blue-eyed man wasn’t saying anything, but unlike any other time, he wasn’t deep in thought, this time, he was trying to read Y/N’s face. He knew she was ready for anything and ready to do everything, but the question remaining was, what?

What did she have in mind this time?

“Did you free Gina?” Tom suddenly asks, with everything that was happening he almost forgot that Y/N abducted his cousin’s wife to get rid of the couple after they treated Tommy’s status in the company.

She shook her head, “I did not do such a thing,” she raised her eyebrows with excitement, “Do you want to know our plan?” She shifted position, straightening back on her knees with both her hands on her thighs.

Tommy knew her, when she was this excited it didn’t presage anything good, and by the fire burning behind her iris, he knew he was right. “Please.” He agreed.

“Michael Gray, Polly Gray, Mr Rice & me, in the family meeting.” A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips, distracting him a minute from what she just said.

“Mr Rice?” He squinted his eyes, frowning.

“Gina’s father.” The woman began as she poured some liquor into her cup, “He is here, in Birmingham, I’ve met with him today actually.” She sipped on her drink as if everything she was saying was normal.

But the more she was speaking and the more Tom’s brain got filled with questions, and when he was about to open his mouth, Y/N spoke again, well aware that Tommy didn’t understand.

“Remember when I told you that Gina was working with her uncle? Well, her father used to work with his own brother when younger, but he settled down when he met God. So I just twisted his mind into thinking his brother is using his daughter to get to him and... boom. We got another ally.”

“How come you know so much about her family?”

“It’s called socializing, Thomas, you should try it from time to time. When you use the money to get information, I use my pretty eyes.” She winked at him.

He snickered at her remark, did she just criticize his way of dealing with things? No. She proved more than once her benevolence towards Tommy and his business. “So, why do you want my enemies in a family meeting?” The man emphasized the last words to highlight how absurd Y/N’s idea seemed.

“To show ‘em our hand, we got all the cards right there, Tom.” She opened the man’s hand and patted at his palm with her index.

It was still quite peculiar for him to admit that Y/N handled difficult situations ridiculously well, and even more, to admit that she was indeed helping him.

Tommy wasn’t the type to let people get into his business because he was the only one to know how things needed to be handled, but since he met her, she hadn’t done one thing wrong.

She always had the right answers to threats, she always made the right moves, and even if he wouldn’t fully admit it to himself, he wanted to trust her. Even if he was well aware that she wasn’t telling him everything. He respected that, only because her resilience to fight for his business and himself was genuine.

Maybe Polly got it right the other night at the Garrison, he might be loving her.

“What do you say?” The woman’s voice got him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

She chuckled and shifted her position to be closer to him when realizing he wasn’t even listening to her, “Why that serious face?” she asked as the tips of her fingers encountered Tom’s cheek tenderly.

The man didn’t move a bit, paralyzed by the thousands of sparkles running down his spine. He wasn’t used to her being that soft with him, and at the same time, he never wanted to get used to this, from the way her lips were stretched into a smile to the sweet gleam animating her eyes.

“You went out tonight?” He dismissed her previous question. She didn’t need to know that even when being with her he was still thinking about her.

The thing between them was still as fresh as spring wind and he was so used to seeing her being all strategic and untamed, that seeing her smiling and giggling with him ignited something in him.

“It's a women’s night,” She leaned toward him and pecked his lips before getting up. His fingers that were drawing circles on her thigh slid to her hand and she squeezed it before pulling on it, “the night’s still young. Come ‘ere, Sergeant Major.” She mentioned to him as starting to move her hips.

Tommy’s eyes weren’t leaving her figure, he didn't even blink, too afraid she would vanish. Seeing that she was inviting him to join her, he gave her a faint smile.

(...)

Y/N pushed the Garrison’s door and entered, followed by Tommy. The sound of her high heels caught the attention of the people already inside, heads turned to the lovers as they both puffed on their cigs, ignoring the fact they were late.

“Good morning everyone, I’m happy you could all make it. We know there are disagreements between some of you, but business comes first, right?” Y/N took the lead, positioning herself in front of everybody.

In the room we could see Polly, sitting at the same table as her son Michael who kept an empty chair next to him, probably expecting his wife to join the meeting. Arthur was next to the counter, pouring himself some whiskey. Ada was seated by herself, arms crossed, she already looked pissed off for some reason, but when did she not look like that?

To finish, Mr Rice was alone at a table at the back of the room, as if he didn’t want to mix with the people present at this meeting.

The smiles and sweetness that was present on Tommy and Y/N's faces last night was long gone as both of them wore an emotionless cold face now. They stood side by side, but not too close to avoid suspicion about the nature of their relationship.

“Mr Rice, may I introduce you to my partner, Mr Thomas Shelby, OBE.” She waved her hand to the man standing right next to her.

“Michael, this is Gina’s father, but I bet you already met him, didn’t you?” We could sense provocation in her tone, but Michael was too concentrated on wondering why Gina’s father was there to notice it.

“Polly, we informally met each other two nights prior to this day. Nice to meet you officially.” She threw a smirk to Polly before pouring some whiskey into two cups, giving one to Tommy as she sipped on hers.

The man ignored the stares of his family and drank his drink. They discussed strategies before the meeting and he was sure she knew what she was doing, if everything happened as Y/N predicted, he wouldn’t even have to open his mouth this morning.

“Why are we here?” Polly was the one to ask the question that everybody had in mind.

“To inform you about the restructure of the Shelby Company Limited.” The librarian snapped back outrightly. She didn’t miss the face Michael made and the way his chest raised, it wouldn’t last long before opening his mouth, she could tell, and she counted on that.

“According to what I heard, Americans don't want to deal with the Peaky Blinders, so we’re giving them the Bridgehead Corporation instead.”

It was the first time Tommy heard mentioning the name of her own organisation and his side-eye look showed how deep she piqued his interest.

“I got people back in New York that reached to your contacts, Michael, offering them to directly deal with the opium dealer themselves rather than having to have you as the intermediary.” She didn’t even look to the Gray man, despising him for trying to outdo Tommy.

“Mr Rice here,” She spiritedly pointed at the man sitting at the back of the room “...is one of my associates in America, he is here to testify that they will directly link the Chinese to your contacts if you don’t back down your stupid caprice, Michael.”

Tommy’s cousin was looking at the woman with a clenched jaw, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to retort anything because he wasn’t even the brain of his plan, it was his wife, and she wasn’t there.

She smacked her lips, “But we both know that fucking Americans don’t want to deal with Chinese, right, they don’t want to have to talk to them & do all the real job. They want their money fast without dirtying their hands so they can strut around with their big bellies and cigars.” She continued, meeting Polly’s black stare, but she didn’t give in.

She wasn’t scared of any member of this family, she was there to have Tommy’s back which meant she wouldn’t back down. If they wanted to concentrate on the evil things he’s done and be blind to the fact that all he did was for his family to prosper, then she would be the only one standing by his side.

Polly’ eyes reached Tommy’s, breaking eye contact with Y/N. The Shelby's head wasn’t even looking at the crowd, he was looking before him, listening closely to what the Y/H/C haired woman was saying.

“I’m high-society in England, my name’s on the War records. I've worked hand in hand with Emmeline Pankhurst, which make people talk about me even when I’m not there. Add to this that now, I too deal with the Chinese in the name of the Peaky Blinders. If I approach your contacts, Mr Gray, do you think they will refuse me?” She was speaking with a very calm voice, no anger nor pride and no glance thrown his way, she was too occupied lightening up another cigarette.

“Who the fuck are you?” He ultimately let out, to Y/N's greatest pleasure.

“Who the fuck am I? Say the one losing 2$ million in fucking stock market but still think he can lead this company.” She chuckles to herself, and Arthur can only snort at her arrogance.

A freezing silence settled in the room.

“How’s Gina, Michael?” She finally looked at him with a vicious smile, “Oh yeah, you cannot properly take care of her either.” She let out solemnly.

Another silence settled as Polly was once again intently looking at the woman.

She knew from the start she wasn’t a simple “librarian” as Tommy portrayed her, but this was too much of a scene for a high-society person. She was there when Mosley spoke at the Arrow House during the ballet and it was nothing like what just happened.

There was something more about this that she couldn’t quite get.

“Now if you would excuse us, we got a fucking fascist to kill.” She let out before putting one of her hands in her suit’s pocket as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey with her other hands after sticking her cigarette in between her lips.

Tommy watched her leave the room and raised his brows out of surprise, she was something… He couldn’t say otherwise. It was now sure that Michael wouldn’t try something against him, after that speech, he himself never wanted to be an enemy to Y/N.

(...)

*Bingley Hall, 6th*

“What did you mean: damage from the inside?"

“I have a strategy,” Tommy started to pace up and down, overflowed by the number of thoughts in his mind as well as adrenaline filling his veins.

“You always have a strategy,” Jessie Eden continues wiping the dirt off her face in front of the mirror.

“But it’s dangerous, and it can’t be shared without sharing the danger. ” He opened his arms to mimic how dangerous it was while turning to her figure.

“What’s going to happen?” She turned to face him as the Shelby's head began his race again.

He stops right in front of her without breaking eye contact, his head held high, “I’m gonna do a good thing.” He waved his hand as if he was acting. He thought it was funny to put “I” and “doing a good thing” in the same sentence, “When I do a good thing, innocent people get hurt. So go home.” He looked straight at her. “After this evening, we can meet, discuss strategies.” He pointed to the door with his hand that was holding his cap, “That beast… out there he just a beast. He’s like a horse. It’s the rider that decides which direction it takes.” Tommy wasn’t even talking to Eden at this point, it was himself he tried to cheer up.

He was already putting back his hat on as joining the door when she asked, “And who will be the rider?”

“Just go home.”

He opened the door and left, leaving her aghast while staring at the door shutting. She could only fill the blanks in Tommy’s speech by herself. It was him, who would be the rider.

(...)

“Full?”

“To the fucking brim.” McCavern’s strong accent reached his boss’ ears like the most satisfying sound.

He was arranging his collar in front of a glass, concentrating, “Trouble?”

“So far, a few communists. Bowlers helped our boys clear them away.”

“A few hecklers are a good thing. We can demonstrate how we deal with opposition.” Mosley’s voice was calm, not an ounce of nervosity nor anxiety or apprehension in his voice. He was confident, even his usual arrogance could be heard in his tone.

“There’s a rumour a gang of Jews are coming up from Digbeth. No sign of them yet.” The Irish man was watching things laying on the tables as if truly interested in knowing what they were. He behaved as if it was routine for him to stand by the side of a fascist who was about to tell thousands of people it was a minority being the source of all problems in England and preach about how its extinction will bring much fortune to their beloved country.

Mosley was done making arrangements with his clothes, but his eyes were still fixed on his own through the mirror, his head held high, “Well, let them come. Welcome them appropriately” He concluded.

The atmosphere was serene, filled with silence when Jimmy McCavern suddenly felt concerned, finally raising his gaze to the head of the Fascist serpent, “There are a few Peaky boys around.”

Mosley looked at the Irish man through the mirror, tilting his head to the side and clicking his tongue, “They are our allies. There’ll be no rift between us. Keep your powder dry” He exhaled.

McCavern was about to leave when called by his boss, who was now turned to him, standing straight. His vitreous black eyes didn’t blink even once as he abruptly made the Nazi salute toward the Irish near the door, “Perish Judah.”

The Irish scoffed, opening the door.

“No joke, Mr McCavern.” Mosley gave his first and only warning.

McCavern closed the door in a thud and shifted his position to stand straight, making the Nazi salute towards Mosley without any expression on his face, “Perish Judah.”

After that, Mosley came back to look at himself in the mirror, turning his body to the side, a hand on his stomach, probably checking how fit he looked.

The door opened and closed, a dry chuckle filling the silent room, “Shouldn’t you be repeating your speech or something?”

Mosley’s eyes lift to Y/N. A cigarette hanging over her lips. She was wearing a dark suit matching the gleam in her staring iris. His lids closed before snapping open to her long fitted pants that reached her feet over her black high heels.

She clicks her tongue once in front of him, leading him to lift his gaze to hers.

“You shouldn’t be here, I’ll be announced in a minute.”

“Oh, that I know Sir.”

He gave her a faint smile as closing his eyes with satisfaction, he could get used to being called ‘Sir’ by the owner of the suave voice reaching his ears.

He opened his eyes to hers, “Why the black outfit?” He tilted his head to the side, intrigued by the potential answer.

Y/N was smoking her cig, “Preparing for someone’s death.” She offered him a side smile as a heavy silence settled in the tiny room.

He clicked his tongue, not knowing if she was referencing to the people causing a riot or else. He stretched his arm to the door, inviting her to be the first to get out.

Y/N took a step closer, his hand now touching her as she locked the butt of her cigarette in between her lips, her fingers reaching Mosley’s shoulders, swapping the fabrics off of any potential dirt.

She, obviously, knew he didn’t like to be touched and that Mosely would certainly be annoyed by having the smoke of cigarettes so near his face as he despised them, but she also knew how proud he would feel to finally have an intimate contact with her as he loved women.

Mosley grabbed one of her wrists with one hand, stopping her in her tracks. She lifts her eyes to his staring ones, they were devoid of any emotions, as usual. She was quick to slide her fingers in his, the contact-making him drop her hand abruptly with disgust.

Even if her face didn’t show anything, she was internally laughing at how easy it was to play with him and poke him right in his weak points.

“A quick fuck, perhaps?” She teased the man even more.

She knew if it was any other time he would gladly bend her over a table and fuck her while looking at his own reflection, but it wasn’t the time nor the moment. But she also knew he was well aware he wouldn’t have any other occasion with her, which made the torture a little more dramatic.

He broke the stare and by-passed her without even saying anything, slamming the door behind him.

(...)

“Tommy.” Was all she succeeded at saying, her saliva being sticky out of nervousness. She couldn’t believe they were about to do it.

He turned to her, his back facing the mirror. No need to describe how relieved he was to see her radiant face. YN's perfect hair framing her face elegantly as her finger-waves bounced as she took steps further towards him.

The mood immediately shifted, it was light and soft, the sweet exchanges of looks and smiles uncovering their feelings for each other. They couldn’t even hide the fact they were desperate for each other now.

It was obvious to the two, but also to everyone around them, beginning with Lizzie. She refused to see Thomas for days now, hiding in her own house Tommy bought her when Ruby was born.

She wasn’t the only one refusing to see him, Polly never gave news after the last family meeting, but Tommy heard she was now living with Aberama in her house, away from any illegal activities while Aberama still was working with Tommy, looking forward to the time he’d be able to avenge his son by killing McCavern.

Arthur, that was spending way more time than needed at the Bridgehead library, also noticed how close she and Tommy were, and he never ceased to make jokes, which Y/N blocked by slipping in remarks on how he was eyeing her right-hand, Bridget, and how often this latter began to show up late at work.

The insinuation of Arthur having an affair with the employee of Y/N always made Tommy chortle on his drink, while his older brother remained unusually silent. He, that always thought to be so discreet that no one noticed he found a love interest in a feminist, was in fact not so discreet, much to his displeasure. And hearing his brother laughing at him didn’t help.

Y/N inhaled deeply, her heart pounding in her chest that was inflating. Her fingers went fondling the wrinkles at the corner of Tom’s eyes in a tender manner that immediately eased the man, his skin burning under the touch.

He tilted his head, leaning into her caress so her palm would cup his cheek.

He and she knew better than anyone that in this chaotic lifestyle, they needed sweetness. Not that he was okay admitting he found it while being with her, but she hoped it was the case.

“Something’s in the air, Thomas. Be prepared for death.” She patted one of his temples with her free hand.

He opened back his eyes, darkened by something she couldn’t name, his eyebrows furrowed while blinking, searching answers in Y/N’s eyes in vain.

He didn’t understand what the hell she was saying, but it didn’t matter, she was there, by his side, ready to take on the entire world if needed. He was aware of how much she cared and how she was ready to fight till her last breath by his side. And he'll eventually accept he felt the same about her.

The door opened and Arthur’s head picked through.

It wasn’t just Thomas Shelby against the world, it was them against the world. His brother, his lover, and himself.

Tommy coughed and looked at the ground before looking at his brother with squinting eyes. What was so urgent for him to invade their space like that?

Y/N quickly glanced at the reflection in the mirror behind Tommy to see who had entered the room. Seeing the older Shelby brother’s head, she shamelessly closed the gap between Tom’s face and hers, kissing him with strength.

She was surprised to feel Tommy’s rough hands tenderly cupping her face, his thumbs rubbing her soft skin, as he responded to her kiss with as much strength as her.

“We got this, Y/N.” He said in a whisper, without difficulty.

A warm thunderbolt ran down Y/N’s spine as she stepped backwards, her gaze falling on one of her hands gripping tightly onto Tommy’s jacket.

Even if she tried not to show it, the plan was so big and meant so much that it got her nervous.

Her cheeks reddened a bit but the man couldn’t quite grasp at this vision of her as she almost ran out of the room.

Now that he was showing affection, he was making her flee.

Well, he still hadn’t cracked the code to Y/N’s character.

“Come on Y/N, we’ve been there.” Tommy’s deep voice reached her ears in a huff.

“I know but I want you to tell me all over again.” She turned her naked body to him.

He exhaled deeply and lit a cigarette before explaining to her the plan again. He flattened the white sheet on the bed and created a wrinkle on it to show her the stage.

“Mosley and I will be here,” he then put the used matchstick on the sheet in front of the representative stage, “Barney will be up there, waiting for the sign to shoot.”

Y/N frowned and hit his hand along with the matchstick, “get this shit out my bed, this is an expensive sheet, Sergent Major.”

Tom chuckled as he bent over to her to grab her wrists, forcing her to lean all over him, “Come to me reporting for your duty, then.”

She giggled and grabbed his cig, smoking while drowning in his icy blue eyes.

It was routine now for them to share intimate moments late at night. From staying up late in the Shelby Brother Company limited office, looking to the ceiling, Tom upgraded to visit Y/L/N’s manor.

And inevitably, the lust between them eventuated in their bodies intertwining in all different kinds of places.

Tonight was the bed, fortunately for Y/N’s back as their last night’s epic adventure led them outside the house, in the nearby woods.

One of his hands wandered on her bruised body, other marks of their passionate nights along with burn marks caused by her carpets…

His eyes, thirsty of her, followed the path of his hand with as much attention as he would pay to horse racing.

Y/N found the face he made funny. She couldn’t read him, as hard as she would try, but she knew he felt good there, with her, and it was all that mattered at the moment. It was only them in this space. It was their war zone. Here, he wasn’t at the head of a gigantic gang nor the right hand of a fascist, and she wasn’t running a feminist organisation, no.

They were just lovers bearing their soul to each other, as silly as it sounded. And they wouldn’t trade it for nothing.

“Brother,” Arthur called Tommy back to reality. “Know she’s something else,” he raised his brows in understanding, “but Mosley’s been searching you out there.”

Tom ignored his brother’s remark and cleared his throat, by-passing Arthur.

That one didn’t miss the occasion to drop a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m happy for you, brother.”

And as little as this was, it was enough for Tommy to be relieved of whatever was heavy on his shoulders.

The simple fact he still got his brother meant something deep.

He was ready to make his plan shift from his head to reality. By the end of this day, he’ll be at the head of English fascism, following Oswald Mosley’s death.

He will reach his ambition.

Following Chapter ❱

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

[mrgoodman1]

5 Best Documentary Films About Vaping You Have to Check Out

Documentary films about vaping is not a topic covered all that well. Did you even know that vaping related movies or documentaries existed? As vaping is expanding, so is the culture, such as vape tricks and vaping events – which has evolved some people into what you can consider vaping celebs.

With not a lot known about the effects of vaping and the industry, many filmmakers have taken to the subject to document, offer facts and shine provide relative information into this “hot topic.” Without further ado, we have compiled 5 of the best documentary films about vaping for you to check out.

5 Best Documentary Films About Vaping

1. Beyond The Cloud (2016)

Two French directors Ghyslain Armand and Sébastien DUIJNDAM have taken on the “hot topic” by creating a documentary into the world of vaping. The narrator (Armand) gives us insight into all of it by interviewing tobacco executives, business owners, politicians and health advocates on why public health institutions are opening up to vaping.

We thought, the documentary offered a lot of insight into current issues and was overall well made. Beyond the Cloud is a great documentary into the world of vaping, which is in need of more positive publicity.

Youtube.com/VAPEXPO France

Synopsis

“With more than 6 million deaths per year worldwide, tobacco use is the major cause of premature mortality in the world. WHO estimates that half of current tobacco users die from a disease caused by their addiction. The health authorities, even when not radically opposed, remain very cautious with this new device. Against a backdrop of scientific and political war, the electronic cigarette is currently shaking up public health codes.” (source: VAPEXPO France on YT)

Directed By: Ghyslain ARMAND and Sébastien DUIJNDAM

Produced By: Vapexpo and co-presented with the Vaping Post

2. A Billion Lives: The First Vaping Documentary (2016)

This documentary by Aaron Biebert promotes vaping in a way that may be of interest to smokers. The film confronts the projection that a billion people will die from smoking this century. The first section of the film deals with tobacco corporations their products and their effects. The second part talks about the market shift into e-cigarettes while the last deals with how the tobacco industry is keeping up with the ever-expanding vaping market.

Overall, the film is great and has awards and nominations to back that claim. Such as a Silver REMI – WorldFest Houston (2016) and nominee for “Best International Feature” – Finalist, DocEdge film festival (2016).

Attention Era Media LLC

Synopsis:

“The United Nations’ World Health Organization projects that a billion people will die prematurely from smoking this century. In the next 20 years, there will be nearly 1.6 billion smokers around the world. A Billion Lives takes a critical look at the history of smoking and the corruption that’s led to the current situation where safer, other alternatives are banned or heavily restricted in most countries, while the cigarette trade is continually protected. The film examines major conflicts of interest and corruption between governments, big pharmaceutical companies, and public health officials. It also takes a look at the history of e-cigarettes, as well as the role vapor technology and Swedish snus have played in the current health crisis.” (source: A Billion Lives on Facebook)

Directed By: Aaron Biebert

Produced By: Attention Era Media

3. E-Cigarettes: Welcome Back, Big Tobacco – the fifth estate (2016)

The fifth estate is a Canadian documentary about how England is taking steps on embracing e-cigs over big tobacco companies, and if Canada will follow suit. The documentary goes into the projection for continued smokers and the size of the vaping industry. The interviewer Mark Kelley asks the tough questions to big tobacco on competing with other alternatives.

This documentary provides an excellent insight from multiple angles on big tobacco companies plans, vaping as a whole and the potential benefits and risks involved with it all. If you are interested in recent tobacco and vaping information, this documentary would be a great watch.

Youtube.com/The Fifth Estate

Synopsis:

“The filmmakers travel to the world’s second largest tobacco company – British American Tobacco – and witness the work being done to produce the ideal vaping experience. Inside their top secret labs, over 800 million dollars is being spent on the development of e-cigarettes and other nicotine-based products which are designed to be less harmful than traditional cigarettes. But can a tobacco company really be relied upon to regulate itself, and encourage consumers to stop purchasing their most profitable cash cow?” (source: topdocumentaryfilms)

Directed By: Bob McKeown, Gillian Findlay, and Mark Kelley

Produced By: CBC Canada

4. E-Cigarettes: Miracle or Menace? – Horizon: E-Cigarettes – BBC Two (2016)

In this BBC documentary, Michael Mosley takes an in-depth look into vaping and its potential. Mr. Mosley as a non-smoker himself tests out a device with nicotine. He attempts for himself and us to discover the effects of vaping. After using the device for some time, he felt the nicotine did not affect his overall performance.

This documentary is quite interesting for someone looking for a more personal and direct look into vaping and its effects.

BBC Two

Synopsis:

“Michael Mosley investigates the dramatic rise in e-cigarettes. They’re everywhere these days, but what does the latest scientific research on them reveal? Michael reveals what e-cigarettes are really doing to your health. Are they really better for you than cigarettes? What is actually in them? Is passive vapour harmful? And can they really stop you from smoking? Michael meets some of the scientists around the world studying them, asks a group of volunteers to try to give up smoking regular cigarettes using them, and even takes up ‘vaping’ himself, smoking an e-cigarette every day for a month to see the effects on his own health – no easy task for such a committed non-smoker.” (source: BBC Two)

Directed By: Emma Hatherley

Produced By: BBC TWO, Emma Hatherley

5. Vape Life Documentary – EP1|EP2 (2014-2015)

Vape Life is a multiple-episode documentary on everything vaping such as the technology, industry, community, and the culture. The first episode offers an insight into the reasons behind tobacco addiction, and the possible influence nicotine plays. The second episode is a bit shorter and takes a quite thorough look into the invention of e-cigs and how vaporizers work.

The documentary is not the longest out of the others mentioned. However, it is short, informational and to the point. This film is recommended for those interested in the subject, but do not have an overabundant amount of free time. Overall, a recommended watch.

Youtube.com/United Vapers

Synopsis:

“Episode 1 of a multi-part documentary about vaping; the technology behind it, the vaping industry, the culture and community and the movement. Episode 2 of the Vape Life Documentary, we take a look at the invention of the electronic cigarette and how these vaping devices work.” (source: Youtube.com/United Vapers)

Directed By: Joey Kayo

Produced By: Joey Kayo

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