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writingletterstothefire · 4 years

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She Loves Me

Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys. It’s been a minute. Here is the long awaited (by no one) She Loves Me AU. I’m putting chapter 1 out here in the hopes that people waiting for updates will spark some creativity in me again. I’m sorry it’s short. If you enjoy, let me know

Word Count: 1703

Warnings: not proof read.

The sun was blazing down on you as you scurried down the busy New York sidewalk. The summer had decided to be blazing hot this wonderful morning, and you had decided to be extraordinarily late for work. Well, perhaps ‘decided’ isn’t the right word— you’d overslept on account of staying up extra late to finish a letter to your Special Friend.

There was no shame in using a dating service, you knew that, yet for some reason the very thought of joining one was something that you had scoffed at for so many years. “I want to meet someone organically,” you’d complain to your friends, “those services are full of strangers who have the weirdest quirks.” To be fair, that had been true in your brief experience using a dating service in college. It was definitely an odd time, figuring out exactly what ‘watersports’ meant. Needless to say, it had taken one single date for you to decide to withdraw your application and swear off dating services.

But you were getting older. And men seemed to just get more and more picky, the older they got. So, when you stumbled across an advertisement in your Sunday newspaper for a matchmaking service called ‘Special Friends’, you jumped at the opportunity. The directions were simple; you filled out the survey in the paper, mailed it to the listed address, and then your answers were compared with other submissions to find the best match for you. Once you received your match, you were to write a letter to them introducing yourself and signing off under the title of ‘Special Friend’. The two of you were given a specific P.O. box to drop your letters off to, provided by the matchmaking service. The only real rules were that the letter had to be handwritten, and you were only allowed to give real names if both parties agreed on it.

Your Special Friend was a true kindred spirit. It had been six months of trading letters back and forth, and the two of you spoke about everything, from your childhoods to your favorite books, from dream destinations to worst fears. About three months into this correspondence, you knew that, whoever this Special Friend was, you loved them. You stayed up until all hours of the night writing draft after draft until you formed the perfect letter. Because of this, you were often late for work in the morning.

Late. That’s right. You were very late. You willed your feet to move you as fast as they possibly could, cursing yourself for choosing this morning to wear heels. Finally, you managed to burst through the door just minutes before opening, scurrying to the back to drop off your bag. You made a mental note to yourself to start carrying flats in your purse, in case of emergency.

You’d just finished touching up your makeup in the small staff room mirror, when you felt someone sidle up beside you. You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. The smug energy emanating from his every pore was enough to confirm your suspicions of who was next to you. Santiago Garcia. Your worst nightmare in human form.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Garcia?” You didn’t even spare him a glance as you finger-combed your hair, which was now windswept from your impromptu jog.

“Not at all, Miss Y/L/N,” Santiago flashed you a smile that, in any other circumstance, would have been charming. You, however, knew that pure contempt lurked behind those pearly white teeth. “I was just marveling at the rare sight of you, here, on time!”

“And why would that be something to marvel at, Mr. Garcia?” you scowled.

“Well, simply because it’s never happened before!” Santiago leaned against the wall, charming smile morphing into the smirk that often adorned his chiseled face. “You know, Miss Y/L/N, you may want to stop frowning so adamantly. At your age, those frown lines tend to stick around.”

“At my age?!” you nearly shrieked at him. “Mr. Garcia, need I remind you that you are older than I am!”

His smirk only widened. “Yes, but you seem to forget that one of us is ageing with grace, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your scowl deepened, and you shoved past him, making your way to the front of the store. You never did understand why Santiago didn’t like you. From the first moment you stepped into the department store, it seemed like he was trying to usher you out. Sure, when he thought you were a customer, he was the most charming man you’d ever spoken to. But once he had realized that you were trying to apply for the new salesperson position, he wanted nothing to do with you. He had insisted that there were no positions available, but Frankie Morales, his friend and co-worker, was quick to usher you to the owner’s office. Mr. Bailey had been a hard man to charm, but when you made your first sale to a woman who was insistent that she was just browsing, he hired you on the spot. After all, you’d gotten her to buy not one, not two, but five jars of various creams and lotions. None of Mr. Bailey’s workers had ever managed to sell that much in one go, not even his prized Mr. Garcia.

Making your way to the front of the store, you said hello and gave a kiss on the cheek to Frankie and each of the Miller brothers, Will and Benny. All three of the boys were quick to welcome you, despite Santi being the unspoken leader of the pack. They quickly became your protective band of brothers, something you’d long wished for as a young child.

“Good morning Frankie! How’s Elisa doing this morning?” You asked Frankie, your tone surprisingly chipper after dealing with Santi in the staff room.

“Round as ever!” Frankie exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. “The doctors estimate that the baby will be here in about a month, and Mr. Bailey’s been so kind as to let me have a month off after the baby arrives. I know it’s going to take a toll on Elisa, and I want to be there for her as much as I can.”

Sometimes, Frankie just melted your heart. It was so plain to see how much he loved his wife and their incoming baby. Their little family was everything you wanted. You only hoped that one day someone would love you just as much as Frankie and Elisa loved each other.

It was beginning to seem as though your Special Friend was never going to reveal himself to you. You had offered to meet for dinner on a few occasions, and each time he insisted that he had prior appointments. You didn’t want to assume anything, of course, but you were getting worried. Surely he wouldn’t lie to you about having a prior engagement, would he? But then, if he was so eager to meet you, as he claimed to be, then why did he never offer an alternative date?

On your way home from work, you stopped at the P.O. box. Your Special Friend had forgotten— or, well, neglected, you supposed— to write you the past two days, but you were adamant about writing at least every other day. You knew how much the letters meant to you, and if they brought him even half as much joy, you wanted to be sure he got it. Perhaps, if you hadn’t been so caught up in your own head, you would have looked up and seen the figure walking away from the wall of P.O. boxes.

To your surprise and delight, there was a letter waiting for you in the box when you finally opened it. If you hadn’t been so excited to read it, perhaps you’d have noticed the flash of a coat turning the corner as they walked away from the wall of boxes.

You hurried to open the letter.

Dear Friend,

I am so sorry to have not been able to write these past few days. Work has been an absolute train wreck, what with the most irritating co-worker constantly fumbling about. Somehow, the boss claims it’s my fault. Could you believe it? My fault that my imbecile of a co-worker is incapable of doing the simplest task that doesn’t involve talking a mile per minute?

But enough about that mess. I am supposed to be apologizing to you, my dear, sweet friend.

I know that you have been wanting to meet me. I am so sorry that I haven’t been able to make any of our appointments. As I’ve told you before, I was once in the army. An experience in war is one that I don’t wish on anyone. It takes a toll on you, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Because of my experience, I’ve decided to counsel other veterans and help them through their traumatic memories. On the nights you had wished to meet me, I’d had previously arranged counseling sessions, as well as one doctors appointment, a check up to see how I am recovering after all of my surgeries that I’ve told you about.

All of this to say, dear friend, that I’ve cleared my schedule for the night of the 27th. If you are available, I would love to meet you at the Ambrosia Garden down on the corner of 12th Avenue. I’ve made a reservation for two under the name Elizabeth Bennett, after you expressed how much you loved Jane Austen’s ‘Pride & Prejudice’. If you show, I will be wearing a purple rose on my lapel. I will look for you, where you will be holding a copy of ‘Pride & Prejudice’, with a purple rose tucked between the pages.

I sincerely hope to see you on the 27the, dear friend. I’ve been longing to meet you since we first exchanged letters, so many months ago.

Sincerely,

Your Special Friend

You had to meet him. You would get to the Ambrosia Garden on the 27th, no matter the cost. You’d find out who your Special Friend was if it was the last thing you did.

#santi garcia x reader #santiago garcia x y/n #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago x reader #santiago garcia x reader #she loves me au

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justjessame · 3 years

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Diamonds Are A Boy’s Best Friend Chapter 50

Vera was preparing for her first class as the premier dance instructor in Miami and of course being at the Miramar Playa only added to the appeal. The Fourth had been a resounding success and Lauren had met a boy, to her brothers’ and father’s horror. I was starting to think that I’d be the size of a parade float by the time I was ready to deliver our baby, and the time seemed to tick by ever slower - the heat of Miami bearing down on me harder and harder as the days went on.

My fear wasn’t tempered by the appointments with the doctor, even with Ike by my side and Mimi coming along for support. He was adamant that I be sedated and unconscious during delivery and that our child be forcibly removed with forceps. I was horrified by the idea that I wouldn’t be awake to hear our baby’s first cry or breath, that I wouldn’t know what their sex was - or be able to hold them immediately. Ike wasn’t taking it very well either. He attempted to find a way to negotiate something more palpable for our family, but the hospital and doctor seemed unwilling to cooperate.

Mimi went on the hunt for other arrangements, hopeful that she could find something better for us but I worried that we’d run out of time - even as I felt like the time grew longer and longer and I grew heavier and heavier.

At some point, Ike had gently warned me, every pregnant woman gets to the point where intimacy becomes uncomfortable. I’d scoffed. A time when I didn’t WANT Isaac Evans? Was he insane? And yet, as the weeks and months ticked by and my body grew bigger with our child - I realized that while my internal hunger for him was alive and well, my physical hunger for him wasn’t as readily available. Those naps he had once pressed upon me were now something I willingly took on my own, no reminder necessary. And while I still adored having his heat and body against my own, the urge to be joined wasn’t quite as urgent.

A tiny part of me worried, I admit, that he might seek the warmth of another bed. Vera was a floor below us, after all. Meg Bannock was across the way. And I’d have to be completely blind to NOT see the other willing and beautiful women who turned their heads to watch my husband as he made his rounds as host of the hotel. The old adage played in my head, “once a cheat -”, but I would push it down, only to have those photos that Ben had thrust into my hands early into my pregnancy showing Ike holding the towel open for Meg coming rushing back into my head.

Late one night, so far into my pregnancy that I’d lost count, I woke in our bed and knew that I was alone. His side was cold and I felt ice and fear creep into my veins. Ben Diamond’s voice sneaked into our home and my head, reminding me that I was a Diamond and not good enough to be the Queen of the Miramar Playa. I shut my eyes and pushed it down, thinking of what to do.

Rolling over, I slipped out of our bed, putting my swollen feet into my slippers and grabbing my robe from the back of my vanity chair. Ignoring my reflection in the mirror, huge is huge after all, I left our room and saw that he wasn’t in the living room or dining room. He wouldn’t be in Lauren’s room, so I steadied myself and stepped into the hallway and thought he might have gone to the office.

I found him sitting on the main staircase watching them clean the entryway. A glass of something brown beside him, he was in his pajamas and a robe and looked like he had just needed a moment of peace. His eyes, like magnets, found me as I stepped off the elevators and he stood up, but I shook my head. Silly man. Waddling to him, he met me on the bottom step.

“Did I wake you?” His hands went to my bump, his lips to my forehead, cool from whatever was in his glass. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” I murmured, feeling much calmer now that he was in front of me. My hand went to my lower back, where a sharp pain was hitting me. “Ow.”

“Liz?” Ike looked down at me with all the concern I’d expect from an expectant father. “What is it?”

“A knot,” I brushed off his worry even as another stabbing pain hit me. “I must have rolled out of the bed wrong is all.” But I ruined that argument when the next pain struck and the warm fluid ran down my leg and puddled on the clean floor under my slipper.

“No, Liz,” Ike managed to sound calm even as he looked far less than, “you’re in labor.”

And then everything started moving far faster than I expected. He was calling for someone to call for a car, but I wondered if we shouldn’t be calling for an ambulance, while he was also asking one of the other workers to go wake up Mimi and also get Danny to stay with Lauren. While he marshalled the troops, his hand had fallen to my lower back where the knot was and he was slowly massaging it, his other hand cradling my bump.

“We should go upstairs so I can -” I was going to say change, but Ike shook his head, kissing my temple.

“They’re just going to put you in a hospital gown when we get there, sweetheart,” he told me, but I was thinking of the squish in my slipper, the wetness in my underwear, the all over gross feeling that I was experiencing. “Would you feel better if I had them put something down on the carseat?”

I shrugged, not particularly, but it was better than nothing I supposed. As Mimi, looking for all the world as if she’d been up and waiting for this moment, came to join us in the hotel lobby - taking over for Ike in the ordering of the troops, Ike returned to his natural state as my husband and partner. Holding onto me, soothing my fears, but I knew once we got to the hospital I’d be on my own, in darkness, unconscious and without any knowledge of what comes next.

What came next was a tense drive to the hospital with Mimi next to the driver - who looked as comfortable as any driver who was tasked with driving the owners of the premier resort of Miami while one was in labor as a very stern midwife sat next to him tersely shouting out orders - Ike’s hand was in mine and he was whispering assurances to me.

“I’ll be there, Liz, I promise.” I was scared, he knew it, that I’d be alone and our baby would be alone. “I’ll be right there waiting and I’ll make sure you and our baby are safe and -”

We arrived within minutes, or days - my nerves were frayed, the mess of my water - not a singular huge gush of fluid, but rather a series of warm gushes - the pains that kept coming and the unknown of what was waiting for me seems to make everything rush forward then slow down. It was maddening, and terrifying in heavy doses.

Ike was correct of course, I was rushed into the hospital and my night clothing was removed for a hospital gown. And as he held my hand, as he stood next to me, while Mimi tried one last press for my preference of a natural birth, it was overturned for the new, improved sedated birthing method. And I was given the sedative, and as Ike kissed me and promised me again that he’d be waiting for me when I woke up, when our child was safe and delivered, I closed my eyes and prayed.

Waking up after you’ve been somewhat forcefully sedated during your labor is entirely disorienting. I woke up and nothing felt right. I wasn’t lying flat, for one, and I wasn’t in my bed at home for another. Then there was the empty feeling - normally when I woke up, at least since the baby had started moving, they would remind me that they were there. Kicking me from the inside, moving around to let me know that Ike and I had been too active or not active enough the night before.

“Hey,” I turned my head and there he was. Isaac Evans, my husband. And in his arms? A bundle in a pink blanket. “She was waiting to meet you for hours, Liz.”

“Hours?” My eyes burned, thinking that our daughter had had to wait for me for that long, but he shushed me, and her as she started to fuss. “Is she -” But then he was sitting on the bed with me, and her tiny face was all I could see. Framed with dark curls, her tiny red face was perfect, as were her tiny fingers and toes - because I unwrapped her blanket and checked her all over. She was tiny, as Ike reminded me she took after her mother, and she was demanding - he abstained from mentioning if she took after anyone we knew. Feeding her by bottle, another new push that came from the advances of child bearing and medicine, formula, we were mesmerized by her.

“She’s amazing, Elizabeth Diamond Evans.” Ike whispered as she was drifting off after her meal, being burped, and a diaper change. “Just like her mother.”

“I think she takes after her father too,” his curls, I thought, and her eyes when they opened were as dark. “She has the same little pucker you do.” My finger traced her lips and I smiled as her mouth suckled naturally at the touch.

“Are we still sure about her name?” I nodded, watching her as she slept. “I think it suits her.”

“I do, too.” And I did. We chose a name that had no thread of our past. We’d discussed memorializing my mother or even Molly, but both of us agreed that our marriage, our family was a chance to have a fresh start, even as we combined and grew.

“She’ll have to grow into it,” he was taking her from me to put her back into the hospital’s idea of a bassinet. “I suppose you had to grow into yours, too.” He winked at me when he looked up from her tiny form, his hand was still cradling her small head.

“Still growing into it actually,” I smiled at him and his grin grew. “Miriam Sarah Evans sounds perfect for her, and I think she’ll grow into it just fine, Isaac.”

“Why, Elizabeth, are we using our full names now?” His smile was full enough to have his dimple peeking out and I was beaming back at him. “I love you, Liz, and our daughter, and our family.” He was at my side, our foreheads meeting and he was breathing deeply. “I hated not being there with you when she came into this world screaming.”

“Me too,” my eyes shut, I couldn’t do this again, not this way. “She’s a miracle, Ike, but -” His lips brushed my eyelids.

“I know, Liz, I know.”

#ike evans x ofc #magic city #alternate universe #mention of smut #mention of pregnancy #mention of child birth #Family Fluff

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Dawn in Your Eyes Part 20

Summary:Alfie has little to no idea why Caroline ever gave him the time of day. The blind woman seemed far too sensible to even speak to him. But soon he finds himself falling helplessly in love.

Part 20: Chava Solomons has a troubling first day in the world.

In the very first moments of Chava Solomons’s life, she was cradled to her father’s chest. He used one arm to hold her snug to him. His other hand was holding her mother’s limp hand.

The room was loud, louder than she could cry. The woman who delivered her was doing her best to stem the bleeding. The only thing they could do until the doctor arrived.

Julia repeated prayer after prayer over her niece, begging her to be okay. They remained this way until Doctor Isaac Marsh arrived. Hanna explained what happened and the experienced doctor got to work. But not before he urged Alfie and Julia to wait downstairs.

Alfie was going to kick off, saying he had every right to stay beside his wife, but Hanna managed to get him to leave.

“I want to finish checking her over.” Hanna gently removed Chava from his arms and led Alfie and Julia downstairs.

But Julia’s legs gave in halfway down the stairs. She clutched her handkerchief to her chest with a grief-stricken sob.

Alfie had never seen the woman so distraught before. She always held a steady measure about her. He’d seen her upset but mostly because she was angry with him. He had never seen her vulnerable. Just as she had never seen him vulnerable.

He felt in a daze as he helped her up. His daughter was crying downstairs as his wife bled upstairs. Still, he was the man of the house. He had to keep everything together as long as he was still breathing.

“I can’t lose her, Alfie. She’s everything to me.” Julia cried weakly.

“I know.” He helped her back to her feet and supported her down the rest of the steps. “We ain’t gonna lose her. She’ll be alright. She’s resilient.” He assured her.

As Hanna made sure Chava was healthy, Alfie got Julia settled into an armchair. Only Richard and Elizabeth had stayed the length of the labor. The other family members had gone home to wait for the call that the baby had been born.

Richard came out of the kitchen when he heard their footsteps. “Why is the doctor here?” He asked Alfie, following him into the parlor.

“Alfie?” Elizabeth called from the kitchen. “Alfie, what’s going on?”

“Caroline’s bleeding bad.” He explained as best he could without losing his nerve. It reminded him of all the times he had to be the man of the house, the protector. When his father abandoned them, Alfie had to hold everything together. When rent was due, when there was damp in the flat, when there just wasn’t enough food to be had, he had to keep calm for the sake of his mother. He had to keep breathing or the roof would come crashing down.

“Will she be okay?” Richard asked as his wife came out of the kitchen with Buck.

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.” Alfie couldn’t block out Julia’s tearful prayers. He heard her offer anything and everything to God, just as long as He didn’t take her Caroline. Alfie knew he would do the same if given the chance. There wasn’t much of a debate in his eyes about whose life was worth more. A lovely, compassionate, kind woman was worth far more than he ever would be. He’d give everything to know she would be okay.

Elizabeth clapped a hand to her mouth in shock. She found her husband’s hand and gripped it tightly.

“It’s alright.” He assured her and kissed her temple. “Doctor Marsh is a very respectable doctor.”

“What about the baby?” Elizbeth asked with a hint of dread.

“She’s healthy,” Alfie reported. “Hanna will bring her out in a moment.” His heart ached. The first moments of his daughter’s life were supposed to be a joyous occasion. But he had to spend them worrying over his wife. He almost felt guilty because she deserved to be doted on in her first hours, to be held by her mother, and adored by relatives. Instead, she was fussing in the arms of the midwife who tried to soothe her.

“Alfie, come take her.” Hanna came out with the wriggling bundle. “Maybe she’ll take to you a bit better.”

Alfie highly doubted it but took Chava in his arms. He was so overwhelmed that he had to step away from everyone, taking his daughter into his study. He shooed the dogs out of the room before he sat down.

Chava whined and whimpered but she began to settle as he laid her against his chest, resting her head near his heart.

It was the first time he really got a good look at her. She was so much smaller than he expected. Everything about her didn’t seem real. Her tiny little fingers and button nose. But she certainly looked like him when she scrunched up her face as she tried to settle in his arms. She had a downy bit of hair that was already a fiery auburn color. She was absolutely perfect. Alfie was a bit hesitant on the idea of love at first sight. Of course, he fell for Caroline pretty quickly. But the instant connection he felt to Chava was indescribable. He felt the unwavering need to protect her.

“That’s it, I know.” He soothed in a soft voice. “I know you’d rather have mum holding you, yeah, but you’ve got me for the time being. Ain’t so bad, aye? Better than being stuck in mum’s belly, right?” But he could hardly even smile. He wouldn’t be complete until his Caroline was back in his arms again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt like a lifetime waiting for Dr. Marsh to come back downstairs. He was met with an anxious family.

“She’s awake and recovering. The bleeding was a bit more than we’d usually see during delivery but there don’t seem to be any more complications that I can see. I would ask that she have another check-up in a couple of days to make sure.”

Relief washed over everyone. Julia praised God and wiped her tears from her eyes.

“Mr. Solomons, she asked to see you and your daughter alone for now.”

Alfie nodded and brought Chava upstairs. Nudging open the door with his hip, he was so happy to see Caroline awake again.

“Ya know, someone’s been very impatient to meet you.” He said and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, Alfie, is she okay?” After waking up from fainting, Caroline was in quite a state. She was terrified she had lost the baby.

“She’s perfect, love.” He gently placed Chava in her arms.

Caroline held back her tears as best she could. The warm bundle in her arms moved about slightly. She made a soft cooing sound and a little hand touched her arm.

“I was so fucking worried,” Alfie whispered. “I thought I’d lost you-” His voice stuck in his throat.

“Alfie…”

“Just stay here with us, please.” He begged quietly. “I ain’t ready to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

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

Julia stayed with the new parents for a week after the chaotic birth. They all went to Letwin to have some peace and quiet. Meanwhile, Julia assisted with what they needed and to help them both acclimate. After all, there would be things Alfie needed to help Caroline with. Things he had little to no experience of doing. Things like changing nappies and giving baths.

Alfie thought it was remarkable of Caroline’s aunt to be so patient with them. It certainly wasn’t easy teaching anyone how to be a parent. And Alfie felt utterly incompetent. Caroline seemed much more confident. She got nursing down in a second and was arguably better at nappy changing than Alfie was.

But Julia reassured them that they were both doing wonderful for first-time parents. She had been hesitant, knowing that Caroline would be having a child with such a notorious figure in the community. Someone who was known for violence and other unsavory things. But when she saw Alfie holding his daughter, she had little doubt that he would be a suitable father.

One afternoon, Caroline was taking a much-deserved nap. When she awoke, she heard gentle splashing coming from the master bathroom. She got up and tied a robe around herself before going in.

Alfie was knelt by the tub where he was supporting Chava in a smaller basin filled with water. He heard Caroline get up and smiled. “Well-rested?”

“Very much so. Thank you for watching her.”

“Just giving her a wash now, Julia just went downstairs to get a softer cloth.” He trickled some of the warm water over Chava’s hair.

Caroline knelt down and found her daughter’s tiny little hand. “Is that my little Chavaleh? Is papa giving you a bath?”

The baby blew bubbles and wrapped her hand around her mother’s fingers.

“I swear, she’s got that same dimple you do. Right to the left of your lips. Julia says she won’t smile for a bit, but when she’s yawning, I thought I could see it there.” Alfie said. He marveled at how small Chava was and the little things she did. How she stretched and kicked her feet. The little expressions that she made when she was hungry or tired. Everything was so new to him and it felt like such a fresh breath of air. He wasn’t hunkered down at the bakery doing the same old shit day after day. It was something so exciting yet terrifying. It was a similar feeling to when he first started seeing Caroline. He was thrilled but so scared he’d mess it all up.

But there was his wife, ready to assure him. “You’re so good with her.” Caroline murmured and leaned into his side.

“Be honest, I don’t what the fuck I’m doing. But I figure s’long as she’s happy, that’s something.” He chuckled.

“It’s instinct.” She agreed. “But she loves you already, I can tell.”

Alfie smiled. “Yeah, she knows she’ll have me wrapped ‘round her pinky finger in no time.”

“You already are wrapped around her finger.” Caroline teased and kissed his cheek.

“Well, then I’m really fucked, right. ‘Cause she’ll be smart, won’t she? Fucking smart enough to know that I won’t be able to say no to her. Grown up spoiled. ‘Papa, can I have a pony? Papa, can we go to Italy and France and America? Papa, can I have a car?’ And I won’t be able to say no, ‘cause she’s me little girl, ain’t she? Just like her mother, can’t say no to her.”

Caroline laughed. “Then I suppose you ought to put some money aside for her because if she’s anything like her father, she’ll have a taste for expensive jewelry.”

Alfie groaned. “You’re right. Or maybe, she’ll be a bit more humble like her mum? What d’you think?”

She rested her cheek on his shoulder, letting Chava hold her fingers. “I suppose only time will tell. But I can’t wait for every moment of it.”

He was going to make a quip about smelly nappies or crying in the middle of the night but he realized he’d be lying if he wasn’t looking forward to every moment of it too.

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

Tag list: @zazasblogxx @thinkingsofamadwoman @deaflikehawkeye @bellarkebxtch @evelynshelby

Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #blind character #jewish character #tom hardy #tom hardy character

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panlight · 5 years

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Masks

Hello friends would you like to read my Elizabeth Masen figures out Carlisle fanfic from like 9 years ago? Part 1 of 3.

"Cullen? A word?

Carlisle had been successfully avoiding the chief of medicine since his shift ended seven hours ago, but Dr. Schmidt had finally managed to corner him. Carlisle had heard him coming, of course, but it was probably about time to get the well-meaning lecture over with.

"I am needed here," Carlisle insisted quietly, not wishing to wake the patients. They were the ones that needed rest.

"Your dedication is laudable, but I won't allow you to endanger your own health,” Dr. Schmidt said, gesturing towards the hallway. "You are our brightest young star--it would be a terrible loss to the future of medicine if you were cut down in your youth."

It was times like these Carlisle wished he looked older. He didn't need coddling, he didn't need looking after. Normally he tried to take the protective instincts of his physically older colleagues in good humor, but now Carlisle couldn't help but resent them.

What could he say? That he was immune? That he was immortal? That it was only because he had been 'cut down in his youth' that he stood here now, two and a half centuries later?

"You've been here for 19 hours straight."

Carlisle sighed and removed his mask. "I appreciate your concern, however--"

"You'll be of no use to anyone dead."

How about undead?

Carlisle wished he could tell Dr. Schmidt that he was one person on the hospital staff about whom he need not worry. He required no sleep, no food, and he certainly couldn't succumb to the influenza. No, the malady he had contracted centuries ago had rendered him immune to all human ailments, immune to death itself.

". . . but the simple truth of the matter is that while everyone your age thinks themselves immortal, Dr. Cullen, that is not actually the case. You look like death, son,” he added.

Carlisle turned to glance at his dim reflection in the window and discovered, with some shock, that Dr. Schmidt was right. The pallor was nothing new, but the dark circles under his eyes and the flat black of his irises were unsettling, and did make him appear decidedly unwell. He was suddenly acutely aware of the dry, burning pain in his throat. Carlisle had been so focused on his work, so overwhelmed by the scope and tragedy of this epidemic, that he had been completely ignoring his own needs. When was the last time he had hunted? It had been at least a month, if not longer. That was unforgivably irresponsible on his part.

"Very well. I will go home and . . . recuperate. But I will be back in eight hours."

Dr. Schmidt was still there when he returned. Carlisle knew for a fact he needed to eat and sleep. He had a wife, children, grandchildren. He needed to take care of himself for them. Carlisle hoped the dedicated fool realized how unbelievably lucky he was to have a family.

"Carlisle, you look much better! See what a little sleep can do?"

Of course sleep had nothing to do with it, it was blood that had brought a faint blush of color to his cheeks, brightened his eyes and lightened the circles beneath them. Carlisle couldn't imagine he would have been welcome there if his supervisor knew what he had been doing in his eight hours off. Then again, doctors were in such high demand, perhaps even his questionable lifestyle would be overlooked.

"You should take your own advice, Dr. Schmidt. Go home. Rest. I will take care of things here."

The old doctor's round spectacles reflected the dim light of the hall as he clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned to leave.

Despite his superiors' objections, Carlisle always took on the most virulent cases himself. And even though there was no risk of infection on his part, he still had to pretend. Thus he took all the necessary precautions, donning the white coverall, cap and mask of his colleagues. With his pale complexion he must have resembled a ghost as he drifted up and down the ward at night, uncannily appearing at the bedside of whoever needed attention the most, whoever was having the most trouble breathing, whoever had a spike in their fever.

That was how he met the Masens.

The father, Edward, was originally the only patient from the family, but his wife, Elizabeth, and son, Edward Jr, spent so much time at his bedside that they quickly contracted the illness themselves despite the masks they wore. Edward Sr. never regained consciousness once he was brought to his ward, but his wife and son were not so far gone. Elizabeth had the best chance of survival, but her grief over the loss of her husband and her worry over her son were hurting her chances. And although Carlisle knew it was dangerous, he quickly grew attached to the spirited widow and her son.

“Mrs. Masen, “ he chided gently as he came upon what was becoming a familiar scene, “you should be in bed.”

“I am in bed.” She lay holding her teenage son, the poor boy shivering with chills. The two looked very much alike, with a similar reddish tint to their hair, and identical emerald green eyes.

“Your bed, Elizabeth.”

“I am needed here,” she murmured, stroking the boy's hair.

Carlisle had never known his mother, and yet he found himself missing her as he watched Elizabeth with her son. Would his mother have loved him so completely, so recklessly? He supposed so she gave her life to bring him into the world, after all. It seemed now like a wasted effort, giving one's all to deliver a child only to have him become a vampire. Carlisle could only hope the way he had chosen to live the life he had gave her some small measure of comfort. Perhaps she would have been able to see past what he was, although he knew his father never could have.

“When Edward is well again he is going to need you. You can't risk your health like this. Come along, back to bed.”

Elizabeth sighed, kissed her son's forehead, and climbed out of his bed to return to her own. She faltered, weaker than she believed herself to be, and Carlisle swooped in to catch her.

“Careful,” he smiled behind his mask, hoping his eyes alone would convey his sentiment.

“You're awfully quick on your feet for so late at night, Dr. Cullen.”

Under different circumstance her statement may have sounded vaguely flirtatious, but there was no teasing in her words. Instead her tone was confused, skeptical. Carlisle had moved just a little too quickly, and she had noticed.

“It is not late from my perspective, Elizabeth. I am quite accustomed to working the night shift.”

“Why do you work the night shift?”

“I have no children and am unmarried. By working the night shift, I allow my colleagues to spend time with their families.”

Sadness washed across her features, probably thinking of her own shattered family. “You must be lonely.”

Yes! He wanted to scream. “I have my work,” he said instead, trying to make sure there was no discernible emotion in his voice.

“You have no family at all?”

“Like your Edward, I am an only child. And both my parents have passed away.“

“You seem awfully young to have lost both your parents,” she said, squinting thoughtfully at him. All she could see were his eyes. “Physically, anyway.”

He froze. “Pardon me?”

“You're young,” she reiterated. “Yet, somehow you remind me of his grandfather.”

“Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”

“An observation,” she said, turning her head to cough and pausing to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. “The way you carry yourself, how you speak. It reminds me of him. And your eyes,” she added.

“Are an unusual color, I know--”

“Well, yes but . . . your gaze is not that of a young man, but someone who has seen the world.” She paused a moment, but did not give him a chance to answer. “Why are you working in this ward?

“To spare my colleagues. I caught the influenza in the first wave,” he lied smoothly. “I am immune.”

“Then you don't really need that mask, do you?” Elizabeth asked. “May I see you?

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have worked so hard to care for my son and I, but I feel as if I do not know you at all. You are always hidden behind your mask.”

If only you knew, Elizabeth, he thought.

#carlisle cullen #elizabeth masen #fanfic

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taebadam · 5 years

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act 2 pt. 2

oh boy. oh wow oh boy. now we get to my absolute favorite: you oughta know. get ready folks cause i have so so much to say. alright. so we cut to frankie and jo in new york where frankie is thanking jo for coming to pick her up since she lost her debit card and she didn’t want to “break down and call home.” jo is mostly silent, nowhere near her usual sarcastic self. she responds to everything frankie says in this flat, controlled tone just simmering with anger below the surface. i’m just gonna transcribe this whole scene because it shows so many things: how much jo really cares about frankie even though she’s pissed, how much frankie clearly hurt her and how frankie really didn’t realize what she was doing. frankie goes “that was pretty crazy back at my house. in fact i’m surprised you even showed up.” jo responds with little to no emotion in her voice other than underlying anger, just tight and quiet and closed off like she’s trying so hard not to lose it: “i’m your best friend. i’m not going to leave you stranded in a neighborhood you can’t even name.” “but you’re mad.” “can you guess why? or are you so far up your own ass these days you don’t even know?” “i’m really sorry. i was gonna tell you.” “and yet you didn’t. because you knew what you were doing was wrong.” “i didn’t think i was gonna fall in love with him.” “love? well congratulations frankie. i’m glad you found something healthy and rational. i’m clearly not as legit as your fuckboi phoenix.” “that’s not what i’m saying jo i just didn’t think you and i were in an exclusive relationship.” “right. why would you take this… (gestures to herself) seriously.” “you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

and in comes the music. ok so a few things. as jo starts singing frankie is standing behind her and jo’s deathly still, her voice still quiet as she just stares straight ahead. they’re the only two on stage. you can practically feel the tension in the air. everyone in the audience is on the edge of their seat. frankie starts to turn around and walk away until the first mini drop when you can feel something building and you know shit’s about to go down: when the guitar comes in and jo starts “a perfect version of me.” as soon as that guitar hits frankie freezes in her tracks and the soft light on jo starts to turn red. and wow is it about to get good. jo stays completely still as frankie circles back around while we get to the first pre-chorus, the “the love that you gave that we made wasn’t able…” part. as she does the pre-chorus the red light begins to expand around her but she still isn’t moving. her voice, however, even though it is still thin and controlled is starting to grow as the anger just continues to bubble up. she sings the first chorus just staring out into the audience, unmoving, and the tension just KEEPS BUILDING. frankie begins to back away just a little, like she’s beginning to realize just how angry and hurt jo really is. but we haven’t seen anything yet. we get to the second verse and the red lights continue to grow more intense as jo finally, FINALLY starts moving. she turns to look at frankie, staring her down, but she’s still controlled, still holding herself back. her voice gets a little more raspy, a little more intense but still not enough and everyone is holding their breath. once we get to “did you forget about me” she starts to stumble away a little bit, those mannerisms starting to shine through and we just barely start to see her truly devastated, exposed, vulnerable self. when she sings “are you thinking of me when he fucks you” she grabs frankie forcefully before pulling away. she’s starting to show more of her anger both physically and vocally. the pre-chorus comes back and that raspiness to her voice only increases, anger now finally starting to show on her face and she moves back, away from frankie and turns to finally start powerfully singing (though not yet screaming as she eventually gets to) “and i’m here!” it’s at this point that the band really starts to get loud. they come in from the wings and the volume jumps up. powerful red light fixtures drop down from the ceiling, flashing violently and one by one the ensemble runs up over the course of the second chorus to flank jo on either side. frankie doesn’t know what to do. and we’re still not even at the climax. then everything drops out as the ensemble starts singing “ooh” for the third verse. jo moves to the front, clearly starting to lose it as the ensemble walks around behind her, circling and enclosing frankie. jo isn’t even looking at frankie anymore, she’s holding her head in her hands and walking, pulling at her hair, eventually starting to join in with the ensemble. then she begins her high harmony and the anger on her face becomes more and more clear and as she sings higher and higher the ensemble moves from frankie to come stand beside jo. they all stomp their feet on the last “ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah… AHH!!” and jo’s high note. holy shit. and now everything’s been released.

she begins to go full screamo, dancing with the ensemble, pointing and yelling at frankie as her anger and fear and devastation just all boil over. the band is now rocking out and the stage is bathed in angry red light. jo screams “well can you feel it” and her and the ensemble run to stand near the back of the stage in front of the band and just completely lose it. jo is screaming, singing her heart out, throwing her body around in desperation. you can see just how horribly sad and angry she is, how she feels abandoned and alone. you can see it in her face, her body, hear it in her voice. and then the chorus happens AGAIN for that final time and they all run to the very front of the stage, jo just completely losing it. she whips her head up and down, screeching with all her might, reaching out to the audience and just practically pulsing with anger and energy. it’s truly stunning. on the last line (you, you, you) she and the whole ensemble are jumping and the lights are flashing red and white and then everyone cuts out and it’s just her, screaming out into the audience with a voice of just pure raw emotion: “oughta know!!” and they all freeze. the crowd goes. WILD. both times i saw this she got a standing ovation. A MID SHOW STANDING OVATION LIKE WTF. and she absolutely deserved it both times. the amount of emotion she puts out on that stage. and her VOICE HOLY SHIT. honestly, that scene and song is a whole musical in and of itself. her range of emotion through those like 5 minutes, the way she builds in every possible way— stunning. words cannot describe how much i love lauren patten. also it just means so much to me to see women who are allowed to get angry on stage. i love it.

also important to note is that jo doesn’t have her beanie on in this scene? and i have a lot of thoughts on this. in most other scenes, jo is hiding behind a front. she’s sarcastic and tries to avoid showing any form of vulnerability. she wears her beanie like a suit of armor, really. we only see her without her beanie three times: when she’s coming back from the church social with her mom (which she was forced to do and clearly hated. and as soon as her mom is gone she puts the beanie back on immediately, like it’s something to hold on to), you oughta know (which is the only time, at least at this point in the show, where i think we really, truly see jo— when she lets herself go) and then the end (we’ll talk about this later).

after everyone has finished cheering (for a solid like 2 minutes holy shit), frankie runs up to jo looking at her phone in a panic. “jo!” she yells. jo turns around, clearly annoyed, “what? god do you even give a shit?” and frankie goes “no jo it’s my mom” and immediately jo’s there to help because that’s the kind of person she is and they run off stage in a hurry.

cue uninvited. wow. i know i’ve said this about so many things but honestly i don’t think i’ve ever seen such genius staging and choreography in theater ever. it’s absolutely mindblowing. so this is the scene where mj overdoses and the way they depict this is genius. we see a dark stage with a single spotlight on the couch in the center where mj sits and begins to sing. seconds later, heather comes up from behind her and begins to dance around her. this kicks off a stunning choreography that has you on the edge of your seat the whole time. dressed the same as mj, heather shows the agony and pain mj is experiencing, both mentally and physically, through dance. she throws herself around the couch, falling to the floor in agony and pulling herself back up again. mj and heather reach out to each other but never quite reach each other. elizabeth’s stunning voice as mj combined with heather’s astounding choreography as her body double just makes you really, truly feel the absolute pain she’s experiencing in every possible way. incredible. also, at the very beginning of the song, i kid you not when i first looked toward the back of the stage i thought there was a reflection or a pole or something? you can ~just barely~ see something behind mj but i truly thought it was a trick of the light for the longest time. but slowly, ever so slowly, the light grows and you realize it was bella, looking on and watching the whole thing as a ghost in the distance. and her harmonies are stunning. at the end of the song heather and bella leave and mj collapses on the floor, completely passed out. this is when steve enters. he sees her and we see him for a moment start to run towards her and the stage goes pitch black with a loud note from the band. a second later the lights come back on and this time we see steve on the ground w mj and nick on the phone talking frantically. the lights shut off again w another note and when they come back on we see an emt taking mj’s vitals. then they shut off one last time and when they come back on we’re in the hospital w mj and steve.

steve and nick have a conversation with the doctor before going into mj’s room featuring one of the best exchanges i’ve ever seen on stage. the doctor tells steve mj overdosed and she had multiple drugs in her system, different ones than she was originally prescribed, leading him to conclude she got them off the streets. steve is in disbelief. he replies “look at her. does she looks like a drug addict to you?” and the doctor replies “what do you think a drug addict looks like?” no response. incredible.

then mary jane. wow sean allen krill’s voice is just so so good and his performance is stunning. i cried. he climbs in bed with mary jane as he sings to her and it’s adorable. we also have a great exchange between the two of them when she wakes up. one of the lines from the couples therapy scene earlier was steve talking about how mj has to be the best at everything: “we get it mj. you’re winning… at candyland.” now as she wakes up steve is breaking down (also so great to see a grown man get emotional and cry onstage! yes!! fuck toxic masculinity!!) and he apologizes for not noticing something was wrong earlier, talking about how he messed up. mj, still weak and tired responds “im detoxing from opiates… i win.” such a good line. they discuss how they need to start communicating more, mj starting to come clean that she has some things she needs to work through and they discuss how she’ll be going to rehab. nick then walks in (frankie visited earlier during mary jane) and mj immediately goes “nick i was wrong. you need to go to the police.” and steve responds “mj. he already did.” they then discuss how frankie is currently downtown at the rally she organized: the rally for bella.

and now we’re at the rally, the setting for no. this is absolutely incredible. the whole ensemble is on stage, the band behind them, jo and phoenix on either side and frankie in the middle holding a sign that says “stand with survivors,” all surrounding bella who stands in the center with her head held high. after the song starts bella and nick have a brief interaction and honestly i was so so happy with how they did this. nick explains that he came forward and apologizes for not doing so earlier. and bella, rightfully so, STAYS ANGRY. i love to see women on stage being allowed to show emotion. she recognizes he did the right thing but she doesn’t immediately forgive him nor should she. she’s still hurt, and what nick did, or didn’t do, will affect her for the rest of her life: “why didn’t you stop him?” she asks. “i don’t know” he responds, “but everyone knows the truth now.” she then calls him out on his privilege, saying “because you said it. why wasn’t it enough for me to say it? you get to be the hero, like always. because of who you are, because of what you look like. they believe you.” “i’m sorry. if i could change anything about my life bella i would go back—” “yeah. so would i.” she walks away and the song continues. most of the ensemble members have solo lines where they stand center stage, their expressions solemn while the rest of the ensemble surrounds them, touching them, enclosing them. then we get to the second chorus and bella’s big part. she stands center again, belting her heart out as the ensemble, frankie and jo all grab their signs and stand by her side. these signs are stunning. some highlights include: “rape affects all genders,” “believe black women,” “tell your story,” “you’re not alone,” “teach consent,” “a call to men,” “don’t tell me what to wear, tell them not to rape,” and, my personal favorite, “don’t get raped” with the “get” and “d” crossed out so it says “don’t rape.” they slowly move toward the front of the stage as they reach the climax of the song, and stand in solidarity in a line across the very front. at the end of the chorus nick picks up the sign frankie was holding earlier, “stand with survivors” and moves to join them and stand next to bella, literally standing with survivors. chills.

now we get to the closing. as thank u plays in the background we once again see mj sitting on the family couch, writing the annual healy christmas letter. she talks about how inspired she is by frankie’s strength, how her daughter’s doing so much for bella who is a rape survivor “like myself.” she then discusses how bella’s case is going to trial and, even though andrew still got into a good college, bella gets to tell her story, “most of us never do.” frankie then sits down next to her and says “i didn’t know what you were going through mom. i guess i never saw you as a… person?” mj laughs. “you’re my kid that’s normal.” she then starts talking about how all she ever wanted was for frankie to fit in there and when frankie tells her she never wanted that mj goes. “i got it wrong. i’m going to start listening.” she tells us nick is taking a year off to be a witness in bella’s case: “he can’t change the past. but he’s looking inside himself to figure out why he didn’t do anything when he had the chance.” she talks about how her and steve are in therapy both couple and individual. and finally, she talks about her time in rehab and the incredible people she met and all that she learned, but how “recovery will last the rest of [my] life.” she cracks some jokes at the expense of the white, privileged, suburban lifestyle she once loved, commenting “i had spent so much time around all of you i forgot what it was like to talk to people who were kind and genuinely had empathy.” the whole family is sitting next to her on the couch now as she finishes up the christmas letter with “xoxo, mj.” as she finishes she goes “i think this will be my last letter” and when asked why she says, “because christmas letters are for assholes.” steve then asks “are you really going to send that” and mj replies “what have i got to lose?” before steve reminds her “you’re not at rock bottom anymore.” frankie then dares her to send it and nick agrees. she hits send in one impulsive click and yells “merry fucking christmas.” you learn begins to play in the background as steve laughs and asks who that went to and mj responds in this hilarious exaggerated whisper: “everyoneeeeee.”

now we have you learn. so beautiful. one thing that isn’t on the soundtrack is that before jo comes in she and frankie talk for a moment. they say they miss each other but we see that jo’s doing well, she has a new girlfriend and she’s finally starting to gain some confidence. she doesn’t have her beanie on!! jo then asks about phoenix and frankie responds “we’re good. we’re just friends.” and then the music starts back up again. as we get to the chorus the whole ensemble joins them and they’re all just rocking out, laughing, smiling, dancing and generally having the time of their lives. so so wholesome i love it so much. watch the video of their performance on good morning america it’s so so cute. the very end everyone slowly leaves and it’s just mj and frankie center stage, holding hands as the final note dies out. so so good.

the bows. omg. at the end they go back and jam w the band and it’s SO CUTE. also frankie and jo always dance off together as they’re leaving the stage. wholesome content.

let me know if there’s anything else at all you’d like to know!! or if anything wasn’t clear. or if you just wanna talk about it. i have many thoughts, some of which aren’t even in this ridiculously long post.

#jlp #jagged little pill #jagged little broadway #elizabeth stanley #sean allen krill #derek klena #celia gooding #lauren patten #kathryn gallagher

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sparklemichele · 5 years

Text

Kissing On My Tattoos Part 8

KOMT Masterlist

Everything was a blur. People started to fill up your bedroom as Calvin called family and Mary the PR coordinator. They were trying to talk to you to make you feel better, but you only heard noise. Mary called all major smut publications and internet news source and told them Tom Hardy will sue them if they chose to publish the pictures. Your phone was ringing off the hook as Charlotte had also leaked your number and people were calling for comments. By the end of the day it looked like everything would be alright and you guys were ahead of the situation when Calvin got a Google alert. He gasped when he looked at the alert. An online publication not caring about the warning, published the photos. You wanted to die. The pictures were now for everyone to see. Tom called you immediately.

“I’m sorry love. I will go after that site with everything I got. I’m also moving out. Charlotte knows she fucked up. Do you want to press charges?”

“No Tom she is pregnant. I don’t want her having your baby in jail.” You sighed with fatigue.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. What’s done is done. I’m just tired of the whole situation.”

Your next call was your boss who in the most tactful way told you that you were fired. You knew you would be if those pictures were leaked. You had no idea what you were going to do for income. You were glad you had a hefty savings to get you through until you could find another job. You would also if necessary, lean on Tom for financial help. As the day came to an end you crawled in bed holding your stomach. Calvin asked if you wanted to see the pictures and you told him no. Mary had already reached out and told them to take them down or Tom would sue. By the end of the day they were down but it did not matter. What was once on the internet stays on the internet. No telling how many people had saved the photos to their phone. You closed your eyes and cried yourself to sleep.

Months later

“It’s really nice Tom.” You smiled into the Facetime screen as Tom showed you around his new flat, he rented. He and Charlotte was officially separated but that didn’t stop her from calling you and yelling obscenities. You had to change your number twice due to her. You had not really looked for a job as you were soon going to give birth and you wanted to stay home with your baby girl. You were pleasantly surprised that you did get a few offers. You guess some magazines like scandals. Maybe it would draw more readers. You told them you will began talks after you had your baby. You smiled as Woody jumped on Tom’s lap as soon as he sat on his new couch. He had come to the states twice since he left but you still missed him immensely.

“I’m going to get someone to come decorate the room for our little girl. Charlotte said she doesn’t want the baby over here without her supervision.”

“Well she has that right.” You told him. “Make sure you ask me first before you and the designer make any decisions on her room.”

“I will. When will you visit London?”

“I have to get approval from my doctor. I have an appointment in a couple of weeks.”

“Ok. I’ll call you later. I drunk a shit ton of water and need to hit the loo.”

You laughed as you ended the Facetime call.

_____________________________________________________________

Your doctor gave you permission to visit across the ocean, but they advise to only stay a week. You were dangerously close to your due date. You called Tom to tell him the happy news and when you would be arriving, but he had tears in his eyes when he answered the Facetime.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You asked panicked.

“Woody died.” Tom sniffed and wiped tears from his face.

“Oh, sweetheart I am so sorry. I’m catching a flight out tomorrow to see you. Will you be okay till then?”

Tom nodded as fresh tears ran down his face. You knew how much Woody meant to Tom and you knew the loss of his beloved dog devastated him. You were glad you were going to see him tomorrow as he should not be alone. You comforted him the best you could, and he seemed better once you both hung up. You were glad you were heading to the UK tomorrow.

_____________________________________________________________

You and Calvin bickered as you both carried an army of luggage through the airport. You were not surprised to see the paps following you. You ignored their invasive questions. You were glad for first class as you can stretch your aching feet. Your ankles were swollen, and you were so uncomfortable and always hot. You made yourself comfortable as best you could, ignored Calvin’s yapping and went to sleep for most of the flight.

Tom himself met you at the airport. You saw the look of surprise when he saw Calvin with you. You might have forgot to mention that detail to him. You knew London’s press can be ruthless and you wanted your best friend with you. He greeted Calvin with a hug and pulled you in a tight embrace.

“You look so damn beautiful.”

“Thank you. How are you feeling?” You asked caressing his cheeks. You heard the shutters of the camera, but Calvin stood in their direct line of sight.

“I’m better since you are here.” Tom grabbed your luggage and escorted you to his car. Once safely inside and on his way to his apartment you asked where he buried Woody.

“I buried him in the backyard. I plan on staying at the apartment awhile.”

Finally, at his new apartment Tom was excited to show you the baby room. You had made all executive decisions on how the room would look.

“Calvin you can take the guest room.”

“Obvi.” Calvin snide rolling his eyes. Tom chose to ignore him and took you to the baby’s room. It was breath taking. You had the Disney Princess theme with the majority being Tiana from The Princess and the Frog.

“It’s beautiful Tom!” You gave him a hug and a kiss on the lips. Tom gave you a toothy grin. Tom’s cell rung and he excused himself to answer it. You busied yourself in your daughter’s room looking at all the stuff he brought. Your child would not want for anything. You sat in the rocking chair he brought and rocked yourself.

“This is cute!” Calvin squealed when he walked in the room.

“It is isn’t it. I love it.”

Tom entered the room. “That was my mum. She wants us over for dinner.”

You tried your best to hide your lack of desire to have dinner with his parents. You knew you would have to meet them eventually, but you were hoping it would not be this trip. You must have not done a good job hiding your emotions because Tom said you didn’t have to go.

“I will go. I need to meet them eventually. I just know how much they love Charlotte.”

“It will be ok. They know how much I love you and will not do anything to upset me.”

“Ok.” You got up from the rocking chair.

“Show me the rest of the place.” You told Tom taking his hand. Tom was all smiles as he showed you and Calvin his new home.

____________________________________________________________

You were a nervous wreck on the way to his parent’s house. You wish you could take something for your anxiety. They seemed pleasant enough as they greeted you and Calvin and escorted you to their living room.

“Have a seat while I finish up in the kitchen.” Tom’s mother Elizabeth told you as she eyes your stomach. You found you and Calvin were not the only guest as Tom hugged a man that was already in the living room.

“Y/N, Calvin this is my friend Greg. Greg this is Y/N and Calvin.”

Greg shook Calvin’s hand and hesitantly shook yours. You could tell instantly he was not a fan of yours. You had a feeling this will be a long dinner. Greg held a conversation with Calvin and Tom and ignored you. You just sat back willing yourself not to get a headache. Maybe you should not have come. Tom’s father Chips came in the living room telling you all dinner was ready. You sighed as you knew you were leaving one torturous situation for another. You sat between Tom and Calvin. You needed the shield of the two men in your life you loved.

“So, you are having a girl I hear.” Chips directed at you.

“Yes, we are.” Tom answered for you. You all engaged in as pleasant but strain conversation.

You were starting to become very self-conscious the way Tom’s mother was looking at you. You wondered did she give Charlotte the same stare down when she got with Tom. Tom and Charlotte also got together due to infidelity so why the fuck was she giving you the side eye and not her son. You noticed Greg was side eyeing you too. Chips was the only one who seemed genuinely happy for you and Tom. You were seriously uncomfortable during dinner. You were ready to go and told Tom you were tired. Tom relayed to his parents that he needed to get you home.

“No dessert?” Elizabeth asked eyeing you suspiciously.

“No mum we need to go.” Tom told her as he got up from the table.

“Well let me pack you some. Maybe you can eat it later.” Elizabeth got up from the table and headed to the kitchen. You got up also and told Tom you will be waiting in the living room. You needed to breathe. You sat on the couch and let out a long sigh. You closed your eyes and rubbed your belly.

“I saw your nudes. Not classy at all.”

Your eyes opened to find Greg in the living room. You let out another sigh.

“What do you want?” You were done biting your tongue and trying to be nice.

“I don’t think you and Tom should be to together. It’s not right.”

You got up from the couch and walked up to Greg.

“Does Tom know how you feel? Did you tell him you were looking at nude pictures of the mother of his child?”

“The whole world has most likely seen those pics.” Greg defended.

“You didn’t answer my question. You are his friend. You should not have clicked on the pictures!” You noticed your voice was raising. “What’s going on here?” Tom asked walking into the living room holding a plastic food container. Calvin walked in too carrying a container as well.

“Nothing.” Greg quickly said as he backed up away from you.

“Y/N?” Tom looked at you. “Your voice was raised. Did he say something to you?” You can see Tom getting upset as he looked at Greg.

“No. Everything is fine Tom.” You lied. Tom looked back at Greg and Greg gave Tom a hug to reassure him.

Fuckin asshole!

Calvin eyes you with pursed lips. He knew something was up. Tom’s parents entered the living room to say goodbye.

“It was nice meeting you.” Elizabeth said giving you a strain hug. Why did she even bother you thought to yourself. Chips hug was more genuine, and he made you smile. Tom hugged his parents as you and Calvin eased your way to the front door.

“You have to tell me what happen.” Calvin whispered in your ear. You nodded. Greg walked up to Calvin and shook his hand.

“It was nice meeting you mate.” He said. He looked at you and extended his hand. You ignored it, turned around and opened the door to exit the house. Tom was coming up behind Greg and did not notice the exchange.

_____________________________________________________________

You sighed with relief once you all were heading back to Tom’s place.

“I know something went on with you and Greg. Are you going to tell me?” Tom asked looking over at you quickly before his eyes were back on the road.

“No.” You told him. Tom started to interject but you told him you did not want to talk about it, and he let the matter go for now. You turned your head to look out the window. You could not help but smile as you knew if you told Tom he would go off on Greg. It felt good to know you could hurt Greg if you wanted to. You would hold on to what transpired between you two until you needed it. Tom grabbed your hand and kissed the back of your hand. You turned around and looked at him.

“I love you.” You told him squeezing his hand.

“I love you too.” He kissed your hand again and your smile widened.

@imgoldielikehawn @laketaj24 @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @readsalot73 @titty-teetee @fangirlextraordinaire @sdcyumyum @regular-biitch @im-that-one-gurl @chocolatemetalprincess @warmchick @poe-slittleraven13 @eyesof-mine @queenlouisa2001 @earthsmightiestasses @badassbaker @demoncrypt1066 @petrashappyplace @captstefanbrandt @lokilvrr @cheychey10142 @racing-against-the-sunset @zuzuspanda @rosey1981 @laneaseee @melaninmarvel @virgosapphire79 @yes-sir-mr-tom @emmysrandomthoughts @trishevans @oddsnendsfanfics @angelswannawearmyredshoes @shelbzzzzzz @super-autumn-bayou-read @centerhabit @doloreschanal @jenniferhtesta @wabi-sabi1090 @coralelizabeth @londonalozzy @titty-teetee @kmhappybunny @mollybegger-blog @nys30 @anhelz @kimmietea

#Tom Hardy #tom hardy fic #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy x reader #kissing on my tattoos #Komt #sparklemichele writes #sparklemichele

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sophiaholmes221b · 4 years

Text

Sophia Holmes and the Blind Banker

Chapter One

Dad backs away carefully and ducks to avoid the blow. The client-turned-attacker advances on dad, pushing him back against the sofa. I grab the attacker's arms as he slashes his scimitar down onto dad, and dad ducks under the sword in time and drops into a sitting position. I jump out of the way as dad kicks out his leg, striking the assailant's chest hard before the robed figure can bring the scimitar back down. As he stumbles backwards, dad jumps back up and straightens his jacket once more before charging across to join my fight with the attacker.

"Duck!" he yells, and I crouch in time for the blade to pass over my head then kick out my leg so he buckles to the floor.

The man growls at me and I bounce back up. He mirrors me and brings the sword down upon me. Dad pushes me out of the way and grabs the mans wrists tightly, but the man pushes dad towards the kitchen with his sword held horizontally in both hands and pins dad onto our kitchen counter. He pushes down, the blade resting on dad's neck, threatening to cut. Dad grimaces under the weight of holding the scimitar away, so I charge forward and kick the attacker in the popileta fossa. He bends a little from the impact but doesn't fall, however it's enough to distract him and dad tilts the scimitar sideways and out of harm's way.

The point of the blade marks the counter as dad repeatedly kicks the swordsman in the side and as he begins to loosen his grip, dad is able to force himself upwards again. The sword tip slides across the countertop, making a large scratch that will no doubt come out of our rent if Mrs Hudson sees it.

I replace dad in the fight as he catches his breath and I bring my leg up, repeatedly kicking the swordsman in the stomach and pushing him out of the kitchen once more. I jump the scimitar as he swings it low and land on the blade, pulling the robed man down with - at the very least - a sprained wrist. As I leap out of the way to dodge his low kick, dad replaces me.

The swordsman jumps back up and takes another swing at dad, who ducks under it.

"Look!" dad shouts, pointing to a place just over the man's shoulder.

Already turning, the attacker is distracted by our reflections in the mirror for just long enough for dad to take the opportunity to swing a powerful hit to the assailant's chin, knocking him unconscious before he even lands in dad's chair.

Dad straightens up immediately and checks his reflection in the mirror, re-adjusting his cuffs and brushing the dust from his jacket before sending the unconscious man a look of hatred for ruining his suit.

I give dad a sly smile and he and I lift the body, carry it through the kitchen and throw it out of the window and out onto Mrs Hudson's bins. I listen with delight as he lands on the safety of the bags. He won't be seriously injured - he just won't want to come back.

I check out my own appearance in the mirror as we walk back to the living room. My white, sheer blouse is all ruffled and dusty and my black jeggings are torn from the blade, but on the bright side - no cuts!

"All this over a damn God," I groan.

Dad laughs and takes his phone out. "Quite." He looks me up and down. "John'll be back soon. To stop him fussing, you might want to change."

It's my turn to chuckle, but I turn and head upstairs to my room to change.

I am Sophia Elizabeth Holmes, and you may have heard of the last case we cracked - A Study in Pink, as John prefers to call it.

I dress myself in another white, sheer blouse and black leggings, and leave my others in the increasingly large pile of other clothes that Mrs Hudson hasn't washed yet. By the time I've finished getting changed, I hear the front door slam shut, and the footsteps of Doctor John Watson coming up the stairs.

Joining dad back down in the living room before John reaches the top, I lean against the doorway and give him a wave as he comes up the last set of stairs. Dad is also acting casual by resuming the book he was reading when John left.

John frowns as he walks in, suspicious that something has happened whilst he's been gone. Curiously, he doesn't seem to have any shopping with him, which is what he supposedly went out to get.

"You took your time," dad says, not looking up from his book.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping."

Dad looks over the top of his book indignantly. "What? Why not?"

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine," John answers, tetchily.

Dad lowers his book a little to look at John with surprise whilst I attempt to stifle a laugh. "You ... you had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of," John replies, still angry. "It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?"

Dad smiles, amused at John's normal human troubles, and nods towards the kitchen. "Take my card."

John hesitates for a moment before walking towards the kitchen but he stops as he reaches me and turns back to dad indignantly.

"You could always go yourself, you know," John says, angrily, and being so very, very ignorant to dad's own troubles with machines. "You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left."

I put on an innocent face and walk over to dad to grab a book. It's best just to let John make his own assumptions; it stops the waste of several tedious minutes of explaining.

John rummages through dad's wallet to find a suitable card to use. "And what happened about that case you were offered - the Jaria Diamond?"

"Not interested," dad says and I smirk. Using a piece of paper as a bookmark, he slams his book shut. My eyes lower to his feet where the scimitar lies in plain view. I cough slightly, and dad looks at me, questioningly. I indicate to the scimitar, and he quickly slams his foot onto the edge and sends it further under the chair. "I sent them a message," he continues firmly. My smirk grows larger as I remember the uppercut which ended the fight.

John seems to have found a card he can use, but pauses to look at the new scratch in our counter. He sighs as he runs his finger along the top to see if it can come off. "Ugh, Holmes," he says in an annoyed whisper and looks across at us, tutting pointedly.

Dad shakes his head innocently and John turns and leaves the flat again as dad smirks at me knowingly.

"I think we need to get rid of the scimitar," I say quietly as I hear the door slam shut downstairs.

Dad nods in agreement and squats down to fetch the blade from beneath his seat before tossing it out of the window and on top of the bins.

As he comes back, he sits down at the living room table and opens up John's laptop. Oh the days where he had to get up and fetch his own laptop.

This has been our routine for the last two weeks: Client, computer, emails, repeat. Nothing decent has come up on the website for months, and I'm starting to believe the emails are a long shot too.

Dad lets out a sigh of delight and I spin around. The computer has fired up already, and dad has a new email. A potential client? He opens it up and raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Sebastian Wilkes?" I question, scanning through the email from over his shoulder.

"University," dad says, narrowing his eyes. "Never liked him."

I roll my eyes and read the email in its entirety.

Sherlock,

How're things, buddy? Been a long time since we last met.

I hear on the grapevine that you're now a consulting detective? There's been an 'incident' at the bank - something interesting. I'm hoping you can sort it for me.

Please call by. Needless to say, I'll be relying on your discretion.

Sebastian

"Buddy?" I snigger.

"See what I mean?" dad replies, smirking.

"Anyway, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know," dad replies, putting his hands into a praying position as he thinks. Sighing, I turn away to get my laptop from my bedroom. He's not going to be talking for a while.

***

"Don't worry about me. I can manage," John says sarcastically as he climbs the stairs, laden with several bags of heavy shopping.

"Don't worry, we aren't," I sing back.

Dad chuckles quietly but John just sighs and shakes his head at my remark. Dad folds his hands in front of his mouth, and I can see his brain still trying to figure out what to do.

John dumps the shopping on the kitchen counter and frowns as he sees the computer dad's using. "Is that my computer?"

"Of course," dad replies simply, beginning to type his reply. From what I can see, he's agreeing to come.

"What?!" John says in disbelief.

"Mine was in the bedroom."

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up? Sophia ... Sophie, why couldn't you get it?"

"Couldn't be bothered," I say, smiling sweetly at him. "I've been doing it for about ten years, I've earned my rest." Dad snorts at my retort.

"It's password protected!" John shouts indignantly, not taking any notice of me.

"In a manner of speaking," dad replies calmly, still typing. "Took me less than a minute to guess yours," he glances up at John with a smirk. "Not exactly Fort Knox."

"Right, thank you," John says, annoyed, and coming over to slam the lid down. Dad pulls his hands away in disbelief and holds them there for a minute before he puts them into the prayer position again, resting his elbows on the table and looking thoughtful. John takes the laptop across the room and puts it down on the floor beside his armchair as he sits down. It's not as if he's using it though, is it? So why can't dad use it?

John picks up the small pile of bills I brought up earlier and frowns. "Oh," he mutters quietly as he sifts through them. I know at least one of them requires urgent paying, and the rest are just escalating in price. John shakes his head in surrender to the fact he's about to say. "Need to get a job."

"Oh, dull," dad mutters, half-listening as John puts the letters back onto the table and looks across to dad for a moment, before he looks back at the letters.

"Listen, um ..." he begins, leaning forward awkwardly, "if you'd be able to lend me some ..." he fades off as he realises we're not listening properly. "Sherlock, are you listening?"

Dad doesn't look around, but he seems to have concluded what to do. "I need to go to the bank," he says quietly, getting up and heading towards the stairs and throwing me my coat from the hook, before putting on his own and heading outside.

John frowns at my dad's sudden change of attitude but then jumps up to join him, following behind me.

The bank that dad leads us to is certainly not the one he uses, and neither does it look very welcoming to children of my age. The name of the bank is the Shad Sanderson Bank, I notice, as I follow dad through a set of revolving glass doors into the foyer. John looks up, impressed at the sight of all the white walls and glass ceilings. They must have a very exclusive clientele.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank ..." John fades off as he steps onto a large escalator behind us.

Dad and I look around, observing the level of security this bank contains. It seems everything in here is secure, and they've obviously spent a lot of money insuring it stayed that way. I don't see how anybody could have walked in without being noticed, unless it was an employee. Other than that, I have no idea, and I don't think dad does either, although he won't admit it.

We reach the top, and dad walks over to the reception desk. "Sherlock Holmes," he says confidently to one of the women.

"Yes, of course, sir. Mr Wilkes was expecting you, but I'm not sure if your..."

"They're with me," dad interrupts.

"Of course sir. I'll send a message through to Mr Wilkes. If you can just wait through there, please." She indicates to a room to the left, and dad walks directly over to it. I leave her a small smile of thanks before I follow after dad.

A little while later, we're shown into Mr Sebastian Wilkes' office by his secretary.

"Sherlock Holmes," the man greets, smiling broadly.

"Sebastian," dad says, his face emotionless towards the man as they shake hands, Sebastian clasping dad's hand in both of his own.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"

Dad ignores him but looks back with dislike which is barely disguised. Sebastian turns to look at me and John. "This is my daughter, Sophia Holmes," dad introduces me, and I step forward to shake Mr Wilkes' hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," he smiles at me, but I ignore him, my attention focused on his watch.

"... And this is my friend, John Watson."

"Friend?" Wilkes queries, latching onto dads emphasis on the word.

"Colleague," John corrects him, also looking pretty emotionless.

"Right," Sebastian says, looking curiously at John as they too shake hands. "Right." He throws dad a quick look of surprise at his ability to gain a friend, then smiles unpleasantly as he scratches at his neck, his watch on full show. I think dad might have noticed the watch as well.

As Sebastian turns away, John purses his lips, seeming to take an immediate dislike at this man. I can't say I like him much either, but if it results in an interesting case, then I'm all for it, and I think that was the only reason dad took up the offer as well.

"Well, grab a pew," Sebastian smiles, gesturing us to some seats. "D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

Dad and I shake our heads, wordlessly, but John voices our answer. "No."

"No?" Sebastian questions, turning to his secretary. "We're all sorted here, thanks." As the secretary leaves behind us, Wilkes sits down behind his desk, and we take the seats in front of him.

"So, you're doing well," dad states. "You've been abroad a lot."

"Well, some," Wilkes lies, modestly.

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" I see John frown in confusion, but I just smile innocently, enjoying the scene.

Sebastian just laughs and points at dad. "Right. You're doing that thing," he chuckles, looking to John. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick," dad says quietly, obviously annoyed.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story," Wilkes continues to John.

"Yes, I've seen him do it," John says, joining in on the conversation.

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him."

I turn my head to see dad's eyes filling with pain from the memories. I smile sadly to myself at how alike we are - I'm going through the same at the moment at school.

"You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall," Wilkes continues, "and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

"I simply observed," dad says quietly, his confidence completely knocked around Wilkes. They must have put him through hell.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world - you're quite right. How could you tell?" Dad opens his mouth to speak, but Sebastian continues to lower my IQ by talking.

"You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan," he continues, smugly.

I can tell you exactly how I know, but if I know dad, he won't explain it now.

"No, I ..." dad starts, but Sebastian begins to talk over him.

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!"

Dad looks back at him for a second before attempting to speak again. "I was just chatting with your secretary outside," dad lies, convincingly. "She told me."

John frowns at dad, confused by the fact that we didn't speak to the secretary at all. In fact, dad ignored her for the most part.

Wilkes laughs humorlessly, and dad smiles back with an equal lack of humour. Sebastian claps his hands together and becomes more serious. "I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in."

"That statement was clearly stated in your email," dad says.

"Yes, of course," he says, reddening a little. "Yes, so do you want to see it?"

"Naturally," dad says, standing up and walking towards the door.

I stand up with him, and Wilkes leads us across the trading floor and towards another door.

"Sir William's office - the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night," he explains as we walk.

"What did they steal?" John asks.

"Nothing," Sebastian Wilkes says. "Just left a little message." He holds his security card against the reader by the door, and the door clicks open. That rules the door out as an entry-point.

Hanging on the whitewashed wall behind the desk is a framed portrait of a man in a business suit, perhaps the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall to the left of the portrait, someone has sprayed some yellow graffiti into the form of the number '8', but the top of the number has been left open and above is an almost horizontal, straight line. Across the eyes of the portrait, the graffitist has sprayed another almost horizontal, straight line, and the paint trickles down in trails down the painting. Could it be a disgruntled employee?

Sebastian leads us towards the desk, then steps aside so that dad and I get a clear view of the wall. John moves to stand on the other side of Wilkes, who looks at us expectantly as if we're about to spout a conclusion already. Maybe not, but I think I've seen these symbols before; I just can't place where I know them from.

"Could you show us the security footage from last night, around the time of the break-in?" I ask him, not turning away from the wall.

"Yes, yes, if you'll come back to my office..." He trails off as I turn and walk to the door, now aware that I'm not listening.

Back in Wilkes' office, he opens a tab to show us the video footage of last night.

"Sixty seconds apart," Sebastian tells us, flicking to and fro between the images taken at 23:33:01 - which shows the office as it should be - clean and tidy - but then, sixty seconds later at 23:34:01, it shows the wall and painting covered with paint. "So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute," Sebastian concludes.

"How many ways into that office?" asks dad.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting. Come with me, I'll show you our security system. Only the receptionists have control over it because there will always be someone at that desk." He leads us back through to the reception. "Mandy, yes," he greets one of the reception girls. "I need you to work with Heather for a minute - I need to show these guys something."

'Mandy' nods and leaves us with Sebastian. He taps into her computer systems and brings up the layout of the trading floor and the offices surrounding it. Each indicated door has a light against it, showing it's security status.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night," dad states, correctly.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you - five figures," Sebastian says, reaching into his breast pocket, and pulls out a cheque. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way."

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian," dad mutters, before walking away. I follow him, but I can hear John stop to collect the cheque we urgently need to pay the bills.

#sophiaholmes #blindbanker #blind banker #bbcsherlock #sherlock #benedictcumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch #parent!lock #sherlock'sdaughter #cumbercollective

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kimnamjooonz · 6 years

Text

London Calling - Chapter 1

Cambridge

Okay, this is my second project. I started writing it in early 2017, one week after I heard about Seb for the first time (yeah, I know I was late). He stole my heart in fifteen minutes and I started writing stuff like this. So... this is it.

Songs that inspired this Chapter:

Piece of my Heart - Janis Joplin

It’s My Life - Bon Jovi

And basically any Queen Song from the first Greatest Hits album.

Summary:

After getting bored of the academic life at the University of Cambridge, young Celine Cadwallader moves to London trying to find new challenges. Meanwhile, international movie star, Sebastian Stan keeps trying to expand his horizons. They will cross paths in a way either of them know.

Cambridge, England. March 2016

It was Celine's last night in Cambridge and her friends had decided to make a special farewell party to her. And that meant drinks, snacks, a bonfire and Charlie's crappy covers of Oasis songs. She had spent the last ten years in Cambridge, nine of them getting two doctorates and the one left working as part of the Faculty of History's Research Team. Life was decently good. She had her friends, a little flat and the perspective of maybe being successful in the field of History. She had two PhDs after all. Well, all of her friends had at least one. But Celine was ambitious and in the last months she had started to feel a bit stuck in Cambridge and had decided to expand her horizons. London seemed to be the best place for a historian. The only downside was that none of her friends were joining her in her adventure. ''I hope you don't end up working as a guide in the Tower of London'' commented Joel, one of Celine's closest friends. ''Explaining stuff to school children''. All of them laughed. It was widely known that Celine wasn't at all fond of kids. ''I already have a job'' she commented, while devouring a couple of Maltesers. ''I'm an assistant at the Spanish Embassy. Better than the school children''. ''And do you have a house?'' asked Amy, another of her friends. ''If you want to call it a house... I prefer to call it 'shoebox' ''. ''In every movie I saw the London adventure doesn't start this way'' added Alize, another member of the group. ''Because life is not a movie and I can't afford a house in Notting Hill or Covent Garden. I guess South London will be my Kensington. At least I can stay in a place with a roof. That's something''. Everyone was very used to Celine's dark sense of humour. ''Promise one thing'' said Charlie, who had stopped strumming his guitar. ''That if you fail in London you'll be back here with us.'' ''Thank you for your faith'' she said with sarcasm. ''But yes, I can promise if by March next year I haven't moved to a nicer place and made at least one friend and gotten a promotion, I'll be back''. ''And also a boyfriend'' added Joel. ''Shut up, idiot, that's out of the question.'' Celine's love life had been completely nonexistent with the exception of a boyfriend she had had nine years ago. They had lasted a week and had gone to only one date. Not that she cared. ''Do you even know where Danny is?'' asked Charlie, referring to Celine's old boyfriend. Honestly, Celine had no idea. She had even forgotten how he looked like. ''I know.'' said Joel, who knew everything about everybody. He was Cambridge's King of gossip. ''He graduated and now he's a doctor in County Durham. And he's married''. ''BORING'' shouted Celine and Charlie. ''Yeah, because is so much better to live in a room in South London'' debated Amy with sarcasm. ''And being a proud member of the Fellowship with no Rings, that you invented and has three members: Charlie, Joel and you''. ''At least is exciting'' Celine defended herself. ''It's London, baby. And my Fellowship is great''. After that the conversation shifted to some other topics like the government, the upcoming Glastonbury festival that they were not attending and the next nerd movies they were going to see. Celine wasn't included in the last topic as she was clueless about almost everything that was trendy. ''...I can't wait for Captain America: Civil War'' said Amy. ''Captain America vs Iron Man. That movie is going to destroy Batman v Superman''. ''Sebastian Stan!'' yelled Alize. ''I'm in whatever team he's in''. ''Team Cap, of course'' said Joel, rolling his eyes. As Celine didn't know any of these people she just stared at the fire. Thankfully the conversation switched to football. ''If Real Madrid gets to the Champion's League final, we'd go to London and see the match together. Like in 2014'' proposed Joel. Celine's eyes lit up. ''That was the most crazy and best day ever''. ''It's getting cold'' moaned Amy. ''I guess we should make Joel pay his bet and let's go inside and sing some karaoke'' said Charlie. Between them they were all the time betting and the loser had to have his or her underwear burnt in the next bonfire. Celine was glad that she had never lost one of these bets. ''Celine, if you want to do the honours...'' Joel threw his underwear at Celine's feet. ''You're leaving tomorrow. Damn, this is painful. I'm talking about the underwear. They're Calvin Klein''. Charlie laughed. ''Yeah, Calvin Klein that you bought on the street market''. ''It's what this humble Doctor in astrophysics can afford''. he sounded affected but he obviously wasn't. ''Celine, make sure your London boyfriend that you don't have yet wears real Calvin Kleins not this pitiful imitation'' Charlie remarked. Celine just rolled her eyes and grabbed a stick to throw Joel's underwear into the fire. There was no way she was going to touch it. ''This is for never growing up!'' yelled Celine, throwing the underwear into the fire. The other four cheered her.

Half an hour later they were far from tired and all them were into a karaoke competition. It was Celine's turn and she was 'singing' Janis Joplin's Piece of my heart with Joel who was singing the backing vocals. ''OH COME ON, COME ON, COME ON, COME ON AND TAKE IT, TAKE IT! TAKE ANOTHER LITTLE PIECE OF MY HEART NOW, BABY OH OH BREAK IT! BREAK ANOTHER LITTLE PIECE OF MY HEART, DARLING, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, HAVE A! HAVE ANOTHER LITTLE PIECE OF MY HEART NOW BABY! YOU KNOW YOU GOT IT IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD!'' ''This may be the best musical duet since John Travolta and Olivia Newton John in Grease singing You're the one that I want.'' Charlie commented to Alize and Amy. ''They are going to leave me deaf'' complained Alize. ''It could be worse.'' said Amy. ''I'm not saying that Celine is the next Beyonce but she sings better than she cooks. Charles, I'm worried. I don't know how she's going to survive out there with such poor house skills. The woman has two doctorates but she can't feed herself properly''. ''Relax, Amy. She'll be okay. Celine's made of iron. Apart from that if the London adventure doesn't work out for her, she'll be back with us''. When Celine and Joel finished their song, it was Charlie and Amy's turn. ''I promised I was not going to drink but I don't think that a beer will do much damage'' she told Joel and Alize. ''You know what you're doing, Celine Elizabeth'' Joel smiled and handed her a beer. ''Remember you're leaving early tomorrow'' Alize warned her. A beer might not have been much to a normal person but for Celine it was like drinking a bottle of vodka. She had alcohol intolerance and a sip of a strong drink could leave her singing on the table with no shame. That was something that had happened many times before. They finished the night dancing to Charlie and Amy's horrendous karaoke version of Bon Jovi's It's My Life.

The next morning it was clear that Alize had been right and Celine shouldn't have drank. At nine am she was standing in the platform of the train station with the rest of the group, ready to leave to London. She looked terrible, pale and had to wear sunglasses to cover the bags under her eyes and a hood to cover her messy hair. ''Okay, I'll see you guys soon.'' the only thing she wanted was to be on her seat and sleep. The trip wasn't very long unfortunately. ''We're just 50 minutes away, it's not that you're leaving to... Manhattan'' said Charlie. ''Don't be a jackass'' warned her Amy. ''If you meet Tom Hiddleston by some chance, hook up with him and tell me all about it'' said Alize making Celine roll her eyes. ''Get a boyfriend!'' yelled Joel and she showed him the middle finger. ''Goodbye, idiots!'' shouted Celine. ''See you when I'm a millionaire!''

50 minutes later she was taking a taxi from King's Cross to South London. She had been in London many times before so she knew exactly where everything was. Pr almost everything. The neighbourhood where she was going to live wasn't exactly very nice but at least it wasn't a red zone. And it had a Greggs a block away. Brilliant. After paying the cab she went towards the building. It looked very similar to the Number 12 of Grimmauld Place in the Harry Potter series. Except from the magical stuff. In less than ten minutes Celine met the landlady (a lively Scottish woman with a thick accent) who guided her to her 'flat'. It looked more like a room with a bathroom with a bed and small table that had a kettle. At least it had a window. ''Darlin', the kettle and the mattress are brand new and they are yours to keep. When you move you can take them with you''. A free kettle and a mattress. Sweet. ''Thank you so much Mrs. Donaldson.'' ''Anytime, Doctor Cadwallader''. After she left her alone, Celine started tiding the place and placing her few belongings wherever she could. She had left more things in Cambridge with the hope that Joel would take good care of them for the moment. She made the bed, put her clothes under it, stored the bathroom with some essentials, placed her Macbook beside the kettle and stored some snacks and cookies in any place she could. Yeah, it wasn't so bad. It wasn't very different from the first dorm she had had at Cambridge. It was good for starters. She had been lying face down on the bed for quite a while when her phone rang. It was Joel who was texting her. 'Celine Elizabeth, if you fail in London your underwear is burnt in the next bonfire'.

The Cast:

Sophie Skelton from Outlander is more or less how I imagine Celine. She looks strong and smart at the same time.

Ben Hardy aka Bo Rhap’s Roger Taylor as Joel

Alberto Rosende aka Simon in Shadowhunters ( I LOVE him) as Charlie:

Mandip Gill aka Yazmin (from the latest season of Doctor Who, that is awesome btw) as Amy.

And Freema Agyeman aka Martha Jones from Doctor Who (I loved Martha and Doctor 10 so much my heart hurts) as Alize.

I don’t know why I do stuff like this but I love casting people.

And I’m just setting up the story so I won’t introduce Mr. Stan yet because it’ll make no sense. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait a lil.

P.S- If someone wants to be tagged, just ask me.

Tag: @delicatecapnerd, because you askem me ;)

Just comment, like if you want and thanks for reading.

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x ofc #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #sebastian #mcu #MCU fanfiction #marvel #marvel cast #The Avengers

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letterfromtrenwith · 6 years

Text

Prescription Passion - Ch. 8

Carolight Hospital AU

Ch.8 - Caroline Penvenen is a successful, capable doctor...and she also just might be an idiot.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

“Killewarren has been in the Penvenen family since 1621, when Rafe Penvenen was granted the estate by King James I in recognition of his military service…” Caroline let the tour guide’s voice drift off, only vaguely registering the familiar words about how the house had survived the Civil War and Rafe’s son William had sheltered royalists behind its excellent defences…Eventually the voice disappeared as the tour group reached the end of the corridor where they would go down into the old kitchens and learn about the ancient range and how many servants the house once had.

By some miracle, the Penvenen family had managed to hold onto their ancestral home, but like almost every other country estate in the nowadays, it was open to the public. Caroline had got quite used to the visitors when she was a little girl, creeping up to the section of gallery which led into the private apartments and overlooked the great hall to peep down at them trooping through, gawping at the paintings and being told not to touch the antiques by the attendants. When she was a bit more grown up, and given free reign of the house, she’d even joined in with them on occasion, playing with the other children or taking a bit of naughty joy in clattering around in the old servant’s corridor upstairs when the guide told their group it was allegedly haunted.

It seemed like another world, growing up in a house like this, something she hadn’t properly realised until she went to university, where even some of her poshest fellow students couldn’t dream of such a thing. She’d found out to her surprise that the Trenwith Hotel a few miles away had once been the estate of the Poldark family, sold off by Francis and Verity’s great-grandparents after the Great War, and that Cardew, now some sort of religious retreat, had been built by George’s ancestors. The Warleggans, having made their money in banking, hadn’t gone bust, however, and instead moved into a jaw-dropping townhouse in Truro, where George’s mother and grandmother still lived. Even George and Elizabeth’s gorgeous place wasn’t a patch on it.

The introductory speech of another tour guide startled Caroline out of her reverie. How long had she been standing there, staring at the small semi-circular window high above the main entrance? Thankfully, she was mostly concealed from those in the hall, unless someone knew she was there. Again, she heard the words about how long the house had been in the family – but for how much longer? Aside from the cost and effort of managing the place, she was the last Penvenen. Once she inherited the house – and she prayed that would not be for a long time – it had nowhere to go after that. If she had children, it would still be in the family, she supposed, just without the Penvenen name.

Of course, she’d never thought much about having children, and considering the state of her private life, it didn’t look much likely in the immediate future. Here she was, moping unproductively about her Uncle’s house on her day off in the wake of yet another romantic disaster.

Romantic disaster? That was stretching it a bit. She could hardly call a few conversations, one date and one kiss – God, a really good kiss – a ‘romance’. It was barely even a dalliance, to use a word straight out of her aunt’s collection of old Mills & Boon novels.

At a gentle nudge to her ankle, she glanced down to find Horace snuffling at her leg. He plopped his fat bottom on the carpet and looked up at her expectantly, his whole body jiggling as he tried to wag his little stump of a tail while sitting down.

“What, then, my precious? Do you want a walk, hmm?” Horace was generally a lazy creature, his preferred leisure activity being lying on the most comfortable surface he could find – aside from eating, of course. However, he seemed to like Killewarren, the gardens being rather more interesting than the plain little park around the corner from Caroline’s flat. It meant mingling with the visitors, but that was all right – dogs were allowed in the gardens so she just looked like another day tripper.

After he’d made friends with an Alsatian at the water gardens, been petted by and starred in the selfies of three young American girls, and weed on a stone bench right next to a very unimpressed old lady, Caroline took Horace on a loop around the large gravel driveway-come-car-park. They were just on their way back, Horace puffing and snorting in that way which meant he’d had quite enough exercise for today – or this month – when there was a shout from up ahead.

“Help! Somebody call an ambulance!” Pausing to scoop up Horace, who snuffed in indignation, Caroline hurried toward the voice. Just by the entrance to the estate’s old chapel, a middle aged man was half-slumped against the stone wall, a woman about his age crouched next to him. Caroline dropped to her knees beside them, setting Horace on his feet as gently as possible. She was vaguely aware of him tottering off behind her, but she didn’t worry. He wouldn’t go far.

“What happened?” The woman looked at her, bewildered and panicked. Caroline took hold of her arm, trying to ground her, make her focus. “I’m a doctor. Tell me what happened.”

“He – he just collapsed. He said his chest hurt, but I just thought that was because we’d been walking all day.”

“Does he have any medical conditions?” Caroline took the man’s pulse – it was thready and weak, but it was there. He was sweaty and pale, and breathing heavily. His eyelids flickered but he seemed barely conscious.

“A mild heart murmur, but it’s never given him any problems before.”

“I’ve called an ambulance.” One of the tour guides appeared behind Caroline, holding a mobile phone.

“Are you still on the line?” The guide nodded and Caroline held out her hand for the phone. “Hello, this is Dr Caroline Penvenen. I’ve got a male, 50s, previous history of heart murmur, pulse weak, breathing difficulties and semi-conscious. What’s his name?”

“Oh.” It took the woman a moment to realise Caroline was addressing her. “Peter.”

“Peter? Peter, can you hear me?” A wheeze which may have been a response, and his eyelids flickered again. Caroline handed the phone back to the attendant. Another had joined her and Caroline turned to him. “Is there a first aid kit at the front desk? Does it have aspirin?”

“Er, yes.”

“Bring it, please.”

By the time the ambulance arrived, thankfully promptly, Caroline had put Peter in the recovery position. She hadn’t used in the aspirin in the end, partly because he was not quite conscious enough to take it, but also because she wasn’t entirely convinced he was having a heart attack.

The paramedics agreed, and indeed once they’d got him hooked up to the monitors in the rig, his heart rate seemed to be slightly improved. Peter’s wife – Julie – held tightly to his hand as Caroline and one of the medics worked to make sure he was stable. Caroline hadn’t dealt with anything close to an emergency – bar once giving a girl at a nightclub an epi pen – since her foundation training, but she found that adrenaline, well perhaps not quite adrenaline but something like it, had taken over.

“Where we headed?” The medic called up to the driver.

“ETA 10 mins. St Neot’s A&E.”

The maternity ward was blessedly cool – and quiet – when Caroline pushed open the doors. Quiet moans emanated from one of the rooms, along with a gentle male voice – whether medic or unusually chilled out expectant father Caroline couldn’t say. A nurse popped up from behind the desk, startling her.

“Sorry! Oh, hello, Dr Penvenen. Are you wanting Elizabeth – Dr. Warleggan, I mean.”

“If she’s free.” She wasn’t really sure why she’d made her way up here, but she was feeling a bit off and instinct had taken her to her best friend.

“She is. Or, at least, I think she is. Her and Verity are out in the staff corridor, last I saw them. They’re taking a break.” Passing several more rooms, the sounds of voices –cursing, cooing, the cries of newborns – floating around inside, Caroline made her way to small, discreet door marked ‘Hospital Personnel Only’. When the nurse had said Elizabeth and Verity were in the corridor, she hadn’t been kidding. The two women sat on the floor, backs against the wall, legs extended in front of them. Caroline pushed aside a recollection of the scene she’d witnessed in the A&E corridor a few days earlier.

“Caroline! What are you doing here? I thought you were off today.” Elizabeth frowned, sipping her cheap vending machine tea.

“Oh, I was.” Caroline replied airily. “But what’s up with you two?”

“Two breech births this morning.” Verity replied. “Everyone okay, but both mums stressed out as Hell.”

“And then an overly-keen dad with an iPhone tripped me up and I fell in the birthing pool.” Elizabeth pursed her lips as Verity chuckled. Even in her odd mood, Caroline couldn’t help a grin at the thought of that. Now she looked, she could see Elizabeth’s hair was wet. “I hate water births.”

“Poor baby.” Caroline patted her on the shoulder as she sat down next to her. After all the morning’s excitement, she suddenly felt very drained. Elizabeth looked like she was about to say something when her phone trilled and she slipped it out of the top pocket of her scrubs. Her face took on a familiar affectionate expression as she read the message. “Oh, love’s young dream…”

“Oh, shush. George is just asking what I want him to make for dinner tonight.”

“Handsome, rich, a doctor, good dad and he can cook.” Verity shook her head. “The rest of us might as well just give up. Elizabeth’s won.”

“Stop it. Here, watch this.” Elizabeth fiddled with the screen for a moment and Caroline and Verity both leant in to look. The video began to play, blurred for a second as it zoomed in on Elizabeth, kneeling on the floor of what looked like her living room, holding Ursula up in front of her.

“Go on, go to Daddy. Go to Daddy.” She gently lifted her hands from under the baby’s arms, but kept them close by.

“Come on, Ursula, come to me. Come here.” George appeared at the far side of the frame, crouched down a couple of feet away, arms open in invitation. Slowly, Ursula took a wobbly step forward, then another, then another, Elizabeth keeping close behind her.

“Go on, Ursula, clever girl.” A third voice from behind the camera. Morwenna.

With the encouragement of her parents and her cousin, Ursula tottered the final couple of steps, to be scooped up in George’s arms, giggling delightedly at her achievement.

“Oh, she’s so cute! And she’s walking early!” Verity cooed.

“Earlier than Valentine, although it didn’t take him long to get going. He went straight from first steps to 100m sprint.” She laughed fondly, putting her phone away. The three of them sat quietly for a while, apart from Verity ‘yeuch’-ing at the dregs of her tea, before Elizabeth seemed to remember something. “Caro, you never told us why you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s a long story…” She explained about her visit to Killewarren, and Peter and Julie.

“Wow, it’s a good job you were there. Heart attack, was it?”

“No, angina, by the look of it. He was looking a lot better when I left, but they’ve sent him to the cardiac ward for proper tests to get to the bottom of it.”

“Well. Still. Angina might not be a heart attack, but it’s no laughing matter. You really did brilliantly.”

“Bet Dwight was impressed.” Verity teased. Caroline must have made a face, because the other two immediately frowned at her.

“What’s the matter?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Caroline attempted to affect a casual air, even though she knew they’d see through it. It was habit, and a difficult one to break. “I just think Dwight and I aren’t destined for anything.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, him cosying up to a cute nurse two days after our first date might have something to do with it.”

“Dwight?!” Verity shook her head. “No way. There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake. I saw it with my own two eyes.” She told them about going down to A&E after hearing about the scaffolding collapse, and seeing Dwight and Rosina in a close embrace on the floor of the corridor. It had been pure instinct which sent her down there, remembering the slightly haunted look she’d seen flicker over his light eyes when he spoke about his time with MSF, and his reaction to the stab victim the day she’d bumped into him in the coffee shop. Walking into the corridor, she’d stopped short, feeling stupid and presumptive and a dozen other things; so she’d done what she always did when confronted with difficult feelings – she’d walked away.

“So.” Verity frowned. “You’ve decided to call it a day with a very eligible man you clearly like very much…because you saw a colleague give him a quick hug after an extremely stressful shift?”

“Er…” Hearing it put like that, Caroline recalled the off-hand way she’d dealt with Dwight over admitting Peter, giving him purely the cold facts before striding away without so much as a by-your-leave. She looked at her friends, at their incredulous expressions, and fought the urge to put her head in her hands.

#poldark #caroline penvenen #dwight enys #elizabeth warleggan #verity poldark #george warleggan #dwight x caroline #carolight #prescription passion #f: dc #f: au #m: fic #second to last chapter everyone #almost there :D

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lets-get-sirius-about-stars · 7 years

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Pluto Alwin Character Page (Updated 7/16/17)

(The GIF does not belong to me)

Kira belongs to @cuddles-for-cassie

Alice belongs to @the-singing-canary

Maia belongs to @royslittleharper

Original Art for her is here

Curious about the rest of team Astro? Masterlist for them is here

BASIC INFO

Name: Pluto Alwin

Original Name: Irmel Alwin (Although she has long forgotten)

Alias: Pluto

Age:

Physically: 6 Years old

Actual Age: 673 years old

Nicknames

Plu

Princess

Little planet

Little Miss

Gender: Female

Race: Human-ish(???) Pluto planet thing

Nationality: German

Date of Birth: July 1st, 1344

Citizenship:

Current: America

Past: England to Germany

Height: 3’5 (feet)

Weight: 42 lbs.

Eye Color: reddish brown eyes

Hair Color: Dark brown

Hair Style: hair slightly wavy and held in pigtails

Skin Color: Light Grey skin

Sexuality: She has the mind of a 6 year old, all she’s thinking about currently is My little Pony

Body Type: She’s a small petite kid

Outfit/Style:

Anything pretty

She finds glitter fascinating, so she has a pair of sparkly pink flats that she always wears

She’ll always wear some form of dress

She would wear her brightly colored fairy princess dress everyday if Makayla would let her

She’ll always have a pair of leggings on underneath her dress

Physical Traits:

As I said before, she’s a small kid

Her hair is so dark, it sometimes looks black.

Faint scars from when she was sick with the black death

Fan Cast: Maggie Elizabeth Jones

Family:

Father: Bero Alwin Status: Deceased

Mother: Agnise Alwin Status: Deceased

Relationships:

Cassandra, The Celestial Witch: Cassandra was Pluto’s owner, in a sense. Pluto and her family had borrowed money from Cassandra, when they couldn’t pay off their loans, Cassandra pitied them, giving them a place to stay and let them work off their loans as indentured servants. Pluto and Cassandra were very close, Cassandra treating Pluto like her own kin and Pluto Vice versa.

Sirius Vance: She loves him! Was extremely shy at first, (as she always is with new people) but once she got to know him more, she absolutely loved playing with him.

Makayla Fray: She finds her scary from time to time, but knows that Makayla only wants what’s best for her. She also discovered very early that Makayla is a human furnace, and since Plu loves heat, she’s often found riding on Makayla’s shoulders or even crawling into bed with her.

Luna Williams: Calls her Lu Lu, and gets all her book recommendations from her. Luna often reads to little Pluto before she sleeps

Kira Kal-El: First person she met on earth that was closer to her age, So she, naturally, immediately thought she was the coolest person ever. She recently had been getting cooking lessons from Kira

Alice Mae Quin: Alice is often the one to take her out to discover the wonders of new earth culture, and Plu looks forward to Alice’s visits

Maia Bailey: Maia often helps little Plu with her ice powers, due to the fact that Plu didn’t have them before her curse.

POWER

Ice manipulation

She can easily freeze things by touching them

She doesn’t mean to; her body is just naturally cold

Can survive in extremely cold climates

Can survive in space without a suit

SKILLS/HOBBIES

She’s a pro with the broom (as in, she cleans stuff well)

Watching My little pony

Playing with her easy bake oven

Has the voice of an angel

HABITS

She’s a sweet heart, but to many people that she doesn’t know scares her, so she often disappears to a quiet corner at parties

She often bites her nails

Hums to herself

Goofy dances when her favorite songs come on

LIKES

WARMTH

Fluffy sweaters to wear over her dresses

Glitter

Unicorns

She loves the colors pink, green and purple

Television, she finds the moving pictures so fascinating!

Microwavable food

Cupcakes, or cake in general

DISLIKES

Being cold

Strangers

Loud noises

Scary movies

Jason Todd (Sirius is not always the best influence…)

STRENGTHS

Being by liquid is always good for her

WEAKNESSES

swimming is a big no for her

The water surrounding her freezes up, and although she can survive the freezing bit, if she becomes completely submerged in water and it freezes over, she’d suffocate.

FEARS

Being a disappointment

Like Sirius, She’s terrified of sick people, mostly because she grew up in the time of the black plague

Death, she died once, and she wasn’t a big fan of it

The dark

Doctors

OTHER FACTS

Pluto’s original name was Irmel, this was the name given to her at birth

She was also the first of the cursed planets

She was born in 1344, straight into servitude

Her parents had borrowed money from Cassandra when they had moved to England thinking tat they would do better there.

They did not, and when it came apparent to Cassandra that they would never be able to pay her back, she made an agreement that they would work off their debt and Cassandra would give them a place to stay and food.

So Pluto grew up in Cassandra’s mansion, Cassandra loving Pluto as her own and Pluto loving Cassandra

The black Plague came in 1347, killing off both of her parents

Cassandra would have saved them with magic, but it was a dangerous time to be a witch

People of their town constantly tried to pin the blame on a witch.

In 1348, when Pluto was 4 years old, she had caught the plague

Cassandra was crushed and refused to let the girl die

So Pluto was healed with magic, but not without consequence

Word around town about Pluto’s miraculous recovery, and the towns people suspected Cassandra of witch craft

Cassandra and Pluto Fled to Germany, but not before catching some very unwanted attention from Cassandra’s mother (who is also a witch)

They live there for two years, that’s when Cassandra’s mother finds them

Her mother has a bit of a bone to pick with Cassandra, so she makes the decision to kill Pluto,

She succeeds

But not before Cassandra cast her own spell, one that preserves the soul of the recently departed

She wanted to save Pluto, but she knew if she brought her back, her mother would always be after her.

So she decided to send Pluto to the farthest known corner of their universe (known to her at least)

She magically modified Pluto’s body to withstand her new home and retain her youth along with linking her to the planet.

Cassandra was planning on figuring out a way to break this curse once she got rid of her mother.

So Pluto was cursed into the night sky, on the small planet that was Pluto

It is unknown what happened to Cassandra after Sirius was made, but bottom line is that she never broke Pluto’s curse

Pluto lived in solitude for 673 years, and then she started getting visions of bright colors and sounds.

It wasn’t long before Makayla showed up and broke her curse

Modern earth fascinates her

All of the glowing signs and machinal vehicles

She’s not aloud out on the field yet

Makayla refuses

She promised Pluto though, that if she still wanted to fight crime when she was older, she could

#pluto alwin #my oc #character page

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nightingveilxo · 7 years

Photo

When is Richard Brook, Not Richard Brook? When The Doctor is In

As most of my mutuals know by now, I think we’re somewhere still in S2, with 3 and 4 being in various character’s minds. But, this discussion from @waitedforgarridebs prompted more research on my end (even though the question at the end was a joke), added new elements about Mary and Molly, and worked in the upcoming con in LA. It does get into the scheme of Dr. Who overlaps though, which we already have many instances of all through Sherlock. So, this is a bit crack theory, a bit not.

TRF

SHERLOCK: Tell me what you want from me. (The man stares at him wide-eyed but doesn’t speak. Sherlock moves the gun’s muzzle closer to him.) SHERLOCK: Tell me. ASSASSIN: He left it at your flat. (AGRA/Mary/Ajay) SHERLOCK: Who? ASSASSIN: Moriarty. SHERLOCK: What? (All three of them start to get to their feet, Sherlock still holding the gun on the other man.) ASSASSIN: The computer keycode. SHERLOCK: Of course. He’s selling it – the programme he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around. (Just like “Faith” will later plant a note in Sherlock’s possession in TLD.) (Three gunshots ring out and the assassin reels and drops to the ground. Sherlock stares up in the direction the bullets came from, then swings around and he and John race off. As police sirens approach again, they duck into an open doorway and yet another police car drives past the end of the road. They take a moment to catch their breath.) SHERLOCK: It’s a game-changer. It’s a key – it can break into any system and it’s sitting in our flat right now. That’s why he left that message telling everyone where to come. “Get Sherlock.” We need to get back into the flat and search. JOHN: CID’ll be camped out. Why plant it on you? SHERLOCK: It’s another subtle way of smearing my name. Now I’m best pals with all those criminals. (John has spotted a pile of newspapers nearby and he picks up the top copy.) JOHN: Yeah, well, have you seen this? (It’s a copy of “The Sun” – the same edition that Mycroft had at the Diogenes Club that morning, telling of the upcoming exposé by Kitty Riley. John shows it to Sherlock.) JOHN: A kiss and tell. Some bloke called Rich Brook. (Sherlock slowly turns his head – clearly the name means something to him. John is still looking at the paper and doesn’t see his expression.) JOHN: Who is he?

Fast forward...

KITTY: Oh I’ll ... I’ll be doing the explaining – in print. (She hands John a folder.) It’s all here – conclusive proof. (John looks at an early typed sheet of her upcoming article, then turns to the proof copy showing the layout of how it will appear in the newspaper, with spaces left for photographs. The headline reads, “Sherlock’s a fake!” with the strapline, “He invented all the crimes”.) KITTY (looking at Sherlock): You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis. JOHN (upset): Invented him? KITTY: Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain. JOHN: Oh, don’t be ridiculous!

So now, John and Sherloch both have the concept of inventing a master villain in their minds, which might explain why the villains after Moriarty are all progressively worse than the one before.

Remember the video ‘Richard Brook is real’ from 2012? Linking in below, for those that never saw it. What if Brook the actor was an actual person, but the man we knew as Moriarty wasn’t him, and The Doctor ended up in 221B to help Sherlock resolve the matter, because he knew the world at the time needed Sherlock Holmes? The Final Problem: The world will always need Sherlock Holmes, and fans won’t let him die.

Richard Brook - 5′ 10″ Andrew Scott - 5′ 8″

Possible John didn’t notice or that Moriarty is meant to be taller, and it could be a hint of how John didn’t recognize something physiologically important, which then resurfaced with the bones and skull in TFP. Easy to overlook the first time, but John actually reviews the printouts a second time, out in the street after he and Sherlock try to follow Moriarty. Also, Moriarty’s CV only has the height, no mention of weight or hair color, which is unusual for an actor’s CV--even one including a photo. The photo is credited to Arwel, from 2010.

Kitty shows John all the evidence, and says it’s conclusive, but it’s all printouts from off a computer or photocopies. One image doesn’t even have the image of Brook, just an X in a box.

When Sherlock goes to visit Molly, his questions to her are almost the same remarks John will later make in TLD. Molly counts, and don’t ever think otherwise.

BART’S. Molly comes out of a small side room in a lab, switches off the lights and walks across the darkened lab, sighing tiredly. As she reaches the door to the corridor, Sherlock is standing in the darkness behind her with his face turned away from her. She doesn’t see him and reaches for the door handle. SHERLOCK: You’re wrong, you know. (She gasps and jumps, spinning around towards him.) SHERLOCK: You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you. (He turns his head towards her.) SHERLOCK: But you were right. I’m not okay. MOLLY: Tell me what’s wrong. SHERLOCK (slowly walking towards her): Molly, I think I’m going to die. MOLLY: What do you need? SHERLOCK (still slowly approaching her): If I wasn’t everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me? (She gazes up at him as he stops close to her.) MOLLY: What do you need? (He steps even closer, his expression intense.) SHERLOCK: You.

TLD

JOHN: She thought that if you put yourself in harm’s way I’d ... I’d rescue you or something. But I didn’t – not ’til she told me to. (He briefly glances towards Mary as he says ‘she.’) And that’s how this works. That’s what you’re missing. (He points towards Mary.) She taught me to be the man she already thought I was. Get yourself a piece of that. SHERLOCK: Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice. I have known many people in this world but made few friends, and I can safely say ... JOHN: I cheated on her. (Sherlock stops. Mary straightens up from where she was leaning on the back of the chair, looking shocked. John gestures towards Sherlock.) JOHN: No clever comeback? (Immediately he turns to directly face the ghost of his wife.) JOHN: I cheated on you, Mary. (Sherlock blinks, perhaps realising what’s happening, but he stays silent as he turns his head towards where John is looking.) JOHN: There was a woman on the bus, and I had a plastic daisy in my hair. I’d been playing with Rosie. (He pauses for a moment then raises his eyes.) And this girl just smiled at me. (Mary gazes back at him. There is no condemnation on her face.) JOHN: That’s all it was; it was a smile. (Sherlock’s eyes turn back to John.) JOHN (to Mary): We texted constantly. You wanna know when? Every time you left the room, that’s when. When you were feeding our daughter; when you were stopping her from crying – that’s when. (Mary lowers her eyes and gives a small smile. John swallows, his eyes starting to fill with tears.) JOHN: That’s all it was, just texting. (Sherlock has lowered his eyes and is gazing into the distance.) JOHN: But I wanted more. (Sherlock lifts his head and his eyes to John again. Mary is smiling tearfully at her man.) JOHN: And d’you know something? I still do. I’m not the man you thought I was; I’m not that guy. I never could be. But that’s the point. (He sniffs, then looks at her as his eyes fill with more tears. He bites his lip and speaks tearfully.) That’s the whole point. (Again he bites his lip. Mary looks back at him, her own eyes filled with tears. She smiles at him as he speaks again.) JOHN: Who you thought I was ... (she nods at him) ... is the man who I want to be. (He swallows, fighting off his tears. She smiles gently back at him.) MARY (softly): Well, then ... John Watson ... (She raises her head and smiles widely and fondly at him. He stares back at her. She looks at him for a long moment.) MARY: Get the hell on with it. (She nods at him and smiles through her tears. The perspective changes and she has gone. John stares ahead of himself for a long moment, then gradually lowers his head into his left hand and starts to cry. Sherlock quietly puts his mug onto the table beside him, then stands up. John sobs, tears pouring from his face and falling to the floor. Slowly Sherlock walks across to him.) SHERLOCK (softly): It’s okay. (He tentatively raises his arms, perhaps hesitating momentarily for fear of being rejected again, then slowly puts his left hand onto John’s arm and his right hand onto his back before sliding it upwards to gently cradle his neck. He moves closer, sliding his left arm up to hold John’s shoulder.) JOHN (tearfully): It’s not okay. SHERLOCK (softly): No. (He lowers his cheek onto the top of John’s head.) SHERLOCK (softly): But it is what it is.

We’ve already seen that the hug is done much the same as when John hugs Sherlock in TSoT. It’s all coming from memory, and trickling into S4.

Speaking of memory... TD12. Lots of speculation on that one, and I’ve written a meta of my own talking about the levels of personality aberration in psychiatrics, and TD12 also being a data storage system that would have been in use during HOB (if Sherlock was concerned his Mind Palace might be damaged or altered).

But, what if TD12 was a callback to TRF and a Mary connection? Look again at the photo of Kitty above, and these...Look at her tailored clothing, blue, gold neck chain. What happens in S4? Everyone is wearing tailored clothing, and blue, except for Molly.

Now, notice the photo from Rachel’s recent well wishes to Amanda. When I first looked at it, I thought her hair was pulled back in a low bun. She’s wearing a gold chain necklace, which I mention the instances of seeing in this short discussion.

And this one from pre S4, of Amanda in a red wig (which we never saw in S4.)

And Elizabeth from TLD. We’re just repeating redheads everywhere by S4.

T...D...D...12...12...Tattooed Disillusioned Dem Size 12 12

Molly ends up in the same (completely buttoned) cherry sweater she was wearing in TGG when she introduced Moriarty to Sherlock and John...

TRF (partially unbuttoned) when she helps Sherlock before and after the Richard Brook revelation...

and finishes out TFP montage wearing an upbuttoned version of the same sweater and slacks. (She also wears one very Molly-style dress in T6T, a tailored outfit with striped shirt in TLD, and the same sweater she wore when helping fill in/mirror for John during TEH.)

If you think maybe that’s all coincidental, just know that the striped shirt mentioned above, was a callback to this shirt in TBB, but in T6T it’s buttoned up all the way to her chin, and gone is her relaxed manner.

They’re all instances of when Sherlock turned to Molly for help or communication. Also, same tailored style as Kitty, but very much in a Molly way. John also has his own version in TBB and TRF. Sherlock loses his Belstaff Armor during TFP, but is miraculously given it back during the episode. Molly has her own versions, because she’s the one person on which Sherlock always relies (even when it’s all in someone’s mind.)

Overlook...

Now, what if The Doctor did get involved in the events of TRF, and changed the game? Before you scoff, just know that Moffat and group did that via a special in Dr. Who, and it altered seven seasons of how viewers saw The Doctor’s story. The books on the shelves of 221B from S4, are even linked to what goes on the lab during HOB.

Which brings us back to... ( x )

Also, remember this happened...

Moffat in 2015 on Possible Sherlock/Dr. Who Crossover

Collider: Are you surprised that people seem to always want to know about the possibility of a cross-over between Doctor Who and Sherlock?

Moffat: That’s a question that I get asked so often, and I can’t keep answering it. It’s all right for Doctor Who. That’s fine. But it would change Sherlock’s life, if he met the Doctor and knew that time travel was possible. He’d have to factor that into every crime he solved. And do we really think that Sherlock Holmes lived through a Dalek invasion? I don’t think he did. I think he’d have mentioned it by now. It’s not going to happen. That’s just the truth of it. ( x )

What was it again that Kitty said during TRF? Oh, yes...

KITTY: Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain. JOHN: Oh, don’t be ridiculous!

Sherlock, S4: Premonitions, repeating cases, predicting behavior two weeks in advance of the actual events, childhood Eurus telling Mycroft he looks funny as a grown-up/materializes in 221B for a few moments, etc

Side Note: In 2014, Moffat said he had a photo of Sherlock and John in the TARDIS, but it was never shown.

The most recent element might have just gone into place for Sherlock Event in LA. Amanda was scheduled to be there, and a topic for questions was Marvelous Mary Morstan.

Except, then Andrew was confirmed, and Jonathan was added/confirmed (maybe was going to be there anyway, but we don’t know for sure). A few other things changed, too.

From Sherlock To Sci-Fi. Every Good Fairytale Needs a Villain was already in place.

Moriarty’s Pool Party

Up On The Roof.

youtube

Transcripts ( x )

@waitedforgarridebs @tjlcisthenewsexy @monikakrasnorada @may-shepard @smoljohnlock @swimmingfeelsinajohnlockianpool @sherlockians-get-bored @princess-of-fireflies @darlingtonsubstitution @justshadethings @loveteaelephants @shadow3214 @devoursjohnlock @gosherlocked @marathecactupus

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Second Chances” (Rated PG13)

For the first time in Kurt and Sebastian's relationship, Sebastian gets to have a little one and one time ... with Kurt's mother. (2253 words)

This was another part of the story that came a little further in the future than the immediate end of the story, so I'm uploading it as a one-shot. It's basically just to let everyone know that no matter how angsty things get in the story, everything turns out all right in the end. Warning for angst and mention of cancer.

Part 6 of Outside Edge.

Read on AO3.

“Oh, o-okay … whoa, now … WHOA!”

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, I just … can we make the ice less slippery or something?”

“You’re doing great, Mom,” Kurt says, holding his mother’s hands as he leads a wobbly-kneed Elizabeth Hummel around the ice. Her legs inch slowly out to the sides, her toes pointing in at one another, and she slides to a stop. Kurt pulls. Her body moves forward, but not her skates, her toe picks catching on a perpendicular cut in the ice that keeps her from going any farther.

“Uh, Kurt … I think I’m stuck.”

“I think you are, too.”

Elizabeth throws her head back and laughs as Kurt maneuvers to her right side to help her over.

“Ha-ha! I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

“I always believed you could,” Kurt says, gingerly lifting her up and onto the flat of her blades. It takes him no effort at all, heartbreakingly hard for him to comprehend that a grown woman can feel so light. “You’ll be doing double-axels again in no time. You watch.”

Elizabeth shakes her head, her thin fingers clutching on to her son’s shoulders for dear life. “You have far more faith in me than I deserve, honey.”

“Mom, you’ve been done with chemo for how long and you’re already back in skates?”

“That’s because I’m insane.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, taking hold of her hands again, “but you didn’t think you’d be able to stand for longer than a minute, and you’re already doing so much better than the kids in my pre-alpha class.”

Elizabeth looks at her son, a nostalgic smile lifting her lips at the handsome, talented young man he’s become, with her blue eyes, but otherwise so much like his father. She risks letting go of one hand to press her gloved palm to his cheek. “That’s because I have an excellent teacher.”

He takes her hand and kisses it, eyes shimmering with tears that have been lingering there for months.

“Are you guys talking about me again?” Sebastian asks, sliding to a T-stop at Kurt’s side. “Because it’s just getting embarrassing now.”

“Hey, Bas.” Kurt leans left, accepting a kiss on the cheek. Kurt doesn’t really do PDA, especially not in front of his mother. But the last few months of adjusting to his mom being out of the hospital – the excitement of her being in remission, the anxiety of not knowing whether or not her cancer will come back again, her complicated medication schedule, the list of approved and unapproved foods … He skates to remove himself from the ache in his chest that comes with helping care for his mother, and he screams silently behind his smiles when it gets to be too much. The only person he tells any of this to is his boyfriend. And Sebastian has come through for him, his pillar of strength when things get tough. So Kurt will accept all of the hugs and kisses from his boyfriend he can get, whenever he can get them

“Hey, Sebastian,” Elizabeth says. “No coaching today? Or are you just over here annoying my son?”

“A little bit of both. Stick time isn’t for another half-hour on the South Rink so I thought I’d join you guys.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you.” Elizabeth beams as she slides by him at a snail’s pace. “We need one more set of arms to catch me when I fall.”

“You haven’t fallen yet,” Kurt reminds her.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t,” she sings. “Even at my best, I think I landed my jumps on my butt more than I did my feet.”

“Ouch.” Sebastian chuckles. “And yet, you still won a gold medal.”

“Meh. They were giving them out like Pez back then. I think the guy who drove the Zamboni got one.”

“Mom …” Kurt says, scolding his mother for being unnecessarily self-deprecating. Her doctor told him that one of the most important things he could do for his mother is to keep her upbeat. The road to recovery is hard. She can’t expect to be back at 100% right away – even if that 100% was actually closer to 75% before the chemo. So no insulting herself, and no bringing herself down.

Some days, that’s easier said than done.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she says, sweeping non-existent hair off her shoulders with a cocky shake of her head. “I’m amazing.”

“Hey, Kurt! Can I talk to you a sec?”

Kurt looks over his shoulder at Jane, waving at him from the far side of the rink.

“Can it wait?” he asks. “I’m kinda busy.”

“One of the boys in your alpha class wants to take private lessons. His parents say he asked for you specifically.”

Kurt looks past Jane’s shoulder out the glass and sees two people he recognizes as Barry Severson’s mom and dad, smiling at him and waving like he’s some sort of super star. Well, in this small pond, he kind of is. Admittedly, he’s wanted to be for a while. Some days, he can’t believe he did it. He fought and conquered; got the throne and the guy. Someday he’ll find a way to sell the movie rights to his story.

Maybe they can get Sterling Beaumon to play him.

“Okay,” he says. “Just give me one second.”

Kurt turns back to his mom, grinning at him with a pride that’s almost painful to look at. Kurt thought his mom wouldn’t live to see him win a medal. And now, here he was with a handful in his trophy case, along with students of his own earning medals, and he’s not even in college yet.

But it wouldn’t have mattered to Elizabeth Hummel if her son was a street sweeper, as long as he was a happy street sweeper.

“I can take care of your mom for a little bit,” Sebastian offers, already reaching out to take her hands. “Unless you’d rather sit, Mrs. Hummel.”

Elizabeth looks from her son to his boyfriend with a sly grin on her face. “No, I think I’d like to keep skating, thank you. You go, honey. Sebastian can take care of me.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Kurt gives her a peck on the cheek, then turns to Sebastian and points a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare let her fall!”

“Really, Kurt? I’m surprised at your lack of faith in me.”

Kurt stares at Sebastian, sees genuine hurt in his eyes, and sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, shelving a sarcastic remark because, in reality, the only other person he would trust on the ice with his mother beside himself is Sebastian. Sebastian knows how important Kurt’s mother is to him.

He might play the fool sometimes, but he’s also a responsible, compassionate person when it counts.

He’ll do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Kurt hands his mother off. He glides backward a few feet, watching to ensure that Sebastian has everything under control, then changes face and heads off the ice.

Sebastian watches his boyfriend go, increasingly aware that he is now alone on the ice with Elizabeth Hummel, cancer survivor and one of the most important people in Kurt’s life. Sebastian turns his attention to her, who’s looking up at him still with that sly grin on her face.

“Well,” he says, feeling awkward without Kurt there to act as a buffer between them. “Did you want to keep going around? Or did you want to go across?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m brave enough to go across just yet,” Elizabeth says. “My eyes haven’t adjusted to all the white ice.”

“Okay. We’ll just continue the way you guys were going then.”

“Yes, please.”

Sebastian holds her hands gently in his and starts backwards. Sebastian didn’t know Kurt’s mom before they started dating. Elizabeth Hummel only started accompanying her son to practices when her oncologist transferred her to a hospital nearby for treatment. She seems smaller not wrapped in the heavy blankets and jackets she brought with her to wear when she sat in the penalty box. Her hands, stuffed inside fluffy, red-knitted gloves, feel frail inside his, and he’s afraid that if he squeezes too hard, he might break something. Suddenly, he’s way more anxious being in charge of her than he was before.

He starts wondering if this is how Kurt feels when he’s with her.

“You know, this is the first time that you and I have gotten to spend a moment alone together,” Elizabeth says.

“Yes, it is,” Sebastian replies, with a forced smile because he has no clue what to say.

“I didn’t think you guys were going to make it at first. You had such a rocky start … then a rocky middle ...” Elizabeth teases Sebastian the same way Kurt does, with a tilt of her head and an innocent roll of her eyes. Sebastian would normally laugh, but he has too much pent up regret in his stomach to allow that.

“I know,” he says. “And I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Well, Kurt’s forgiven you, so I guess I can forgive you, too - bygones be bygones and all that jazz. Besides, it’s not me you have to worry about.” Her lips draw tight, but her eyes still laugh.

Sebastian swallows hard. For a second, the ice tilts beneath him, then it pops back into place too quickly. “S-so I’ve been told.”

Elizabeth savors the shade of pale her son’s boyfriend becomes, but she can’t hold on to her stern expression too long. She sputters a laugh. It comes out wicked, even though it isn’t meant to be. “Don’t you worry about Kurt’s dad. He just wants what’s best for his son. There were a few months there where he thought he would end up being a single father, and he was scared. But since I’m still around, I’ll put in a good word for you.” It’s morbidly easy the way she says it, as if she didn’t just mention the possibility of her own death and then dismiss it in the same breath. She must have thought about it a lot, Sebastian figures, if she can be so offhanded about it.

“I’d appreciate that,” Sebastian says with a hard lump in his throat. He feels himself tearing up and fights against it, but Elizabeth notices, especially after Sebastian sniffs and looks away.

“Oh, Sebastian.” She pulls herself closer as Sebastian slows to a stop. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to bring down the heavy or anything.”

“It’s not that. It’s just … sometimes I think about how things were before Kurt and I started going out, how I used to treat him, not knowing about the things going on in his life, and I kind of can’t help hating myself.”

“Honey” – Elizabeth puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, offering comfort, but the lack of strength in her fingers does the opposite. It reminds Sebastian of what an incredible asshole he was while Kurt thought his mother was going to die – “you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t need to to know not to be mean to him. And, to be honest, had I known, I probably would have still been mean to him because the only thing that mattered at the time was getting ahead.”

“Well, is that the only thing that matters now?”

Sebastian shakes his head glumly. “No, it’s not.”

“Then I would say you learned a valuable lesson, wouldn’t you?” Elizabeth attempts to give Sebastian a playful punch on the shoulder. He has to lean in to it when she fails to reach his arm.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Plus, it came with a pretty awesome ending, if I do say so myself.” Elizabeth’s gaze travels past Sebastian to the opposite side of the rink, where Kurt is saying his goodbyes to the Seversons and re-entering the ice. Sebastian watches him, bright smile aimed their way as he speeds over, and he can’t stop smiling back. Kurt’s smile has that effect on him.

Kurt has that effect on him.

“On your right, Smythe!”

Sebastian hears the boys coming before he sees them - two hockey players trying to force one another into the wall. A dodge and spin turns into one boy hitting it head on, and the other sliding to a stop too close for comfort. Sebastian jumps on instinct to avoid a hit, remembering Kurt’s mom at the last second. At their close proximity, he manages to grab her around the middle and move her out of the way, but he underestimates her weight. It throws him off-balance, sending him toppling backward. He lands on his back with Kurt’s mother squarely, and safely, on top of him.

“Mom!” Kurt yells, putting on speed.

Elizabeth giggles, face and eyes glowing as she reaches out for her son. “I told you I was going to fall.”

“Are you alright!?” But even with cheeks burning red, Kurt laughs through his worry. His mother looks positively joyful, struggling to get up off Sebastian’s stomach.

“Yeah, baby. It’s all good. Your boyfriend broke my fall.”

“Yup,” Sebastian groans. “Along with my spine.”

“I guess he couldn’t hold all 130 pounds of me, huh?”

“Mom” – Kurt grabs his mother’s arms at the elbows and helps her up – “there’s no way you’re 130 yet.”

“Believe me,” Sebastian grumbles, waiting for Elizabeth to stand before he tries to move, “I think she might be.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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bujoloveme · 6 years

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Coroners Inquests in Somerset from old newspaper archives

Weston-super-Mare Pier Suicide, August 1881

The wife of Mr. Richard Nash of Oakhouse Martley, Worcester, committed suicide by jumping off the pier in Weston-Super-Mare. She went for a walk with a friend and while her friend was paying for the pier, Mrs. Nash came to the railings and climbed into the water. The body was recovered later that day.

Suicide Pact of Huntspill near Highbridge, August 1868

Elizabeth Cridge, nearly sixteen years old, and Jane Meaker, nineteen, both stayed out one night. Their beds had not fallen asleep and they were nowhere to be seen, so a party was looking for them, but to no avail. Eventually her bodies were discovered in a cattle herd on the grounds of her employer. Rather romantic, they were held in the arms of each other, both were obviously cold. There are rumors of this immoral attitude, and these had reached the Vicar, Reverend Arundell. Vicar told her boss, Mr. Hawkins, and he quickly talked to them about the gossip. Hawkins told them that if the rumors were true, they would not have ears on Monday. On Sunday night they made a kind of suicide pact and both dipped into the small, but rather deep pond. The question remained, were they healthy when they did it? The verdict was "Felo de Se". The girls were buried within the day between nine and twelve o'clock at night and did not perform any Christian rites, as was usual for suicides. Huntspill is in a gloomy mood at the moment.

Hallatrow Church Suicide, Somerset July 1861

Hallatrow has no church, but High Littleton, so it could be. Miss Collins, the Virgin of the Church, sent two young girls to clean her up before the Sunday service. They went about their business, and meanwhile their fifteen-year-old brother sneaked in and went to the bell tower. After ten or fifteen minutes, a sister found him swinging on a rope. The rope used was also used to ring the bells. He had been so determined that, while the rope was much too long, he threw his legs away from him, otherwise his feet would have touched the ground and he would get into a kind of kneeling position.

Bath, October 1836

Uriah Hales, a worker, fell into a lime kiln on Lower Bristol Road in Bath. He was released from the oven, but his two legs had literally burned down.

Frome Suicide, September 1843

A tragic event took place about a mile from Frome, Somerset. Thomas Moon went with a relative to Vallis Vale, as he then stood on the rocks and dropped. The height of the rock was about one hundred and fifty feet and not surprisingly it was killed as soon as it hit the ground.

Twerton, Bath June 1860 (fatal accident)

In Twerton, there was a terrible accident in which a little girl died. The name of the children is Grissel and their parents live on the side street of the Royal Oak Inn. The children were playing near the road one day as they walked beside a car with a load of wood in it. One of the pieces of wood weighed a few tons more, and for some inexplicable reason, she managed to fall under the wheel, right above her head. The girl died instantly and her brain stuck out of the head of her lifeless body. Her brother had tried to save her, and his foot was squeezed under the wheel.

Weston-Super-Mare, October 1885

Mrs. Emily Kirkbride had employed Emily Mary Nicholas as a domestic worker at Woodhill on Manor Road in Ashcombe. She had been there for over four years, but Mrs. Kirkbride guessed she was pregnant. She had a word with her and told her that she was right in her assumption. Kirkbride then told her mother to go home. Nicholas was disappointed with the news, but was told that she could stay another day. Mrs. Kirkbride left her alone the next day around three o'clock and when she returned at seven o'clock, she saw that the house was locked and not lit. Kirkbride thought she'd been picked up at the train station to stay out for half an hour, but then she heard a moan. The mistress got help immediately and the door was opened. A message has been sent to get her mother or father, and at a good time. As soon as they opened the door to her bedroom, her father appeared to console her. Nicholas had taken some poison and the doctor was able to rescue her, and a few days later she went home. The day after she went home, she gave birth to a child, but she was born dead, and a few hours later Emily Nicholas died. She left a sad letter saying, "I hope the Almighty will forgive me for what I will do and bring me home so I can be with Him. I do not want to live so as not to be a problem for anyone. Goodbye, my dear mother and father, brothers and sister and my dear mistress. I hope to see you again someday. Friends, you all know about it; it will drive me crazy. I hope that the bad misery has to suffer and bear all costs. So goodbye. "Nobody knew who this mysterious person she's written about.

Dowlish Wake February 1881 (Vicars Suicide)

The vicar of Dowlish Wake, Rev. Benjamin Speke, killed himself by drowning. His wife had died the day before, and a few years ago the clergyman was missing. His clothes were found in London, several weeks later he turned up in Cornwall and managed to get a job as a rancher. He was eccentric, to say the least!

Hampton Rocks Skeleton, Bath September 1893

Two boys have made a terrible discovery while exploring a cave. While they were in the Hampton Rocks Cave in Bath, they came upon the remains of a 20/30 year old woman, covered with flat stones and badly decomposed. It was limited to being a skeleton, and had been there for a long time and could only be designated as a woman due to the clothes and hair rest. The boys came in contact with the police, but eventually the County Police took over the investigation.

Nailsea Dynamite Suicide, October 1893

John Roberts was a miner and he lived with his wife in Nailsea and, to say the least, had a stony relationship and was brought to court for their attack. As a miner, he sneaked some sticks of dynamite from his workplace, put a stick in the trash, and lit it while his wife was there, waiting for the thirty-second fuse to end. He went into the yard, then heard a loud explosion (and the people who lived a mile away said they heard it) and his head was blown to atoms.

Keynsham, March 1857 (fatal accident)

A fatal accident occurred at the Hillsbridge Iron Works near Keynsham. A man with the rather Dickensian name, Holiday Bush, who worked as a roller operator at the factory, picked up a wrench when a piece of his clothes got stuck in the machine. Then he dragged him headfirst against the drums and he killed immediately.

Portbury Suicide, May 1830

A young boy, only sixteen years old, drowned in Portbury because his lover had rejected him for inappropriate behavior while her husband was away. The guy tied a huge stone around his neck with his braces and plunged into the water. Because he was believed to have committed suicide, his body was buried at midnight and without religious rites.

River Avon near Bath, March 1904

An investigation was made of the body of a gentleman employee named C.F.Davis of Clevedon, whose body was fished out of the Avon. He left a farewell letter and his hat on the bench, as well as a second note to the coroner: "I have fully realized this act of the terrible eternity that awaits me in the episode, but it is only the fitting end to a life of misery. God help my soul. Tuesday, February 23; 9 am to 3 pm. Moved to six o'clock tomorrow.

The following letter to a friend reads: – "I hereby send you a pair of golden links, the last possession with which I must part. Try to ponder all the friends in Clevedon, kindly, and forgive the hasty deed I'm going to make tonight … Tell everyone who's interested in finding my body as soon as possible. I'm afraid of rats and eels. The only step I still have to take; what else can I do? I've done my best since leaving Clevedon to fight it. The more I think, the worse I am and the more urgent it is for me to clarify as quickly as possible. God forbids that it was always my intention to "make" anyone, but circumstances change the cases. My life was a cursed life. "

His uncle killed himself twenty years ago, and his mother died in an asylum for about a month, and a warrant for his arrest has been issued. Judgment "Suicide while temporarily insane".

Puxton Station near Weston-Super-Mare, September 1904

The express train had just driven through the Puxton Station near Weston-Super-Mare when a layer of slabs noticed something on the tracks. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the decapitated body of a young woman. The remains were identified as those of Katherine Woodford at the age of 24, the daughter of Locking's rector. She had driven around the area and the bicycle was discovered in a field some distance away.

Weston Super Mare Suicide, August 1884

A member of the Volunteer Engineer Corps, a man named Twitt, blew himself out in his bedroom in Weston-Super-Mare. His sick wife was in bed at the time, and his wife was very desperate for his suicide and she is not expected to recover from the shock.

Suicide of Grosvenor Suspension Bridge, Bath, February 1918

An airplane worker, Mabel Holland, 16, jumped from the Grosvenor Suspension Bridge in Bath. She was suspected of dishonesty, but this was unjustified and the girl from Bath decided to end everything. She left a message why she had done it.

"I've almost lost my thoughts with their taunts. The girls who work with me have driven me to it. "

Weston near Bath, July 1900

A mob of 200 to 300 people in the village of Weston near Bath attacked a poor woman. Her husband had died, and shortly afterwards she was convicted of a crime. The unruly crowd seized them, lit them, and pulled them through the streets, which were attached to a rope. Reverend Hayas Robinson, the pastor of the parish, intervened as they "crouched", cutting the rope and freeing the woman. One man was imprisoned for three months and two others were each a few weeks in the clink. Some others were fined £ 2 each.

Glastonbury Church Suicide, February 1840

The suicide of a Mr. Bullhead took place in Glastonbury. He was heavily in debt and owed £ 1700 to a local firm, and it was assumed that he had invested in the Glastonbury Canal, which apparently also lost money. The solution was simple. Mr. Bullhead borrowed the keys to the church tower and told the sexton he wanted to survey the surrounding countryside to see if it had been flooded in the recent violent rainstorms. He made it to the top of the tower and then dropped off.

Lansdown Grove Hotel Suicide, Bath, September 1889

A body of a man was discovered near the Lansdown Grove Hotel in Bath. He was found under an elm and was identified as the inmate of Bailbrook Asylum. His name was Julian Fowler, the son of the vicar of Walton near Clevedon. He had shot himself in the head with the weapon at his side. A few days earlier, Fowler's father allowed his son to take him home. This he did over a little break in Wales. The father sent a postcard to the responsible asylum officer, Dr. Ing. Wetherley, and said that they would come back that day. Fowler and his father arrived from Chepstow, Bath, and he had to travel three miles back to Bailbrook alone. This was the occasion he needed and then committed suicide near the hotel.

Gurney Slade Fatal Explosion, January 1832

Mr. George Gait, a grocer in the village of Gurney Slade, went to his wife. The rest of the family, a total of eight, went to the chapel, with one of the daughters making a fire and throwing the contents of a box into the fire. She thought it was the coal box, but it contained several pounds of gunpowder and the house was torn to pieces. Two of the children were completely killed and three are in critical condition.

Badmord / Suicide, February 1850

Edmund Hunt killed his own life and that of his toddler in Bath. The child's wife and mother were an ordinary shoplifter, and when he came home one night and found out she had been arrested again, he took the child and went down to the River Avon and plunged into the water. He was deeply attached to the child and only thirty-seven years old.

Banwell Drowning, Weston-Super-Mare, January 1884

In Banwell, a few young men named Phillips and Richards had a street brawl. Phillips was dragged away by his friends, and Richards was led by the crowd to a mill pond where he was pushed. In the middle of the pond was a tiny island he stayed on until he said they had a boat. Instead, he took a bath for it, got caught in weeds, and immediately drowned.

Taunton Suicide, October 1868

About seven miles from Taunton in Blackdown Hills, a corpse of a man was found, with his neck slashed. In a ditch, about a mile from the Holman Clavell Inn in Pitminster, the ruined remains were found and nearby were a razor and a knife, both of which were covered in blood. The man's name was Henry Mitchell of Crediton and was a former member of the 16th Rifles, and it was estimated that it had been there for at least a week.

Southstoke Brewery Fatality, Bath, March 1887

Thirty-six-year-old Charles Witchell (# 2), Crossway Cottages, Combe Down, lived with his brother and sister and was missing from his home. He had worked for Southstoke Brewery in Bath for twenty years. Questions were asked about his whereabouts and it was found that he had not worked in the brewery, they thought he had gotten sick and stayed home. As the hours turned into days, the family became worried and wanted. His body was in an empty container in the brewery. He was accidentally found when a worker went to the roof of the building, and he spotted Witchell's hat next to the tub. The vat was empty but contained enough gas to kill a man. It can not be determined whether it is a tragic accident or suicide.

Suicide in Taunton County Gaol, February 1850

County Gaol in Taunton saw the suicide of a juvenile prisoner. 16-year-old W.Hounsell was imprisoned for fleeing the Chard Union. He was obviously so disturbed by his stay with Her Majesty that he threw himself under the wheel of a treadmill on which eighteen men worked. They tried to stop in time, but the guy was badly disheveled and when they got him out, he was already dead.

Monkton Combe Mill Suicide, September 1864

Thomas Watts, a miller, left his house and went to the mill in Monkton Combe. During the morning, someone wanted to talk to him about business matters, but they could not find him and looked around. He was found in the mill, which hung on a beam. In the roof area where it was found, the soil sinks seven feet deep so that the grain can run into the mill. He stood on the edge of the bath and tied a rope around a beam, put it around his neck and jumped off.

Bad self-immolation, August 1863

The wife of William Wallace, a farmer living in Worle, committed suicide in a frightening manner. One morning, Mr. Wallace left the farm to look over fields and cattle, leaving the wife and two children at home. Shortly after leaving, she dressed in a robe, went downstairs, turned on a light, and lit up. As she got out, she went into the garden and died of the terrible burns she suffered. She was called a "weak intellect" and had some weird delusions because her husband moved to a bigger and better farm. Friends told how she used to say that she did not want to leave the farm, and they had to carry her in a coffin.

Fear and Cowardly Saw, Bath, May 1834 (tragic accident)

27-year-old Henry Abrahams oversaw the circular saws of Messrs. Fear and Coward in Bath. When he came into contact with him, he turned to 3600 feet per minute. He first took off one arm, parted the side, tore open the guts, and released them. He was taken to United Hospital but it was hopeless and he died the next day.

Clevedon, July 1899 (woman found on rock)

William Hancock, a boatswain, rowed his boat near Salthouse Mill when he spotted the corpse on the rocks. He went to Clevedon and said Sergeant Fairchild. They found her again, and the only clue to her identity was the "H.W." she wore on her clothes. She was about thirty, blue coat and skirt, blue cap, black silk waistband and children's boots. It seems that the woman had fallen from a nearby, about thirty-meter high cliff on the rocks and was beaten by the waves and rocks around him.

Bad brothel suicide, June 1860

Thomas Bull, a farmer from Basingstoke, who had hung himself up at Monmouth Street 8 in Bath and was known as a loo. He went to Bath to attend the races in Lansdown. Then he met a prostitute named Jeffries. He went to the above address and stayed there for a few days. The brothel's wife told him to go home because he was depressed. He said he would and decided on a kip before he went back and he asked her to wake him up at three o'clock. The door was tightly closed when she wanted to start it up, so she fetched a copper cellar that helped open the door, along with a carpenter. They found Bull hanging on a string at the bedpost. The body was freezing cold and his hands were black, which means he was long dead. He had only one shirt on and no money or papers to prove who he was.

Frome, August 1847

A fatal accident occurred near Frome, who, it seems, was seen in a woman's dream. The wife of a man named Gibbs, who was a carter, dreamed that a car had run over her husband while he was at work killing him. She was absolutely convinced of that, but he gave it away. He had to go to Bath one day and the wife asked him to take her daughter with him. Everything went well until they returned at seven in the evening and came to Ammerdown. The horses got angry and Gibbs tried to jump and stop them. Suddenly the dream came true in all aspects. He was run over by them and lived for several hours, but during the accident, the daughter tried to help and was run over and even killed.

Somerset County Gaol, Taunton, January 1857 (tragic accident)

George Kingdon was a prisoner in County Gaol in Taunton. He was with six others in the drainage work and above them were some men on scaffolding. An iron bar fell down and tried to jump out of the way, instead she landed on his head. He breathed unconsciously and only lasted a few minutes before he died. An autopsy revealed that bone fragments had entered his brain from the skull. The bar had fallen nearly fifty yards, and if he had stayed where he was, the bar would have missed him.

Saltford Drowning, Somerset. September 1906

When Douglas Snell Chamberlain swam at Saltford's Avon on Saturday at the age of nineteen, he suddenly sank and dragged another swimmer, his cousin, Heal. Several people went to their aid and Heal was saved in an exhausted state, but Chamberlain was drowned.

Badmord / Suicide September 6, 1870

Mr. H.C. Hopkins writes in the British Medical Journal about the sad case of Miss Prankard, now in Bath United Hospital, and says she was wounded by two bullets, one of which kicked in front of her ear on either side. Both are now housed in the bones of the upper part of the mouth or in the nostril. To date, it has developed positively, but so far has not tried to remove the balls.

September 19, 1870 – Miss Kate Prankard, one of the victims of the late murderous assault, in which her sister was killed by her father and shot herself in the head, has recovered sufficiently to leave the hospital and live with her Friends It will be remembered that two bullets were placed in her head, above the palate, behind her nose, but the surgeon decided that no surgery was necessary in the hope that they would work out. They were right, because on Wednesday a bullet broke from where it had been embedded and fell into the young lady's mouth.

October 1, 1903 (The request)

The investigation of those killed in a recent Worle accident by a railway engine colliding on a train crossing was completed yesterday afternoon. The evidence showed that just before the accident, Smart, the driver of the car, said he could cross the intersection before the train passed by, and later said he would probably be spending twelve months with him. The jury has delivered a judgment against "Smarty" against Smart and argued that the crossing was not protected by a 70-year signal. Smart was sentenced to legal action, but was granted substantial guarantees for release. (Martha Biddiscombe and Isabel Hannon, both from Ferndale, were killed in the collision in Worle.)

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