#and after all that. KNOWING that HE was partly responsible for what happened to Thomas!! just how painful it is that he walked away. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

Text

Always Mine-John Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @tommyshhelby)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Can you please do a imagine where y/n and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry esme and even though tommy does feel bad he does it anyway.Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on y/n and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous not sure if it’s a John or Micheal imagine your choice’

Characters: John Shelby x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader (platonic), Michael Gray x Reader (platonic), Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Heartbreak, swearing, mentions/intentions of sex, arguing, violence, slight fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Heartbreak, many people went through it, many people wanted to avoid it. Although your heart wasn’t physically damaged, it felt like it was. Humans often forget how strong their emotions are. Emotions are part of our survival, they determine how we live, it controls our day, what decisions we make. Unfortunately to live, we had to experience sadness. You could turn it around and say that the bad times made the good times stronger, more enjoyable. But it’s hard to think positively when you’re stuck in a terrible situation.

“He....He’s getting married?” I whispered out, clutching onto my dressing gown as the cold air blew into the house.

Tommy was stood outside, I had invited him inside, but I was glad I hadn’t now.“Today/ I’m sorry (Y/N), it has to be done.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“John doesn’t know. And you can’t tell him.”

“Why are you telling me this? I could easily run to him now and tell him.”

“If you do that, you’ll put us all in danger.”

I was growing more angry by the second.“Aren’t you always in danger?”

“This is different. It will benefit the whole family, the Peaky Blinders. He has to do this (Y/N).”

I shook my head at him, crossing my arms over my chest. What with it being so early in the morning, no one else was out in the street, it was slightly dark, with a low fog roaming the streets.“You know I love him. You know how we feel about each other. I’m just confused. Why would you tell me this before they get married? I could go tell him, we could run away together like we said we would since we were fifteen.”

“Because I love you (Y/N). You’re basically family. It felt wrong not to. But I can’t lose you at work either. You need to stay.”

I scoffed.“I can’t believe this! You really think I’m going to stay and see the man I love everyday with a wedding ring on his finger? I can write up my resignation now if you want-”

“(Y/N)-”

“Honestly Tommy, this is taking the piss. You get away with a lot of shit, but this is just fantastic-”

“(Y/N)!”

“Wait here, I’ll get a pen and some paper-”

“(Y/N) would you just listen for a second!?” he yelled, silencing me.“You would be as equally angry with me if I told you after. Just be happy that I mentioned it at all.”

That had been the longest day of my life. Knowing that my worst fear had come true, the man I loved was marrying someone else, made time move at an incredibly slow pace. Part of me pondered crashing the wedding, if I knew where it was or who he was marrying, but I knew that Tommy was partly right. He had a huge responsibility to keep control of his power, but the way he manipulated his family infuriated me.

“John, are you sure you want to marry me?” I said to him as we laid down in a field.

“You’re really asking that after what we just did?” he asked, doing up his trousers.

“Well, Susanne and Jack do the same as us, and he hasn’t asked her.” my (not so) innocent seventeen year old self pointed out.

“Believe me, I would not be suggesting that sort of thing if I didn’t mean it.”

“So you don’t ask every girl you fuck to marry you?” I teased.

He leaned over me.“I haven’t slept with that many.”

I rolled my eyes.“I don’t care how many girls you fucked before me. As long as I’m the one who gets this sort of treatment for the rest of your life, I’m happy.”

He smirked, kissing me.“You’ve been the best out of all of them.”

“Because I do anything you want.”

He leaned down to my ear, whispering,“Because you feel fucking amazing.”

I blushed, wishing I was able to tease him more.“I’m serious John, that’s a serious commitment.”

Although we were being flirty, I knew when he was being truthful.“(Y/N), I don’t want anything else. I want you beside me. My family loves you, you’re already a Shelby in their eyes, and mine. I know they say we’re young, but these feelings I have for you re strong. I wake up thinking about you, I see other women and think, my (Y/N) is so much prettier than you. And yes, thinking about you writhing and moaning beneath me is pleasurable,” I playfully punched his shoulder, which he laughed at,“but imagining you at home with the kids, waiting for me to come back and embracing me as soon as I step foot in our house, that’s all I could ever ask for in life.”

I sobbed as I thought about that memory. We were so happy back then. We were carefree, easily daydreaming about what could have been. Then harsh reality hit us in the face. He was being forced into an arrangement with some wild gypsy girl. We were supposed to be married, I was the one whose last name should have been Shelby.

I didn’t want to hear about the wedding day. I knew that Pol, Ada or any other woman in that betting shop wouldn’t mention it in front of me.Though how was I ever to stop thinking about how the man I loved was married to someone else when I worked with him? And his new wife? Esme also had no say in this, she had been unruly and apparently the only way to sort that was to marry her off. But why did she have to work here too? She hated it here, she could never sit still. It was in her nature to be outside all the time, to run free and wildly along with the horses. Not cramped up in a betting shop counting money, surrounded by the lowest of men. Having to sit across from her as I worked was torture, seeing the wedding band made my stomach turn.

"(Y/N)?" John called me, standing in the doorway of his office.

I caught Esme glancing towards me, though I didn't care. It wasn't as if anything was about to happen, John hadn't even spoken to me since they married, not properly anyway. I had been civil towards his wife, but only speaking to her when I absolutely had to. Quietly sighing, I closed the book I had been writing in, picking up a smaller notebook and pen before entering his office. Some workers were peeking at us, they knew the drama, and it didn't help that his office was basically made of windows, meaning everyone could see us.

"You can sit down, you know you can." John gestured to the chair across from his desk, though he didn't sit.

I said nothing back.He groaned.

"Come on (Y/N), you know I hated when you gave me the silent treatment."

"Is there something you needed from me Mr Shelby?"

"You know, that only sounded nice coming from you when we were in a different environment." he smirked, thinking I would break. He was absolutely wrong.

"I have a lot of work to be getting on with-"

"I don't love her."

My eyes widened, and I kept my voice low."For fucks sake John, we shouldn't be talking about this here."

"You know I don't!" he stood in front of me, but I quickly backed away, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves."She's some random gypsy Tommy picked up on the side of the road. Esme isn't you."

"And yet you're stuck with her. So let bygones be bygones. Did you actually need me?"

"I always need you, and I will always want you."

"Right, thank you for wasting my time sir."

I promptly left, feeling my throat get tight as I pushed back my tears. If I spoke another word, my voice would crack, giving away how I truly felt. Instead of returning to where I was originally sat, I headed to the kitchen, not wanting to see Esme. It was obvious her gaze was on me as I brushed past, though I took no notice. Once there, I made myself busy filling the kettle with water and beginning to make tea, just to distract myself. As it boiled, I gripped onto the edge of the counter, painfully holding back my sobs. I couldn’t do this for the rest of my life, it was emotionally exhausting, it was torturous.

“You can’t keep up this act forever.” Polly appeared.

I didn’t bother facing her.“I know. I already told Tom I would hand him my resignation letter, he refused.”

“No, we can’t lose you, even if we had enough staff. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that. You know what Tommy is like with his ‘big ideas’.”

I finally looked at her.“My worst fear came true. He’s with someone else. He’s married, but not to me. It’s been in our heads for so long, it was all too good to be true.”

Before Polly could speak, I saw her glance behind me. Turning around, I saw Esme standing in the doorway, her usual scowl on her face as she grabbed a mug from a cupboard.

“I’m assuming you brewed a full pot?” she asked.

“Yes.” I replied.

She put her mug beside mine, making sure it thudded against the counter. When she left, I ran my hands down my face, seriously considering walking out. Polly decided to not add anything. We would just go in circles, trying to cheer me up, reassure me, convince me to stay etc.

Managing to get through the rest of the day, I sighed in relief and tiredness as everyone started to pack their things. Putting on my coat, I smiled at one my colleagues who was approaching me.

“John has asked for you.” they warily said.

I rolled my eyes.“Did he say what he wants?”

He shook his head.“Sorry, wants you in there soon as.”

I thanked him as he left, along with everyone else. Esme held back, obviously glaring at me. She disappeared into John’s office for less than a minute before walking out again, leaving without her husband. I watched the door shut, leaving just John and I. My stomach twisted, heart beating incredibly loudly in my ears as I took my first few steps to his office. I stood in the doorway, hating that he was already looking at me, I was incredibly nervous.

He stood from his chair.“(Y/N)-”

“Please tell me this is about work.”

“I need to speak to you.”

“John, I can’t do this. We’re finished now-”

I started to walk away, not surprised when he followed, but shocked when he grabbed me, turning me around to face him.

“I know you feel the same as me. I can’t fucking stand it! I don’t want to be married to her. I don’t want to fuck her in our bed. I’ve only ever imagined coming home to see you there, not her!”

“Well that won’t happen now, will it?!” I snapped back, trying to make him let go of my arms.

As I struggled, John was able to keep a grasp on me.“It can! We’ll figure out a way! But I need to kiss you. I need to be able to hold you in my arms, to really feel you. I want to keep planning our future together.”

“Tommy has made his decision, and with this family, anything he says goes! You really think we could change any of this? Even if we did, imagine the trouble you would all be in.”

“I don’t care. I would take ten bullets to the chest if it meant being with you.”

“You can’t be saying things like that.”

His eyes were crazy, staring into my soul, fingers pressing into my skin. I felt him pull me closer, it was ever so slow, and I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. We cautiously leaned in for a kiss, making memories and feelings flood back. His hands relaxed, moving up to cup my face. The passion didn’t last long, because before I knew it, I was being pushed back against a desk, clumsily lying on my back. John wasted no time to touch my breasts, continuing to kiss me as it slid down my body, disappearing up my skirt. Although it was extremely tempting to carry on, the weighing guilt made me stop him.

“John.” I breathed out, giving him the wrong idea as he kept going, sucking on my neck. I pushed against him.“John, stop.”

He pulled away.“What? What’s wrong?” he went straight back down to my neck, trying to unbutton my blouse.

“Stop!” I said a little louder, managing to sit up and push him away.

“(Y/N), I know it’s been a while but-”

“It’s not that, you idiot! You’re married!”

“To a woman I don’t love!”

I let out a frustrated scream, buttoning up my blouse again as I stood.“I’m not going to be that woman sleeping with married men, I’m not a whore!”

“Why are you denying your feelings? We were supposed to get married.”

“We were kids back then.”

He pointed an accusing finger at me.“I said that to you every year, we were always waiting for the right time!”

“Life doesn’t always work out John!” I yelled.“This is just as agonising to me as it is to you! But if we ruin this, the Lee’s are going to come for you all, and there’s already enough on your plates to deal with them.”

“I don’t give a fuck about them-”

“But I give a fuck about you living!” I snatched up my coat and handbag, pushing past him towards the door. With my hand on the handle, I calmed down before speaking again.“Obviously we weren’t meant to be. Though at least we didn’t take our time together for granted. Don’t try any of that again John, I mean it.”

For the next week, I didn’t utter a word to John, I didn’t even glance in his direction. I considered sending in my resignation. But after thinking about it, I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do it. These people were my family, I grew up in this business. If I left, I had a slim chance of finding a normal job, because everyone knew who I was associated with. Why would anyone risk taking on someone who was involved with the Peaky Blinders? I was paid more than I should have been for my position, and they trusted me with anything; it would be stupid of me to throw that away and lose everything I worked so hard for.

Surprisingly, Esme hadn’t piped up towards me in that time. I thought she might say something, even if she wasn’t triggered, due to her fiery personality. However, John had been relentless with his attempts to make me speak to him, even trying to trap me in the vault with him. I couldn’t break, I couldn’t let him get to me again. As much as my heart ached for him, as much as I wanted him to grab my face and kiss me again, I would never break a marriage. The guilt that would live with me fr the rest of my life was too much to bear.

At the beginning of another day, I had just breezed into the shop when Lizzie approached me.“(Y/N), Tommy wants to see you.”

I sighed.“Did he say why?”

She shook her head.“You know what he’s like. But he’s asking for you now.”

I didn’t bother taking off my coat or setting my bag down, following Lizzie to his office. She knocked before opening the door, letting me walk in before closing it behind me, and I was left with Tommy, who was hunched over his desk as he looked through papers; however, there was also another man, a younger man.

“Come in (Y/N), let me introduce you to someone.” Tommy stood, setting the papers aside.

My steps were slower than they usually would be as I analysed the stranger. He looked younger than me, but not by that many years. His hat was in his hands, and although he wore a suit, it wasn’t like the ones the Shelby boys wore. His hair was slightly curly, not slicked back or short like most men around Small Heath, and he seemed shy, maybe more reclusive.

“I’m Michael.” he offered his hand out which I shook.

“I’m (Y/N).” I politely smiled.

“(Y/N) is basically family and has worked with us from the beginning.” Tommy explained.“This boy here, (Y/N), is Polly’s son.”

My eyes widened at Tommy as I let go of Michael’s hand.“Wait, you mean...the children she was always talking about...?”

“I’ve come back to find out about my real family. And to start working here too.” Michael added.

“So I need you to keep a close eye on him, help him with whatever he needs. (Y/N) knows the ins and outs of this place, she’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

For the rest of the day, Michael shadowed one of the workers that dealt with the winnings, counting money and figuring out how to run the shop floor. I would occasionally pop up when I thought he needed someone kinder and quiet to help, or just to check on him. He was sweet, but that wouldn’t help him in this environment. Luckily, Michael made it hard for John to bother me, he didn’t have the usual opportunities to bombard me with questions about why I didn’t want to fight for what we had. My shift finished quickly, it seemed like I had only been there an hour and we were already leaving.

“Come on Michael, let me take you for a drink. You deserve it after today.” I offered as we walked out of the shop.

He was hesitant before smiling.“Alright then. Where should we go?”

“We’ll go to the Garrison, your cousins are basically royalty there, meaning we are too. And don’t worry about your mum, she would rather you be with me than with the boys.”

Happily greeting Harry as we walked into the pub, he nudged the other bartender to get my usual drink. After asking Michael what he wanted, I called it out to Harry before disappearing into the private room.

“We’re allowed in here?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Like Tommy said, I’m family.” the window opened, a bartender passing us our drinks.“So, how did you end up in a place like this?”

We indulged in a conversation about Michael’s life growing up. It wasn’t a good upbringing, he had been through a lot of hardships as a child, and now being thrown into a completely different life was only adding to the confusion he had growing up, but he wanted to be independent. Get away from the boring country and work in an interesting job.

Michael glanced down at his drink, seeming hesitant to speak.“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there something between you and John? I thought he was married to Esme.”

I scoffed.“He is. Seems to keep forgetting that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-”

“It’s fine. You’re family, you should know what’s going on. We...wow, I’ve never actually spoken about this. John and I developed feelings for each other as we grew up, we became a couple. We always said we would get married, anyone could see we were deeply in love. However, Tommy arranged a marriage between John and Esme, it was to form a truce between the Shelby’s and the Lee family, Esme’s family.”

“That’s horrible. Tommy still did that even though he knew you two were together?”

“Yep.” I downed the rest of my drink.“Welcome to the family business.”

“I understand the need for a truce but...”

“I know what you’re thinking. Although it was heartbreaking, I know nothing can be done about it. And I am not a home wrecker!”

He was shocked by my snappy tone.“I-I didn’t say you were.”

“I know, force of habit.”

The door opened, the Shelby brothers walking in, and only three of them smiled at us, it was obvious who didn’t. They greeted us as they sat, the window opening instantly with their drinks on the tray. Michael and I were still tense from our talk, though tried not to show it as Arthur began rambling on about something stupid Finn had done that day. I tried my hardest to listen, though it was hard to when I could feel John’s eyes on me, and he was angry. Everyone else could tell as well, but they didn’t want to deal with John’s attitude right now. After Arthur finished his story, I excused myself to the ladies room, needing to relax. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even go to the loo without any disruption.

“Why the fuck are you here with him?” John demanded to know as he followed me in.

“John! You can’t be in here!” I snapped.

“There’s no other women here yet! Answer me.”

“He’s a new colleague, someone Tommy told me to look after today. Not to mention he’s your cousin. I was being nice to him.”

“You say you still love me yet here you are with another man.” the rage in his eyes was growing more intense by the second.

“Oh for fucks sake John.” I rolled my eyes.“Why on Earth why I be so stupid to move on with another Shelby?”

“The fuck are you saying?”

“I’ve been battling with myself whether to leave this job because of you! It was terrible enough to be in the same room as you and your wife, but trying to avoid you all day is exhausting. You have to stop trying to make us work.”

His breathing was getting faster, and he hastily grabbed my hands.“But why can’t we just hide it? Maybe after a while I’ll be able to divorce her.”

“I can’t sit around and wait for you! I’ll always love you John, but you can’t expect me to not go on living my life whilst I wait for something that may never happen. And you’re telling me that in that time, you won’t have sex with her, you won’t give her the children she wants? Because I’m not fucking you behind her back.”

He groaned, pulling away from me and turning around, suddenly hitting a stall door, causing me to flinch at the movement and sound. Instinctively, I started backing away, scared that he might flip and accidentally hurt me in his rage.

“It’s not fucking fair!” he yelled.

“John, calm down!” I said, trying not to shout back, needing him to be calm.

“Why was I the one that had to get married?! Why wasn’t it Arthur or even Finn? They know we’re in love! I wanted you to be my fucking wife! And now you’re not even fighting for us!”

I scowled at him, screaming just as loud at him now.“How dare you?! John, there is nothing to fight for anymore! Yes, we still love each other, and I would give anything to be with you again! I would kill for you, you know that. But we need to move on from this. I’m staying at work for now, just until I’ve got enough to move somewhere else, and then I’m gone. I’m not staying where I got my heart broken.”

“You can’t leave.”

“I will. This feels like someone is punishing me for something terrible that I’ve done, but for the life of me I can not think what that could be. I’m done with this John. I don’t want to wake up every morning dreading to go to the shop, being distracted from my work because I’m dreading that you’ll corner me and we’ll get caught doing something we shouldn’t be. I feel like I’ve aged since the day you married, just from the stress.”

“(Y/N), please, just give it more time, we can work something out-”

“No! John just shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying! Leave me alone, leave what we had in the past. You’re married now, and I don’t want to have an affair, not just because of the Lee’s but because of the moral of it all. I...I just need to go home.”

“You’re not leaving-”

He grabbed my arm forcefully, and in defence I slapped him around the face. He recoiled his hand as he went into shock, giving me a chance to escape. However, he kept calling my name as I rushed off, seeing the boys standing at the bar, obviously having heard everything. I pushed past them, bursting into the private room to grab my things before leaving the pub. The others were also telling me to come back, wondering what was wrong.

“Don’t follow me! Leave me alone!” I screeched before turning away from them.

I felt light headed as I stormed home. There was so much to take in, too much had been said in such a short amount of time. Though I knew I had spoken my truth, even if it was the hardest thing I had ever admitted. John and I couldn’t be. Perhaps it was never meant to happen, and we needed to grow up, move on from our childhood dreams of us being together. I couldn’t dwell on it, I was right when I said I couldn’t put my life on pause to wait for him, which I knew would never happen. Until I knew what I could do to move on and away from everyone, I hoped that our argument had sent a message to John, and I wouldn’t have to suffer as much as I had been. Not for much longer, I am going to be happy.

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anarmorofwords · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! You're probably not going to like this ask, but before getting into it I'd just like to say that this isn't meant as Kamala hate or anything, and I don't really want to offend.

Having said that, wouldn't it make sense that we get to see how Kamala treated Anna after she came out? It's in all likelihood one of the things that's weighing on Anna the most.

Obviously Kamala had her valid reasons: her parents aren't as liberal as the Lightwoods, she believes (knows?) their love is conditional as she's adopted, she's not white and not being heterosexual could further any treatment she's suffered from being different... Her reasons have already been listed multiple times by multiple people. Kamala has the right to stay in the closet and fear coming out. And while that shouldn't be villianised, we can't forget that closeted people can harm those around them.

If Kamala had kept treating Anna like a good friend, rumour would've sparked, and even if it was denied, she'd have been harmed by merely associating with Anna. Especially with the life Anna began leading; she could have been labelled as one of Anna's 'conquests' by the Clave. That, as we've established, is detrimental for her safety.

But at the same time, it would create a breach between Anna and Kamala. And Anna had the right to be hurt by it and weary of it when Kamala said she wanted a relationship.

If we look at it from that perspective, Anna's actions (though inexcusable in how they treated Kamala --who was also at fault for not accepting a negative for four months) make sense. Kamala wasn't only a fling of a week*, but also the girl she lost her virginity with, who asked her to be her secret (until she married Charles, after which Anna's affections would be discarded), who hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna suffered from homophobic commentary, and who now wants a relationship hidden from most of the people that know her.

Kamala shouldn't be forced to come out; but the harm that can do to the women she may engage with is reflective of what happens nowadays. I can mostly think of examples with gay men, so my apologies in advance. But how many women have seen their marriages ruined by their husband having affairs with men?

Creating characters that reflect a toxic part of the 'hidden' LGBT community shouldn't be seen as hating or villinifying. Thomas isn't out and he isn't labelled a villain by the narrative --because his actions don't harm anyone. The hate Alastair gets in-universe is because of his past as a bully, not because he's gay. Matthew's not fully out and he isn't villianised --like Thomas, because the decisions he makes to keep his sexuality hidden don't impact anyone negatively.

I'll even go as far as saying that not even the narrative villianises characters like Kamala and Charles. If it were, they'd be seen more like Grace in Chain of Gold. We'd see how Kamala's actions are affecting Anna's in more ways than anger (that in itself put the fandom against Anna), and the characters would note so. We wouldn't see scenes were Cordelia empathised with Charles, nor Matthew said he loved him.

Be it as it may, Kamala and Charles represent ugly parts of being closeted that can naturally occur when someone is in their position. LGBT people are human. Humans, when put into very difficult situations (and Charles risks his career; Kamala her safety), can make decisions that harm those around them. Consequently, the people they're harming have a right to feel, well, harmed in whatever range of ways --this goes mostly for Alastair, and very partly for Anna, whose treatment of Kamala was horrible.

Readers need to understand what is pushing these 'villianised' characters to harm (again, mostly for Alastair) the more prominent characters and go beyond how they are instantly depicted. Because these are complex characters based on complex real people influenced by very ugly realities we will move on from someday, but sadly not yet.

By the way, Charles and Kamala's situations aren't that similar beyond the closeted thing, but I crammed them together because of a post I saw you reblog.

Please understand I'm not justifying Charles's actions; that I understand the pain he's put Alastair through, and know that he shouldn't ever be near Alastair. Nor am I trying to justify Anna's actions nor hate on Kamala.

I'll just finish my pointless rant by adding that I do think cc has sensitivity readers. I think she asked a gay man to go through tec (I don't know if he still revised her other books, though), and know she asked POC's input when writing someone for their culture. I don't know much beyond that, but I doubt who revises her stuff is up to her. Wouldn't that be something the publisher is responsible for (honest question)?

*I've also noticed people using the argument that they didn't know each other long enough for Anna to harbour such ugly emotions towards Kamala, but Kamala also remembered Anna pretty deeply and is 'in love' with her. I just wanted to say that considering cc writes (fantastical) romance where someone can ask a woman they met two months ago marriage, stressing over time spaces doesn't make much sense. Just my take.

hi!!

alright, where do I start? probably would be best with stating that while I can analyse Kamala's situation with what I know/see/read about racism and discrimination and reasonably apply things I've read/heard from PoC to the discussion, as well as try to be as sensitive about it as possible, I'm still a white woman, so not a person that's best qualified to talk about this.

that being said - if someone wants to add something to this conversation, you're obviously more than welcome to, and if there's something in my answer that you don't agree with or find in some way insensitive or offensive - please don't hesitate to call me out on that.

back to your points though: (this turned into a whole ass essay, so under the cut)

I don't think Anna shouldn't be able to reminiscent on Kamala's behaviour/reaction to her coming out, or be hurt by it. what bothers me is the way CC talks about it - I can't remember the exact phrasing, but the post where she mentioned this suggested something along the lines of "you'll see how Kamala sided with the Clave and didn't defend Anna after her coming out", therefore putting the blame on Kamala and completely disregarding the fact that Kamala wasn't in position to do much at all. It suggest that their situation was "poor Anna being mistreated by Kamala". therefore I'm afraid Kamanna's main problem/conflict will remain to be portrayed as "Anna having to allow themselves to love again and forgive Kamala", while Anna's shortcomings - and Kamala's vulnerable position - are never discussed. I think it would be possible to acknowledge both Kamala's difficult situation and the possible hurt her behaviour caused Anna without being insensitive towards Kamala's character, but it would take a really skilled - and caring - author to do both of the perspectives justice. CC would have to find a balance between being aware of the racism/prejudice Kamala faced/ writing her with lots of awareness and empathy, and still allowing her to make mistakes and acknowledging them. As it is however, I'm under impression that she's just treating it as a plot device, a relationship drama.

I'd say no one expects characters of color to be written as flawless or never making mistakes, it's mostly the way these mistakes are written and what things these characters are judged/shamed/

And that's - at least in my understanding and opinion - where the problem is. it's that the narrative never even addresses Anna's faults, and portrays Kamala as the one that caused all - or most of - the pain, without ever even acknowledging her problems and background.

White characters in TLH make mistakes and fuck up - because they're human and they're absolutely allowed to - but the thing is, non-white characters aren't afforded that privilege. Anna's behaviour is never questioned - none of it, shaming Kamala for not being able to come out, dismissing her desire to be a mother, or any of the questionable things she did in ChoI. Same with Matthew, James, Thomas. Alastair and Kamala however? they're constantly viewed through their past mistakes, and forced to apologize for them over and over, forced to almost beg for forgiveness. Moreover, those past mistakes are used as a justification of all and any shitty behaviour the other characters exhibit towards them now, which is simply unfair and cruel. They're held to a much higher standard.

So I'd like to say that yes, Kamala was in the wrong to keep nagging Anna after numerous rejections, and she was in the wrong to not inform Anna about Charles prior to them having sex - but that doesn't give Anna a free pass to constantly mistreat Kamala. And let's be real, Anna isn't stupid - while at 17 she could be naive and uninformed, I can't imagine how after years of hanging out with the Downworlders and numerous affairs and being out and judged by the Clave she's still so ignorant about Kamala's situation. I definitely think she's allowed to be hurt, but to still not understand why Kamala did what she did? Anna isn't blaming her for not telling her about Charles earlier - which would be fair - but instead for refusing to engage in an outright romance with her. She's being ignorant - and consciously so, I think.

Overall, I think you're definitely right about how coming out - or staying closeted - can be messy and hurt people in the process, especially in unaccepting environments/time periods, and I've seen enough discourse online to know there will never be a verdict/stance on this that will satisfy everyone. I, for one, would really like to refrain from putting all the blame on a single person - but, at least the way I see it, CC is pointing fingers. maybe not directly, but she is. Kamala, Alastair and Charles have no friends or support systems, and the only people in the narrative that defend them are themselves (ok, Cordelia does defend Alastair from Charles, but not from shitty takes about him and his "sins"). Also, sorry, but I don't like how you say "hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna experienced homophobic comments" - it sounds very much judgemental. Kamala had every right to do that? The fact that she slept with Anna doesn't means she owed her something, and certainly not coming out and most probably destroying her life, or even defending her at the - again - expense of her own reputation, or more possibly safety.

As for Charles - it's a different issue here, at least imo - I fear that it'll be implied that his refusing to come out will is his main "sin", and therefore not something he can be judged for, which ironically, will be villainizing, but mostly will mean his actual sins are dismissed. This is where the scene with Cordelia feeling a pang of sympathy for him comes into play, and it worries me. I've never hated Charles for not wanting to come out, but rather for, let's see - grooming Alastair, disregarding Alastair's needs and feelings, disrespecting his mother, being a sexist prick, being low-key far-right coded "make Shadowhunters great again" etc.

As for sensitivity readers - I'm no expert, so I don't think my input is worth much. From what I've gathered from multiple threads/discussions on twitter, tho it is probably consulted/approved by the publisher, many authors push for that - and authors less famous and "powerful" than her. I'm not a hater, but seeing fandoms' opinions on much of her rep, I think she could do better. Because if she does have sensitivity readers, then they don't seem to be doing a great job - maybe they're friends who don't wanna hurt her feelings? Or maybe she thinks a gay guy's feedback will be enough for any queer content - which, judging by the opinions I've seen from the fans, doesn't seem to be true.

Again, these are mostly my thoughts and I'm more than open to reading other opinions, because *sigh* I really don't know how to handle this.

Bottom line - I really really don't want to be hating on the characters in general, playing God in regards to judging the struggles of minorities, or even criticising the characters too harshly for being human, flawed etc. What my main issue is is how CC handles those complex and heavy topics.

I hope I make sense and this answer satisfies you somehow - I also hope someone better equipped to answer might wanna join this conversation.

* I desperately need a reread of TLH before I engage in any more conversations like this, but I didn't wanna leave you hanging. So yeah, I might be remembering things wrong. Again, let me know, I'm very much open to being corrected as well as to further discussion.

* I use she/her pronouns for Anna because that's what she uses in canon

#the last hours #tlh #alastair carstairs #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #anti charles fairchild #is this anti anna?#kamala joshi #ariadne bridgestock #chain of iron #chain of gold #spilling the tea

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flying-guinea-pig · 3 years ago

Text

Not What He Seems (ch.1)

(Prefer to read this on AO3?)

(It’s happening folks. The big reveal, four years in the making.)

NotWhat He Seems: Chapter 1

Thomas' heart always beat a little faster when he summoned something, even after several years in this job. It was the thrill of calling a powerful being into this reality with only your wits and some chalk lines as protection.

Beëlzebob was an intermediate-level demon. He took the appearance of every cliché devil ever - hairy black goat legs, a ridiculously buff and gleaming red upper body, large curled horns. The works.

He was also not cooperating at all.

"You are... di̵s̢tra͢c̢te͜d," the demon whispered, his voice echoing back strangely from the corners of the summoning lab. The shadows seemed to thicken.

Thomas kept his face impassive. These were just some special effects, after all. His binding circle was perfect, he didn't need to worry.

"I have outlined our offer in this document. These are the terms you have previously discussed at length with my colleague," he said, reaching out slightly to hand Beëlzebob the carefully rolled up contract. "All should be in order."

The demon unrolled it and took his sweet time reading it through. He would make a good addition to the safe summons list, despite being a bit higher level than their usual choices. This old-fashioned approach, with the written contract and all - it would teach the students to be patient and give them time to focus on the details before shaking on anything.

"Yes," the demon said, dragging a black claw over the parchment. "These terms are acceptable. However, there is one issue."

"Is there?"

A horrible, fanged grin. "The contract must be written in your o̦̰͚w̮̮n̬͇̹̕ blood, mortal."

Maybe it was his experience with grandstanding demons, or Tyrone had been rubbing off on him, but Thomas was not impressed. "That wasn't in the agreement."

"You will rewrite it. Ḩè̲̙͙̩̤r̦e̹̦ ͏͕̥a̝̱̺͟n̘͔d ̛̦̱̲̖n̩͈̪o̰̻͓͓͢w̺͍͎̦.̪̣͇̩́"

"No, I don't think so," Thomas said, mildly. Seriously? All that work was just wasted? Typical. He was not going to use his own blood to write it, sheesh. With all those clauses and addendums the thing was way too long. Not to mention willingly given human blood had power - power that wasn't a part of this offer.

The shadows twisted - the candles flared. "You will, little mortal, or I will step over this boundary and write it myself, straight from your veins."

"This attitude is not convincing me you're a good fit for our list."

"You have summoned me and I will not leave without my deal!" Red-tinged smoke filled the circle, edging over the chalk lines and spreading into the room. It stank of sulphur and decay.

Thomas coughed. Dramatics aside, maybe it was time to get rid of Beëlzebob. Too bad, Hicks would be disappointed to cross off another name on the safe summons list… It had shrunk a lot in the past years. If this kept up their students would soon only get to summon the Organ Duck. If they couldn’t offer a proper practical education they might eventually run out of interested students as well, which was bad news for the survival of the demonology department.

"Whoa, did someone drop a rotten egg in here?"

Tyrone usually didn't barge in during summonings, especially when they were trying to get more demons for the safe summons list, but this time Thomas didn't mind. The open door let in some fresh air and that was very welcome at the moment.

Tyrone entered the room, waving away some of the smoke. "Hey, Hicks mentioned you wanted to have a talk?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Thomas said, distracted. The smoke was dissipating with record speed and Beëlzebob was visible again, staring at Tyrone in abject terror. "I'm a bit busy right now though."

"Do you need any help?" Tyrone offered. His smile was perfectly friendly.

Thomas glanced at Beëlzebob. "As a matter of fact, he was just leaving."

"Yes! Yes indeed," the demon hurried to say. "Just leaving. Right now. I’m going. Big misunderstanding, you know how it is, have to be somewhere else, goodbye now!"

“Thanks buddy," Tyrone said. "Very accommodating of you, leaving without a deal like that. I will remember this. Here, have a snack."

With a snap of his fingers a familiar deep-fried ball appeared, partly wrapped in a festive paper towel.

Beëlzebob caught it with a flinch and popped away without another sound.

“So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Just a second, let me clean up first.” He frowned at Tyrone. “Speaking of cleaning up, what happened to your shirt?”

“What?” Tyrone glanced down at the brown stains on his usually so crisp white shirt, and made a face. “Aw man, seriously?”

“Do I want to know?”

“I bumped into Banerjee on my way here. He was carrying samples. And he didn’t even apologize, can you believe it?”

Banerjee was the Cryptozoology department’s newest hire, working on his doctorate involving – honestly, Thomas had no idea, he just knew it involved a lot of mud. He wasn’t aware of Tyrone’s true identity. The university staff tried to keep that one under wraps. Parents might object to their children coming to a university where Alcor the Dreambender was frequently hanging around.

“He owes me a new shirt.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You can literally make it brand new with a thought.”

“He doesn’t know that. It’s about the principle of the thing.”

Shaking his head, Thomas set to work. To his students it often came as a surprise that practical demonology involved a lot of cleaning up. The preparations were extensive, of course, but afterwards someone had to put away the candles and mop up the chalk, blood, and other assorted fluids the demons occasionally left behind. Beëlzebob in particular had left footprints of some kind of sulphurous ooze that he probably shouldn’t handle without gloves…

Safely removing summoning circles was an art, really. It’s not like you could just start scrubbing away with these things – the outer part was usually the binding circle, and you never knew if the demon was still hanging around, invisible, waiting for you to make a mistake. Not that he expected something to happen while Alcor the Dreambender was literally waiting at the door, but proper caution was a good habit to have.

“You know, I could clean this up for you with a snap of my fingers,” Tyrone mused, lounging against the wall while he waited. His shirt held no trace of the brown stains.

“Are you offering?”

“For free?”

Thomas snickered at the almost scandalous look on Tyrone’s face. Put down his cleaning supplies. He had planned to do this differently, but you know what? Now might be as good a time as ever. And it would be fun, wouldn’t it, to put Tyrone off-balance for a moment? “How about a deal then?”

Tyrone perked up.

“You get this room back to its cleaned-up, usable state,” said Thomas, and felt the smile break through on his face. “In return, you get to be my best man.”

To his credit, it didn’t take Tyrone long to realise. “Thomas! You finally popped the question then?”

“Yep. I said I was going to do it soon, this can’t be a surprise –“

“And she said yes?”

“We did talk about it beforehand, you know –“

“Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Thomas grinned. “So, what do you say? Fair warning though, being my best man comes with certain responsibilities. Making sure I’m on time at the wedding and such.”

Organising the stag night as well, technically. Though Thomas suspected Brad already had some thoughts in that direction.

“I’ve been someone’s best man before, I know how it goes,” Tyrone said. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Thomas.”

The room around them shifted, the magical arrays fading away and taking the trailing odour of brimstone with them.

Tyrone’s expression shifted too, as he let go of Thomas’ hand.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing.”

“You seem upset?”

“I am happy for you,” Tyrone said. “It’s just… you’re getting old.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No, I mean – look at you! Getting married. Maybe kids and a house, soon.”

“I’m not buying a house on a teacher’s salary,” Thomas said. “The rest… who knows? We’ll see how it goes. Is that what’s upsetting you? That I’m growing up?”

Tyrone shrugged awkwardly. He seemed smaller somehow. “You’re going to be very busy with all that – that life stuff. It’s happening already. Everyone is so busy. Your dates with Elisha, Eddy’s got his new job, Brad’s mucking around in his dad’s company - when was the last time we all hung out, just for fun? Not because it was someone’s birthday or anything? It’s been ages since we had a game night.”

That… had been a while, true. “I guess that’s what happens when you get older. There are more demands on your time, you get to juggle more responsibilities.”

“I’m not getting older.”

“Right.” Thomas took a deep breath. “Listen, so… we’re busy more often. And it’s not like in college, where we all could just hang out all the time. But you’re basically part of the family, Tyrone. Alcor. You’ll always have a place here. And I’m sure the rest of the gang would say the same.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Thomas said. And smiled, to lighten the mood. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You’d just miss all the amazing deals I make with you.”

“Of course” Thomas said, glad Tyrone was now teasing instead of moping. “I’m clearly only using you for your clout as Alcor. You’ve made my life so much easier.”

Tyrone mimed a gasp. “Sarcasm, Thomas? Ouch.”

“Not entirely sarcasm,” Thomas admitted. “You do make my life easier, sometimes. When you feel like it. For instance, vanishing that sulphurous stuff Beëlzebob left behind, I was not looking forward to handling that. The smell lingered.”

Tyrone suddenly looked way too innocent. “Oh, I didn’t exactly vanish it.”

Oh Stars. “What did you do?”

“Might have put it somewhere. Like, oh, I dunno… Banerjee’s car.”

Thomas facepalmed. Serves him right for making a vague deal like that. “Is it at least safe?”

“Define ‘safe’.”

“Tyrone!”

“Don’t worry, Thomas, I promised not to deliberately harm the university’s students and faculty, remember? He’ll be fine.”

“All this for an accidental stain on your shirt, really?”

Tyrone folded his arms in front of him. “He didn’t apologize.”

Thomas shook his head, exasperated.

Demons. They really knew how to hold grudges.

--------------

The Mindscape was a vast, endless realm where the strong hunted the weak and territories were defined, invaded, and redefined. This was the place where demons lived, and they didn’t like each other any better than they liked humans. The collective noun for a group of demons, as they say, is ‘a carnage’. Teaming up was rare, and more often than not ended in the stronger one destroying the other as soon as their goal was met. That was just the natural order of things.

Even so, sometimes even they needed a neutral place to go. Somewhere deals could be made without worrying about being devoured. This place was the Midway Bar, run by a demon known only as the Bartender, and for the past six years it had attracted a group of regulars.

They took over the table in the corner. Sometimes the group lost a member, occasionally it gained one. They weren’t here to make deals. They were here to drown their misery and sneak away before a stronger demon took advantage of their intoxication to ambush them outside these walls.

Beëlzebob entered the Midway Bar. He went straight to the Bartender, who after a short conversation pointed in the direction of the gloomy table in the corner.

“Get lost,” Flaga the Eagle-winged said, at his approach.

The demon next to her, who mostly looked like a giant fungus with teeth, curled a green tendril around their glass. “Yeah. This is a private party.”

Beëlzebob paused. He was stronger than each of them, he knew. But this was no place for threats. “Apologies for the interruption. May I sit?”

That wasn’t how demons talked to each other, especially not to a bunch of low-levels like them. They shared a suspicious glance. The one across from Flaga, some kind of feathered crocodile hybrid, raised his empty glass meaningfully.

Of course. “Listening can parch the throat so,” Beëlzebob said. “Let me get those refilled for you, and then we̙̮'̥͉̘ll̟̮ ț̳̮a̪̩̗̥l̯̹̹k̰.”

#transcendence au #alcor the dreambender #thomas strange #fic: not what he seems #the midway bar #demons #I mean it's TAU so that's a given

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Secret

REAL LIFE SCANDAL COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: CUTE

Thomas sat on the sofa holding a cup of tea, he looked stressed, tried, exhausted, holding his mug like it was a about to be violently ripped away from him. "So. Some shit had happened" he says "and... I am doing this, so I can sit down and just. Explain. Because alot of things have changed, most of you know some of them. Some of you might know none of them but never the less, I shall explain them" he says sipping his tea "y/n is not here, well she is but... Upstairs, she knows I'm filming thought" he says "I don't know quite where to start so... Let's try the beginning" he began "back many many years ago when me and y/n first met, I had a crush on her that's not a secret that's something I think most people know. Because she worked in the garage I was working in and I just... I had a crush a little just teenage boy crush on her and we both dated other people and grew closer and friends as the years went on and then we found ourselves single at the same time and I just kinda went for it I asked, she wasn't actually that enthusiastic if I remember correctly I think her actual response was uhh yeah sure why not which I'm not gonna like doesn't fill you with confidence" he laughs "and we just kinda clicked. It was like being freinds but longer, and we'd kiss, and cuddle, and hang outs turned into date nights, and weekend trips turned into romantic getaways, and... We were happy" he smiled "we decided very early on, that I wasn't something we wanted to be public with, we didn't want to be social media, or on camera anything like that partly just to keep that part of our lives privet because there is so much you expose with interviews and with cameras around all the time there is a lot you expose about yourself and your life and I think we just wanted to have something that was ours that was our secret, but the secret is not so secret anyone." He says having some more tea "I think part of it was natural in the sense that we became lazier with it, we stopped censoring ourselves and limiting what we could do because... We're where happy, we where overexcited like you always are when your in a relationship you start to let your guard down alot more and it became atleast I felt like more of covering it up that became important, I agreed with it initially but when we started getting later into the relationship I started to not like it as much because.... I love her, and I don't want to cover that up, I don't want to have scheduled times when I can and can't kiss and cuddle my girlfriend, I wanted to tell friends about us, I wanted to tell Interviews and magazines about her but I couldn't and that started to... Not annoy me but frustrate me" he explained "but she still had a point people where still going to bother us and it was making something public that we wanted to keep privet. So we made backstories and plots to hide it and to explain everything, And... I do believe the video got put up by sally the outtakes of us talking and know everything has been released I guess some things are... Kinda obvious but here we go. I am officially for the first time in here, I am telling the truth, the complete uncensored truth." He says "you wanna help me out here sweetheart?" He asks to off camera "Are you and y/n dating?" Y/n asks off screen "Yes." "What is going on with the house I swear one day the sofa is in one house the next it's in the other" she giggled clearly reading questions "It's bullshit. It's one house, two bedrooms, one bathroom, one kitchen, we just moved it around and used... Angles and stuff the two houses is bullshit, we have loved together for about nine years we first moved In together into the flat where she first brought home hopscotch, the clip of me meeting hopscotch, I moved in about two weeks after that" "Is sally fired?" "Sally is not fired. Stuffs been worked out she's fine she's happy, editing away I assume, now I say that she'll probably do something mean and put like a dick overlay on my head or something" he sighed "You'll have to find out" "I Will. I will" he laughs "Where are hopscotch and jellybean?" "In there room, with there babies still all good just not been filming them" "Why are videos out of order?" "Because some things take longer to edit that's why something are out of order and why some videos get scrapped complete and are never finished, because by the time you cut it all out there is nothing left" "Are you ever gonna tell us how the Barbie cake tasted?" "No. That shit haunts my nightmares I would not wish that knowledge on anyone" "Are you ever gonna get married?" ".... Hum. That's a fun question, can I or do you?" "You do it your the one answering" "Okay, the answer to that is no. We are not gonna get married, because... We already are married, three years and we're very happy" "Semi happy" "Quiet you" he told her "Fun fact, Thomas on our wedding night attempted to get a lighter and set our marriage certificate in fire while swearing at me and saying good luck trying to get rid of me now! You can't return me without the receipt! And then jumped in a swimming pool" "I did that's true. I was fairly drunk" "Fairly?" "I think every single person at our wedding handed me a shot and I downed all of them I was handed which was a bad plan but there we go" "I think Jack and the boys caught on to that you where just shooting anything you where handed because they started giving you like fucking triple vodkas" "They did It was a weird day," "It was, have you stopped smoking?" "Yes. I was given the choice stop smoking on my own or loose a centimeter of my dick everytime she caught me with a cigarette so... I gave up" "You had to" "I did that's true." "Last two" "Oohh last two!" "What happened in the last video?" "In the last video, I had a bit of a meltdown because sally had revealed things, stuff was coming out without our control, the glass had been broken, the secret was out and we were in damage control twenty four hours a day damage control, and I just kinda snapped and obviously... I couldn't take it anymore, I didn't want the secrets, the bullshit, I just wanted to be... Happy. And, I think now that everything is in the open I think we can be" "What happened to y/n in the last video?" "Ooh okay, your okay?" 'yeah go on" "I don't know if this had come out or not but... What happened to y/n in the last video was a very very special moment that we caught on camera." He smiled "she all done?" "Yep" "Come on let me hold her" he whines putting his tea down y/n came from off screen in a little baggy blue dress holding a small baby in a blanket she carefully handed the baby over to him and he smiled widely giving the baby kisses and cuddles "hi, hello there little one, not thirsty anymore? Good girl" he cooed to her "this is Maggie. Maggie Sangster. She's uhhh... Help me" "Three weeks old" "Yes, three weeks old. You went into labor on camera" "I did, I'll talk you focus on holding the baby. I went into labor on camera, early which isn't an uncommon thing to be that early we just kinda had heart attacks which I think is fair. And yeah we went to the hospital and this little one was born." "So. We're going to be posting old stuff that didn't get posted before atleast till this one is a tad more manageable" "I have one more question though for the truth time Thomas?" "Yes?" "So you love y/n? Really?" "With all my heart sweetheart" he smiled giving her a kiss which made Maggie cry "alright, come on angel bed time" he told her kissing her little head and taking her off camera.

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oddaodd · 4 years ago

Text

Not Quite It Seems

· Tommy Shelby and the reader (who is an actress) become friends with benefits ·

Warnings: smut and angst.

Author´s note: This is loosely inspired by a scene in Alfred Hitchcock´s “Rear window”

And... here´s the second part.

Destiny brought them together for the first time during a charity gala for the Grace Shelby institute. Y/n´s best friend had invited her to go as her plus one after her date had ditched her.

“I told you he was no good” Y/n said on the car ride to the venue, elegantly smoking a cigarette.

“His loss really” replied her friend cheerfully.

They were both actresses and when they stepped into the venue they caught a lot of eyes. They politely smiled and shook hands with some of the many attendants before finding their seats for the speech Thomas Shelby was to give.

“That’s Mr. Shelby” pointed her friend as soon as he stood in the podium.

“He’s rather handsome isn’t he” whispered Y/n.

“Dangerous too” Whispered her friend in reply.

Y/n turned her attention back to his speech, not really minding her friends warning, feeling utterly enthralled by the man and blushed a bit when he noticed his eyes were staring intently at her. After He finished his speech Y/n and her friend went to write checks for the foundation before going to get a glass of champagne.

“I noticed” said her friend in a teasing tone.

“What did you notice?” Humored Y/n taking a sip of her champagne.

“The way he was looking at you”

Y/n was about to speak, to deny her friends accusations when she heard a voice behind her.

“Did you enjoy my speech Mrs. Y/L/N?”

Her friends eyes went a bit wide and y/n immediately knew who it was. She turned around gracefully and their eyes met once again.

“Very much so Mr. Shelby” she said in a velvety voice, before taking another sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving his.

Thomas raised his eyebrows in amusement at her boldness and took a sip of his own champagne as Y/n´s friend scurried past her with a smile and a teasing whisper.

“Be careful”

Y/n was somehow afraid that he had heard it and spoke to avoid the subject as she saw her friend walking away and looking back at her with a smirk.

“Do you enjoy my films Mr. Shelby?”

“I do” he said honestly before downing the rest of his champagne and offering her his hand “Shall we dance Mrs. Y/N/l?”

“We shall” she said, smiling and placing her manicured hand on his, letting him lead her. “And Y/n will do”

They spent the rest of the night dancing and drinking and when the gala drew to a close, he invited her back to his place. She accepted, but before leaving went to talk to her friend, not wanting to ditch her. Much to Y/n¨s surprise, Her fiend had found herself a beau and insisted that y/n go with Mr. Shelby.

“But I want to hear everything about it tomorrow” her friend said excitedly.

“You will” y/n promised before walking away to rejoin Thomas.

Once they arrived at his home, their lips came together in passion and desire, unable to contain themselves as they made their way to one of the many spare rooms.

She tangled her fingers through his hair as he snaked his arms under her legs to lift her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist before pressing her back to a wall.

Tommy started kissing her neck and slipping the straps of her dress with one hand, exposing her breasts that were covered in a see through lace bra. He groaned at the sight and went to whisper at her ear “so beautiful” before bitting gently into her lobe.

His low voice made her moan in response and went to kiss his neck. She started feeling him getting hard through his trousers and slipped her hand between them to feel him.

“Fuck, love” he exhaled and continuing kissing her neck.

She unbuttoned is trousers and wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it slowly. “I want you inside me” she whispered to his ear. His breathing became heavy and he carried her to bed. Once she was laying there he placed himself between her legs, staring a bit in admiration.

“So fucking beautiful” he said lifting her legs up to remove her underwear. He teased her wet entrance for a bit with his index finger and then took it to his mouth tasting her which made y/n give out a shuddering moan.

“You taste so good, love” he said lining himself up with her entrance and pausing for a second. “Are you sure?” he whispered looking into her eyes.

“God yes, Mr. Shelby, plea..” She started but abruptly stopped as she felt him pushing into her. Her eyes rolled back in bliss and her nails dug into his back. He gave her a moment to adjust to his size before starting thrusting into roughly. She kissed him to restrain her moans and Tommy smirked into the kiss. He took advantage of her distracted state and rolled over so that she was on top of him. This caught her by surprise and smiled teasingly as he adjusted herself to the new position, grinding slowly on his lap before starting to ride him, building up a pace. He placed his calloused hands on her waist guiding her. She loved how his hands felt on her skin and felt the familiar tension in the pit of her stomach building up. She placed her hands on her chest feeling his agitated heartbeat “Im close Mr. Shelby” she whined.

“I know love” he said, one of his hands traveling to her pussy and rubbing her clit. The friction from his fingers bringing her even closer to the edge

“Cum for me Y/N”

As soon as his words hit her ears she let herself go and came violently around his cock. He held her still by the waist allowing her to ride out her orgasm and came moments later at the sight.

She fell to his side in exhaustion, trying to catch her breath.

“Tommy will do” he said, barely a whisper.

After that night they entered into a sort of friends with benefits relationship. They started meeting almost exclusively at Y/n´s home. The sex was great and so were the conversations they held before or afterwards. Y/n found herself falling for the man and couldn’t help herself but want more of the relationship. She started inviting him to stay with her throughout the night, wanting to be with him for a little bit longer, but he always found a suave reason to leave. Still, she refused to believe he didn’t feel the same as her, not with all the tender touches and sweet nothings he sometimes whispered to her moments after their highs had dissipated.

And he did feel the same, but he knew it was better to not let it become anything else. He knew she didn’t fit into his world and would never forgive himself if something were to happen to her because of their association. So he ignored the guilt he felt whenever he saw her smile falter at his declinations to stay with her, reminding himself of what had happened to Grace.

One day she decided to pay him visit in one of his offices. He was surprised to see her there and it showed.

“What are you doing here?” He said, standing from his desk and hastily walking past her to shut the door and blinders so that nobody could see them inside.

She curiously watched him “I was just in the neighborhood and I thought i´d drop by” she said less than confidently, taking off her coat and hanging it before taking off her gloves and placing them in her purse.

He went to the liquor cabinet he kept in his office and poured her and himself some whiskey before giving one to her and going back to sit behind his desk, exhaling in frustration as he sat, leaning back on his chair.

Y/n stood in front of the desk, drink in hand, unsure of what to do.

“You shouldn’t be here” he said raising his eyebrows and looking at her.

She decided to not let her nervousness at his response show and smoothly sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk “Is it so terribly wrong of me to want to see you?” she said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes it is” he said sitting upright now “This” he said gesturing to his office “What I do for a living is dangerous, an actress like you doesn’t belong here” He lit one of his cigarettes and exhaled the smoke staring at her, expecting her response, her smile gone now. She suddenly felt emotional at his words. She didn’t answer, so he continued “If you can’t confine this thing of ours to the bedroom we should end it here” he exhaled more smoke and stared at her trying to assess her reaction.

She looked at him in disbelief and stood up from the desk, her back to him, not allowing him to see her reaction. Patly offended, partly hurt, she started making her way to the coat hanger to grab her coat.

“I’m in love with you.” She confessed “I don’t care what you do for a living, I´d just like to be part of it somehow” She said slipping on her coat.

“Its deflating to find out the only way I can be part of it is to act as your personal whore” she fished in her purse for her gloves and held them in her hands “I guess I’m not the woman I thought I was”

“There’s nothing wrong with you Y/N. You have this whole country in the palm of your hand” he said guiltily trying to sound emotionless and smooth simultaneously.

She tuned back to look at him. There were tears threatening to fall from her eyes and his guilt increased significantly at the sight.

“Not quite it seems” she said slipping on her silk gloves and grabbing hold of the doorknob before giving him one last look and stepping out of the office, heels clicking on the wooden flooring as she walked away, out of the building. He stood up from his desk wanting to go after her, but stayed where he stood reminding himself of the many reasons why he shouldn’t.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby one shot #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby angst #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders angst

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delphinidin4 · 4 years ago

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“Abominable neglect and unkindness”: Fanny Price and Trauma

I have C-PTSD, and it’s really been on my mind as I’ve been rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: her heroine of Fanny Price is so OBVIOUSLY traumatized that I started making notes upon notes upon notes in my kindle copy on her symptoms and their causes. A couple of my followers said they’d be interested to read my analysis if I wrote it up, and it doesn’t take much to encourage me to put a few thousand words on the page screen! So below is my (probably WAY too long) analysis of Fanny Price’s emotional trauma and complex PTSD (a form of PTSD often caused by long-term emotional abuse/neglect). It’s hella long. sorrynotsorry lol

*unleashes inner academic*

Part 1: How Fanny Price Was Traumatized

Trauma 1: She is taken from family and home.

Okay, imagine this: You’re ten years old. You grew up in a noisy, lower-middle-class family with multiple little siblings and both your parents. You are the oldest girl, and are important to all the members of your family because you act as “playfellow, instructress, and nurse” to your younger siblings. You are also “exceedingly timid and shy”. And suddenly you find out that your mother is SENDING YOU AWAY--far, far away--to aunts and uncle and cousins you’ve never met before, to be raised by THEM instead of your parents. Leaving everything else out of the equation for a second, that by itself would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING. You would feel like your parents didn’t love you and didn’t want you. You weren’t important to them. You might wonder what you did wrong to be sent away. And THEN it turns out you’re NEVER COMING BACK. EVER. Fanny doesn’t see her family again until she is, I think nineteen years old. At first, she doesn’t even have the means to write to her brother William, which was to be her ONLY connection to her family: it seems her parents don’t write to her at all over the course of the novel.

All of this would be bad enough. But to come to a place that was entirely alien to everything you had known... I mean, think about it. This is Mansfield Park, an ENORMOUS house with MANY servants, a completely different way of doing things. There’s MONEY. Even the items around you are of a totally different quality than you’re used to: Austen says of Fanny’s initial impression of Mansfield, “The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her. The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry.” The accent people speak with is probably different. The vocabulary is probably different. And everybody DEFINITELY thought she was under-educated (more about this in a bit) because she didn’t have the education of a gentleman’s daughter--because she ISN’T a gentleman’s daughter. It must have caused her intense culture shock.

Trauma 2: William’s absence

It’s clear that in her childhood in Portsmouth, William is the dearest member of Fanny’s family (see below for a discussion of her parents). When Fanny first arrives at Mansfield, Edmund discovers that,

dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. ‘William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.’

Fanny’s one really warm and loving connection seems to be with William, and she is parted from him, first by her move to Mansfield, and then by his going to sea:

Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William. Of the rest [of her Portsmouth family] she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as ...the misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.

Fanny continues a correspondence with William when he is at sea, but it’s clear that his long absence from her life is very difficult for her.

One final note on her being parted from her family for long intervals: I think we might actually see a sign of this trauma in an emotional flashback later in the book.

For those unfamiliar with complex PTSD, flashbacks don’t always mean that you have a sort of hallucination of a traumatic experience. In the case of complex PTSD and PTSD from early childhood trauma, flashbacks often occur in the form of “emotional flashbacks”: instead of re-experiencing the sensory input of the traumatic experience (seeing and hearing the experience all over again when triggered), emotional flashbacks consist ONLY of the emotional content of the trauma. They result in sudden rushes of negative emotions such as fear, shame, sorrow, despair, embarrassment, anger, etc. This may be partly because the trigger is acting on so many different traumatic memories at once (the brain can’t just pick out one to show to you) and partly because the traumatic memory being triggered is from so early in your childhood that you don’t have a direct memory of it anymore, just the trauma memory. Emotional flashbacks can be identified by comparing the emotional response to the stimulus: If the emotion is inappropriate for the situation or inappropriately intense, it may well be a flashback.

In this scene, Miss Crawford--whom Fanny does not care for at all--is taking her leave of Fanny: I find it to be illuminating.

And embracing her very affectionately, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you.”

Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could.

It sounds to me as if Fanny is having a negative reaction that is out of proportion for and inappropriate to the situation. Miss Crawford is leaving, and Fanny is GLAD that she is leaving. Nonetheless, she is involuntarily emotionally “affected” by Miss Crawford’s goodbye, and cries far more than is actually in keeping with her feelings. It seems like Fanny is triggered by the leave-taking and “the melancholy influence of the word ‘last’.” Fanny has had traumatic leave-takings from her family and her beloved William; and things like “This is the last time I’ll see you for who knows how long” must have been said to her before in intensely traumatic situations. So it’s no wonder she gets triggered by this situation’s similarity to those and has an out-sized emotional response. Separations from her family and from William were definitely traumatic to her and reminders of them now trigger trauma responses.

Trauma 3: Emotional neglect by parental figures

Fanny might not have been so badly traumatized by leaving her family and being separated from William if she had had emotional support from adult caregivers. Research has shown that if a child has even ONE adult to whom they can talk openly about their feelings, that can insulate them against the effects of trauma.

Fanny doesn’t have this. Both Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are emotionally neglectful and distant.* Lady Bertram is pleasant, but is entirely self-centered and doesn’t really GAF about anybody or anything that doesn’t directly affect her. While she never abuses or hurts Fanny with unkindness, she also never comforts her, listens to her, or seems to do anything but get Fanny to fetch and carry for her and do half her sewing for her. There is a total lack of emotional connection between them until considerably later in the story.

[*Footnote: Miss Lee is surprisingly absent from the narrative and seems to be of no emotional support to Fanny whatsoever.]

Sir Thomas is worse. While he intends to take good care of Fanny--and to his credit, he does make sure she has her material needs met, is well educated, gets exercise, etc--he cannot be said to be NICE to her. Even when she first arrives, when he is trying his hardest to be kind, Austen says, “Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment.” He’s not good with kids, and he seems to be highly critical of Fanny, especially before his return from Antigua. Apparently he used to terrify her in childhood by catechizing her on her lessons in French in English, which implies he constantly found her wanting. His parting words to her on the beginning of his voyage to Antigua are downright scalding: “If William does come to Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him that the many years which have passed since you parted have not been spent on your side entirely without improvement; though, I fear, he must find his sister at sixteen in some respects too much like his sister at ten.”

JFC, Tommy-boy. Throttle back a little, can’t you?

He’s not popular even with his own daughters: Austen says of Maria and Julia, “Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint”. Sir Thomas comes across as a bit of a martinet, always finding fault and always saying no. At best, he doesn’t seem to be at all warm and encouraging, and appears to be almost entirely ignorant, not only of what Fanny’s character is like, but also about his own daughters’ characters.

There’s also the problem of his lack of understanding and compassion for Fanny. She describes him as “all that was clever and good,” but both his cleverness and goodness frequently seem to be lacking. He doesn’t understand Fanny’s feelings any more than he understands those of Maria, sending Edmund to sound Fanny out on the subject of Mr. Crawford because he CANNOT understand how a woman might not love a man that was clever, pleasant and rich. While he provided the money to raise Fanny, his disregard of her is clear when he sends her on a long visit to Portsmouth, where her health suffers. Even Crawford recognizes Sir Thomas’s likeliness to neglect her:

I know Mansfield, I know its way, I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything ... without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year.

Sir Thomas, while priding himself (and being praised by others) as being so kind and clever, has low emotional intelligence and too little care for Fanny. Despite his occasional kindnesses, and her claim on his care as his direct dependent, she is not one of his priorities.

Of course, Fanny’s own parents would have had the strongest effects on her earliest years (especially considering the Prices didn’t seem to have a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Price would have been responsible for all her education, as well). It’s clear that Fanny’s mother didn’t show her much love in her early childhood: Mrs. Price is described as

“the ‘mama’ who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this [Fanny] could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve.”

We can see Fanny here doing what so many emotionally neglected children do, making excuses for their parents and assuming that the emotional neglect and abuse they suffer are somehow THEIR fault. Many emotionally abused or neglected children believe that they’re too loud, too needy, too much, and even ugly, blaming themselves for their parents’ rejecting and disgusted behavior toward them.

It’s proven, however, when Fanny goes home, that her parents are just as neglectful of her as she felt them to be formerly. Her father is “negligent of his family”, and her mother clearly does not really love her:

Mrs. Price was not unkind; but, instead of gaining on her affection and confidence, and becoming more and more dear, her daughter never met with greater kindness from her than on the first day of her arrival. The instinct of nature was soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source. Her heart and her time were already quite full; she had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny. Her daughters never had been much to her.* She was fond of her sons, especially of William, but Betsey was the first of her girls whom she had ever much regarded. To her she was most injudiciously indulgent. William was her pride; Betsey her darling; and John, Richard, Sam, Tom, and Charles occupied all the rest of her maternal solicitude, alternately her worries and her comforts. These shared her heart: her time was given chiefly to her house and her servants.

[*Footnote: I have to stop here for a moment and mention poor Susan, whom I like better at every reading. With Mrs. Price only loving her sons and Betsy, with Mary dead and Fanny gone, Susan was for years THE ONLY completely unloved child in the house, which must have been pretty awful. It’s clear that Fanny and Susan have suffered rather similar fates in being raised without love, and Susan only responds more with irritation and Fanny more with tears: “Susan was only acting on the same truths, and pursuing the same system, which [Fanny’s] own judgment acknowledged, but which her more supine and yielding temper would have shrunk from asserting. Susan tried to be useful, where she could only have gone away and cried”. Please tell me somebody’s written a sequel about Susan?]

Again, while Mr. and Mrs. Price are not CRUEL, they’re not KIND, either. They are deeply emotionally neglectful toward Susan and Fanny, and Mrs. Price shows favoritism for the rest of her children, thus hurting her daughters further. Fanny’s probable surmise when she was sent away that she was not loved or wanted by her parents unfortunately appears to be very true. While an adult like Fanny can rationalize such behavior by her parents (even if it pains her), a child cannot do so, and the Prices’ lack of love for their own daughter must have been traumatizing and contributed to her belief that she can never matter to anybody (more on this in a bit).

Trauma 4: Lack of Companionship: Maria and Julia (and Miss Lee)

Fanny’s education when she arrives at Mansfield is not that of a gentlewoman--hardly surprising, given both her family’s socioeconomic position and her mother’s busy-ness with her family and general indolence. Maria and Julia’s education on scholarly subjects is clearly much stronger (they’re also 2-3 years older than her), and we know that their moral education was neglected, so that they only care about whether Fanny is rich and well-educated like themselves:

They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.

They’re generous enough to give her presents (though their least-valued belongings), but not generous enough to actually spend time with her, and it appears that this pattern holds throughout Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

At first, Mrs. Norris, Sir Thomas, and Miss Lee all think her actually stupid instead of just ill-educated: we are told that not only did Miss Lee “[wonder] at her ignorance,” but

A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to [Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris]. Fanny could read, work [that means “sew”], and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.

You would think that the adults at least would realize that Fanny hadn’t had the opportunity of a gentlewoman’s education, but no, they attribute it to natural stupidity instead of opportunity:

“My dear,” their considerate aunt would reply, “it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.”

It is only Edmund who perceives that Fanny is not only NOT stupid, she’s actually clever:

He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

One wonders, if a sixteen-year-old boy hadn’t decided to undertake part of Fanny’s education himself, how much worse off would she have been?

That Fanny’s companionship fell almost entirely to a teenage boy six years her senior who spends most of the year away at boarding school/university, is a ringing indictment of the behavior of Maria and Julia, and of those who should have been encouraging them to make a friend of their cousin.

Trauma 5: Mrs Norris (who gets a fucking section all her own)

Here we are. We’ve finally come to it. The other four traumas would certainly have been sufficient to cause C-PTSD, but JFC, Mrs. Norris could have caused it all by her lonesome. While she comes across as amusing in Austen’s sardonic style, she is absolutely toxic for Fanny’s mental health.

Mrs. Norris seems to have had an out-sized effect on the three Mansfield girls. Generally, mothers were in charge of the education of their daughters (even if indirectly, through a governess), so while Sir Thomas did examine them on their lessons, it was really supposed to be Lady Bertram’s job to see to their practical and moral education. But Lady Bertram is an absolute zero, a completely passive character, and Austen says directly that, “To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.” So it seems like the much more active Mrs. Norris stepped in, and her influence was extremely strong with all three of them, despite her being married and having her own house and her own concerns for the first seven or so years of Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

We can see her influence with all three in the fact that all three of the Mansfield girls end up evaluating themselves in almost perfect accordance to how Mrs. Norris evaluated them. Maria, the golden child*, became very spoiled and proud and thought she could do almost whatever she wanted. Fanny, the scapegoat, came to believe that her only worth was in being “useful” (Mrs. Norris’s hobby-horse) and that she could never be of any importance to anybody. And Julia, while closer to Maria’s level of treatment than Fanny’s, also suffers from comparisons to the golden child:

That Julia escaped better than Maria was owing, in some measure, to a favourable difference of disposition and circumstance, but in a greater to her having been less the darling of that very aunt, less flattered and less spoilt. Her beauty and acquirements had held but a second place. She had been always used to think herself a little inferior to Maria.

[*footnote: Treating one child as the golden child and one as the scapegoat is a very common tactic of abusive caregivers. The scapegoat becomes entirely worn down in self-esteem so that she is powerless to fight back against the abuse. The golden child and other children see how the scapegoat is treated and try hard not to rock the boat because they don’t want to end up like that.]

Mrs. Norris teaches Fanny from the beginning to judge and reject her own natural emotions. On her first traumatic separation from her family, Mrs. Norris lectures her incessantly on how she ought to be HAPPY, not sad:

Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.

Fanny is taught to regard her own natural feelings as “wicked”, especially when they are a negative reaction to how the Bertram/Norris family treats her. While she can see some of her own feelings as just--when they have been sanctioned by Edmund’s judgment--any feeling that tends away from perfect gratitude toward the Bertram/Norris family she immediately rejects as an immoral response. She frequently takes herself to task at these moments. Anger and resentment are natural responses meant to help us protect ourselves against mistreatment from others, and this self-defending response is entirely squelched by Mrs. Norris’s behavior to her.

Mrs. Norris’s behavior toward Fanny is not only emotionally abusive; it is also at least physically neglectful, if not physically abusive. Despite the fact that everyone agrees that Fanny “is not strong”, Mrs. Norris makes a lot of difficulties in Edmund’s attempts to make sure Fanny has a horse to ride, and also refuses to allow Fanny a fire in the East Room, even in the middle of winter, a privation that ever Sir Thomas thinks bad enough that he countermands it--though doing so with a little explanatory disclaimer to Fanny explaining why Mrs. Norris MEANS well and why Fanny shouldn’t dare to be angry, or indeed anything but immensely and forever grateful for their neglectful treatment of her:

Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe has been, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that they were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which seemed to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her.

~*GAAASSSSS-LIGHTINNNNGGGGGGG*~

“Oh, shit, you’ve been freezing to death here for years because your aunt’s an abusive asshole. Oh, but there are three million excuses for her, and also you’re SO GOOD AND GRATEFUL that I KNOW you’ll never allow yourself to see it for the abuse it was, and aren’t you so GRATEFUL to us all for everything we’ve done for you? We MEANT well. And being abused was good for you anyway. If you ever get mad at your abusers I’ll treat you with withering criticism.”

*gagggg* I could write an entire essay explicating the gaslighting in that passage ALONE.

I could go on and on about Mrs. Norris’s abusive behavior toward Fanny, but I think most of it’s perfectly obvious to the reader. I think a very interesting argument might be made on whether Mrs. Norris would count as having a form of narcissistic personality disorder--always worried about her own importance, living through her golden child Maria, taking everything out on her scapegoat, insisting always on associating her own value with that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram and insisting on Fanny’s status being lower because her own self-esteem is dependent on being as good as her sister Bertram and better than her sister Price. Might be interesting.

Part 2: Fanny Price’s Trauma Responses

Complex emotional trauma expresses itself in a number of symptoms and behaviors. We’ve already talked about emotional flashbacks, and I’m going to look at four more major aspects of Fanny’s trauma responses.

Anxiety and Hypervigilance

People with PTSD often suffer from hypervigilance, where their body is constantly on high alert for threats in their environment. These threats are not only physical threats (resulting in things like jumping really hard at sudden noises) but also interpersonal threats. For instance, whenever I hear people talking really quietly in my house, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen REALLY HARD because I’m worried they’re talking about me and it’s gonna be bad.

Fanny exhibits this same behavior when she has retreated to the East Room when Crawford is in the house to propose to her:

She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle’s; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.

Her trembling at the sound of her uncle’s footsteps looks like hypervigilance, and the fact of her childhood “terror” being “renewed” sounds like she’s having another flashback, since she so strongly associates the presence of her uncle in the East Room with those painful childhood visits. She reacts with physical symptoms of stress, trembling at his approach.

Fanny’s anxiety and hypervigilance also demonstrates itself in her being constantly convinced that people are going to be angry with her. When she turns Mr. Crawford down, for instance, she is CONVINCED that Miss Crawford is going to be furious with her, and fears to meet with her. Edmund tells her Miss Crawford isn’t REALLY angry with her, but cannot convince her:

The promised visit from “her friend,” as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said... she was in every way an object of painful alarm. ...The dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny’s only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.

Fanny is so terrified of a polite confrontation with Miss Crawford, whom she has never seen angry before, that she spends DAYS trying to never be alone so that she’ll feel protected by the presence of company! Of course, when Miss Crawford DOES visit, she’s nothing but friendly. But Fanny’s PTSD couldn’t allow her to believe that until it happened. Her anxiety is intense, and this sort of thing happens repeatedly over the course of the novel.

Over-accommodation of others / people-pleasing

Childhood emotional trauma frequently leads to people-pleasing behavior: doing what you do not want to do simply because someone else wants you to. To understand this, you have to put yourself into the point of view of a very young child or an infant. Children depend entirely on their caregivers for survival: they are aware of this on an instinctive level. If the caregiver shows them very conditional love, only appearing pleased with them when the child does things they like and displeased when the child does things that inconvenience them, the child quickly learns that they need to please their caregivers in order to survive. “Mom gets angry when I cry--Mom doesn’t like me to cry--if Mom gets angry at me, I could starve to death--I need to not cry.” Obviously this line of thinking happens on a subconscious rather than a conscious level, but it’s incredibly powerful nonetheless. I have found myself in situations where a person with some kind of power over me--a doctor, for instance--shows displeasure with something I say to them, and I INSTANTLY find myself backing off, making light of it, taking back everything I said, etc, even though I very much meant it and it needed to be said. The people-pleasing instinct is very strong and difficult to overcome.

In Fanny’s case, it isn’t just a matter of her caregivers showing her inconsistent love in early childhood. Even as an adult, she is fully aware that she needs to please the Bertrams, or she--and her family!--are SCREWED. She is entirely financially dependent on the Bertrams. If she displeases them, not only can they make her life at Mansfield even MORE uncomfortable than it already is, but they can send her back to Portsmouth. Even worse, they could stop their financial support of William and the financial support they are periodically sending to the rest of her family. Huge things hang on Fanny’s pleasing the Bertrams, and it’s small wonder she has developed the habit of trying to please everybody constantly (even her un-pleasable Aunt Norris).

Fanny repeatedly does things she doesn’t want to do, simply because someone asks or tells her to, even if there’s likely to be no major consequences if she doesn’t. One example is on Miss Crawford’s last visit to Mansfield, when Fanny is trying her darnedest to avoid speaking with her alone:

[Miss Crawford] was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, “I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere”; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.

Fanny doesn’t want to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny doesn’t NEED to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny could stall, perhaps until Miss Crawford left. Nonetheless, the MOMENT Miss Crawford asks it of her, Fanny does it--even though she’s clearly terrified, feeling it “in all her pulses and all her nerves” (more on this physical reaction later). She acts almost like Ella Enchanted: she literally can’t say no.

Likewise, she doesn’t take opportunities she is offered to do things that she DOES wish to do. After a very long description of how much she wants to dance one evening, when her only chance of a partner is Tom, the following exchange occurs:

When he had told of his horse, [Tom] took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, “for I am tired to death.”

Fanny DOES want to dance, and the way that he worded the question, she could very well have said, “Yes, please,” and gotten up to dance with him. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want to dance, and she has picked up on this and said--not only that they don’t have to dance, but the LIE that she doesn’t WANT to dance--in order to please him. Later Austen points Tom out as a hypocrite when he complains, “It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!” But while it is true that Tom left Fanny LITTLE choice in the matter, it is also true that a stronger character, like Miss Crawford, could probably have found a way to say that she DID want to dance, even with such an unencouraging questioner. Fanny cannot do this: she has been conditioned all her life to give in to people--because her very SURVIVAL has depended on it.

In particular, Mrs. Norris has squelched Fanny’s independence of spirit very firmly. At one point she observes, very unfairly,

There is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before—she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of.”

As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust.

Obviously, Mrs. Norris is completely wrong about this. But as long as she can project* the fault of independence on Fanny, and punish Fanny for this false fault, she can prevent her from ever developing it. By picking on the least little supposed sign of independence and harping on it for ages, Mrs. Norris can prevent Fanny from ever developing a will of her own.

[*Footnote: this is another thing narcissists do: they project their own bad behavior on to others. Mrs. Norris is definitely not secretive, but she is very “independent” and has a lot of “nonsense”--instead of consulting with others about what they actually need in any given situation, she TELLS them. She has no spirit of cooperation, and all her “services” to others tend to be officious and useless.]

Low self-esteem

I thought about putting this together with the section on Mrs. Norris, because Fanny’s self-esteem has been so much shaped by her aunt. This is the kind of message Mrs. Norris is constantly drilling into her about the lowness of her importance:

The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last.

This message is so entirely in keeping with the messages Mrs. Norris has been indoctrinating Fanny with over the years that she has fully internalized it. When a primary caregiver tells you over and over again that you do not matter to anyone, you come to believe it:

[Fanny:] “I can never be important to any one.”

[Edmund:] “What is to prevent you?”

“Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness.”

“As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”

“You are too kind,” said Fanny, colouring at such praise; “how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me.”

Fanny’s “I can never be important to any one” sounds very much like a triggered teenager sobbing, “Nobody will ever love me!” even while friends next to her are demonstrating that they DO love her. The survivor of this kind of abuse comes to a place where their beliefs do not reflect reality because their beliefs instead reflect the intense emotional rejection they have received from their main caregivers*. Fanny is important to Edmund, William, and Lady Bertram, but is convinced that she not only is NOT important to ANYONE, but never CAN be. She also convinced that she is foolish and awkward, probably by the early experiences at Mansfield when she didn’t know all the intricate rules of high society and was far behind Maria and Julia in her education. Fanny, though she is extremely shy, manages to carry off most things with surprising grace, and she is clever and has a wisdom and common sense in some things far beyond her years. Yet she is CERTAIN that she is “foolish and awkward”, because she has been repeatedly called so by authority figures in her life and almost all of her family at Mansfield.

[*Footnote: these extreme beliefs are often couched in “black-and-white” language: “EVERYBODY hates me, NOBODY loves me, I’ll NEVER be able to do it right, I’ll be alone FOREVER”. We can hear this in Fanny’s “I can NEVER be of importance to ANY ONE”.]

Fanny not only thinks very lowly of herself, she also is afraid of being praised or of anything that could possibly raise her self-esteem. For instance, in a discussion with Edmund, she explains why she never wants anybody to notice her:

[Edmund:] “Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle.”

[Fanny:] “But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?”

“I did—and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther.”

“And I longed to do it—but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like—I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.”

“Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect.”

She is literally fearful of notice and praise--because Mrs. Norris has told her repeatedly throughout her life that she must NEVER shine more than Maria or Julia, must NEVER take attention away from them--a sort of vicarious narcissism. And Fanny feels that to receive a compliment, to state her own opinions, or even to TALK much in company is “stepping out of her place”, the high crime and misdemeanor of Mrs. Norris’s upbringing.

I was raised by a narcissistic caretaker, and I am sometimes suddenly overwhelmed with terror that I’m taking too much attention to myself and that I’m therefore BAD somehow. Because a narcissist (or their proxy, the golden child) must always be the center of attention, the scapegoat is emotionally punished for ever taking the spotlight. Mrs. Norris is disposed to be upset when Sir Thomas holds a dance in Fanny’s honor, and is only reconciled to it because SHE will be able to make herself the center of attention in the preparations.*

[*Footnote: I think another argument can be made for Mrs. Norris’s narcissism in her response to Crawford’s proposal to Fanny:

Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford’s choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

Mrs. Norris is DETERMINED to put Fanny down, as the scapegoat, and is offended that one of her golden children (her emotional stand-in) is shown less honor in this situation than the scapegoat. For the scapegoat to be elevated and her narcissistic stand-in to be neglected induces a narcissistic rage.]

“Sensibility” and High Sensitivity

In the 18th century, a theory and “culture of sensibility” grew up in places like Britain, France, Holland, and the British colonies. Encyclopedia.com’s article on sensibility states, “Sensibility (and ‘sensible’ and ‘sentiment’) connoted the operation of the nervous system, the material basis for consciousness.” But the workings of the nervous system, they believed, affected more than just the physical body. Some people, it was held, had greater sensibility than others: their nerves were more easily affected by not only physical but also emotional and moral input, and they responded accordingly--not just in word and in deed, but in tears, blushes, trembling, fainting, etc. It was believed that people’s emotional responses AND physical responses could tell you something about their physical AND moral makeup. A truly modest woman, for instance, would blush and look confused when confronted with something that offended her maidenly modesty. A woman--or indeed, man--who was truly moral and “sensible” would be emotionally affected by something sad, such as a tale of oppression, to the point of openly weeping. A heroine of sensibility would most likely faint if threatened with something she found, not only physically frightening, but morally abhorrent (such as a forced marriage). This is part of the reason for what seems to use like excessive emotional reactions in some 18th-century novels: the writer is demonstrating her characters’ moral superiority through their physical sensibility.*

[*Footnote: Encyclopedia.com adds, “The coexistence of reason and feeling was assumed, but the proportion of each was endlessly debated, above all because of what many saw as the dangers of unleashed feelings... [After the French Revolution,] The debate over the proportions of reason and feeling in persons of sensibility was politicized, and the need for women to channel their feelings toward moral and domestic goals was reemphasized. The word ‘sentimental,’ which had been used positively, became a label for ‘excessive sensibility’ and self-indulgence.” We can see this conflict clearly in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility!]

There is, in fact, a modern equivalent to the 18th century idea of sensibility: the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) or Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). First proposed by Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person (1996), the theory suggests that SPS

is a temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli". The trait is characterized by "a tendency to 'pause to check' in novel situations, greater sensitivity to subtle stimuli, and the engagement of deeper cognitive processing strategies for employing coping actions, all of which is driven by heightened emotional reactivity, both positive and negative". (wikipedia)

While some people have mocked this theory as pseudoscience, Aron is by no means the only researcher to have studied it, and a great many people who suffered from people telling them “You’re too sensitive” when they were hurt have taken comfort in the positive affirmation that high sensitivity is a natural phenomenon and can even at times be regarded as a strength rather than a character flaw.

It seems to me that there is a good deal of overlap between those who self-identify or may be identified as HSPs and those who have C-PTSD. Whether this is because greater emotional sensitivity leads to a greater incidence of traumatic responses to negative experiences, or whether high sensitivity is itself a product of repeated childhood trauma, I can’t say. (Heck, it could even be that the HSP’s belief that they’re over-sensitive comes from childhood gaslighting!)

What I can say is that Fanny Price exhibits, not only hypervigilance, but also what Austen would call “great sensibility” and I would call “SPS”. Fanny has the greatest sensibility of any character in the entire novel, even Edmund: she judges more clearly on moral matters than Edmund or Sir Thomas, and has the strongest physical and emotional reactions to stimuli. She seems to be constantly blushing, trembling, or tearing up. This is not only painful to modern readers (who, if they’re not pained by sympathizing with her, may well be pained by what seems to them a lack of proper 21st-century backbone in a main character) but is clearly highly uncomfortable at times to Fanny herself. She might be able to pride herself on her moral discernment (not that Fanny would EVER pride herself on ANYTHING), and she may be in transports of happiness when something good, like William’s arrival or promotion, occur, but she is often “cast down” as well by things that seem to others like trifles. We see this not only in her hypervigilance but also in the depression and the black-and-white thinking which are often the products of trauma. Edmund observes to her, “It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are.” Fanny’s apparent high sensitivity may be just a natural trait (made worse by trauma) or may itself be a product of trauma.

Conclusions

At the end of all this, I’m really not sure what I think about Fanny’s “happy ending”. On one hand, she gets what she’s always wanted in life: companionate marriage with Edmund, valued by Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, with Mrs. Norris (and Maria) gone forever, and Julia and Tom chastened and better behaved. It seems perfect for her. But a little voice inside of me keeps saying how very unlikely it is. People rarely change as much as Sir Thomas does in the book--and in fact, we are only assured by Austen that Sir Thomas comes to value Fanny more: we don’t actually SEE it. I can’t help but feel that Fanny must still have been subject to ongoing gaslighting about how she was brought up and about respect toward Mrs. Norris and himself. Fanny got what she thought she wanted, but at the same time, she didn’t get free. Especially considering that Austen goes out of her way to say that things COULD have turned out differently and that Fanny and Crawford COULD have been happy together, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fanny had ended up with the ONLY person in the entire book who truly recognizes how badly she has been treated at Mansfield Park:

[Crawford]: And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness.

#jane austen #mansfield park #trauma #c-ptsd #literature #tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk

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mxsmwndr · 4 years ago

Text

Home(coming) to... You?

modern!newt x fem!reader

requested by @hoziersleftnipple

a/n: I AM MISSING MY FIRST HOMECOMING DANCE THIS YEAR NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! i was actually going to ask k out this year but you know... stuff happened so i didn't. anyways, this is based off of something my mom apparently did when she was in high school, so yay!!! i hope this was okay! requests (other than this) are still closed. sorry!! (happy holidays tho!) - also, i'm sorry but this is a lil a n g s t y ... oops. ;)

Newt was so desperately in love with you, it was insane!

You didn't know this, of course, but your friends sure did. His friends did, too. And, well, basically the entire school had figured it out by now (minus you, of course).

So yeah, they all knew to say no. They all had been warned more than a few times that Minho would hunt them down if they dared to ask you to homecoming before Newt. They knew it and he knew that they knew it.

And they all knew to not say anything when you climbed on top of one of the lunch tables and screamed "HEY! Any of you losers want to take me to homecoming?!".

But... someone apparently didn't get it.

(Or maybe he just didn't care.

I mean, he was taller than Newt and stronger than Minho. He was faster than Thomas, too! Minho's threats were like that of a chihuahua - all talk and no walk.)

Ari saw Newt freeze in his place and took it as a chance to get you because it's free country, right? You're your own woman! You can go with Ari if you want! Newt isn't in charge of you!!

And so yeah, you said "yes" to Ari that day, because hey, at least you've got a date!

And yeah, you gushed to Newt about it, too. All day and all night.

And also, no, you didn't see how forced his smile was (for once) and you didn't worry about him all much because you've got a date!

At least until now.

Within seconds you pulled Newt out of the hallway and into the janitor's closet. Your hand covered his mouth to suppress his possible (and very girly) screams and the fear in his eyes almost made you feel bad for scaring him.

Almost.

"Why are you avoiding me?" You accused. Yep, right. Getting straight to the point. No hesitation in this house...

"A - what?" Newt asked. His breath was minty, surprisingly. Fresh and warm and -

What?! Ew!

You shook your head, "Why are you avoiding me?" You asked again, because duh.

"I haven't been av-"

"Do you think I'm stupid, Newt? I know when something's up with you so talk!" You said. Then, quite desperately (aka: when Newt did not talk one bit) you added, "Please!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Was all he mumbled. God, he didn't even look at you! What the heck?!

"Newt," You warned.

"I'm fine."

"Cool, I didn't ask." You said. "But now... let's talk about that, since you're obviously not fine-"

"I am." He insisted.

"No," You scoffed. "You're not... so talk to me."

"No," Newt pouted. His arms were now crossed across his chest, childish as ever.

You raised an eyebrow to the boy, "Why?" You asked.

Newt looked to his feet, "Because it's dumb."

"Newt... it's not dumb-"

"Yes it is." He said.

"No, it's not," You promised. "Not if it's bothering you. Now... what's wrong? Did I do something?"

"No..."

"Liar."

"(Y/n)!" He snapped. Then, quieter, "Just... stop it okay? You..." Newt sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, "How's Ari?" He asked.

Bullshit, you wanted to say.

Newt doesn't care about Ari. He hadn't since you were asked to homecoming, and-

No way! It - it made sense now! Holy sh-

"Good," You mumbled. Maybe... you shouldn't say anything now?

Or...

"Good," Newt repeated with a whisper. Then, in a normal tone, "Is he - um, are you two...."

"Together?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. Akdjdj what?! "No... God no!"

Newt exhaled heavily.

Wait... "Why do you ask?" You suddenly said. It was softly, far softer than your previous words had been exchanged.

And it would have been nice if Newt had not yelled at you just seconds before.

"No... no reason." The boy mumbled.

"Newt," You warned.

"I just... you guys are - um... cute together."

You laughed suddenly. "What?"

Newt said nothing in response. His pained look seemed to be enough.

"I... me and Ari? No! God no!! He's my brother's friend! Gross! Blah!" You exclaimed with a laugh. Newt nervously laughed along, but, of course, when you paused he did as well.

"Wait..." You said.

Oh no, He thought.

"Is that what this was about?"

No, no, no. Shut up. Stop now, please, (Y/n). Don't-

"Me and Ari?"

Newt furiously shook his head. No, no, no, no, no-

"Were you... jealous?"

NOOOOOOO-

"N-no,"

Goddammit voice cracks. Shut up for once-

You laughed again. Sharply, but sweetly. "You... you were!" You yelled before covering your mouth. "Oh my god!" You whispered. "But why?"

"I, um... I kind of wanted to take you to homecoming." Newt mumbled. Again, he looked to his feet.

"What?"

Newt looked up to you, but avoided eye contact. He stumbled over his words again, "I... wanted-"

"No, I heard you the first time!" You giggled. "Why would you want me, though?"

Now - and only now - Newt had met your eyes.

"What do you mean?" He asked. Suddenly, it seemed... he was worried...?

"I mean... me?" You asked. "Seriously?! You could literally have every other girl, but-"

"I don't want every other girl," Newt mumbled. He still looked at you, surprisingly, and then stepped forward. To you. Slowly... sheepishly.

You gave him a quizzical look in return, and he took that as a sign to keep going.

Or not.

"I, uh... nevermind. I gotta-"

"No, you don't. This is your free period, idiot." Then, when Newt frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, you added "I know your schedule."

Right.

Newt had forgotten about that.

The second you got your schedules the two of you compared them. Then, you gave each other a copy "just in case something happens".

Like now, apparently.

"Um, well..."

You raised an eyebrow and Newt was stuck. Damn, did he hate this. Couldn't he just... like disappear and never return? Was that too much to ask?

"I, um... well - I'm going to ruin our friendship if I say this-"

"So do it." You told the boy.

"I - what?"

"Do it." You repeated.

"Um... I don't really want to though-"

"Newt."

"Fine! I - I like you, (Y/n), okay?! A - a lot!"

You grinned, "I like you too, but - wait...." Wait a damn minute here.

"Um... yeah," Newt mumbled. "Can I go now?"

You thought for a second. Then, "No."

"But-"

"Newt!"

He blushed, "Okay. Right. So... just, um... forget I said that, okay? It's nothing. I-"

"And what if I don't want to?"

"What?"

"What if... maybe... I don't want to forget it. Maybe, um... maybe I like you too." You sighed.

Now you understood Newt's lack of eye contact. It sucked. Holy shit did it suck.

And Newt grinned.

Partly because you liked him back, yeah, but also because you were stuttering. To him. (And you never stuttered.)

"Shut up," You mumbled. You knew what he was thinking, anyways. It was obvious (and, of course, Newt was awful at keeping secrets).

But, of course, Newt knew it too. He knew that you knew he loved seeing you blush for once, but he obviously didn't dare say it out loud.

Instead, he smiled again, and wrapped his arms around your waist. You quickly did the same of course, and pulled Newt into one of history's Greatest Hugs Of Known Time.

*End* um... so yeah? lol. but also, don't worry about ari, okay? newt was your date to the dance (if you went) and ari asking you out was part of a plan that thomas and minho made with ari bc they're sick of you/newt making googly eyes @ each other. [You found that out soon after.]

#modern newt #newt #tmr newt #newt x reader tmr #modern tmr #tmr high school au #tmr x reader #modern!newt #the maze runner #tmr minho #tmr imagine #tmr thomas #newt x you #newt x reader

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gravesightings · 4 years ago

Text

tmi: rescue - chromeskull & thomas

If your requests are open, could you please do a protecting/saving hc for jesse+ any other slashers? Also how they would comfort their s/o? Sorry to bother, thank you. -requested by anonymous.

chromeskull

jesse has a serious attitude problem so naturally he’s got more enemies than friends. this man is a full-time asshole, part-time mass murderer.

very paranoid. he’ll keep you away from his work as much as he can—afraid of history repeating itself. you would know about his work from the beginning but he’ll spare you the grisly details.

trust issues would be his downfall. jesse just doesn’t trust anybody else to keep an eye on you while he’s out. he would be the type to install hidden cameras all over his home and plant a tracker on you without your permission.

even though he’s gone great lengths to keep you away from it, the bloodshed will inevitably follow. one of his many foes would just decide one day that kidnapping you would be the best way to get back at him.

they would do it when he’s out on another massacre—much too busy to keep track of his beloved sitting pretty back at home. jesse would only notice when you had stopped responding to his texts. (he’d be very strict with your response times for this exact reason.) all hell will break loose when he finds out you’ve been abducted.

how would he protect you?

have you seen him? this man is both extremely dangerous and extremely violent. he’s virtually never unarmed (yes, even when he’s sleeping. he has a hidden gun compartment at his bedside.) but he can still do a lot of damage with his bare hands.

again, lots of hidden cameras. this man is paranoid to the bone. he’s constantly watching his back. (and for good reason!) now that he has you, he can no longer afford taking any risks. be mad at him all you want for planting a tracker on you without your permission. it’s a small price to pay for your safety.

since he doesn’t trust anybody else to “babysit” you, he’s going to teach you how to shoot a gun. don’t try to talk him out of this because it’s not going to work. either you learn how to shoot or he’s going to teach you the most effective ways to cause damage. (which is arguably much worse in comparison.)

all brawn? oh honey, you’re sorely mistaken. let him give you a quick breakdown of all the major arteries of the head and neck. after all, what use is all of his brute strength when he doesn’t know how to use it? jesse is not only book smart, he’s also very good at improvising.

how would he save you?

your captors are going to have a very horrible time. he’s not going to grant them the mercy of dying quickly. it won’t be difficult to find you since he’s got you tracked, after all. it’s only a matter of executing the perfect ambush.

he’s going to save the best for last: the person who had the audacity to try and take you away from him. everybody else will be in pieces, he’ll make sure of it. (and he’ll make sure they see it with their own eyes too.)

if it’s too much mess to clean up he’ll just have the place torched and be done with it. your captor would live a little longer but they’re going to wish they had died just as quickly as everybody else. jesse is going to toy with them until he’s satisfied.

would he comfort you?

jesse would waste no time getting you out of there once he has the captor in his possession. once home, he’ll clean you up nice and patch you up himself if you have any injuries.

if you’re left a little disturbed from the ordeal, he’ll do his best to comfort you. don’t expect him to fully be there for you – he’ll be so consumed with rage he might not have the capacity to think about anything else. in his mind, he was careless enough to let this happen to you.

too focused in his own plans for revenge to comfort you properly. he might even spend more time torturing your captor than comforting you. after he’s done with them, only then will he give you his full attention.

thought you were spoiled before? get ready to be spoiled until you're absolutely sick of it. while jesse is not clingy by any means, after this incident he’ll have you glued onto him 24/7.

also expect him to be fully invested in teaching you how to protect yourself. previously he was only keen on teaching you self-defense only as a last resort but after the attempted abduction he’s decided that it’s much too risky. congrats! you’re now being taught how to kill by the shadiest people imaginable. he’s paid good money for this, so you better be compliant.

thomas hewitt

tommy doesn’t spend time with other people outside of his family. on the off-chance that he does, it’s very likely they won’t be alive for very long. why bother socializing? it’s not like he can talk. besides, all they do is call him names and insult him anyways.

now that he has you, he’s convinced himself he no longer needs anyone else in his life. just you and the family.

he doesn’t go out of his way to make friends but he isn’t one to pick fights either. tommy only goes for suspicious people: ones that snoop around the property or threaten to hurt his loved ones. other than that it’s always hoyt’s call.

no matter how accepted you are in the family, you’re not allowed to go far from the property without permission. it’s not like there’s not much to see out there anyways. since there’s little to no people around, the only real danger is the victims hoyt brings in.

maybe a very crafty bunch—ones that know exactly when and how to play along. unfortunately they’d also be smart enough to notice that you stick out like a sore thumb. prepare to be “saved” from the hewitts by a bunch of kind strangers. (oh no!! not stockholm syndrome!)

how would he protect you?

while not violent in nature, tommy’s one of the most intimidating slashers. just being around the guy is enough to deter the average joe so most of the time he doesn’t actually need to do much.

won’t go for the chainsaw right away. since he’s a large man, he usually just wrangles people away from you if need be. tommy doesn’t like killing in front of you either, worried it’ll send you into hysterics. you’re not scared of him now but maybe you’ll change your mind later on.

BIG soft spot for you. very attentive to your needs. he doesn’t get social cues but body language? an expert. immediately notices if you’re feeling down or if you’ve gotten injured somehow. virtually impossible to keep a secret from him. (also partly because he likes keeping a close eye on you.)

once you fall in place with everybody else’s chores, tommy’s going to take mental note of your schedule. you’d be up a little later than him in the morning to help luda mae in the kitchen, then maybe go for a morning walk. usually you’d be back in three minutes tops. the first time you took longer to get back he panicked and went out looking for you. ...oh.. turns out you had stopped to admire the sky. nervously scoots back to the basement in hopes you hadn’t seen him stalking you.

how would he save you?

initially he’d be too upset to even think properly - assuming you’d finally decided to just up and leave when the opportunity presented itself. there’s a lot of doubt in his heart. no, they’ve taken you against your will. you couldn’t have possibly gotten sick of him, haven’t you?

tommy would be on auto-pilot the entire time. hoyt would have to take over, seeing that tommy would be too nervous about the whole thing. one thing’s for sure though: he sees red when he finally spots you, needing to physically stop himself from lunging at your captors.

again, it’s hoyt’s call. no matter how crafty they may be though, there’s no outsmarting being shot by a trigger-happy old man. (much less a very angry thomas.)

tommy might actually lose control for once. if you somehow got hurt by your captors, accidental or not, he’s going to reduce them to paste. tommy’s outburst would undoubtedly shock everyone. you won’t even hear a peep from hoyt about “wasting the meat.”

would he comfort you?

it’s all give-and-take with tommy. the kind of person to put others before himself so comforting you is top priority. also the type to blame himself; he should’ve paid more attention, double-checked their restraints, etc.

this man has been raised well so expect a lot of pampering once he’s gotten himself together. he can’t talk but he’ll coo at you and won’t let you go until he’s sure you’re okay. very very gentle with you. while he's normally not one to initiate, he’ll be more confident around you. lots of cuddling and forehead kisses.

extremely paranoid from this point on. depending on the severity of the incident, tommy might take it to the extremes. (i.e. keeping you locked in his room.) it’ll take him a long time before he’s even comfortable not seeing you. overcompensates with the affection.

it’s all very confusing for thomas. hates locking you up but.. what if someone tries to take you again? he sees how eagerly you lean against his touch but at the same time it feels so... wrong. a lot of mixed feelings. depending on how much he trusts you, he might stay like this for a while. (a few days max, with some pleading and a lot of TLC)

#my writing #slashers #tmi #tmi: rescue #chromeskull #jesse cromeans #thomas hewitt #slasher x reader #slasher x you #self ship #reader insert #requests #god i love this #might do a fic on this in the future

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har-rison-s · 3 years ago

Text

stellars: 27

a/n: listen, it's been known i suck at endings. especially when a chapter has like a particularly dark theme throughout it, i don't know how to end it. this chapter is dealing with a particularly emotionally deep theme which is attempted suicide. don't read it if you're not comfortable, i understand. i put a lot of my own thoughts and feelings and even part of my own experience into the chapter. towards the end, you're looking at how i feel, what i think and what my attempts were like. it was hard writing it, hard to get through. my suggestion is: really entrance yourself with what life for the gladers is like, what their feelings are. cause i don't think the movies address their attitudes and feelings about all that's happened to them, i don't think their true reactions are shown because they're just moving on, one thing happening after another, it's hard to focus on dealing with everything when you've got so much going on. there's so many feelings stacked upon each other, and that's where trauma materialises. some of them differ in that sense, and are more emotionally responsive and explosive. so, have a decent read and take care!

my paypal (would be much appreciated since i’m saving up for uni next year :))

masterlist

series masterlist

previous chapter next chapter

warnings: decriptions of attempted suicide, guns, violence, suicidal thoughts

Revving of a particular engine diverts the attention of anyone who’s present. Even Mars’ and her friends’, who are dead set on activating an explosive that will take them out of the twisted world they live in. The noise comes from their left, and by the maniacal laughter that’s heard as an afterthought in the revving, Mars recognises the car’s driver as Jorge. He’s trekking downwards from the mountain at full speed and laughing. WICKED guards are shooting at him, but that does nothing to the man or his car, nor does it stop them.

Jorge doesn’t stop even when the hood of his car is bumped against a helicopter, but it seems it was his goal. He throws the airforce vehicle off the small hill it laid upon and sends its blades and pieces of them in all directions before pulling the truck to a stop. Mars and Newt try to stay with their friends, they huddle together for protection as Dr Paige and Teresa are escorted towards the Berg. Explosions go off all around them again, making them temporarily and partly deaf and throwing off their sense of direction or coordination. A guard points his weapon at Thomas and orders him to drop the explosive he still holds in his hand on the ready to activate it.

Mars gulps as she watches Thomas’ eyes change expressions and thoughts in them. They have a chance to escape again now, Jorge’s helped them with that. There’s no need to activate the small device. Thomas seems to realise the same thing just as Mars is about to urge him to drop it. But he has a better idea.

Thomas pulls the trigger of the explosive and throws it towards the group of guards instead. “Run! Get down!” Thomas scrambles to get as far away as possible, and his friends follow his order. But Thomas doesn’t get far. He lands some five feet away on the ground and presses his hands to his ears.

Mars pulls herself into a foetal position and guards her ears as well. After the deafening explosion happens, smoke coats the perimeter, and Newt pulls her up to her feet again. She doesn’t know where he’s planning to go exactly, but she follows him, Minho and Frypan, and wonders where Thomas is. But there’s no time to wait for him—she knows he’ll get by on his own—because they could be shot dead any next second. Though, if that was the last time she saw Thomas, Mars feels poorly.

Turns out, they're all making their way back up the hill, towards where Vince is - again on his truck with the big gun. Vince was deemed the leader of sorts even before all this chaos, and the gladers know they can trust him. Minho grabs the first gun he can find, just in case he has to defend himself and his friends as they keep making their way upwards.

There’s no telling who is who - WICKED guards have lost their facial covers, so they look just like members of the Right Arm. Though there are those who are trying to pull kids to safety, and those who are trying to pull them towards the Berg. That way, it's easy to tell which is which. Adults fight back with all their might, still protecting the kids, as they promised to. Mars wishes she could help. She wishes everything would just freeze for a moment so she could catch up.

She wishes for a lot of things.

As soon as they get to a relatively safe place towards the top, where only well-meaning adults of the Right Arm are roaming around with guns, the gladers—all but Minho—stay hidden behind a large cargo box, ducking their heads. Mars sees Thomas running towards them just before she ducks one last time to hide from the bullets of metal and those of electricity. She keeps her head between her hands, not being able to bare the loud noises and chances of getting shot anymore. The bullets hit against their cargo box, shaking it each time, and making Mars jolt out of fear.

Thomas takes a place right besides Newt behind the box, Mars sees as she takes a peak, and she’s glad he’s with them. She doesn’t know where he was, but it doesn’t matter now. What matters is they’re all together again. Except for Minho. He keeps shooting bullets out towards the masked men, still covering for his friends, but cover time has run out.

“Minho, come on, let’s go!” Thomas screams at his friend. But Minho doesn’t budge. And then he stops shooting. He’s fixing something in his rifle, about to shoot again. But a guard outraces him, and that bullet of paralysing electricity hits him straight in the chest. Minho’s gun falls to the ground from his limp arms, and the boy collapses onto a near-by box, clearly not able to move or even scream for help, as the jolts run across his body.

His friends erupt into chaos again, screaming his name, running over to him, wanting to at least carry him with them. Mars can’t believe any of it is happening. She’s in total hysteria, crying and screaming, just like Thomas. Another guard tries to intervene in their running towards Minho, but Jorge comes out of thin air and stops him, knocking him out and sending the man to the ground, limp.

“Minho!”

Mars is the first to notice that WICKED has beat them to taking in Minho, three of the masked guards carrying Minho away. She screams, and then her friends and Jorge see the scene unravel. But it doesn’t stop Thomas. He’s still ready to go after him, ready to fight every last WICKED guard if that gives him Minho alive and well.

But Jorge slams a thick, sure palm onto Thomas’ chest, stopping him in his tracks. “No, Thomas!” The man yells at him, and wants to tell him that they need to go now, and that there’s nothing they can do for Minho. But it wouldn’t exactly be the most encouraging of messages. Thomas thrashes against him, but Jorge has a strong hold and starts pulling Thomas away.

“Minho!” Thomas keeps yelling even as he, Mars, Jorge, Newt and Frypan all run up the hill again. Thomas has failed. He didn’t get to Minho in time. He was too late. Again. Jorge has to practically drag him upwards, dodging bullets and blaster shots.

What’s left of the Right Arm and the gladers rounds up on the hill top, right across from the Berg, weapons at hand. The limp body of Minho is being carried up the hatch door and into the vehicle, the guards carrying him stand next to Dr Paige and Teresa. Thomas and Mars, with tears in their eyes and utter hopelessness on their faces, look onto the girl, the doctor and their lost friend. How can they do this?

Chuck. Gally. Winston.

Minho.

The Berg’s door closes and its motors start whirring before it lifts itself up into the air and flies off, flies away from the ruins of the Right Arm and their camp. Taking almost a hundred immune, innocent kids with them to torture, to tests, experiments, examinations. To a life none of them ever deserved.

The camp place is a mess. Fires burning here and there, ruins of vehicles and equipment near them. Countless bodies of kids, adults and the guards lying around, scattered about the place. They should be gathered, put into one place, maybe even burned. But who would have the guts, soul—or lack there of—or heart to do that? Especially if the body is of a person they once knew. Everything has gone to hell.

There’s hardly anything left of the immune kids the Right Arm salvaged, hardly anyone left from the organisation itself. But the ones that are left are in quite a state of mind. Hysteric. Catatonic.

Mars herself falls to the ground, wraps her arms around her knees and pulls them to her chest as her butt collides with the rough, sandy ground of the hill top. She can’t keep her storm of feelings and sufferings inside anymore. She lets it all go, lets it all out by letting her tears flow, and her throat and voice do wonders of their own. Mars’ screams grow into drawn out wails, every ounce of her pain extremely audible in them.

She doesn’t think she’s ever cried this hard in her life. She knows why. She hasn’t suffered this greatly in her life before. At least she thinks so. Everything hurts, it hurts so tremendously it feels like someone’s carving a hole inside her chest with a million knives at once. She wouldn’t particularly like it for someone else to hear, or multiple someones, but she just doesn’t care. When the dam bursts open, it bursts open. There’s no stopping or delaying it. And suppressing her feelings would do her no good.

To her pleasant surprise, no one touches her, no one complains of her crying or tries to halt it. Mars can only guess everyone’s in too big of a storm themselves to care or notice her own. They’re processing everything on their own.

As her thoughts progress and jump into heavy conclusions, due to her frail state of being and mind, she comes to a decision that nothing’s worth it anymore. WICKED took Minho. They also took away Mars' life, her choices, those of her friends. The Right Arm is no more. There are countless of kids dead, being experimented on, losing their lives just for WICKED and their disgusting experiments. There’s no point to live in this world. There’s no point.

Mars’ mind rules over her sanity and body, and she tries to find the closest gun to her that she can. There’s none available around her, and so she forces herself to stand up on her two feet and trek down the hill. There’s sure to be guns there, lots of them. She doesn’t even know if she could use one if she had it. But what could be so hard? Load it, cock it, pull the trigger and you’re done. Easy-peasy.

She does find one, ignoring calls after her, not even hearing them, and takes it in her hand. It was lying in the sand next to a dead WICKED guard, and now it’s hers. Mars holds it in her right hand, pulls the top part of the weapon backwards, and it successfully clicks into place, agreeing with her movements. She grins emptily at her success and then contemplates what to do next.

Her stomach would be a slow death. So would her chest. She doesn’t want that, she wants to end it, to end it all, now, right now. So she figures her head is the most appropriate place. Mars sighs a trembling breath and presses the tip of the gun against her temple.

This is it.

She can’t hear the screams of her name, pleas to halt her movements. She hears and feels nothing. Or, on the contrast, everything, up until the point that it’s too much.

As her last fleeting thought, Mars guesses that maybe this is exactly what WICKED wants. They’ve driven her over the edge, and here’s the result.

She repeats the most favourite moments in her life before her eyes, and tears gather in them again. She smiles. Minho giving her the coolest name on planet Earth. Thomas being the first one to talk to her in the Glade, wanting to help. Seeing Thomas again after he spent a night in the Maze. Newt comforting her. Newt and her sharing their first kisses. Newt giving her a quick peck before they set off for the scorched city. Mary telling her all about her past. Mars sitting with her friends on the top of the hill, looking out at the pretty view.

Mars’ smile fades as tears flow down her cheeks and she pulls her finger around the gun’s trigger. Goodbye to all of that. Goodbye to my friends. Goodbye to—

“What the hell are you doing?!” An irritated, yet sad voice interrupts her train of thought and its owner flicks the gun out of her hold, making Mars open her eyes and look up.

Newt.

The gun clatters on the ground far to her right. Rivers of tears pour down from Mars’ eyes again, and she almost feels…. guilty. Ashamed in front of him. Ashamed that he saw it, what she was seconds away from doing. Angry, very slightly, that he stopped it. But most of all, she’s just sad. Sad for herself, for Newt, for Thomas, their friends. For Minho.

She collapses onto her knees and hides her face from Newt, and now she’s just a pile of sadness of the sandy ground. Newt huffs, his own eyes full of tears and anger and sadness and disappointment and everything else he doesn’t even have a name for. He’s so angry at her for thinking to do this. He’s so sad that she even thought of it. He’s angry at who made her feel like this.

Newt wants to yell “how dare you?!” at Mars, especially because of what he told her back in the mall. But he didn’t like it when Minho asked him that same question on the faithful day. He wouldn’t want her to disappear from his life ever. He doesn’t want to lose her. How can she think to do this?

Newt feels a bit selfish at thinking that. But she couldn’t have done it. She’s too young, too strong, too… too much of a kid. She has to much to do, to learn, to see. And there’s more things in life than what has been done to them, more than WICKED and the virus. There’s so much more in her life than trauma, pain and hopelessness, even if it is of great size. There’s so much more.

Instead of confronting her, or showering her with questions, Newt kneels down in front of her in silence. He pets her hair before finding her cheeks with his hands, and raises her head up to his level. Her eyes are pooling with tears, almost spilling over, making it hard for him to find her true eye colour at all. Her eyes are just moist black with red corners. She has cried too much.

Newt tears up at the sight of her, but presses his lips together to avoid crying out. And just keeps looking at her. The sight is heart-breaking, but he forces himself to just stay there, stay focused on her. He flicks his thumb across her cheek softly and presses his forehead against hers.

Mars moves her weak hands upwards and links them around Newt’s neck as they sit. They stay unmoving for a good while, not saying a word, only gradually slowing their breaths and heart beats down and trying to stop crying. It’s hard, taking in all their feelings towards themselves and each other. Empathy. Regret. Sadness. Anger. Hopelessness.

Love.

Newt’s nose bumps hers, and it makes Mars feel a bit joyous, she would have even giggled if she was in a different mood. Newt opens his eyes and looks into Mars’. She opens hers after a few seconds. She doesn’t really want to hear anything from anyone, any shaming or condemning for her actions. But that’s not what Newt has to offer her.

��Please, Mars,” he says in a whisper that sounds like candle smoke, “please.” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking of her yet. He doesn’t want to be too bold. “You mean the world to me.” Newt whispers even quieter. “Don’t ever do that again,” he shakes his head with closed eyes, and feels her hands tightening around his neck, “there’s so much to live for, Mars. So much, so… so many things. And we haven’t even seen all of them.” Mars sniffles, feeling tears falling again. “Please, just…” Newt hiccups, “just talk to me. Please.”

Mars nods, finally finding the will in herself to move again, to respond again. She nods enthusiastically, feeling sorry for ever wanting to shoot herself. Feeling sorry for what that meant to Newt, for how that made him feel.

“Just talk to me…” he pleads once more, though his words and voice are interrupted by his own crying, “just talk to me.”

Mars keeps nodding and opens her eyes again. “I will.” She assures, one of her hands reach into Newt’s hair. “I will, I promise.” She tells him and sniffles again. Newt opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’m sorry.” She cries to him, her lips trembling again and tears continuing to pour. But Newt shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry.” He tells her. “It’s not your fault.” He deducts, and Mars tears up even more heavily at that offer. She finds it uplifting, a hopeful set of words, that shine a light in her dark world.

He does it. He’s the light.

Mars reluctantly nods, trying to pull herself together, but nods all the while. “I’ll talk to you,” she promises again, “I’ll talk to you, no matter what.” Mars pulls Newt into a hug, her cheek squishing against his. He’s so glad he can still hug her. He’s so glad he kept her by his side all this time, set his eye on her and never looked away. He’s so glad he can still hold her. “I love you.” Mars mutters to him. Newt sniffles and squeezes her tighter against himself.

“I love you, too,” he responds, “even more than you know. More than I can say.”

part twenty-eight?

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#the maze runner #the maze runner fluff #the maze runner fanfiction #thomas the maze runner #newt the maze runner #newt x reader #newt tmr imagine #newt imagine #thomas x reader #thomas tmr imagine #tmr thomas #tmr newt #thomas tmr #tmr series #har-rison-s writes #stellars

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years ago

Text

Struck By Lightning (Marty McFly x Reader)

Characters: Marty McFly, Doc Brown

Fandom: Back to the Future

Tags: Time travel, friends to lovers

Warnings: Spoilers for the movies!

Word Count: 4k words

Requested by @kikikittykis: Hi I want to request a Marty Mcfly x Female reader ficlet where the reader is from Marty’s time and she can Time Travel because she has powers or something maybe she could be related to Doc. But they both get stuck in 1955 but she stays in the shadows to let Marty fix the timeline since he’s the one that got them stuck there. Maybe she has to use the DeLorean with Marty on the way back because her powers are malfunctioning. Thank you if you have the time to complete this request

A/N: I made up some new stuff for time travel, so for the sake of enjoying reading this just ignore how absolutely crazy and not scientifically accurate it is 😂 This is my first Marty and BTTF ficlet and it might have been a bit complicated, so I’m a little insecure about it. I hope you all still like it! 😙

Marty McFly x Female Reader

You paced up and down, nails drumming against the little box that you held in your hands. The town square was lonely at that late hour, and only the lights of the posts kept you company in your anguish.

Trying to distract yourself while you waited, you stared at the box in your hands. It was somewhat small, as it only occupied a little more than both of your hands put together as you cradled it in them. It was made of small metal planks reinforced with oak wood, hiding a complex unit of wires connected to the core of electricity. On one side there was a small screen with a keypad filled with numbers. At the top of it was a round red button, shining and enticing. The outside of the box was covered by a thin layer of black rubber.

Knowing every centimeter of the box by heart, you impatiently clicked your tongue. Where was he? He was always late. For someone that had time traveled several times, Marty had no actual sense of time. You were pretty sure that his watches always broke too.

When you heard the sound of skateboard wheels gracing the pavement, you turned around and sighed in relief. It was hard to contain the nerves that upset your stomach, but they subsided slightly at the sight of your best friend.

“Y/N” Marty said, kicking down on his skateboard to stop it and throw it up in the air, where he easily caught it with one hand. You rolled your eyes with a smile at the cool movement.

“I bought you a new watch, McFly” You only replied, to which he grinned in response.

“What’s going on?” He asked you, walking closer. “You sure have your uncle’s sense of mystery”

The nerves stirred in your stomach again when you remembered that time your uncle Emmett gathered you and Marty for the great reveal of his time machine. The DeLorean was the most incredible thing you had ever seen, and it only became greater during your time travels. The thought of it made you jittery again.

“Um…” You shook your head, trying to focus on the reason why you called him. “See this little box?”

Marty nodded, holding his hand out to take it, but you protectively moved it away from him. He frowned at the gesture, but you explained before he could complain.

“You need to be careful!” You warned him. “This right here is my first invention: a time machine”

You proudly grinned at him, but he only squinted in confusion. It took Marty several seconds to say anything else as you stood there before him, beaming at your reveal.

“Wait a minute… wait a minute, Y/N” He fidgeted, wildly gesticulating with his hands. “Are you telling me you build a time machine from that tiny box?”

“Yes! You see…” You started pointing to the different parts that made the box. “It carries a circuit of electricity in it that shocks the mechanism, giving it enough force to make time travel possible”

“Is that like Doc’s flux capacitor?”

“In a way”

“That’s heavy…” Marty uttered, fixing his blue eyes on the box that you so gingerly held in your hands. “Does Doc know?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet”

“Why didn’t ask him to help you?”

“Because he would!” You exclaimed anxiously. “I wanted to do this myself”

Marty fondly smiled at you, nodding his head in understanding.

Much like your uncle Emmett, you had grown fascinated by science. You studied and learned to idolize great people like Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Isaac Newton and Thomas Edison. It had always been something you shared with your uncle, which reinforced your bond as he was the only family you had left. This connection only grew after he introduced you to the DeLorean and you joined him and Marty on their time travel shenanigans. Even now that he had a family of his own, him and Clara as well as your cousins Jules and Verne welcomed you and often invited you for dinner.

“Well, let’s go back” Marty said after a moment of silence, taking your wrist. “Let’s show Doc what you invented, he’ll be so happy!”

“Not yet, that’s why I called you” You bashfully averted your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I wanted to try it first… and I didn’t want to do it alone”

He paused, and his fingers loosened their grip around your wrist. Returning to that fond smile, Marty nodded again, this time in determination.

“Great, let’s do it!” He clapped in anticipation. “How does it work?”

Your face lit up in excitement as you held the box up to demonstrate.

“You see this big red button at the top?” He hummed in affirmation, and so you continued. “You press this to activate the circuits and introduce the digits on the counter”

“Is that it?” Marty gawked at you in astonishment.

“Yup! Then you only point it at whoever is going to travel and voila!”

“Wow… that’s really heavy, Y/N” You recognized the pride in his eyes as he looked at you, impressed that you had done it on your own. “It’s so simple too!”

“Thanks” You nudged him with a smile, which he gladly reciprocated.

“So where are we…?” He interrupted himself, grinning. “When are we going?”

“I think we should go one minute back in time…” Trying to get over the nerves in your stomach, you took a deep breath. “Do we concur?”

“Right on” Marty leaned a hand over the big red button and stared at you.

Before doing anything else, you inserted the digits that should allow you to travel one back in time. Then, you proceeded. Shaking from head to toe, you hesitantly lay your hand over Marty’s. Between the two, you pressed down and pushed the button. With the device pointed at both of you, it was only a matter of time until you confirmed if it worked or not. As you waited, you shut your eyes tight in nervous anticipation.

A strange magical force seemed to surround you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes yet. Marty’s arm wrapped around you, protectively and uneasy. Only when you heard him gasp, did you dare to open your eyes.

At first glance, you didn’t notice any changes. You were still at the Hill Valley square, and it was night still. Before you celebrated your success, however, you needed to confirm it. A quick glance at your wrist watch told you that the hour hadn’t changed.

“There’s something different…” Marty whispered, letting go of you.

Internally agreeing with him, you took a quick look around you. The streets seemed different. There was something strange about Hill Valley all of a sudden.

Just as your friend was about to take a step, you held on to him in realization.

“Marty!” You tugged at his jean jacket. “Is this…?”

“1955…” He completed, looking around him. After all, he had spent enough time on that year to realize it was so.

The untouched ledge of the clock tower was clue enough, but so were the closed shops that surrounded you and even the old-fashioned cars parked in the streets.

Disappointed, you peered down to the device in your hands. You had miscalculated. There was a big mistake somewhere in your invention, a great margin of error. How could you have traveled so far back in time when you had only set it for one minute?

“Well…” Marty piped up, noticing your mood. “It worked!”

“No, it didn’t…” You sighed, repressing the urge to hurl the device at the floor. “We’re in 1955, not one minute back in 1985”

“Don’t you see, Y/N?” Marty gently took you by the shoulders. “You still invented a time machine, Doc would be proud!”

You showed a sad smile, partly agreeing with him. Your uncle Emmett would be proud, and he would offer to help you fix the problems. If only you could show him a perfect time machine that didn’t have such a big margin of error.

“Now, let’s go back” Your friend patted your shoulder before letting go of you.

Once again, his hand leaned against the button. Yours hovered above it as a terrible hunch reached your gut. If it had thrown you so far back in time, who was to say that you would be returned to 1985 safe and sound? Nonetheless, you pressed your hand over Marty’s and pushed the button together again.

“Uh… Y/N?” He uttered, looking into your eyes. “Nothing happened”

He was right. As you feared, that magical force didn’t surround you this time. You felt absolutely nothing, and so you urgently pressed the button again. It was for naught.

“Marty…” You stared at him with pleading eyes, feeling utterly helpless and miserable. “I’m sorry”

“No… no way…” He nervously passed his hands through his hair. “Not again, Y/N…”

Why was Marty McFly cursed to get stuck in a time away from his own? Was it his friendship with the Brown family that condemned him to such a fate? Just when his adventures with your uncle seemed over, you walked in. Y/N Brown, failed scientist and crappy time traveler.

“I’m a failure…” You hung your head low as tears arrived to your eyes.

“Hey, no” Marty tenderly took your hands in his. “It’s okay, Y/N, we can fix it”

“How?” You exclaimed, quivering with sobs as you forced yourself to look up into his kind blue eyes. “We have no resources here, and even if we did there are no guarantees that I would be able to fix this stupid device!”

Marty frowned. His eyes grew sad as he saw you start crying. Not knowing what to do to comfort you, since he was feeling just as lost, he only rubbed his thumbs against the back of your hands and squeezed your palms.

“There’s gotta be a way” He tried, shrugging to lessen the tension. “We got stuck here once, maybe we can…”

You sniffed through your nose, attentive to his words. However, when he stopped talking, you watched him in alarm. Marty had grown distant, absently letting go of you and taking a few hesitant steps back.

“Marty?” You muttered, not losing sight of him. “Where are you going?”

“There’s a DeLorean here” Marty was about to start walking, but you pulled at his jacket again.

“You’re right!” A spark of hope ignited in your chest, although it vanished soon. “But need I remind you our other selves are here too?”

“Alright, but…” He licked his lips, and you could almost see the wheels in his head turning. “What if we take the DeLorean when we… they… are not looking?”

“They won’t leave the car…” You objected, biting your lip. “Besides, if we took it from our other selves it would cause an abysmal paradox!”

“There must be something we can do!” Marty threw his arms into the air.

“Yes, let’s think for a moment…” You paced up and down, going over all your scientific knowledge. Your time traveling device worked in a similar way to your uncle’s DeLorean. There had to be a way.

You mentally sought inspiration, going over what you did with Marty in 1955. It took your uncle Emmett some time to figure out how to send you back to the future without plutonium, but…

“Eureka!” You exclaimed, startling Marty a little. “The thunderstorm!”

His eyes went from the night sky to the little box you clung on to. When they returned to yours, his expression lightened up at the sight of your recovered excitement. On the 12th November you could harness the storm’s electricity to power your time traveling device.

“That isn’t until…” Given that his watch still didn’t work, he took your wrist to look at yours and see the date. “Next Saturday”

“Well, we can hang out for a bit, it’ll be fine…” You sighed in exhaustion, already knowing you had to go through that all over again. “I’ll be easy, we just need to be careful not to…”

“Not to run into our other selves and disrupt the space time-continuum?” Marty completed for you.

His sarcasm suddenly made you feel even more tired. Of course you wouldn’t be that easy. Not only did you had to avoid running into the other Y/N and Marty, you also had to make sure not to get in the way of Marty’s parents falling in love as well as Marty’s successful travel back to 1985 the other time.

Exhausted, you hid your face in his shoulder. When he kindly wrapped his arms around you, at least you were glad you hadn’t done it alone.

You had discussed your plan many times. Unfortunately, you couldn’t talk to your uncle as he was already dealing with the other Marty and Y/N from the other timeline. Likewise, you couldn’t let any of them see you or disrupt their endeavor if you wanted to guarantee your own wellbeing.

Given that thunderstorms were unpredictable and the only spot where you knew a lightning would certainly strike was occupied, it was hard to tell what to do. Although reluctantly, you had admitted that your best chance was catching a lightning that would power your device and send you back to your time. Chances were slim, and you felt at the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Even as you walked, your eyes were glued to the clock tower, minutes away from being destroyed. Hill Valley citizens were completely oblivious to the thunderstorm, as well as they were oblivious to the activities that were taking place. There were two time travels to happen that night: one had already been successful, the other… well, it was yet to see.

“Y/N” Marty stopped walking to put your hands on your upper arms. “Don’t worry, it will be alright”

“But what if I’m wrong?” You averted your gaze, fiddling with your thumbs. “What if it doesn’t work and we’re stuck here forever? Or… or…”

“You’re just as smart as Doc is” He reassured you, showcasing absolute determination in his expression. “I believe in you, you’ll get us back”

“I just…” Instead of looking at him, you glanced at the other Marty in the distance. “I’m scared”

“I’m a bit scared too…” Marty pushed you against him in a much needed hug. “But I know you’re right, this will work”

His warmth embrace comforted you in the chilly night, as your hair moved with the breeze just like his was. His bangs tickled your cheeks, but you didn’t move.

“Breathe” He playfully told you, making you realize your shoulders were tense and you were definitely holding your breath. “We’ve done this before, we can do it again”

You let out a shaky exhale, nuzzling his shoulder. While you still felt bad that you had gotten him into that mess, it was a relief that he was by your side. Marty made everything feel alright. Just as you started to calm down, you noticed something and grew tense once more.

“No… Marty, what are you doing?”

“What?”

“No, not you… him” You pointed at the other Marty, who was stepping away from your uncle’s younger version. “I don’t remember you doing that…”

“That’s why” Your Marty lifted his arm, pointing a finger at a figure that walked your way and that had gathered the other Marty’s attention.

Biff headed your way, no doubt enticed by your feminine figure. You rolled your eyes at him even as he approached. Marty, on the other hand, stiffened and refused to move an inch.

“I don’t think he recognized us”

“Do you think he confused me with Lorraine?”

“Maybe… although you don’t have to be my mum to have that pig’s attention” You caught a hint of jealous protectiveness in his voice, but ignored it.

Biff was walking closer, and with that so was the other Marty, alarmed by Biff’s presence. You had time traveled so many times that all those different events were overlapping.

“We have to do something before he sees us!” You urged your friend. “And before my uncle and the other you walk over here!”

“Hey!” The other Marty called, leaving the DeLorean for a moment.

“Quick, Y/N, what do we-?” You cut Marty’s words as you moved on an instinct.

There was only one way you could think of that would have everyone’s attentions off you. You took Marty by the lapels of his jean jacket and pushed him against the streetlight behind him. Immediately after, you smashed your lips against his. That way, the intimate nature of the moment would drive them away as well as hide your faces for them to recognize.

Frozen by shock, Marty held his hands up in the air. When he realized that he was supposed to sell the moment, he cautiously put them on your hips. It was surprisingly comforting and pleasant given the stressful situation.

Without breaking the kiss, you opened your eyes to glance at them. Biff had faced his back to you, waving his hand in the air in annoyance. Luckily, he didn’t bother the other Marty as he returned with your uncle and the other you.

The kissing sound seemed to echo on the streets as you and Marty separated. Your faces remained close, mere inches away from each other, so close in fact that your noses touched. For a moment, the two of you could only stare into each other’s eyes as you breathed heavily. That had been… interesting.

“That was close…” Marty gulped as he glanced from your lips to your eyes.

“Sorry…” You gasped, letting go of him and taking a step back. It took his hands a second to lift off your hips and let you move. “It’s the first thing that came to mind”

“I mean… it worked” He chuckled, which distracted you a little from the blush on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry…” You felt terrible, having embarrassed him and made him uncomfortable.

Marty was your best friend and you hoped he didn’t take this the wrong way. You had only done it to save yourselves, to… to avoid a catastrophic and earth-shattering paradox! You told yourself that, but found it hard to ignore how it had sent tingles down your spine and how you had been glad to have an excuse to do it.

“No, it’s fine…” Marty reassured you, distracting you from your thoughts. “It’s fine…”

His voice broke, and you knew that was a sign that he was nervous. You had definitely made him uncomfortable. Trying to forget about it all, you distanced yourself from him with the pretense that it was best to walk away from Biff, the other Marty and your uncle.

“Um…” You forced yourself to steer your thoughts back to the task at hand. “We need to…”

“Right” Marty nodded and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Yeah, the uh… the lightning”

Mortified by what just happened, you continued walking as you were before it. You had to find a place where you wouldn’t be seen, as that Marty, Y/N and Doc were still in the town square and there was another version of them at the entrance of Lyon States before it was built.

Just when you were distancing yourself from the town and reaching a more isolated spot, the storm broke out. Your stomach churned in anticipation, knowing this was your only chance to go back to the future.

Then all of a sudden, you knew. Call it destiny, or call it a stupid and irrational hunch. Whatever the case, you could feel it in your bones as you peered up at the dark night sky: a lightning bolt was about to strike. You had to catch it, and so you ran for it.

“Y/N!” Marty shouted when he realized what you were doing, and followed after you.

You prayed to all those scientists your uncle taught you about and that you had grown to admire as much as he did, nearly as much as you admired your uncle Emmett. Shutting your eyes tight, you hoped that the lightning bolt hit exactly the box and not you, and that you could turn the gadget in time to point it at Marty.

The lightning struck, making you flinch and cringe in anticipation. Just as it touched the box and the powerful electric force vibrated against your hands, you felt Marty hold on to it and tilt it up. Then everything happened very fast, as the familiar sound of your device surrounded you.

The force of Marty’s movement, however, had thrown you back. You felt yourself falling backwards albeit with one of his arms wrapped around you. There was a commotion of yelps and groans between the two of you as you landed on your backs, holding on to each other.

As the magical force that surrounded you faded away, reality settled back in. The night was cold and the air was humid. You didn’t know if it was the cold or the wet pavement underneath you, but you felt yourself shaking.

The box buzzed in your hands before dying down. When it did, you weakly glanced around you. Everything seemed in order, just like you remembered it. It seemed like you were at home in 1985.

“Y/N!” Marty, who had landed next to you, rushed to kneel by your side. “You okay?”

Out of breath, you found it impossible to respond. You only looked at him, struggling to breathe. Everything hurt, and it was hard to talk and even moved. For the time being, you focused on calming your accelerated breath and racing heart.

“Hey, talk to me” Carelessly throwing the time traveling device away to keep your hands free, he held them in concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Like…” You gulped, slowly recovering the ability to speak. “Like I was just struck by lightning”

Marty laughed, dropping his head forward in relief. Without dropping your hands, he tugged at them to pull you to your feet. Your brain felt slow and foggy, and you swayed as soon as you had to hold your own weight. Luckily, Marty realized your weakness and tightly held on to you, letting you lean against him.

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your dizziness. Honestly, you just were glad you had been cautious enough to cover the outsides of the box with rubber… it might have saved your life.

“Hey” Marty gently folded a finger under your chin, slowly lifting it up so you looked at him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah…” You smiled, although you clung on to his shoulders for support. “Now I know why Uncle Emmett always says time travel is dangerous”

You expected Marty to laugh again, but he didn’t. Trying to focus your eyes, you peered up at him. He was staring at you. As you stared back at him, you knew. Somehow, even though neither of you said a word, you knew. You knew that something had struck you along with that lightning: a realization. You were struck with the realization that the kiss had been more than just pretend. So much more than that.

Finally, Marty laughed. You did too, letting out a chuckle of happiness and relief. At least your little adventure wasn’t in vain.. it made you realize Marty was much more than just your best friend.

“Uh… we better get back” He said, lovingly rubbing your arm. “Before anything else happens”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of time” You grinned at him. “Now, in the present”

Marty smiled and slowly separated from you, as though he was as willing as leaving that endearing closeness as you were. Sneaking playful yet timid glances at each other, the two of you started walking.

Your hands brushed together with how close you were again as you headed back home. A smile had taken over your features, and it only grew when Marty’s fingers gently tugged at yours. Without losing another precious second, you took his hand too.

“We have one hell of a story to tell Doc” Marty muttered, smiling as much as you were.

“Yeah, I don’t know what will surprise him more” You held your intertwined hands up, making Marty laugh.

Not only had you invented a working time machine that, while flawed, had successfully sent you back in time. You had also returned safely to your year without your uncle’s intervention and while avoiding several of your other selves without getting in their way. As well as that, you had realized you had fallen in love with your best friend, and it had been shocking an unexpected. Just like being struck by lightning.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @fortheloveofbenyandtom / @caswinchester2000 / @bravelittlesunflower // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#marty mcfly x reader #marty mcfly #back to the future #bttf #rfi writings #ficlet #back to the future ficlet #bttf ficlet #marty mcfly ficlet #doc brown #reader insert #requested

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michaelgrayyy · 4 years ago

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One of us (6)

Michael Gray x Reader/ Peaky Blinders x Reader

Master list - https://michaelgrayyy.tumblr.com/masterlist

You wake up and notice you are moving, you are in the back of a car. You look around you, and let out a gasp seeing Luca sat beside you and another man beside him, with two men upfront. He’s reading a paper before noticing you are awake, he tells the drivers to pull over. You let out a yelp as he pulls on your arm dragging you out of the car.

“What the hell do you want?” you yell at Luca and the man stood infront of you.

“To hurt Thomas Shelby” Luca responds before raising his hand and backhanding you across the face, you fall to the floor sputtering as you hold your side. Blood still seeps from your wound were your stitches have opened, now your lip bleeds aswell. “See I don’t wanna do this y/n, but he left me no choice. He’s a man with very few weaknesses besides his family, but you....well now you are interesting, you aren’t family but you’re one of his biggest weakneses. But, you’re- or should I say were, in love with his cousin....so it’s more of a sibling thing...I’m I right with any of this?” he asks but I just turn my head to the side spitting on his shoes. Did they kill Micheal, is he really dead?

“Piss off” you add. He storms over to where you lie on the ground, pulling you up and slamming your back against the car. You kick out and hit at him but its useless, your body too weak with fatigue.

“Listen here, you little Shelby whore. If you co-operate with us, maybe I won’t kill you”

“Get your filthy Italian hands off me” you reply. He easily pins both your hands at your side with one hand and grabs your face squishing your cheeks with the other hand. “Just kill me. It’s better than having to be around you!” you snarl at him trying to not show your fear, but he only smirks as he realises what you are doing.

“You know...He died begging for you” he laughs inching his face closer to yours and your heart drops at his comment. You launch your head forward smashing your forehead against his, you hear the crack of your heads echo through the around you but you don’t care. He stumbles back hand on his head. “Make her pay for that and then get her back in the car” he informs the guy beside him before getting into the car. The other guy walks over to you and without hesitation punches your side, you fall to the floor winded by the blow and he raises his leg before slamming it down on your stomach.You hear a crack and a groan leaves your limbs as you try to move and you realize you have surely broke at least 2 or 3 ribs. Before you have chance to further investigate the man pulls you back up by your hair and throws you back into the car beside Luca as you take daggered breaths.

Michael’s POV

“He spared me. He said tell your mum that we have a deal. What deal?” Micheal quizzes his mother, contained anger under his skin.

“Just be me and you going to Australia, Micheal. Think about that” She replies.

“What deal, mum? What deal did you make with Luca Changretta” He yells frustration getting the better of him.

“A deal to spare your life”

“In return for what? In exchange for what?” He pauses. “You’ve agreed to give up Tommy, to save my life. You never did forgive him did you? No, we don’t give up one of our own. And what about y/n?”

“I bargained for her life but she’s too valuable to Tommy” Polly reasons. “you’d be dead if it wasn’t for me, think about that Michael”

“y/n might be dead. Then what mum, huh? This deal doesn’t mean a damn thing if she dies mum, I’ll kill them with my bare hands deal or no deal. Froget Australia, forget everything” he says as his mother carries on trying to explain her deal to him, but his mind keeps wondering to y/n and worrying about what she’s going through.

Y/N’s POV

It’s not long after the beating that they speak in italian about something in the road ahead and the car slows down. They toss a jacket to hide you as a police officer walks over to the car.

“Keep your mouth shut or we’ll put a bullet in your head and the officers” Luca threatens before they talk to the officer, you stay silent partlu because of his threat and partly because you didn’t even know if you could speak right now with your ribs. The officer walks away again and you hear Luca suggest moving the obstruction themselves. “Stay fucking put” he warns you poking you in the side. They get out and you try to sit up a little to see if its even worth an escape attempt. They only leave the driver in with you, but he keeps an eye on you, but noting your poor state knows he hasn’t got much of a worry of you running. His eyes are trained on you when someone appears at the window, cutting his throat at the same time someone covers your mouth so you don’t give them away. You look over at the young man as he motions for you to keep quiet, you recognise him as Bonnie, Aberama Gold’s son, he opens the door motioning for you to come with him. You carefully move toward the door, both of you keeping your eyes of the italians not far away. With whatever strength you have manage to get out the car and with the help of him lifting you he quickly carries you away off the bridge away from the car. He puts you down handing you over to a women who pulls you so you lean on her as he rushes away again, an eruption of gunshots follow. She pulls you with her to a nearby travellers carriage, setting you on the bed as she frisks the shelves for herbs and ointments, soon after you blackout.

When you come too, you are lying on a bed in the back of a carriage but not the same one as before. You wince as you sit up, hand instantly going to your ribs and you look over your switches to see they’ve all been patched up and bandaged. Just as you are about to stand the door opens causing you to let out a little squeal before noticing it’s Bonnie, he comes over to help you up.

“Thanks” you say not being able to talk much with your ribs, he nods with a polite smile understanding, being a boxer he was no stranger to the pain of broken ribs. He helps you out the door and down the steps, you look round realising where you are, Charlie’s Yard. He continues to help you over to one of the stable blocks and you let out a small sob as you see Tommy stood in the shadows. You instantly reach out to him as he reaches for you pulling you carefully against his side. “Tommy” you wheeze out and he squeases your shoulder, hugging you to his side.

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” he says as he walks you away from the room, you smile gratefully over at the two men before walking with Tommy.

“I’m okay” you reply agreeing with him, he notices your struggle for breath. “Broken ribs” you explain and he nods with a sigh. “Tommy?” you ask hesitant, scared to ask your question he gives you a small nod of his head telling you to go ahead with your question. “Is he dead?” you ask and he looks at you confused before realisation flashes across his face.

“Micheal?” he asks and you nod still scared for the answer. “He’s fine” he says before looking at you again curiously. “What happened when they got into the room?” he asks and you tell him about how they got to you as Micheal tried to plead for them to leave you and how the last thing you saw before being knocked out was Luca with a gun pointed at Micheal. He lets out a little hum in response not commenting and it gets you thinking. Micheal must have been spared for some reason, there was no way he could have fought his way out of that. Why was he spared? Not that you weren’t glad he was still breathing but something didn’t quite feel right, you share a look with Tommy and its clear you are both thinking the same. Nevertheless, you still wanted to see him alive, you couldn’t deny you just wanted to run to him, but now a little question was at the back of your mind and you planned to keep a watch on the boy. Tommy takes you back to the hospital, you are almost at the hospital room you shared with Micheal when you see someone rushing towards you. Finn is in front of you before you even realise who it is.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” He asks looking over you with worry.

“She’s fine, leave her be Finn. Where's Arthur?” Tommy cuts in.

“Betting shop.” Finn replies not taking his eyes off you as he tries to hug you without hurting you.

“Finn, I’m fine. Stop babying me, you're still the baby” you reassure him with a little chuckle as you struggle to ruffle his hair. He rolls his eyes at your comment as he smiles still looking worried. Tommy comes over ushering him away again before walking you to the hospital room. There is no mistaking this is your room as you see all the peaky blinders in the hallway guarding the door and some police officers. The sooner you get out of here the better, Tommy gives you a kiss on the forehead without a word turns to leave.

“Tommy” you call after him and he turns quickly walking back towards you. “Can you do me a favour, and let me help personally put a bullet in that fuckers head?” you request wincing with each word, he doesn’t say anything for a minute or two, just looks at you before giving a small nod.

“Alright” he agrees walking away again. You knew Arthur had to be the one to shoot Luca to avenge John, but you needed to be a part of it.

#michael gray x reader #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray #Michael Shelby #Tommy Shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder x reader #peaky blinder imagine

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

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Field of Poppies Part 9

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 9: The subject of family is very fragmented in the Shelby household, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be repaired and maintained.

“There he is, grown-up and responsible Tommy. A family man now, aye?” Barney Thompson grabbed Tommy the second he came into the betting shop and put him in a headlock to rile him up. “You ain’t gonna be fun, anymore are ya, Tom?”

“We’ll have Mel walking up and down the streets of Birmingham all hours of the night looking for him.” Danny laughed. “She’ll drag him home by the ear.”

Tommy shoved Barney off and punched him in the arm.

“Eh, Barney’s just jealous ‘cause he could never get a girl to even look his way.” Arthur used the newspaper in his hand to smack the young man.

“How do the numbers look today?” Tommy asked, leaning over to glance at the ledgers.

“Going well, Greta’s outside waiting for you though. I told her you’d be down soon.” His brother answered.

He frowned. “Did she say what it was about?”

Arthur just shrugged.

Curious, Tommy stepped outside of the shop where Greta Jurossi was waiting for him. She looked up at him with a polite smile.

“I heard your son was born last week.”

Tommy nodded. Despite the inconsistent timelines, it was generally accepted by everyone except close family and friends that Tommy was the biological father of Max. It made things easier and, in a way, it drew attention from Amelia’s past. He wanted to protect her from any ruthless comments, like the ones she got from her parents in London. If he had to take the heat for having a child out of wedlock, then he would do that. But he had a feeling that people in Birmingham were wise enough to know not to bring it up.

“What did you name him?”

“Max,” Tommy answered. “After a friend of Amelia’s.”

“Such a cute name.” She glanced down at the paper in her hand. “Well, I hate to bother you, I know you’re probably busy with him and everything else.” She unfolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

“What is this?”

“Information about the revolution that’s going to happen in Russia. They want to overthrow the monarchy, let the government be run by the people, for the people.”

Tommy wasn’t overly optimistic, even in his younger years. He’d seen enough hardship to know that the world wasn’t fair. “Is that so?” He took the paper from her. It appeared to be somewhat of an organization’s print instead of a national newspaper. He scanned the first few lines. “And you think they’ll be able to pull it off.”

“They have the people’s support.” Greta shrugged. “I suppose it’s a bit what we’re looking for, isn’t it?”

He glanced up at her. “We’re looking for better working conditions and labor laws.” He reminded her as if she’d forgotten what she’d dedicated so much time and effort toward.

“And that can be accomplished by allowing the people to decide what’s best. Not those who are wealthy who’ve never worked a day in the factories. Who’ve never lived in the slums.”

He nodded. It made sense. His sense of justice and integrity was all for it. “What can I do?” He asked.

“You’re causing a stir in Birmingham.” She noted. “Everyone’s talking about the betting shop and the caps. The name’s caught on, by the way. The Peaky Blinders.”

“Are they afraid of us?” Tommy folded up the paper to hand back to her.

“No. At least, not the people here who need you. I think they’re sick of waiting for the Commons to make things better. They see you as a man of the people. They want you to succeed. Don’t you see, Tom? You’re the right person to make this happen. You have the skills to gain influence.”

A soft wailing sound from an open window upstairs carried down to the street. Tommy felt conflicted. He had tried to assure Amelia that he would make things better for everyone. If he gained influence and power was he better than any of the men sitting in the Commons? Would that give his son a better life?

“I’ll be at the next meeting.” He promised her. “I’ll let you know what I think.”

She smiled hopefully. “Thanks, Tommy. And good luck with the baby.” She stepped back from the betting shop. As she went to walk away, she coughed into a handkerchief.

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy returned to the betting shop and found Amelia had come downstairs. Arthur was holding Max looking like a proud uncle. The baby boy had stopped crying and looked content in his arms. It made sense. Arthur had basically raised all of his siblings.

Amelia had a smile on her face but it looked partly forced. When she saw Tommy walk in, it faded slightly. Tommy was worried she had overheard his conversation with Greta.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” She asked.

“Uh…sure.” Tommy ignored the snickering from the rest of the men as he followed Amelia into the kitchen. He closed the curtain shut. “You trust them with Max?”

“You don’t?”

Tommy shrugged and sat down at the table. “They can be thick.”

Amelia didn’t respond. “Were you ever going to tell me Polly had children? Or that they were taken away?” She asked in a hushed voice.

He grimaced. The topic was a particularly sore one in the family. Polly refused to talk about it and would not listen to anyone talk about it. Even though it was unresolved, it was best to not speak about it. “She told you?”

“No, a neighbor told me while I was out walking with Max.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?”

“Because no one in the house talks about it, Mel.” He ran a hand over his face. “It happened just last year. Michael was born the year you left. Anna was born a year later.” He explained.

Amelia’s brow was wrinkled with worry. “What happened?”

“The police took them. They had no fucking reason; Polly was a great mother. They just targeted her because we’re gypsies.”

She slowly sat down next to him; a bit taken aback by the story.

“They said she could get them back. We’ve tried everything. They won’t tell us where they are, where they were brought. One police officer even said there was no record of them anywhere.”

“If I had known. I should-”

Tommy shook his head. “Don’t mention any of it to Pol. She can’t handle it. She copes by not speaking about it.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. She couldn’t imagine raising Max for a couple of years only to have him ripped away from her.

And it seemed like Tommy could see that fear in her eyes. “It’s not going to happen again.” He promised her, gently taking her hand in his. “No one will ever take Max from us. And I’m going to bring Michael and Anna back home.”

She nodded, too concerned to speak. She just leaned forward to let Tommy kiss her knuckles and pull her into his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re doing so well with him.”

On the first snow of the winter, Polly and Tommy were up early, sitting together in the kitchen. Max was in Tommy’s arms, having woken up the whole house at the crack of dawn. Everyone else had grumbled, turned over and shoved a pillow over their heads to block out the noise.

But Tommy was up to grab his month-old-son. Max nursed while Amelia was half awake, leaning against the headboard. Meanwhile, Tommy got dressed in the small space and took his son after Amelia was finished. The new mother went right back to sleep, too exhausted to get up.

Polly was already in the kitchen, preparing to go to an early mass before she worked on the accounts in the betting shop.

Tommy smiled. “He’s easy, don’t ya think? Much easier than Ada was.”

Polly sighed at the memory of Ada being colicky so often as an infant. “Much easier.” She agreed. “But still, I’m very proud of you. You’ve stepped up and have been very good to both of them.”

“Thanks, Pol.” Tommy let Max grab a hold of his index finger.

“So,” His aunt sipped her tea. “When are you going to marry her?”

“Pol!” Tommy’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you on about?”

“Thomas, you cannot hide things from me very easily. You lie the exact same way your mother did. Terribly. Now, I’m only asking because I’d like your union to be witnessed by God. Don’t want you two eloping behind my back.”

It was too early to argue about God with Polly. But Tommy had a feeling she wouldn’t drop the subject of marriage so easily. “She’s just had Max; I think she deserves a bit of time before she has to make another big decision.” He said defensively.

“But you’d be willing.”

“W-I…why are you bringing this up now? I don’t care what people think.”

“It’s not about what other people think. It’s about you, Tommy.” Polly gently touched his arm. “I know you’re in love with her. I know she’s in love with you. This flat is too fucking small not to notice the way you two are together. But I think you’re denying yourself this commitment because you’re afraid.”

Tommy looked down at Max. The newborn was slowly starting to fall asleep, his eyelids fluttering a few times before sliding shut. “We’re raising him together, Pol, I think that’s enough of a commitment.”

“Then marriage shouldn’t be a big deal.” She shrugged.

He hesitated because he knew she was trying to snag him on a technicality. “I suppose it isn’t. But it’s about what she wants. Pol, she’s been through a lot since she left. The pregnancy, how it happened…” He knew he couldn’t tell his aunt because he’d swore to Amelia he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. “She’s not overly trusting right now. I think…y’know maybe she’s relying on trust we had before. When we were just kids. But it’s different now. I want to make things work but I think we have different ideas for the future.” He admitted. Max let go of his finger, lifting his little fist up with a yawn before settling again in his swaddle. “She said I should work with horses and just…forget about the betting shop. She’s worried I’ll get hurt.”

Polly could understand the young woman’s dilemma. It was the same issue she had with the start of the shop. But she’d begun to realize that they were Shelby boys, not choir boys. They would get into trouble no matter what. A pretty face couldn’t sway them from that. So, Polly figured that, if they had structure, a proper operation, maybe it would help them. Maybe it would keep them safer if they were let loose. She wasn’t perfect either. “Then maybe you two ought to figure out how to settle these differences. I know no one could ask you to change, Tommy. They’d only be wasting their breath. You have a plan and you want to see it through to the end. I suppose the only thing I can do is ask you to think about your family first. That family includes her and the baby now.” She reminded him gently.

Tommy nodded. “I know. Family comes first.” He echoed in agreement. “Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a tentative arrangement and happened very slowly, to begin with. But when Max was born, Tommy and Amelia found it was difficult sleeping in two separate bedrooms. He wanted to help out as best he could even if it was the middle of the night. As time went on, Amelia got comfortable with having him in her space. When initially she was wary. It started out with Tommy coming in from down the hall when he heard Max cry. Sometimes Amelia would assure him everything was okay, or she’d ask for some help. Tommy would either go back to bed in John’s room or sit in the rocking chair by Max’s cot. When things were quiet again, he’d return to bed down the hall.

Then, the nights became longer and sometimes he’d fall asleep in the rocking chair with Max in his arms. Sometimes he’d sit up on the floor near the cot, watching Max fall asleep. And oftentimes, watching the newborn fall asleep would make him doze off too.

Eventually, Amelia noticed Tommy started to complain about his neck or back in the morning. She knew it was because the majority of the night he wasn’t sleeping in a bed. She felt bad but allowed herself the time to get comfortable with him.

One night, when Max had settled down, Tommy had started to nod off in the rocking chair. Amelia got up and scooped Max out of Tommy’s arms so she could lay him in his cot.

“Tom.” She nudged him gently.

“Hm? Yeah?” He stirred and opened his eyes with a yawn.

“Come to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He stood up and stretched. He reached into the cot to affectionately touch Max’s cheek before heading to the door.

“No, just…” Amelia grabbed his hand before he left.

He looked back at her, a bit too tired to read between the lines. “Hm?”

“Just stay here.” She didn’t want to sound like she was begging for him to stay, but she really was. After reassuring herself that Tommy would never harm her, she understood her deep need for his affection. A chaste kiss or holding her hand every once and a while wasn’t enough. Now that they were settled with Max, she wanted to grow their relationship.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked. It had been months since they were huddled up together in the vardo that summer at the fair. He had longed to be close to her again for longer periods of time in the day. But it was such a small flat and he knew his siblings could be merciless with their teasing. He didn’t want Amelia to be self-conscious about their relationship. So, he kept his distance and waited patiently for her to allow him closer.

She nodded. “Yeah. I think I need you to stay.”

“Alright.” He held a hand out to the bed, allowing her to lay down first so she could get comfortable first.

But she didn’t let go of his hand, pulling him with her to the bed. He followed her lead, laying down beside her, his chest pressed to her back. She adjusted his arm, making sure it was locked around her waist and their hands were intertwined.

It felt perfect. Tommy was suddenly wide awake, his heart beating too quickly to fall asleep.

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