#i love this fandom but its discouraging to hear that people have to leave because of hateful comments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elysiashelby · 4 years ago

Text

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 12

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 10,468

WARNINGS: Angst, Alcohol Consumption (borders abuse), Cursing, FIGHT SCENE (Detailed), Existential Crisis, Mentions of Blood & Bones Breaking

Summary: Aliena’s 18th birthday has arrived, but her mental health isn’t doing so well. She’s feeling more distant from the Shelby’s and in her role in their universe. Aliena has been partying a lot, drinking a lot of alcohol. How is that affecting her?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 13

A/N: This chapter has a fight scene. It’s mildly detailed, but be warned. Thomas does interact with Aliena in this chapter, however; it’s not a huge part of this chapter. Along with the previous chapter, this chapter centers on Aliena. Also, she’s still very depressed. BLACK LINE BREAK INDICATED START AND END OF FIGHT SCENE!!

Me nose was runny and tears slipped out of me eyes. Cassie was holding back me hair and rubbing me back as I vomited me guts out. I sniffed as I fell to me side. I got a hold of the handle and flushed the toilet.

“Tank you.” I said.

Cassie nodded with her squinted eyes and her lips pursed. “I got you, honey. I got you, Ali.” She was rubbing me arm now and didn’t let go of me hair.

Slowly and not steadily, I stood up. Cassie followed me and didn’t let go of me hair. I turned on the faucet and rinsed me mouth of the taste. As I bent down to spit out the water, I felt a familiar tug on me hair. I raised me hand and tried to whack her grip away. She finally fuckin’ let go.

I gasped for air, looked to me side, and reached for me toothbrush.

Cassie cackled while walking over to the toilet. She put the lid down ‘n sat on it. “Not regretting leaving that here now, are you?”

I rolled me eyes as I brushed me teeth. “Nevah did, ya divvy.” I spat out the excess before going in and brushing me tongue as well.

Anyway after all that, Cassie and I walked out. There was people asleep across the floor, on couches, on chair, ‘n even tables. Me hand flew to me mouth and I felt nauseous again.

“Cassie, we’re not fucking home!” I turned ‘round and clutched her forearm with a fury.

Cassie had the same flabbergasted look on her face.

“We fuckin’ fell asleep in the loo!”

Cassie started gagging and I tsked as I stomped me foot.

“You brushed your teeth with somebody’s else’s toothbrush!” Cassie whispered-shouted.

I whimpered while stomping me feet. “I know I did.” I marched over to Angie and smacked her shoulder. “Angie, wake up! Wake up, we have to go!” I began shaking her.

She protested in her sleep, but eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and shot up.

“All right!” She yelled. “All right, I’m awake.”

“Thank you.” I said with some snap in me tone. I looked over to Tina and luckily, Cassie saved me the trouble of waking her arse up.

“Thank ya Jesus! Let’s fuckin’ go!” I shouted. Some people fucking whined in their sleep while others glared at me. I fucking glared back. The four of us stumbled our way ‘til the front of the house.

“Wait!” Cassie shouted.

I looked back at her and contorted me face in confusion.

She trailed off to the phone while saying, “I have to call Simmons .”

Collectively, we all groaned.

I cradled me head and then let it drop limply. I must have stood there for .5 seconds before I huffed. “I’m waiting outside. Join me if you want!” So, I walked outside and sat down on the steps.

It was fucking freezing! I really hafta to start bringing coats.

“Fuck, Ali! Aren’t you fucking freezing?” Angie asked me as she sat beside me.

I scoffed while rubbing me arms up and down furiously. “Yes, of course, I am.”

Angie opened up her fur coat and ushered me to get in. I did so without hesitation. She shivered as I stole her warmth. Then, we started giggling.

“Fucking London winters!” I shouted. This caused Angie to chuckle.

I could hear the doors open and close at the same time as a car engine did. I looked back to see Cassie and Tina walking out, heels in hand.

“He’s here.” Cassie announced while walking past us.

Angie and I got up and followed suit. I don’t remember the drive because I fell back to sleep. Once we got to her place, we all decided to take a shower. I was made to go last since I had just flopped on the bed and closed me eyes.

I wasn’t asleep, but I didn’t want to be awake either. Tina came and shook me awake when it was me turn. I rolled up, grabbed some towels, and walked into the bathroom.

I turned on the water ‘n made sure it was scalding hot before I stepped in. I sighed in pleasure as I was enveloped in its heat. I ran me hands over me hair and down me neck.

Tommy’s been busy as was the whole family. Finn’s abar to turn twelve, but he’s growing fast. His baby fat is going away and he’s stretching out.

God, was I teased when I came back bladdered the first night I went out! They all had a laugh. Arthur’s booming laugh made me wince which made more snickers go ‘round. Tommy even teased me abar calling him pretty.

“Me eyes still pretty, Aliena?” He asked me.

I tried smacking him, but he swerved and ran off. As much as me head was pounding, we- I was still happy.

I sighed as I lathered me body with soap.

I still feel lost. I’m stuck cleaning and collecting payments from families. I only did that gig every two week, though. So, I took up another job and started helping Polly with the finances. I just double checked her math and did some of me own. The latter was only if we were swamped, though.

I wasn’t getting paid for that either. Two pound was enough, Polly warned me. I didn’t fight it. I saved up a lot of money. I just wasn’t out enough to spend it on much, but now that I am— it’s slowly decreasing.

I huffed as I washed out the shampoo from me hair.

Finn is ‘aving trouble reading, finally. That coupled along with his growing desire to be apart of the family business, he’s getting even more discouraged abar school. Been hanging ‘round with Isaiah Jesus, who was five or six years older than him. Isaiah is a nice enough boy. Honestly, I don’t care what they do. They’re not me own children, after all.

I looked down at the water spiraling into the drain.

That’s a blag. I care deeply with what happens to that kid. Poor thing.

I sighed while turning off the shower. I wrang me hair multiple times to get out as much excess water as I could before bunching it up in a towel.

I didn’t like feeling like a freeloader in that house. It was just wrong. But I couldn’t deny that I loved the days like this where I knew I had no responsibilities because I already took care of them.

I would just sleep in bed. Or, like last night— party ‘til I blacked out. I also started writing again. Some original fantasy story. It was more for the 2000s, so I didn’t dare let anyone read it. After all, they wouldn’t understand some of the jargon I used nor the types of technologies.

Once I was done drying off me body, I began to lather me legs in lotion.

I was partying a lot! Like a lot. I can’t tell you how many times between December 16th and now, that Tommy had carried me off to bed.

I kept telling him that he didn’t have to do that, but he insisted that he was doing it so I wouldn’t get sick. I’ve never not slept with blankets before, so I couldn’t disagree. I mean I did it when I was a child, I’m sure. But, I don’t remember if I got sick over it. I was sick a lot as a child.

I tucked in me towel and walked out. “I’m still alive.” I announced while walking over to me backpack.

“Good. I was afraid you died in there.” Cassie chuckled at her own joke, which made me smile.

I just yanked whatever I could out of it since it was holding everything I needed. New undergarments and clothes. Once I put on me panties, I dropped me towel so I could put on me bra.

I finally looked up and watched as they talked amongst themselves. I tugged me hair towel off and patted me hair dry.

“Hey, Ali. Your birthday is coming up. How do you feel about a party?”

With me back bent as I was drying me hair, I asked. “Where at?”

They collectively began to hum as I began me fight with jeans. I always had to jump once they got to me thighs.

“Well, I wanted to throw you a party at my house.” Angie said as her hands joined in on the conversation.

I froze, instantly. I literally stopped putting on me shirt. “You mean at your mansion?”

She nodded with a sheepish smile on her face.

I let me shirt stay stuck above me bust as I rushed to Angie. I hugged her as she giggled.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I chanted.

“Um, you’re welcome. I guess. I mean, I’m not doing this for a thank you. I want to throw a big party, that’s all. You’re one of my best friends.”

I squeezed her tighter before letting her go. “Still, thank you. ‘Cause you don’t have to throw me a party at all.”

I gave her a big-toothy smile before I launched to kiss her cheek.

I went home the next day, fully sober. Don’t worry, yesterday was a rest day for me liver. Didn’t exactly want to die of a failed liver so soon. What am I talking abar? It’ll catch up to me later in life like with the boys.

Knowing me own luck, its gonna catch up with me sooner. Just watch.

I walked through the door and locked it behind me. It was seven, so I knew that Polly had to be up.

“Polly, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen, love!”

I walked in the room and there she was sitting with Ada and Karl. I cooed at the sight of him. I made grabby hands which made Ada chuckle. She passed him into me arms and I sighed.

“Hello, little one. How are you? Oh, you’re getting heavier. Mummy’s been feeding you right!”

I began to pepper his face in kisses which made him smile.

“So, Ali. Polly’s been telling me that you’ve been to the big city with your friends. How are you liking it?”

I slowly took a seat before answering her. “Um, it’s not bad. I mean, during the day it’s beautiful. Perfect for people visiting, but at night-!” I scoffed while laughing. “It’s like everybody’s morals are gone with the light.”

Polly chortled. “So, like here except you get the same during the day too.”

I rolled me eyes before blowing a raspberry. Karl giggled so I did it again. I looked at Ada and asked, “So, you and Freddie have any luck finding a flat?”

She looked down, picking at her nails. So, that’s a no.

Ada scoffed. “It’s just so much harder than we thought. Things are really heating up within the group and Freddie’s friends can’t take us in because money is tight right now.”

I furrowed me eyebrows. “It is?”

It seems that I stepped on a landmine ‘cause there was a sparkle in Ada’s eyes. And so, she went on a rant abar communism. I only half paid attention, to be polite. Though Polly and I shared multiple judgemental glances at each other.

Karl, eventually, started to get fussy and I gave him back to Ada. Said he was probably hungry.

Polly cleared her throat when Ada stopped talking. “So, Ali, your birthday is coming up. What do you want to do?”

I hummed in thought. “Well, um, one of me friends offered to throw me a party at her place. So, I’m not sure. Plus, everyone is so busy. I don’t want to impose on anything.”

“Well, then. Guess a little celebration at the Garrison the day before wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

I whipped ‘round to see Tommy leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, taking a drag from his ciggie.

I stopped getting after him abar them a while back. Didn’t see the point anymore. Especially now since I smoke too from time to time.

“No, it wouldn’t.”

He nodded. “We can see you drink in action. Wonder how many glasses of whiskey ‘till you feel a buzz?”

I felt me cheeks heat up as Polly and Ada snickered. I went to strike him ‘n he just lifted his arm.

I sighed and leaned on me head with the support of me hand.

“Where am I needed today?” I asked, slightly already exhausted.

Polly hummed as she quickly swallowed her sip of tea. “I’ll be needing your help in the shop. Come on.”

I bit me lip, in order to stop the sigh that wanted to escape me mouth. I looked over at Tommy one last time, who was still looking at me.

I spent the whole day running ‘round for Polly. Counting up money, retrieving money from the boys, and putting it away in the safe. I didn’t know the combination. I was just tossing it in.

When she didn’t need me help, I was to go and make dinner. I did, in fact, make lunch as well.

As I was doing that I went and called Cassie.

“Hello!” Cassie answered with a sing-song tone.

“Hello, Cassie.”

“Oh! Ali, what’s going on?”

I shook me head, even though, she couldn’t see it. “Is nothing. So, the Shelby’s are throwing me a little gatherin’ at the Garrison. You know the bar that Arthur owns now. And I was wondering if you and the girls can make it?”

I heard Cassie hum. “Well, I don’t see why we couldn’t. I know I’ll be there, but let me ask them and I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.”

We hung up and I refocused on finishing dinner. She called me back a little later saying that they agreed to come. Now, all that was left was for the day to come.

Today we were celebratin’ me 18th birthday. I’ve been with the Shelby’s for a year and 11 months. On me first 18th birthday, I was given a car. I wonder what I’m getting this year. Prior to the whole Kimber operation, I had been drawing a lot— but since, I stopped. I still have loads of paint and a single canvas left.

I just hoped that they don’t give me the same thing.

I wasn’t woken up the same way like last year either. It was the sun that woke me. I opened me eyes and laid in bed. I looked at the door in silence then turned away.

I could feel it in the air. Today was not going to be a good day.

I huffed while shutting me eyes close tightly. I slowly got up and turned ‘round so me feet where almost touchin’ the floor. I took a deep breath and let me feet touch the ground.

I figured since we weren’t gonna be at the bar ‘til late at night. I was expected to still do me regular duties. I mean, after all, tomorrow was me birthday. I threw on a simple dress and boots then headed downstairs.

I started working on breakfast. For who? I don’t know. Maybe just for me. I could hear the bustling of the shop. Men shouting.

This empty room. This empty, vacant room with only me filling it.

I closed me eyes and clenched me fists. The stinging pain of me nails diggin’ into me palm distracted me from crying. I shook me head and quickly plated me omelet. The chair scraped against the floor as I pulled it out and then I sat down.

I stared at it and stared.

I’m not that hungry.

“Ali, what’re doing?”

Me head snapped up and I locked eyes with Tommy. I blinked furiously before shaking me head a little, ‘n it really was just a little.

I gulped before taking me fork, cutting a piece, and placed it in me mouth. “I was thinking.” I said with a little scoff, a goofy smile on me face. “Didn’t realize I was thinking that hard.”

He tipped his cap at me with furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes before he walked off.

I watched him and then dropped me fork. It didn’t taste of anything.

To avoid causing up a stir, I scarfed down the rest of that omelet and then went abar me way.

I went outside and pulled down the laundry. I tried keeping me head clear of everything and anything. But it was impossible. I kept making up plots in me head. I was just so bored without anyone to talk to.

‘I miss the kids.’ I caught meself thinking. I sighed while I clutched the basket closer to me body. I looked away before looking back ‘n walked back into the house. I had to start folding.

Once I folded the clothes, I placed them in the room of their respective owners and then went back downstairs to clean up the place. I was in the middle of sweeping when lunch came ‘round.

I did the usual and brought the boys and Polly their meals. Esme was at home today. However, there was one odd man out, Tommy. He was probably overseeing the designs of his office. They were going to start building soon. He said it would take anywhere from four to seven months.

So with me basket like little red riding hood, I had to go on an adventure to take Tommy his lunch. When I got there, he dismissively thanked me. He literally didn’t even pick up his head, just took the bloody sandwich.

I didn’t even roll me eyes as usual. Didn’t see the point. I just went on me way.

There was this pit in me stomach. It was making itself known more and more by the second.

I gasped in pain and leaned on a wall for support. I started smoothing me stomach by rubbing it harshly. But then I could feel the stares, so I stood up and began on me way again.

By the time I got back, it was already late afternoon. I had to hurry up with the sweeping, dusting, and then beginning to polish the silver. I was not going to be able to finish that today!

I bought meself a type of curling iron and was dying to try it out. It was Tina who suggested it to me. Well, it was curling tongs but I was willing to burn meself to curl me hair.

I picked out a pale-blue, dyed Burberry lace dress for tonight. I’ve been dying to wear it! I had a pale blue undergarment set to match. I put on said undergarments and dress, then worked on me hair.

I got burned a couple of times, but it was worth it. The waves I’d get from having a bun just weren’t the same. I decided against makeup today. I just put on some chapstick and waited for night to roll ‘round.

I kept meself busy by writing. I was on a sex scene for me story. It just kept me mind busy and away from negative thoughts. I didn’t stop writing ‘til there was a knock at me door.

“Ali, dear, are you ready?”

I slammed me journal shut and shoved it in its drawer. “Yeah!” I called out. “I’ll be right out!”

“Okay.”

I got up from me seat and rushed out. I guess from the way I opened me door, Polly flinched. I gave her a sheepish smile.

“Shall we head out?” I asked.

She nodded while giving me a smile back. “Let’s go, love. I suspect the boys are already there. Starting without us.”

I scoffed. “Oh, Pol. I wouldn’t doubt it.” We shared another smile before we headed down the stairs arm in arm.

“Aliena, have you met a boy in London?” Polly asked.

I shook me head. “Nah.” I took me coat off the hook, put it on, and managed to tug out me hair.

“Why not? I’m sure there’s hundreds of men out there that want to talk to ya!” She asked as we walked out the door, locking it behind us.

I tucked a piece of hair away from me face. “I mean, yeah. I have talked to men at the clubs.”

“But none of them worked out.”

I shook me head. “They all seemed to want one thing, you know. The ones that did seem sweet, fuckin’ turned ballistic on me at some point in the night. Then the real gentlemen just-!” I sighed. “There was just something missing.”

Polly sighed while patting me forearm that she was holding. “Yep, that’s men for you. Dogs that think with their cocks.” She sighed. “Well, there’s no rush. Take your time. Find someone you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with. But not too long, I want to be around to see that little one.”

A genuine smile and giggled let me lips. “I promise, Polly.”

She pinched me cheek as we walked.

“Is Ada and Freddie coming?” I asked.

She shrugged. “No idea. Last time we talked Ada said she wanted to come. But, with the new baby and the fact they’re practically still newlyweds because of all that’s happened— they probably would rather stay in.”

I half rolled me eyes. “You mean Freddie suggested that Ada stayed home.”

“Most likely.”

We both grumbled at that.

“Is that how married life is, Pol?”

She looked at me then looked away. “It’s not everything. It’s a part of it. Compromise. Ada can’t very well expect to go out whenever she wants. She doesn’t have a babysitter to take care of Karl, and you can’t bloody well expect the father to help.” She scoffed again.

Sounded like she was reminiscing.

I hummed and said. “True.”

We arrived at the Garrison, soon enough, and I opened the doors for her. It was just polite. Right?

We immediately went into the snug where the whole family was excluding John’s kids and Ada. So, really. It was just Arthur, Tommy, John, Finn, and Esme. Yes, Esme was here.

While it did irk me that she was here instead of taking care of the kids, it was not me decision to make. They had their own parenting style. And, Esme was not a bad person.

They cheered as we walked.

“Oi!”

“There’s the birthday girl!”

“Happy Birthday, Ali!”

I smiled while taking of me coat. Arthur came ‘round and helped me. I quickly thanked him and then found a spot to sit in.

Tommy stood up from his seat and reached over to me. “No, come on.” He said while pulling me up. “Up you get. Finn, go and get the cake.”

Finn was actually smiling rather than grumbling abar being made to get the cake. I covered me mouth with me hand in embarrassment. But went along with it, nonetheless.

Finn came back in balancing the cake in one hand as he had to close the door behind him. Polly took it from his hands and set it down on the table. Arthur and John were working on lighting all the candles.

The air was somewhat awkward yet filled with excitement at the same time. It was weird.

As Arthur lit the last candle, they started singing. It was happenin’ all over again. I was covering me mouth with me hands and doubling over.

“Happy Birthday, dear Aliena. Happy Birthday to you!”

“Blow out the/your candles.”

I leaned down and thought abar it. ‘I wish I find happiness here soon.’ Then, I blew them out. They cheered and Polly was the first to hug me.

She whispered me a happy birthday in me ear before pecking me cheek and moving out of the way. Finn was next to wish me a happy birthday. I squeezed him tight while swaying us side to side. John stole me from Finn’s grasp, as always.

“Happy birthday, Ali. Is that a wrinkle I see?”

I gasped horrified and smacked his arm just as fast. He fucking cackled as he flinched.

“Don’t listen to ‘em, Aliena. Happy birthday, Songbird!” Arthur roared as he brought me in for a hug. He shook us with made me make the sounds to match. I wasn’t expecting him to shake me.

Esme squeezed her way over to me and she wished me as well. We exchanged a quick peck on the cheek before I was left with the last one.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I teased while leaning back, me hands on me hips.

Tommy rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. “Happy Birthday, Ali.” He hugged me and as I went to part from him, he kept me there. I felt him lean into me ear and I bit me lip harshly so I didn’t flinch. “For your present, I-!” He sighed into me ear, and I couldn’t help but flinch. “I, for lack of better words, added a headstone for your father. Happy Birthday, Aliena and I’m sorry.”

This imaginary romantic atmosphere was instantly shattered by the mention of me father. Great job, Thomas!

I smiled and thanked him as we parted. I made me way back to me seat.

“Right!” Arthur shouted. “I say we get to opening these bloody presents. Get it out the way and drink Aliena till she drops!” He raised his mug to me while taking a drink of his bevvy.

I squinted at him while titling me head. “Fine, let’s get them out of the way!” I slid a box over from the middle of the table and began ripping it open. I shimmed the lid off of the box to reveal shoes.

“You’re gonna need a good pair of dancing shoes, if ya expect to be dancing ‘round clubs all the time, Ali.” John said with a cigar between his lips.

I plastered on a smile and thanked him. I set in under the table and dealt with the rest of them. Arthur bought me more canvases. Something abar that made me laugh. I should expect canvases for all of me birthdays.

Once I sobered up, I opened up the last big box on the table. It was a coat from Polly. I faked a squeal, hugged her, and thanked her incessantly. It’s not that I didn’t like the coat. It’s just I never asked for one, either.

Then, there was this little box. I tugged on the ribbon and shimmed the lid off of it to reveal a rather expensive looking necklace. The snug quieted down and we collectively tried to find the culprit. Our eyes locked on the boy who was smiling the brightest.

Without a care in the world, Finn wished me a happy birthday. Cue Polly smacking him upside the head.

“Finn, where’d you pinch that from?” Tommy asked while rubbing his bottom lip.

Finn, who was shielding himself from the last of Polly’s blows, answered. “Some jewelry store in London. Think it was called Madison. It’s not a big deal.”

All us shouted that it was indeed a big deal. I covered the box and pinched the bridge of me nose.

Polly sighed. “No point in worrying now. I’ll be reading the papers in case people are looking for it. For now, give it to me. I’ll hide it away. It’s no good to be wearing that around here or right now.” She held out her hand for me.

I instantly gave it to her. I looked over at Finn who was looking rather ashamed. “You better beaut, you.” I shoved his face away, playfully.

A small smile graced his face.

After that debacle, I ate a piece of me own cake while drinking gin. It’s been the first time in a long while that I’ve managed to get the chance to talk to everybody like this.

Made me really think abar how much I matter and how much I don’t. How much doing over Kimber changed this family. They were all busier. I wasn’t. They wouldn’t have done this if it hadn’t been me birthday. Well, they wouldn’t have invited me and Polly. It’s a fucking boys club in this family. Well, they did invite me in the past— but that’s all it is now, the past.

I downed a glass of whiskey and felt it burn me throat. I was getting used to it. I mean I started to drink at least twice a week. I could only limit me vices so much. It’s torture enough as is that I’m holding down the urge to smoke a ciggie right now. But, I am exposed to all the second hand in the air.

“So, Ali. How are you feeling?” Arthur asked me as he was leaning close to Tommy. As if they had a secret bet or something. I knew what he meant by the question.

I shrugged me shoulders as I smiled. “I feel fine. Warm and fine.”

He scoffed and nodded before turning his head toward Tommy’s ear.

I rolled me eyes and went back to me conversation with Polly. We were talking abar how we were gonna get a grip on Finn. It’s sad that it took that child to do an actual robbery before anyone decided to listen to me. But, at least it’s happenin’ now.

After that I went on a conversation with John, who also asked abar me love life. It was getting so annoying to repeat the same damn things! Then, Esme had to add her two cents in and I couldn’t “snap” back in fear of getting on the wrong foot.

“I think you should experience life as is. Settling down is something you do later.”

I widened me eyes and put on a polite smile, but still had to bite me lip. Didn’t she have an arranged marriage ‘cause she was too wild. I nodded and then moved back to where me seat originally was.

One minute turned into five which turned into ten.

Were these bitches really not going to show up?

I looked ‘round to see everyone engaged in some kind of conversation. The boys were playing a card game while Polly and Esme talked. I was the odd man out. Just nursing me fucking bevvy.

I don’t want to admit it, but this set up right here was hurting me feelings. Never liked feeling excluded.

I took another glance at them again as I trailed me finger ‘round the rim of the glass.

I didn’t mean to do it, but I began thinking abar how it would be if I wasn’t here. Would they still have met up today? Under the circumstance of a nice day to relax after work. Did me presence actually affect anything? Why was I here? What was me purpose here? Am I supposed to help someone in the Shelby family?

Am I supposed to prevent the second war from happening? Was this a blessing or a curse? Was this a curse?

“Ailena! Aliena, hun, we’re here!” Cassie shouted from outside the snug.

I shot up from me chair, whipped back the door, and threw me arms ‘round her. We both laughed and swayed a little.

“You came. You fuckin’ slags. I thought youse weren’t gonna show.”

Cassie laughed while petting me hair. “We thought you were home then we had to ask around where this bar was. We’re not from here idiot.” She knocked on me head as if she were knocking on a door. “We weren’t going to find this place if no one showed us it before.”

I pursed me lips. As I dropped me hip to the left while knocking me own head. “Oops, my bad.” I took Cassie’s hand in mine and ushered her into the snug. Angie and Tina followed suit. “Shelbys, meet my friends. This is Cassie Johnson, Lady Angelica Sallow, and The Honorable Christiana King. Friends meet the Shelbys. That is Arthur, Thomas, John, Finn, Esme, and Polly Gray.”

Cassie uttered a “hi,” while waving with a smile. Tina just waved and smiled.

Angie pushed her way through and greeted Polly. “Good evening, it’s so nice to meet you all, finally. Aliena has said all good things.”

Polly shook her hand, but I knew that face. She was studying her. I cleared me throat and clapped me hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t want us to be all cramped up in the snug. So, we’ll be out there! Okay? Okay.” I grasped Angie’s hand and dragged her out of the snug.

“It really was nice meeting you all!” She shouted before I slammed the door shut. “What the ‘ell, Ali? She didn’t even get to say anything.”

I rolled me eyes. “Believe me, that was probably a good thing.” ‘She was sizing you up,’ was left unsaid. I flicked her forehead before leading them to the bar top.

I waved Harry over who looked like he was stammering for words. He leaned down to the men sitting and said something to them that made them leave. I smiled and took a seat there.

“Anything I can get for you ladies? On the house. I know it’s our special Aliena’s birthday.” Harry said as he leaned against the top.

I smiled and said. “Can we get four gin and tonics, Harry? Thanks.”

“Coming right up.”

I turned ‘round so me back was against the top. “Thank God, youse came when ya did. I was dying of boredom in there.”

Cassie scoffed. “Maybe you should just-!”

I held up me finger, effectively shutting her up. “I literally just said that I was bored. I didn’t say I was being abused.”

Cassie tsked while rolling her eyes which made me smirk. Tina cleared her throat before she spoke.

“So, that was the Tommy, you’re always talking about?”

Me eyes widened to the size of saucers as I shushed her while me head did a full 180. “Don’t go announcing it to the whole fucking bar, Tina!” I looked ‘round a bit more before I leaned over Cassie and whispered. “But yes, that’s him.”

“He looks really intense. Is that your type?” Tina asked, unfazed.

I looked away before answering her. “Yes and no. He’s my type, obviously, since I have a crush on ‘em. But, the only thing he and the other men that I’ve been enamored with is high cheekbones.”

She oh-ed and nodded.

“Here you ladies are!” Harry said as the glasses clinked against the bar top.

All four of us grabbed our drinks.

“Toast!” Angie shouted. We held our drinks in the air. “Today, we celebrate our little Aliena turning 18 a day early. Let’s try not to not drink too much ‘cause we are gonna party like it’s the end of the world tomorrow! To Aliena.”

“To Aliena! To me!”

Then, we drank as much as we could before having some sort of reaction. After that we paired off, I was talking to Angie.

“So, what happened to that guy you left with some nights ago?” I asked Angie as I took a sip of me bevvy.

She sighed as she used the straw to stir her drink. “It was a complete waste of time. In all honesty, I’m beginning to lose hope. I might as well just give up and let my father match me off.”

I shook me head furiously. “No! No, Ange. Don’t give up. What are you? 19, 20, you still have time to look. If you were 30, I’d be saying otherwise— but you’re not. You’ll find a guy when the time is right.”

Okay, I’m not bashing 30-year-old single people. Angie is expected to marry off at an early age in order to comply with the societal norms of the 1920s. Besides, she and her father have this arrangement that if she doesn’t have anyone she wants to marry for love by that age— then he has the right to marry her off.

She groaned while supporting her head with her hand, her elbow on the bar top. I rubbed her back up and down.

“You’ll find your Mister Right, Ange. I just know it. Hey, maybe, you have already met him.” I attempted to lighten her mood. “Either way. I think it’s too early to call it quits. Maybe we stop trying to find the love of our lives in clubs, eh? Try a cafe or a country club, instead?”

Angie turned her gaze to me and we shared a giggle.

“Eh?” I tried again.

“Yeah.” She whispered. “Yeah. You’re right.”

I smirked as I put me hand down and used it to bring me drink to me lips. “I know I am.”

I had two more gin and tonics before I felt that I was out of it. I was shoutin’, for sure. I was borderline slurring yet me sentences were still understandable. I had, technically, pre-gamed ‘cause the boys were trying to drink me under the table.

I had stumbled out of the loo when I was attacked by me friends.

“Aliena! Ali!” They shouted.

I shook me head as I gripped their arms as they did mine. “What?” I shouted, confused.

Tina shoved Cassie forward who was cradling her cheek, but her lip was bleeding too. Me eyes widened and I immediately started inspecting it.

“What the fuck happened?”

Cassie looked away before looking back into me eyes. “I was talking to some guy. He came up to me at the bar. Then, this girl came up to me and just slapped me. She said that I should go to hell for being a homewrecker. That she bets that I’m nothing but a prostitute.” Cassie choked on a sob while rubbing her eyes. She smeared her eyeshadow ‘n mascara, making her look like a raccoon. Just like how I first met her. “Seems like they’re together or something. But I didn’t know. He came up to me. I swear. He came up to me. I would never flirt with a taken man, Ali.” She hiccup and whimpered.

I looked back to see Angie arguing with the girl. I could feel me blood boiling. I was filled with rage. That bitch made me Cassie cry.

“Ali, she was wearing rings.” Tina pointed out, her voice strained. She motioned toward Cassie’s busted lip.

I titled her head down to get a good look at it. Then, I began to shake me head softly before I muttered, “I’ll take care of it.” She should’ve known who she was hitting before she’d done it. Should’ve hit her unfaithful man instead of slapping me best friend.

I grabbed a drink that was idle at the bar top. Angie and the girl’s arguing got louder. I saw as the woman began to raise her arm, her fist clenched.

“Oi!” I yelled. The girl twirled ‘round and I threw the drink in her face before punching her straight on the nose. She gasped in pain as she went to cradle her nose. I gave her a moment to recuperate.

Let’s have a fair fight now.

She looked up at me, her nose bloody. “You crazy fucking bitch.”

“A fucking bitch who’s friend you messed with, dumb cunt.”

She growled before she launched herself at me, rather pathetically. I grabbed the hand that tried to slap me and gave her one instead. I managed to get both of her arms in me hold, I titled me head back, and head butted her.

Fuck did that bring tears to me eyes.

She fell to her knees as I let go of her arms. Instead of cradling her head, she wrapped her arms ‘round me legs and forced me down.

I groaned on impact, but quickly shot up and punched her. She yelped and went to clutch her face.

The fact that she managed to make me fall pissed me off even more.

I grabbed a wooden chair that nearby, raised it in the air, and started beating her with it. She whimpered with each hit and started wailing.

I didn’t care. This felt good. This felt cathartic. Why was me heart beating so loud? Why was I fighting off a smile? There was this cracking sound and before I knew it, the blood from her nose splattered across the floor.

Her arms finally came up to protect her head, but that didn’t deter me. She turned over on her side, but I still didn’t stop. I gave one good strong swing and she left out a blood-curdling scream just as there was an audible crack in the room. Did I manage to break her arm?

“Ali! Aliena!”

Me head shot up and I didn’t raise up the chair again. Thomas stood there with his hand out, signaling for me to stop.

“Enough.” He breathily pleaded. “Enough now.” He took a hesitant step toward me, as if I were a fucking animal.

How fucking insulting!

I couldn’t help it. I was just so mad. I raised the chair and slammed it against the wall of the bar top. I could hear people gasp. All that was left in me hand was one of the chair’s legs.

I panted for breath. “There. Now that’s enough.” I ran a hand through me hair, effectively getting all me hair out of me face. The girl was whimperin' incessantly. It was so annoying. I kicked her softly as I stepped over her body and told her to shut up.

“Come on. Let’s go.” I called out to me friends. I could hear their shuffling behind me as I continued walking on.

Just as I was abar to pass Tommy, he caught me arm.

“We’re gonna talk about this at home.” He whispered. His tone stern and chastising.

I tsked and yanked me arm away from him. I marched on and caught the eyes of me employers. The look in their eyes were mixed with astonishment and disapproval.

I rolled me eyes, hard before I opened the doors with bang.

“All right! Show’s over. Go back to what you were doing.” I heard Tommy yell.

I started walking faster. When I realized me friends’ heels were clacking behind me, I turned ‘round and waited for them. I rushed to Cassie and hovered me hands over her inflamed cheek.

She caught me wrists and held them tightly.

“We need to get some ice on it. We can’t have it bruising.” I muttered while inspecting her face again.

Angie scoffed. “What the fuck was that, Aliena?” Her face was contorted in some weird mixture of anger and disbelief.

“She got what she deserved. The dumb-arse raised a hand to Cassie expecting no repercussions. I decided to give her some.” I said with a booming voice.

Cassie shook her head. “What about your hands?” She asked as she gently took me hands in hers and started to inspect them. “You punched her good. Are your knuckles swollen?”

I shrugged me shoulders. “Don’t know. I feel quite a bit of pain, though.”

Angie groaned loudly. “Of course you would feel pain. You broke her nose, Ali! You headbutted her and then beat her with a chair.”

Me head snapped toward Angie. “Thank you for the play-by-play! What’s your deal?” I asked.

She scoffed again as her hands began to join the conversation. “What’s my deal? Aliena, YOU BEAT THAT GIRL WITH A CHAIR!”

“IT WAS AN OLD WOODEN CHAIR! Look at the end of the day, I would have done that for any one of youse. She fucking busted Cassie’s lip over a man. A man, Angie! So, I busted hers.”

Cassie sniffled loudly. “Thank you.” She whispered. “Thank you.” Cassie hugged me tightly and hid her face in me neck.

It has something to do with her past. But, I wasn’t going to out her to the rest of the girls— just because they couldn’t understand.

Tina waved her hands between Angie and I. “Angelica, I’m sorry but I’m with Ali.”

Angie scoffed as her eyes bugged out of her head.

Tina continued. “Maybe the chair was excessive, but we’re all drunk. We’re drunk! That fucking bitch just straight up slapped Cassie while she had her rings on, and...and-! Belittled her! That’s not right!”

“Tina just because we are all a little drunk does not excuse violence. I was handling it!”

I scoffed and ran me hand through me hair again. “Sure, you were handling it alright! Then, why did I have to stop her from hitting you?”

Angie averted her eyes. “She wasn’t-!”

“Yes, she was and you know it. You must have seen her cock her arm and/or at least see that her fists were clenched.”

Angie looked down at the cobblestone. “It just felt a little excessive.” She whispered as she hugged herself.

So, the leader of this pack has a little bite.

I sighed while pinching the bridge of me nose. “I admit the chair was a little over the top. I just got so angry and…” Me voice trailed off. “I’m sorry for, I don’t know, upsetting you. But what I’m not sorry for is defending you and Cassie.”

We left it at that and regrouped at the house. We talked abar it a little more before I poured everyone some water and distributed the bread. Cassie insisted on icing me knuckles, so I let her. When it was ‘round two in the morning, Cassie called Simmons.

I was hugging me arms as I watched them pile into the car.

Angie’s head popped out as she said. “Remember I’m picking you up at four tomorrow, all right!”

I nodded. “Yeah, I got it.” I laughed as her head disappeared back into the car. I faced Cassie. I couldn’t help the pitiful gaze on me face.

“Thanks again for, ya know, fucking her up for me.” Cassie whispered as she picked under her nails.

I winked at her. “We’re crazy together, remember.” We shared a laugh and then a hug. But after, she climbed into the car and I waved them off. I looked ‘round and then ran back into the house.

I already had a plan. I was just going to go to sleep to avoid a very uncomfortable conversation that I did not want to go through again. It was too unpredictable.

Was I going to be confronted by just Tommy or is Polly going to be there too? Would it be a fucking family meeting? Might as well be, they’ll probably just harass me individually.

Oh fucking well!

I raced up the steps and slammed me door behind me. Me chest heaved up and down as I tried to catch me breath. I realized that I didn’t put makeup on tonight.

I’m a fucking genius!

I ran to me bed, jumped in, got comfy, then closed me eyes.

“Oi! Wake up! There’s no avoiding this, Ali.”

I jumped awake. Me heart was in me fucking throat and I threw a glare at Tommy.

“Leave me alone!” I sluggishly demanded as I went to turn ‘round in me bed.

“Aliena, there’s no avoiding this so let’s get it over with, yeah.”

I shut me eyes tightly before letting out a big sigh. I rubbed me forehead before I yanked me blankets off me body. I heard Tommy walk out rather than see it. I got to me feet and walked after ‘em.

As I extended me right hand fingers’, they throbbed in pain. I’m sure if Cassie hadn’t hounded me to ice them, they would be in much worse condition.

We walked all the way into the family meeting room that was in the betting shop. Lights were lit, people in their usual spots. Esme wasn’t here, though.

That’s nice.

Polly with hands on her hips walked ‘til she was at Tommy’s side.

“You wanna tell us what that was all about?” She pointedly asked me.

I sighed while I rubbed me forehead again. “The woman hit Cassie. This man came up to her and started chattin’ her up. Turns out the fella was taken. The woman directly confronted Cassie as the problem. Called her names. Called her a homewrecker and said she was a prostitute. That’s when she slapped Cassie with rings on her hand.”

They all just stared at me blankly.

Well, fucking say something! Say it wasn’t me own fight! Say that they could’ve started this and not the woman. Say that I did a good job, or I had no right doing what I did! Say that I was out of control. ASK ME WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!

I looked down at the floorboard. “I knew it wasn’t me own fight, but Cassie is me best friend. And I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had tossed back like three gin and tonics after drinking all that whiskey in the snug. It won’t happen again.”

Tommy sniffed, flicked his nose, then spoke. “Right, guess that’s it then. Don’t let it happen again, Ali.”

Me head shot up and I blinked a lot.

That was it?

I just nodded and headed up the stairs. As I gently closed me bedroom door behind me, I slid down it with me hands hiding me face. Me body shook violently as I inaudibly sobbed.

I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, but a headache. Luckily, I had a day off today. Afterall, today was me actual birthday. So, I turned ‘round and shut me eyes. I wasn’t going back to sleep, I knew that wasn’t happening— but I just didn’t want to get up yet.

Me hand was throbbing. I tried clenching and unclenching me hand as a way to soothe it. Just like the day before, I took me time getting up. But, I didn’t start getting ready.

I took off the dress I fell asleep in and picked out me fuzzy black sweater and grey joggers to match. I ran a hand over me face before sighing and dropping me hip to the side. I racked me hand in me hair, pushing it away from me face, and then walked over to me desk. I opened the drawer and pulled out me art book.

I tossed it on me desk and flipped it open to a blank page. I just sat there and pondered abar what I should try drawing. I blew a raspberry before I snapped me fingers as the thought came to me.

I was gonna try and draw Tommy using watercolours.

I spent the whole morning working on it ‘til I couldn’t stand the ache in me stomach anymore. I sighed while racking me hair back again. I got up and walked downstairs.

I was fairly greeted by the shouts of men coming from the betting shop. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the bread nonchalantly. I cut meself two slices, kept the knife in me hand, then grabbed the jam with the other.

I sat down with one leg tucked into me thigh on the chair while the other was bent. Grabbed the knife ‘n began to spread the jelly ‘round as I yawned. I took two bites before I decided I desperately needed water to wash it down.

I strolled over to the cabinet and pulled out a glass. We drank from the tap, so that’s what I did. As I was drinking me water, the front door opened.

For fuck’s sake.

I silently prayed to God that it wasn’t who I thought it was. And sure enough, Tommy Shelby came into view. I mouthed, “Fuck,” before sitting back on me chair. I could feel his eyes on me. I kept me gaze locked on the table.

Tommy cleared his throat ‘n I instinctively raised me head. Tommy grabbed his cap off of his head ‘n held it in one hand as he pulled out a chair. He groaned softly as he sat down.

He tsked. “So, Ali. You wanna tell me what yesterday was really about?”

I blinked. “I already told you what it was abar.”

He titled his head and his lips pursed a little. His eyes flickered to mine.

Was he trying to say something with his eyes? ‘Cause it felt like it. It was like he was begging me to tell him me troubles. But, I didn’t want to.

“Are you sure, Ali? You’re tellin’ me you did all that because she roughed up your friend.”

I rolled me eyes as me tongue prodded the inside of me cheek. I kept quiet before scoffing. “She just caught me on a bad day. I was already drunk ‘n agaited. Angie said something that ticked me off earlier. And I think me Aunt Flo is abar to make a visit, so yeah.” I smiled at him mockingly before I took a big bite of me scran.

He studied me face for a little more before he tapped his finger on the table and rose up suddenly. “Right.” He muttered before he left the room.

After that interaction, I scarfed me scran down and went back upstairs. I worked on me painting ‘til it was four. I heard that familiar honk and cursed in surprise. I was lost in painting. I scrambled ‘round to collect me things. I was going to stay over the weekend.

Her incessant honking was raising me blood pressure and I fought back the urge to shout at her. I was zipping ‘round me room gathering everything. I slug me backpack on and flew out the door.

Just as I was grabbing me coat, a voice caught me. “Aliena, love. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

I stilled and looked at Polly. “How do you mean?”

She looked at me with a concerned face. “Should you be partying with what happened yesterday?”

I averted me eyes. “It’s me birthday, Pol.” I whispered.

She didn’t say anything in response.

I looked up at her before taking me coat hurriedly off the hook and running backwards. “Love you, Pol! Bye!”

As always, Cassie was waiting for me outside the car. We hugged and then climbed inside of the car. We brought up what happened again ‘n really cleared the air.

I just wanted it to go away, ya know. Be forgotten. It literally happened yesterday night. It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

When we got to the flat, the girls wasted no time pushing me into a chair.

“What are youse doing?” I asked through me laughter. I noticed there were other women in the room as well.

“I hired these women to do our hair and makeup. I want you to look your best! I even hired a photographer. But first, the dress you will be wearing!” Angie divulged as she walked over to the closet. She reached inside and pulled out a silk green dress.

It looked exactly like the one Kiera Knightly wore in Atonement. Me own gasps were not the only ones heard throughout the room.

Tina came into me view and took the dress out of Angie’s hand slowly. “I showed my family’s dressmaker the drawing you drew of me in this dress. I asked them to make one just like it. I wanted you to have the real thing.” She walked over to me and I took the dress into me hands as she held onto the hanger.

I stroked the fabric, silk. “Oh, Tina. It’s so beautiful. Just how I-!” Just how I remembered it. I hummed with a painful smile on me face. I hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” I whispered in her ear.

Cassie clapped her hands. “Alright. Let’s get dressed before we get our hair and makeup done.”

We did as she suggested. Once we were all done changing, we sat down on the chairs where the cosmetologists were standing patiently. In a very movie-esque fashion, the cosmetologists flapped open their smocks and draped it over us, simultaneously.

Angie was sitting in the chair beside me.

I looked over at her. “Angie, you didn’t have-!”

She held up her hand, effectively shuttin’ me up. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So, let’s all just enjoy this.”

The cosmetologist began by curling me hair in loose waves and then proceeded to give me a faux bob. Something I could never achieve if I did this by meself. I struck up a conversation with her and she was happy to give me some tips.

I looked at meself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe how me hair looked. I looked like I finally belonged in this era. I couldn’t stop the Cheshire-cat grin on me face. But I had to relax it as ordered by the cosmetologist.

When it was all said ‘n done, they women left and I opened Cassie’s present. She got me an amethyst earrings and necklace set this time for me ma’. When I started to tear up, the girls rushed to me and begged me to stop before it could even begin. That got a laugh out of me.

The earrings were Long Cluster Gemstone Earrings and the necklace was silver with an amethyst teardrop. I rushed to put them on and then it was time to go.

God was Angie’s mansion intimidating. Even more so that it was filled with people from high society that were unfamiliar to me. I knew I was going to meet with a lot of people tonight.

The party was in a light swing when we arrived. I stuck to Cassie like gum on a shoe. While I desperately wanted to find a table and stand ground there or find some secluded place so that I could relax, I was stuck with Cassie— greeting her other friends and acquaintances.

It was so embarrassing when they asked abar me family. Only to tell them that I’m an orphan and I met Cassie when I was giving her directions. I didn’t miss the faces. The faces of people who sneered at me. Teased me for me status behind me back. Made stories up abar why they were keeping me ‘round. Maybe even for the dress. It was a 1940s style dress, I think.

I didn’t expect to feel this way. I thought I could move past it, bury it all down. But, I was finding it harder to do than expected. Still, I kept a polite smile and dug me nails into me palm.

When the mansion was packed, Angie ushered me to the stage where the band was playing. She made a big spectacle of it.

“Everyone, I gathered you all here to celebrate my good friend, Aliena Welsh’s 18th birthday.” She clapped which was mimicked by everyone in the crowd.

For pride, I suppressed the need to cover me face and spazz out. I kept that tight, polite smile on me face.

“Bring out the cake.” Angie shouted. On her orders, men in tuxes— the stewards or butlers or manservants— rolled out a cake and left it in front of us. Angie guided me where to stand. “We’ll sing Happy Birthday on three, everyone. One, two, three!”

A whole crowd was singing happy birthday to me. It was absolutely mortifying. I kept me gaze as Cassie, who was singing with a thumbs up. She knew I was freaking out.

When the whole singing was over with, I made the same wish I did yesterday. I walked off the stage with Angie. I rushed over to Cassie and hide me face in her neck.

“They were all looking at me.” I whimpered.

She rubbed me back. “I know. I know, honey. How about we get a piece of cake, eat, then get fucking drunk. Huh? Sound alright?”

I looked up at her and nodded. So, that’s what we did. We ate a piece of cake and marched over to the bar.

“Oooh!” I exclaimed. “Let’s play a drinking game!”

Cassie furrowed her eyebrows. “What game?”

“I think it’s called blowjob.”

She gasped while slapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god! Ailena!”

“Look we order three shots each and whoever drinks it the fastest without using their hands wins. You game?”

Cassie looked hesitantly. Her hand covering her mouth to hide her smile. “Fine! What the hell, right? You’re the birthday girl, after all.”

I cheered and called over the bartender.

We could only play one round of that game. I got buzzed fairly quickly since it was vodka. But we settled for beer.

We danced, sat down, drank, smoked, and eventually I got so drunk that I started dancing modernly. I was swaying me hips while holding a bottle of whatever, dancing to the music in me head.

I felt hands wrap ‘round me arms. I turned ‘round to see Angie.

“Angie!” I squealed before going in to hug her. She giggled before titling me head back.

“Aliena, you need to slow it down.”

I blew raspberries. “I’m ‘aving fun. ‘Ave fun with me.” I kept her hand in mine as I leaned away and started dancing again.

Angie sighed while clutching her forehead. “Fine, I’ll have fun with you. Just! Stop dancing like that!”

I shrugged me shoulder and stilled instantly while a piece of hair fell into me eyes. “Okay.” Then, I pulled her to the bar where we chatted and drank.

I don’t know where I was. I was just extremely nauseous. I used the walls to support me as I stumbled along. The entrance doors were in me sight. I walked faster and felt me mouth water. I immediately doubled over into a plant and vomited.

When I was done, I stood straight while wiping me mouth. I gathered what was left in me mouth and spat it out. I whimpered as I clutched me tummy.

I stumbled down the steps. Me legs were shaking like leaves. I groaned and plopped down on them. I bent over and started taking them off.

“Fucking devil shoes.” I grumbled. When I was done, I wobbled me way back up to me feet and walked further out in the backyard garden area, place, thingy.

I chortled at me thoughts.

When I got tired of walking, I sat down on some undistinguishable patch of grass. I was surrounded by acres of sophisticatedly cut grass.

I used me arms to support me as I leaned forward. I picked at the grass for a while ‘til it hit me.

I just threw up in one of Angie’s plants...

Stutteringly, me arms gave up on me and I was laying down. I raised me arms to cover me face as it started to contort. A sob escaped me lips. Me shoulders shook violently.

I’m turning into an alcoholic. I drank ‘til I threw up in me mate’s flowers.

What’s wrong with me!

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #in another world #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

71 notes · View notes

awackyphdinadorkable · 4 years ago

Photo

Cherik Moodboard - The Snow Queen AU

Charles and Erik were the best of friends ever since they were small children. They didn’t just grow up together, but they also learned to master their special abilities together. Erik and his mother live in a small house just down the road, so Edie does not have to travel far to manage the gardens and all the flowers at Westchester.

These days, Erik helps his mother as best as he can, which, of course, always gives plenty of opportunity for him to spend time with his best friend to play chess or get drunk on Charles’s late step-father’s fine selection of drinks.

Now short before coming of age, Charles can finally claim ownership over his family’s estate and transform it into a school for the likes of them. Their dream is just within reach. A place for themselves, where others can hone their skills, unafraid of what others may think of them.

But a tragic accident during winter leads to Edie’s death, which leaves Erik petrified. Charles tries his best to console his friend, but even with his abilities, he doesn’t know how to help Erik look towards a brighter future to regain hope. Instead, Erik grows more and more obsessed with snowflakes and old stories.

After a night of heavy drinking to numb the pain together, Erik sneaks out into the night while Charles is fast asleep. Erik is visited by a beautiful woman made of ice, just like in his mother’s tales. The Snow Queen. She offers him a life of no pain, no suffering. Erik feels more than tempted to go with her, but when he hears Charles calling out to him, the Queen is already gone by the time he turns back around.

Wind picks up and something flies into his eyes, making his eyes burn with unshed tears. Charles ushers Erik back inside, and for the first time in a long time, Erik swats his friend’s hand away, arguing that he has no need for help.

In the days to come, Erik grows more and more irritated with Charles and his constant talk about the school, the dream. Was it ever truly his dream or was he just trying to please Charles? Erik is no longer sure. What if Charles went too far into his head to plant that seed there? What if he was a fool to ever trust him? People don’t accept them now, why would they ever change their mind? They are all the same in the end, aren’t they?

But whenever he addresses those matters to Charles, he just feels his heart clench with cold, seeing the other man’s sadness and disappointment. Most of these days, Erik wished Charles just left him alone, that everyone just left him alone so he could watch the snowflakes. When Erik goes to see his mother’s grave, he is visited by the Snow Queen again. She kisses him and he doesn't feel the cold anymore. The Queen offers to kiss him another time, to forget all this, all the people who’ve caused him suffering.

“And then everything will be in order again. Like snowflakes.”

Erik agrees and she kisses him another time. And just like that, his mother fades from his mind, Charles does. There is just endless white and the Queen guiding him to a sled of ice taking him away from a world that won’t ever accept him.

When Charles realizes that Erik is gone, he is desperate to find him. But no matter how far he reaches with his mind, he can’t detect him. Charles is in despair. His best friend is somewhere out there, and he can’t get to him. He can’t help him. Just what is he supposed to do?

In the nights that follow, Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares. Strange visions of a broken mirror dipped in blood. A castle made of ice. And inside it he sees Erik bowing to a woman wearing a crown made of ice. At first, he thinks this is just his mind playing tricks on him, the way it was when he didn’t yet know of his abilities and thought he was going mad.

Until Erik helped him see that he was, in fact, not mad. That the voices inside his head weren’t his own but of those around him.

When Charles passes by a river, thinking back to how they used to bathe in it as children, the images come back to him, like lightning striking in his head. Charles collapses into a wooden boat and blacks out, though the boat, without anyone’s doing sets sail. By the time he awakens, Charles finds himself far away from home in a boat sailing on its own accord.

Before he can sink into despair, he can feel the faintest of brushes of a familiar mind against his. Erik. He is closer to Erik now. He can feel him, however faint, but he can feel him. He isn’t dead. He is out there. And that means there is still hope.

The boat eventually finds its landing place in a faraway place Charles wouldn’t know how to find on a map, if he even had one with him. He wanders through the woods aimlessly until he stumbles upon a house guarded by a blue beast. Though Charles can tell at once that the beast is also a man, is someone like him and Erik.

As it turns out, Hank and Raven have taken refuge in this cottage after an experiment of his gone wrong. He worked on a way to rid himself of the abnormal appearance of his feet, only to amplify the effect and turn into a beast whenever angered or in danger. Raven possesses similar powers, able to change appearance at will. The two have since lost hope in humankind to ever accept them. They have also heard of the Snow Queen who seemingly wants to rally against humans.

Raven offers Charles to stay with them, but he kindly refuses. He has to find Erik, he has to bring him back home. Hank offers to accompany him, but Charles also refuses that offer, because he knows that finding Erik is his responsibility alone.

“But you will always be welcome in my home, as you welcomed me into yours. Together, we may be able to change the face of the world, not today, not tomorrow, but so long we haven’t given up, the chance is still there that the day will come.”

Better equipped for the cold awaiting him further up north thanks to Raven and Hank, Charles continues his quest to the castle made of ice. He lets himself be guided by the fragments of memories the Queen could not take away from Erik even with her second kiss. Because even if she stripped Erik of his memories, he is still there. Charles can still sense his light, and that will guide him to his best friend, no doubt.

But when he reaches the place he can feel Erik’s mind the strongest, he finds nothing but a frozen lake. No castle. Nothing except for ice and snow. Exhausted and discouraged, he collapses onto the ice, calling out to Erik, though he knows he can’t hear him.

Or can he?

When he opens his eyes again, Charles finds himself near a warm hearth inside a small cabin. A grumpy man greets him, putting on more wood for the fire. The man’s name is Logan, and for some strange reason, he seems to know Charles, even though Charles doesn’t know him. Even stranger so, he can’t sense the man’s mind, although he is sitting right next to him.

“That was by your own design.”

“I didn’t ever meet you.”

“Not in this world, but in the world I came from.”

“Another world?”

“You can read minds, and made it all this way to here alive. Don’t act as though this was the strangest thing you’ve heard or seen thus far.”

Logan begins to recall his time “on the other side of the mirror”. The Snow Queen with the aid of the mirror image of Erik, nearly succeeded in destroying all good in their world by completing a mirror that had burst into a billion pieces.

“The devil’s work if you asked me. But no one knows who’s made the mirror. I just know what it did to my friends. It made them angry, sad, cold. Until they saw no good in the world anymore and fell into despair. A world without hope… is really without hope. You were right about that all along.”

In a last effort to save their world, Charles with the aid of his pupils and Logan set out to fight the Snow Queen, a woman with special abilities much like Charles’s. But with Erik’s aid of completing the frame to hold the mirror in its place, their efforts were near in vain.

“I watched my friends turn to snow. I watched them fade away. Kitty and you came up with a way for me to cross the threshold to the other world, this world here. I heal fast. I don’t get killed… so I took a shard of the mirror with me.”

He shows a scar on his abdomen. “The Snow Queen wants to complete the mirror in this world because she can’t complete it in the other. Because I have the last piece. You managed to hide me from her eyes. Only if I were to face her would she recognize me.”

“But she can complete the mirror in this world, if Erik sets the frame.”

“Yes, because the other me, the one belonging to this world… he is asleep, if you will, out of reach. And even if not, the moment I faced her and tried to break the mirror like I did last time… it would mean the end of all good in this world. I no longer have the claws to cut it. I had to leave those, too.”

“So there is no hope?”

“There is always hope. At least so long you don’t give up. If unleash your mind, if you let your abilities out, which I know you’ve learned to keep in check over the years, you will possess a power even greater than hers. You are the only hope we’ve got left. So you better make this work, or else I will be very angry with you.”

“But I can’t even find the castle.”

“Because you’ve only looked at it from one side.”

It is then that Charles understands what he has to do. He goes back to the frozen lake and cuts a hole into the ice. He dives into the dark waters below, and once again lets himself be guided by the faint light at the end of it, Erik.

When he lifts his head above the water again, he finds himself in the Snow Queen’s castle. Charles knows now that he has to do whatever it takes not just to save Erik, but everyone else who dares to put hope in him. Even if that means going to the edge of the world and further still. But will he succeed? Or will eternal winter be the end of all hope?

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

Author’s Note: Here’s my little Christmas gift to a fandom that is also very much a gift. Happy holidays and much love!

#cherik #charles x erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #moodboard #aesthetic #cherik moodboard #cherik aesthetic #fanfic #in smol #merry christmas #happy holidays

52 notes · View notes

assassinshadow17 · 4 years ago

Text

Time for a review of the 100th AHW episode. And I will say.... it was amazing! the story and direction were fantastic and overall a great episode, felt like we were back in Season 3 or even Season 4!(Notable as the best seasons)

SPOILERS, Watch the episode if you haven’t already, or if you don’t care then read on ig.

So first off, I liked the mother-daughter/generations of women being passed down to somewhat “terrible” or “discouraging” mothers. But I believe Kathryn and Katie had good intentions, to try to keep the passed down child from being hurt. As seen with Katie trying to steer Anna-Kat from cheerleading because she could have been made fun of by those girls(only cause they are self-centered and only care about being popular, not Anna-Kat’s fault) I loved Gieselle’s performance this episode, she really locked in her “Anna-Kat” for me and would love to see what she has to offer beyond this 5th season. However the step-mom was the real b**** and she shouldn’t be calling any shots or saying for people “Get over it” A real piece of work she is. At least Kathryn and Katie evaluated their mistakes and made Anna-Kat see that she should blossom and try what she wants to do!

Second off, the upcoming break-up of Trip and Taylor is incoming.... I’m actually really sad about this and I thought we were passed this back in the 5th episode of this season, but apparently they want Taylor to grow out of Trip, or at least move on from him as she’s going through college. I mean I suppose its something that always happens, High School relationships don’t tend to stick, but its really the memories of Trip and how caring he was of the Ottos + Franklin and Cooper. Loved his scenes with Anna-Kat, love his scenes with Oliver and Cooper, especially the family photo episode. Possibly the best episode of the series IMO. So wholesome and showed how lighthearted the show and family truly were. But also its really hard to see others move on, and its life but it freaking sucks and I feel like this will be the sad/disappointment of the season, Cooper and Oliver will be fine, but Taylor and Trip are coming to an end it seems. All the parallels, all the interactions between the two couples.... the promise in Trip returning in the family pic in ten years, would it even happen anymore? I also love his bond between Cooper, they are such supportive and amazing boyfriends to Oliver and Taylor. Their interactions though are so wholesome and are best buds for sure!(Especially since they are the worst hiders in the world LOL, also Cooper being the worst liar but that’s okay lol, if you get the episode reference.) Its too sad and I’m rambling, but I’ll miss Trip. I blame TA lmao, he can leave for all I care. But no I suppose this is for Taylor’s growth(Even if I hate it so much)

Franklin was funny, he really gets in your head lmao. Calling Cooper a dog though I- But he did get it in Cooper’s head that he needed to have his own dreams so that’s cool. Good job Franky!(but not good job in making them fight smh)

Now for Cooper and Oliver....

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OLIVER SAID IT “WE ARE COOLIVER DAMN IT” YES ADMIT YOU ARE BOYFRIENDS AND SAY IT PROUD! To backtrack as well, Cooper opening the scene with his cooking is muy bueno! His food always looks good like wtf?! But anyways, funny scenes with believing everything that the attack ad from Principle Albulin said lol(politics in a nutshell) Like I said before, Cooper finally started to find his dreams. I personally didn’t mind him not having anything yet, and just wanted to be with Oliver. But I’m so glad that they took this opportunity to chase that plotline, Cooper being a chef and enjoying it now, I’m glad he has his own goals. So moving on, Trevor was still an ass but what else is new? I did like how Cooper defended himself though, pretty badass not to take his crap anymore. Cooliver fighting as well, not a conversation we like to hear, especially since it was pretty serious. We knew they would figure it out, but it still hurts-I did like how Oliver got his attitude in order and realized that Cooper isn’t just going to have his dreams, Cooper wanted his dreams too. “No that’s YOUR goal/dream” A time where he got really serious and considered his future. Trevor saying that they were breaking up- Please Trevor, they would never, they always get like this. But yes they said some things.... But now moving on. Oliver did do the right thing and thought of Cooper, that chef apron was so loving and wholesome of him! “Your boy got it right” Stop Oliver, DON’T MAKE ME CRY- However to sum up Cooliver, it was some realization for them and realizing they don’t have to have the same goals to remain boyfriends. They can steer different directions and always end on the same street!(good overall IRL message too, no need to do everything together) They will always be together, even if they don’t spend every second together.

Cute ending scene between Cooliver too. I forgot the dialogue already but lol it was cute. Taylor is wanting Andre/TA, so yeah.... it was an amazing ride we had Trip, but..... (I’m going to go cry BRB!)

So Katie breaking the 4th wall was neat haha, here’s to 100 episodes AHW fandom, Cooliver fandom, every casual viewer! And hopefully many more episode to see and laugh, cry with. To enjoy. This fanbase is incredible, the cast is amazing, the crew gives their very best. To only great things for everyone and its audience, love you all!

Rating for Episode - 9.5/10. Flawless direction and plotline, just didn’t like Taylor and Trip’s trajectory, but that’s subjective ig(although we all hate it lbr)

26 notes · View notes

southsidestory · 5 years ago

Text

I generally try to stay out of discourse, but I have to chime in on this one.

@birkastan2018 is getting dragged for suggesting the most preposterous thing: that more readers should comment instead of being silent consumers. The fact that this is actually controversial is blowing my mind.

I’ve been writing fic for many years, but only posting regularly since about 2014. I jumped into Naruto fandom just a few months before the manga ended with a (then) canon-compliant longfic. In Times of Peace got WAY more feedback than I ever expected it to, and I was absolutely thrilled.

Because you see, in 2011 I posted a SasuSaku drabble, my first ever fic posted to fanfiction.net! I was so excited to share it… and it got one review. ONE. Now, I realize a 600 word drabble isn’t exactly gonna attract a lot of traffic, and I knew that then too, but it was still horribly discouraging. I figured my writing style must not be a very good fit for the fandom, that no one wanted to read it. I gave up, and went back to working on original projects. I want to be clear, I didn’t stop writing because of my one-review story. I kept writing, both on fanfic and original work, but I stopped posting.

Eventually I came back, obviously, and the success of ITOP bolstered my confidence. Not everyone was leaving me novel-length, glowing reviews. Many were very short, just a simple “thanks!” or “this was good” and let me tell you, that was so, so much better than nothing. Some were also negative or even cruel, which sucked, but the good comments made up for those. If the first few chapters of ITOP hadn’t gotten at least some response, I might not have finished the story. And if I hadn’t finished ITOP, I probably wouldn’t have continued writing Naruto fic. Well, I would have written it, because when I have a story to tell there’s no stopping me, but I wouldn’t have shared it. (The number of WIPs sitting on my Google Drive gathering dust, unposted, even today, is ridiculous.)

Now, on to the point.

I used to think that asking for feedback made me look desperate. That wanting it made me weak. Because there’s this narrative surrounding writing that says, “You should write for yourself. Writing for others is disingenuous, and it means you’re not dedicated to your craft for the sake of your craft, which is the only reason you should write.” I used to believe that, and to some degree there’s value in that sentiment. If you write purely for feedback, then you might stop when you don’t get it, and that’s horrible, because anyone who wants to write should write.

But mostly, that narrative is bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Writing and reading don’t exist in separate spheres. They’re part of a conversation, and when no one gives you feedback, it’s like the author is talking to a wall. Storytelling by its very nature is a communal activity. My strong, sincere belief in this is also why I’m a huge proponent of Death of the Author. What I think my story means isn’t any more important than what my readers think it means. Neither is the One True Meaning. Because stories are multi-faceted, and part of what gives them value is the conversations we have around them.

This is something I especially love about fanfiction. Transformative works build on one another, and fanfic writers learn together, write together, give each other prompts, beta for each other, comment on each other’s work, etc. There are so many stories I never would have told without engaging in fandom, especially with other writers. And isn’t that the whole point of fanfiction? To take a known story and create something new, to jump into the middle of a fictional conversation and say what comes next?

Stories are communicative. We share them, and we talk about them, and the things writers hear from our readers help shape the stories we tell next.

Something a lot of writers feel but don’t often talk about is how lonely a process this is. Yes, I love writing for its own sake. Putting together words and taking them apart, losing myself in my stories. It’s fun, it’s difficult, it’s challenging, it’s thrilling. But it’s also very, very isolating when you have no one to share your stories with. Or worse, you share them only to be met with silence.

I don’t expect all readers to comment on every single fic they click on. I read a lot of fanfic, and I certainly don’t do that. But when something truly moves me, I tell the writer why. When something is just a lot of fun and it brightened my day, I usually tell the writer that too. Some days I don’t have the energy for it, but I try. And let me tell you, the hits to comments ratio on my fics paints a very obvious picture: the vast majority of people are not trying. Hell, even the hits to kudos ratio on Ao3 shows that, and kudos take one second and zero effort to leave.

Fanfiction writers aren’t getting paid for this. We put our blood, sweat, tears, and time into writing for a mostly silent audience. Those of you who do speak up matter more than I can possibly express.

The main reason I’ve returned to writing The Valley of the End after such a long hiatus, apart from just wanting to finish it, is because of the outflow of support it has received over the years. Even without new chapters being posted, people kept leaving me encouraging reviews. It made me feel like TVOTE was a story worth telling, worth hanging onto. When I finally felt the urge to dive back into Naruto fandom, that fic was the first thing I revisited, in part because I knew it was the one people were waiting for.

And you know whose kind, thoughtful feedback on my Naruto fics made me really miss writing SasuSaku? You guessed it: birkastan2018. I likely wouldn’t be back if not for her.

So if you read a fic, and you enjoyed it, and you have thirty seconds to type “Thanks for sharing this story, I really liked it!” please do so. It means more to most writers than we can say. And who knows, your little comment might be the thing that makes a difference in an author leaving and staying in a fandom.

#fanfiction #transformative works #fandom #sasusaku #sasusaku fandom #naruto fandom #fandom discourse

189 notes · View notes

kilyra · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Kily, I know your fics always get a certain amount of notes (bc they're actually good ofc) do you have an advice for me what to do when you get like no notes at all on a fic bc no one seems to read or like it? Thank you in advance.

First off, thank you for your kind words, I really appreciate it. And second, this is going to be a bit lengthy, so be prepared!

I think I lucked out early on - right fandom right time (Marvel Netflix gang at a real high point of the shows). And having a fic ready to go when one of the shows released a new season really helped to get noticed. I also wrote for some of the characters that had smaller followings here so I ended up getting the attention of people who were really excited to see content that was kind of hard to come by. Which translated into lovely people who were happy to engage with me so we could geek the heck out together.

The second thing I noticed is engagement was at its highest when my content output was it its highest. I don’t know what the algorithm are or how it might have added into it, but when I was putting out fics 1-3 times a week, I think I showed up on searches more? Plus, it was obvious how active I was on here, so maybe that was part of it - it’s more fun to interact with someone that’s around?

To be honest, I’m shocked that people are still along for the ride and leaving comments on my stories these days. My content output is next to nil and I can’t even get my crap together enough to finish some of my favourite arcs (Side note, I do intend, but don’t know when, to write more Eric Northman, finish my Helena B arc, and hopefully next week finish my Cobra Kai one too!). So because I haven’t been as on top of this as I was when I first started, I’m especially grateful.

So all that being said, I suspect traffic on your page is the issue - it’s hard to stand out and be noticed sometimes and I hear it’s been a problem across the board right now. But still, I suggest more engagement - post more stories and make sure they’re thoroughly tagged. If not stories, at least posts relevant to your fandoms, and reblogging other writers or content (with a fun comment so you guys can go back and forth) is great too. I have met some wonderful people here and us chatting on each others posts I think helped both of us be noticed by more people. On that same thought, participate in writer events put on by fellow writers here as it might help be seen by a new audience.

Other than those suggestions, my advice is that you write fics for yourself. When I put out the Johnny Lawrence one, I actually logged off a couple days after because I didn’t want to get caught up or disappointed in how much it was or wasn’t getting noticed. I had already started writing the second fic so I didn’t want to be discouraged if it didn’t go over well. I know, it’s not great advice though because yes, we all know we are writing these for ourselves, but being noticed gives us the oomph to do more. At it’s core though, we all have to remember this point. If we aren’t writing these for ourselves, we won’t keep going for long.

It’s hard because you can do all the “right” things and still not make much headway. I know some of my favourite stories went totally under the radar. But hopefully I rambled out something of use here. Sending all my love though, please don’t be discouraged! Have fun, write what you love, and jump into the community to have more fun. Things have a way of coming together 💗

#kily asks

26 notes · View notes

spaceorphan18 · 4 years ago

Text

Author Spotlight: Kuhlaine Day 3

Author: @kuhlaine

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

It depends! My first draft is always just a rough 'get the words on the page' type of draft. If it's un-beta'd, I'll transfer the rough draft to a new document and do a fresh pass through the following day to fine tune, then work on formatting and do one last pass through for spelling errors after giving myself a break from looking at the material. If it's a beta'd project, I'll go through and start adding my comments/concerns and shoot them off to my beta. Once we've worked through all of theirs and my comments I do one last pass through for any last minute changes and I'm good to post!

tldr: two and a half-ish drafts for un-beta'd works, closer to four drafts for beta'd projects!

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

I'd revise Cross the Line, which was the first fic I ever posted! I took a 9 month hiatus before posting the last chapter (which I'm so, SO sorry about, I promise I won't do it again), and I always worried that it felt like there was a distinct shift in the tone of the story once I posted that final chapter months later. I'd want to do a proper outline for that fic and draw out the last few chapters a little more. I had originally wanted things to go down slightly differently, but I felt like it was too late to scrap that draft when I was already months behind posting my latest chapter.

What do you look for in a beta?

I've been working with my beta, Adri, for my past two multi-chapter fics and my next WIP, and honestly I'd say I'd look for someone like her, as shameless as that is to say! She's amazing - none of my work would be what it is without her guidance and influence on the writing process.

Usually, my greatest concern with my work is that the logic is always sound. Sometimes things that make sense to me don't make sense to someone else - likewise, I created these characters, and I control their thoughts and actions. Sometimes I may know why they chose to act a certain way, but the reader might not - so having someone who's able to call things like that out, for clarity and context, is SUPER helpful! A great memory is also amazing because I have a bad habit of forgetting some of the more minute details in my fics (and also forgetting that Adam exists).

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Oh gosh, that's so tough... I feel like most of my favorite fics end in really wonderfully fitting ways. I think it'd be fun to take a crack at a Little Numbers sequel - the fic is absolutely astounding on its own, so this would just be a shameless chance to get to try out writing in that very unique format.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I definitely take liberties! I like to weave in nods to canon throughout my fics just for fun, and because they make for intriguing plots when put into a new setting/context, but I'm really not one for canon compliance - since I'm not a huge fan of some of the details in canon.

Talk about a review that made your day.

Lots of reviews make my day! I'm very easy to please, honestly. If you say you like it, it makes my heart swell.

One review that particularly stuck with me was someone who said it had been years since they'd read a newer fic, and had taken a chance on one of my fics. When I first rejoined the fandom I was definitely hesitant to read newer works, and wanted to stick with the classic fics that I knew and loved at first - knowing that someone took a chance on me as an author who was very late, and very new, to the fandom really meant a lot to me!

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Not really! This is a wonderfully supportive community and I've never gotten anything but kind and lovely comments.

I'd like to think that if I got a negative review I'd leave it be and forget about it - but realistically I'd probably obsess about it for a long time, forget about it for years, then it'll come back to me in the middle of the night years later.

As for critique/constructive feedback - I welcome it! My writing is critiqued/workshopped pretty much every day at work, so it's something I'm always very open and welcome to hearing!

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Don't be discouraged if the kudos/comments are slow to start! When I first started posting fic, it took me quite a bit to start getting kudos/comments, but I kept going because I had this thing I really wanted to write, and figured I might as well share it regardless of whether anyone was reading, because I knew I was going to write it either way. I posted (somewhat) consistently, and eventually readers started to come along!

And write what YOU want to write! Don't write something that you're not passionate/excited about or that you feel like you /have/ to write, it'll just make the writing process unnecessarily difficult for you.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?

I'll talk about The Sidhe to anyone who will listen - it's one of my favorite fics of all time.

As for my own fic, I don't talk about many of them very often to others! I'm generally very vague when talking about my non-work-related writing to my friends. Though, I'm adapting Even Then, Especially Now into an original work, so that's the only project I've talked about a little more explicitly with them.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Creating worlds! I don't write fantasy or sci-fi, but I think you still do a great deal of world building with any story - you're creating characters and friend groups and social constructs and settings. I love those first few chapters when you're really setting the scene, introducing your cast of characters and what their world is like and how they operate.

I also LOVE finally getting to the climatic point in a story and just writing my heart out! It's the moment I've been waiting for as a writer, and usually the moment the reader will have been waiting for, and it's so exciting to do all this building and just dive right in to this insane, emotional, rollercoaster of a moment.

***

Check out Kuhlaine’s Fics

The First of Many - Kurt Hummel is overworked, exhausted, and desperately needs a drink. Or two. Blaine Anderson is underpaid, heartbroken, and dreading the thought of heading home for the holidays. When the two meet at neighboring bachelor/ette parties in Las Vegas, they wake up with more than just hangovers - a sky high room service bill, and a pair of wedding rings.

My Personal Hell - Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson have never been able to get along, much less stand to be in the same room alone for more than 10 minutes. When their petty rivalry causes them to miss their bus back home to Lima after a glee club competition in Middle of Nowhere, Illinois, they'll have to do more than just spend 10 minutes alone together.

You've Got Kudos! - In which Blaine gets tipsy and posts fanfiction about himself and Kurt on Archive of Our Own.

#author spotlight: kuhlaine

5 notes · View notes

op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

sweeter than dreams (nsfw) | MLQC Lucien

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Lucien/Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3400

Summary: On your way back home from the winery, your impromptu nap is interrupted by an inappropriate dream involving your boyfriend (and current pillow). The man in question reacts in a way you don’t expect.

Warnings: explicit nsfw content/sex, (public) vaginal fingering, Lucien’s teasing, semi-public sex, oral sex

a/n: It’s Lucien’s birthday month!! and my thirst for him as at an all-time high. This is an alternate version of the winery date, where they’re already dating.

Your eyelids flutter open to warm light on your skin. Your head is burrowed into a firm pillow, your breath heavy and heart-pounding from where your sleep lead you.

A dream crafted solely to torment you, with violet eyes and a wicked tongue. Not the first, and most definitely not the last. You freeze as you realise you’ve been squirming on an uncomfortable seat, pressing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to relieve the ache brought on by your own mind, and some fantastic wine.

The pillow under your head moves then, a familiar silhouette providing shade when you squint up at it. As your awareness creeps back in, you realise that a jacket is draped over your form, shielding your bare thighs from the air-conditioning in the moving bus.

“You seem to have had a restless nap,” comes a low, modulated voice that is an eerie echo of the one you just woke up from. A tilt of your head shows Lucien staring back at you, mouth tugged up in a strange smile. Your heart restarts its stumbling song at seeing the very face you had just been pressing fervent kisses to in a damning dream. “Had a bad dream?”

At his words, the sound that comes out of your mouth resembles a panicked croak, and Lucien’s mouth purses in what you think is a kind attempt to suppress a laugh. Your face warms at the thought of telling him, of him knowing of the truly depraved things your mind is capable of conjuring.

“Not-not a bad one per se,” you say, wincing at the rough note brought with sleep. “Just...unexpected.” And with unfortunate timing, as you’re on a public bus and not in bed where you could’ve easily slipped a couple fingers into your underwear to take care of your throbbing sex – it wouldn't be the first time. “It was probably the alcohol.”

“Hmm.” He studies you intently, looking for something in your face that you dearly hope he doesn’t find; you try your best to look like someone who didn’t just have a wet dream about him. “Alright. We should be home in another twenty minutes.”

Damn.

“Oh, okay.” You stay still, cuddled up to his side, wondering if you did anything to indicate what you were dreaming of while you were out. You seem to be in safe waters, not sensing anything from him. Perhaps Lucien had also drifted off? You can only hope there wasn’t anything for him to notice. You throw your thoughts toward anything other than his warmth, the subtle tones of his cologne, the way he smiles at you.

“And now that you’re awake, I’ve been meaning to ask – would you like to switch seats?" he asks sheepishly. "We did agree to take turns.” You agree easily, eager to have the chance to stare at something other than his hands and the old lady in the seat across the aisle, who seems to have dozed off as well. Just to avoid more contact that wouldn't help your situation, you get out of your seat – tugging at the hem of your skirt self-consciously –and let him step out before sliding in, settling into the window seat with no small amount of relief.

You keep his jacket on your legs, not quite ready to leave the sense of safety it gives you and half-worried that there’s a smell because you know you’re not imagining the damp cloth pressing against you.

You’re also not imagining the hand that has crept under the cloth to rest on your thigh. More concerning is the way your body reacts to it instantly; breathing hitching in your throat, walls clenching around nothing, the absolute need that rushes through. Just a little higher, and it’ll be where you need it. With how worked up you are, it wouldn’t take long if he works you as fast as you know he can. There aren’t too many people on the bus, and you’re sitting towards the back anyway. Your thoughts whirl around your mind as you try to think of what you could do to give him a hint. Should you just tell him? He wouldn’t leave you wanting. The physical aspect of your relationship is quite new, but Lucien has been really good to you.

And then the old lady coughs loudly, breaking you out of the hold of your desire. You’re on the bus. You can’t ask your boyfriend to finger you in public. What would he think?

Lucien’s thumb traces soft patterns on your skin, almost absentmindedly, and you bite back a sigh at understanding that he probably means to provide comfort, not pleasure. You feel a bit embarrassed at how you let your baser instincts overwhelm you.

Leaning into him with a small, fond smile, you turn to look out the window at the tall trees that pass by, marvelling once more at the beauty of the maple leaves; as the sun begins its slow dip below the horizon, it paints the sky in bold strokes of red and gold. The image it creates arrests you long enough that you almost don’t notice the way Lucien’s hand has caressed its way to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, the back of his hand meeting your other thigh in a snug greeting.

As you sit there with his hand very solidly between your thighs, suspicion is slow to dawn. Is he just trying to warm it or–

Cool lips press against your ear. “I almost didn’t hear you moaning in your sleep, it was so soft...but when I did?” His teeth close around the shell of your ear in a playful nibble, and a gasp tears it’s way out your throat. “Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself?” The sensual tones of his voice wash over you in tandem with his fingers pinching your skin harshly.

“Lu-Lucien!” you say, voice hushed and eyes wide. You look around in a panic, but the other passengers aren’t paying attention to the cosy couple at the back of the bus.

“I had to sit there, feeling so left out, listening to you whisper my name so needily, left to only imagine what could possibly be driving you to react that way. My fingers? Or my cock?” he breathes, a light chuckle leaving him as you tense and look up at him pleadingly when his hand moves higher. He returns your look steadily, completely calm but for the perfervid look in his eyes. “Don’t be shy. Let me see.” Long fingers press against your slit, rubbing it lightly through the thin cloth. “Oh? You’re wetter than I thought.”

Your mouth parts when he rubs your clit, the firm pressure making you nearly jump out of your seat. He pauses at once, removing his hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, tucking you in to his chest as he turns to face you more. Before you can voice your protests or slump over in relief, his left hand has already replaced his right in its position at your entrance, rubbing and coaxing and tormenting.

“Someone will see,” you whisper, teeth clenching when he just laughs in response. Desire throbs unwaveringly through you, and you hurry to make sure the jacket stays in place. “Lucien!”

“Are you going to stop me?” he asks, mocking and knowing, fingers dipping into covered puffing lips. Your hands curl around the edge of your seat, struggling with indecision. You both know one word from you will be enough for him to stop but...you can’t bring yourself to say it. It feels good. It feels really good. The fear of someone seeing is still present, but it’s a thrilling sort of apprehension. His jacket is shield enough, and the way he’s curling around you is intimate enough to discourage most people from looking too closely.

The calm you talked yourself into feeling is cracked when a dexterous finger gets past the cloth to push into you with long, slow strokes. He stops when he’s knuckle deep in you, feeling the way your falls flutter and squeeze and pull at the digit with visible delight. Your hips cant up, trying to get him to move his hand, but he just kisses you on the cheek, soft and cruel.

“You’re terrible,” you whimper into his chest as you lean your forehead against it in resignation. The arm curled around you tightens briefly, fingers tangling into your messy hair.

“And you shouldn’t have teased me,” he replies blithely. His finger begins a lazy massage within your slick flesh, sending smooth waves of pleasure coursing through you that keep you close to the edge but not giving you enough. “What exactly is a man to do when the woman he loves begs for him in her sleep? I was this close to pulling you over my lap.”

You can’t believe you’d thought him innocuous. A fool’s mistake. Your boyfriend loves his traps, and you do enjoy playing the role of prey; you glare at him in outrage, breath stuttering on a low moan. “I was asleep-“

“Speaking of which,” he cuts in smoothly, ignoring your grumbling. “What exactly were you dreaming of?”

Your thighs close in around his wrist as he slips another finger into you. The rhythm of his hand quickens, your fingers clenching around his sweater as you try to remain steady. You can’t bring yourself to reply, a mortified blush blooming across your face at the very thought.

“___,” he warns, tugging on your hair lightly. It's enough to let you know he will get it out of you one way or another. “Tell me. Please?”

“You-we were outside my apartment, I think,” you stammer, your skin warming all over, the flush deeper on your cheeks. His fingers slow down deep within you, palm brushing against your swollen nub. Your eyes squeeze shut at the contact. “I’m not sure why. And...we were kissing.”

“Go on.”

“...That’s all.” You brace yourself.

He pinches your clit roughly and you keen, hastily burying your face in his sweater to muffle the noise. You don’t want to look up and see if anyone heard that. “That’s most definitely not all. Go on.”

“And then...I turned to open the door you pu-pushed me against the door...and lifted my skirt.” You nearly cry out as he strokes you harder, fingers curling to rub against a sensitive spot. “Your mouth was...on me.”

“And then?” his voice is huskier, breath heavy against the side of your face. You swallow your smirk and lift your head, brushing your lips against his. His eyes have darkened, his gaze burning with anticipation.

“And then you fucked me,” you whisper against his mouth.

It feels as if your confession has frozen time itself. Everything around you falls away as you watch each other, breath mingling, the tip of your nose brushing his. You slide a hand onto his crotch, satisfaction clenching your insides at the bulge you find there, at how he stiffens against your touch, at the way his eyes flash with barely restrained desire.

“Right there? Against your door?” he asks quietly, lips curving wickedly. Your fingers trail a curious path over his erection, encouraged by the slight hitch in his breath. You would've missed it if your faces hadn't been so close.

“Mhm.” The quirk of your lips fades as his fingers slip out of you, and you watch in slight dismay and with a lot of hunger as he leans back and pops them in his mouth, eyes glinting with satisfaction. And then he’s lifting his arm off your shoulders, lacing his fingers through the ones trying to tease him, stopping that game right there.

“Well, our stop is almost here,” he announces, looking past you and out the window. You watch him with pursed lips, trying not to wilt with disappointment. And he tried to give you crap for something you can’t even control, only to do this.

“Right.”

As the bus slows to a stop near your building, you both rise to your feet and move towards the door. Before you can exit, Lucien drapes his jacket over your shoulders instead of putting it back on.

“It’s a bit chilly outside,” he tells you cheerfully, and you fight down the urge to stomp on his foot. The short walk to your apartment is filled with silence on your part, and oblivious remarks on his. You make a mental appointment with your vibrator, because the urge to do something violent to Lucien is still very much present, stoked by his apparent indifference to your state of being.

As you both step out of the elevator, Lucien walks you to your door. You would think he’s oblivious to what’s on your mind, but you know better now. You’re starting to doubt he’s even capable of missing things happening inside you.

Mind made up, you stop him with hands bracing against his chest. You lift up on your toes, palms curling around the back of his neck to pull him down to you; he’s already smiling as you press your lips to his, slipping your tongue into his mouth and moaning at the taste of him, at the way his tongue intertwines with yours and licks into you. Your hands traverse the length of his torso greedily, lingering on the firm planes of his abdomen as his arms wind around you, crushing you to him. You want and want and want.

You pull away panting, the feeling of his erection pressing into you setting off another hoard of butterflies. You feel lightheaded with desire, feeling as if you could wrap your leg around him and grind yourself to completion out here in the hall.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, eyes glossed over as you step away from him. Your fingers dig into your purse blindly, looking for your keys.

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so,” he says distractedly, much to your surprise. You turn around to hide the disappointment you know is clear on your face, mingling with disbelief. The way he just kissed you wasn’t chaste by any stretch of the imagination. Is he really going to tease you and just – go to bed? That’s cruel.

“Al...right, then. I have an early – morning!” Your sentence ends in a yelp as you’re pushed up against your door, your purse falling from your hands and Lucien’s body pressing into you from behind. “Lucien!”

He kisses up the slope of your neck hotly, ending at the base of your ear, where he bites into tender skin. His arm wraps around you, tugging your shirt out of the waistband of your skirt, slipping his jacket off of you and throwing it to the floor. His hand creeps under your blouse, palming your soft breast while the other slips up your skirt, pinching your slit; stuck between his body and the cold wood, you can only writhe in response to his rough handling.

“Isn’t this how it went?” He tugs at a taut nipple in emphasis, kissing along your jaw. "We don't need to go in."

“Ah, but – the security camera!” you moan, deeply aware of the ever-present security device in the lobby, and of the irresistible way he’s pressing into you, his dick hard against your rear.

“Do you trust me?“

“Yes.” You angle your head in a way that lets you meet his fervid kiss, lifting your hand to brush his bangs back and deepen the meeting of your lips. His intensity frightens you on some level, unconcealed and bright in this moment, ready to set you alight with its force.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“...please don’t stop.” Even more frightening is your own devotion, the pure want, the willingness to let him fuck you outside your apartment with no shame and only eagerness.

He guides you into pressing your palms against the door, back arched and ass presented to him to caress and knead. He tugs your panties down your ass, following along the same path to go down on his knees. He helps you step out of them, stuffing them into his back pocket before he turns his focus to you. He tucks the hem of your skirt into the waistband and parts the round globes of your ass, revealing your slick sex to his ravenous eyes as he squeezes a handful of flesh, pressing reverent kisses across whatever parts his hands don't cover.

“I’m a selfish man, ___.” The first flick of his tongue against your clit has your eyes fluttering, mouth parting on a curse. “I don’t like sharing you, not even with dreams. Not if I’m not there with you.”

Your laugh dies in your lungs when he tongues you swiftly, relentlessly and with precision, hands holding you in place as you moan and cry instead, forehead falling to your door with a thump. Your pleasure builds up in an earth-shaking wave and is held there as he rises to his feet swiftly, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants hastily.

“My gorgeous girl,” he purrs. The tip of his cock slides against the plump flesh of your rear, leaving wet streaks on your skin as he strokes it to the visual of you spread and ready for his taking. “Did you really think I would leave you like that?”

“Ah – I thought you didn’t want to.”

“Oh darling,” he croons, feigning hurt. His hand comes down on your ass in a light, chiding slap. “I always want you. And to help make your dreams come true. Especially ones so...improper.”

“Lucien,” you moan as he slides into you, thrusting shallowly as he stretches you out, warm palms heavy on your hips. “So good. You feel so good.” He snaps his hips into yours, skin slapping against yours, the sound lewd in the silence of the building. He angles it just right, taking a moment to still deep within you and begin a slow, hard grind as his hand wraps around the front of your throat firmly. Your shoulders slacken as he squeezes lightly, your desire throbbing and wound tightly deep within you.

“There we go. Good girl,” he praises you as you push back into him, prompting him to transition into sliding his cock out and back in, in hard thrusts, pulling you by the hips back into him with each one. He moves as if he’s mad with desire, drilling into you as you let out a wail of his name and other things you can’t quite comprehend at the moment. “You want me to fill you up, darling? Is that what you wanted? Oh, my filthy girl.” You reach down to your clit desperately, rubbing it in tight, furious circles. Your eyes roll back into your head as the high wave finally crashes and snaps, your walls clamping down around him, sheathlike and unyielding.

“Please, please, please – come in me, come in me!” You’re overcome by the hunger for it, for wanting to feel him come within you, for leaving his mark in you.

He lets out a throaty groan as your velvet heat drags him into unravelling, throbbing, filling you up in unsteady thrusts. In this moment, Lucien is nearly incoherent in the way words of adoration leave his lips. It's just you and him. You both stay there for a moment, breathless and sweaty, with you struggling to stay upright on your trembling knees and him hissing as he tucks himself back into his pants.

Who needs dreams when you’ve got a man like him?

Lucien helps you straighten, pulling you into an embrace to nuzzle your cheek, his arms wrapped around you to keep you from sinking down like you're sure you will. You tilt your head back and catch him in a languid kiss, content to rest your head on his shoulder, lazy with a kind of tranquillity only his arms can bring.

"God, I love you." The sudden force of it nearly leaves you incapable of further speech. The words are simple, like the cloak pockets of a magician hiding unknown depths. You hold back a giggle at the way his cheeks, already flushed, darken at your words. His eyes, though – you don't miss the blend of love and possessiveness in them, the triumph in his smile at quenching your thirst, the way he sticks close like he can’t bear to put any distance between you both. You wonder if it rivals your own desire to never let go, to spend every moment with him: learning, healing and loving. Playing games that leave you flustered. Blushing when he teases you, watching him try to keep a tight rein on his mask and fail when you bare your heart.

Your eyes close against soft lips on your forehead.

“Now we can go in.”

#mlqc lucien #mlqc smut #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc xu mo

394 notes · View notes

ariainstars · 4 years ago

Text

Sorry, But I Don’t Support Minorities (Any More)

For a start: I will not use inclusive language in this text. (I usually don’t, only in this case I want to make sure it’s known from the start.)

Secondly, if you identify as trans or non-binary and / or are a huge Harry Potter fan, I am warning you: don’t read this.

If you do want to hear me out, be respectful in your comments or hold them back altogether. I won’t tolerate bullying merely because I am expressing my own opinion. Though the topic touches a sore spot in me, too, I will be as objective as I can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am not and never was a fan of J.K. Rowling and her works. I found the Harry Potter hype strongly exaggerated, the books mildly unoriginal and biased, the films ok until they became so overloaded with derivation from other sources (dragons, elves, magic wands, brooms, unicorns, centaurs, phoenixes, basilisks, flying horses - stories like Star Trek or Star Wars at least have their own world-building) and later so dark that they were no fun anymore. In my opinion an average writer was lucky because she tapped into a trend and was at the right place and right time with her stories. I daresay years from now many fans will wonder why they liked these stories so much and realize that they just jumped on a train, having been too young and naïve to question it.

I don’t own any of Rowling’s books or DVDs or merchandise and I never have been part of the fandom. So, I come from a different corner when I say that I have my own attitude about the current shitstorm regarding J.K. Rowling now being coded as “transphobic”. This is due to personal reasons of my own.

1. The Discussion Can Add Confusion

Rowling stated that in her youth she had problems with her own identity due to her father having wanted her to be a boy. I can understand that because I went through a long period in my late teens and early twens where I had difficulties identifying with the sex I was born with. At times I also felt physically attracted to females. In my case, it turned out to merely be a phase: I am an average cis woman. I can understand that for some people, such doubts may turn out to be more than a phase. But I know what Rowling refers to because I have been there. And I am grateful that there was no gender discussion when I was young because it would have confused me even more than I actually was, and I already had more than enough other problems. I was and I am a “common” woman, but there was a time in my life when I did not like it very much. That time was bad enough, combined as it was with other aspects in my life I had to come to terms with, which at times almost drove me to despair to the point where I contemplated suicide. So, I am glad that in my time being gay / straight / trans / cis / non-binary or other was not such an issue, at least not where I grew up. With my confusion and disorientation, well-meaning people might have taken the opportunity to encourage me to “embrace my lesbianism / trans identity”, when in truth I am neither. I was discouraged, from many sides, to liking myself, and that self-loathing took many forms.

I am extremely cautious when it comes to gender identification because I know that finding one’s way in life under difficult circumstances can take years and years and end in a very different place from where it started, well beyond adolescence. In my case, for a long time I thought I was “not really female” because I love my independence and never wished for children: this is not due to some masculine trait inside of me but to my growing up with a disturbed mother who strongly invaded my life and mind and did everything that was in her power to trap me. I suspected that something was wrong with her since my early teens, but I found out the truth only about twenty years later. I had to accept her the way she is and put distance between us.

Then there were my peers: where and when I grew up it was trendy to be (or appear) as tomboyish and easy-going as possible because this was seen as a sign of a “strong, modern, emancipated female”: fie on you if you wore your hair a little longer, liked clothes or only had to much as a flower-pattern on your notebook. Again: I simply had to get away. For many years I had been led to believe that my too “female” or “masculine” traits were a problem, when the actual problem was not mine. And if this happened to me, I daresay there may be many others in similar situations; which is something that who supports and encourages trans people usually does not consider. People who are confused about their sexuality without actually being trans need understanding as well.

2. What About Us?

As a native Italian, I cringe when I only think e.g. of Lady and the Tramp’s silly “Bella notte” scene or films like Good Fellas or of The Godfather trilogy, cultural phenomena that did a lot to cement the general audience’s idea of how Italians are like. Not to our advantage. - No, “bella notte” is not correct Italian. No, we don’t play the mandolin, it’s an outmoded instrument that you are more likely to find in a museum. And no, spaghetti with meatballs are not Italian food!

Following the 2009 economic crises many countries in the European Community applied for financial “umbrellas”; Italy didn’t, it paid into those funds. Italy was the first Western country who went into lockdown as the Covid-19 crisis struck. The country functioned, though under huge restrictions and security measures. In both cases, other countries’ reactions in and outside Europe were like: “Typical - Italians are too lazy to work!” When it came to negotiating an economic pact to help Europe start again, the countries who had said this the loudest held their purse-strings tight - after having locked down too late and hidden the truth about the casualties in their own countries. Convenient.

Italians are generally often seen as silly and not trustworthy. And nobody talks about how demeaning and disrespectful, and on the long run damaging, it is to portray us in such a stereotyped way which at best is good for a laugh. The prejudices stick, and they have destroyed or turned into a living hell many existences.

There are huge now discussions about banning films like e.g. Gone With the Wind due to its “clichéd portrayal of Blacks”. Nobody talks about abolishing The Godfather or other films of that kind although they contribute to the stigma that Italians are either all in league with the mafia, or easy-going, silly folks who sing and drink wine all day and have no idea of what hard work means. Most Italians have too much personal pride to victimize themselves and bo-hoo “the rest of the world just won’t understand us”. They love their country but that does not make them not blind to its shortcomings. I hope they stay that way. In any case, I intend to.

3. The Actual Problem: Bullying

I can sympathize with anyone who comes out as trans because I know what it’s like to be bullied. I was bullied myself for many years due to my Italian origin as well as my upbringing while I had to live among persons who were on a lower social level than I. I was e.g. accused of being stuck-up and “inhibited”. I know now that the female bullies were envious of my self-esteem and insinuating that I was missing “fun”; while the males were counting on another girl being at any guy’s disposal for free and were angry when I didn’t let them have their way with me.

The actual problem with any kind of intolerance and discrimination is bullying. Whatever form it takes, bullying is or ought to be unacceptable. Bullies will be bullies, they do not care who they harass and why: if they e.g. can be convinced to leave trans people alone, they will vent their frustrations and build up their self-image by bullying people who are fat or black or whatever. Except trans people won’t be there to witness that (unless by coincidence they are both trans and fat / black etc.)

We live in a world that gives a great deal of importance on competitiveness; as a result, even in families, schools and other institutions that ought to educate children and youngsters to be respectful towards themselves and others, bullying is often not seen as such, or simply downplayed as “assertiveness”. Bullies do not want to hear reasonable argumentation and learn to be sympathetic: they want to show off their power, provoke an emotional reaction from their victims to see how far they can go, and gloat when they can hurt them. They will not change their minds and they will never be trustworthy, no matter how many discussions about your particular situation you have with them.

To bullies, the world is a jungle where only the strongest have the right to survive; any attempt to make them rethink their attitude will only make them laugh at their victims’ alleged stupidity (because that’s what a humane, respectful attitude is to them) even more. The only language they understand is violence. If you are bullied, protect and, if you can, defend yourself; never try to discuss. Minorities were silent and subdued for such a long time with good reason: because they knew that the more they held their heads up and did not hide what made them different, the more targets they offered for bullies. No one ought to go in hiding because he is queer or black or Jewish etc., but sometimes it’s unavoidable simply for self-protection. I am almost fifty years old and I have never witnessed a nasty person changing for the better. If anything, they became worse, because every time they got away, they felt more superior than before.

Particularly sly bullies will make their victims believe that they have changed, maybe even pulling off the role “I’m a victim myself”. Please, please, whether you belong to a group of minorities or not: don’t listen to them. Ever. Maybe they once were victims, but it turned them into arseholes, and now they are sunk too far in their own filth to care. Compassion is a good thing, but it should never go as far as to delude yourself, endure abuse and sympathize until you become an object for compassion yourself.

For instance, I like wearing dresses, cooking and sewing and looking after my household. Fifty years ago, that would have made me a pattern housewife; nowadays, feminists would either want to strangle me or at least have a good laugh at my expense. This just goes to show how short-sighted any kind of prejudice and bullying is. Any human being ought to follow its own nature with a healthy self-esteem, and esteem others as well. But with our today’s view of the world we are supposed to be not altruistic and respectful but “strong” so that “we will make our way in life” (i.e. feed capitalism in any way we can); and nothing can make you feel “strong” more easily than finding someone who is allegedly weaker and pick on him. We are expected to be “winners”, and the first thing winners need are “losers” to serve them as a foil. The pool from which to choose is large.

4. Who Is Subject to Intolerance Can’t Be Intolerant… Really?

For many years of my life, I always found myself a supporter of someone who was ostracized for one reason or another.

A woman who had left her husband. (It was the early Eighties.) A gay man. A girl who had been harassed by being called ugly. A woman who had been abused sexually by a family member. A woman from East Germany (I live in the West and there are lots of prejudices.)

For the record: these persons were of different age, origin, upbringing, social status, intellectual level and character, and they did not know one another.

I knew and supported them for years, listening, loyal, supportive, interested in their problems and personal development. I never attacked or criticized them. And each and every one of them sooner or later accused me of “not understanding them” and “being prejudiced towards them”. In the case of the abused woman this was particularly unfair because I have been abused myself in my family, though psychically and not sexually. The divorced woman, my own mother, viciously accused me of lying and being in league with her ex-husband after I had been loyal only to her for entire decades.

It appears these people only were my “friends” as long as I told them what they wanted to hear. When I suffered, I was put off with “pull yourself together”. Like I had no problems, because the only people in the world having problems were them. Thank you very much. So, I was supposed to accept their growing insolence due to their being such poor victims, while from their point of view I deserved neither understanding nor respect.

Only recently, in the aftermath of the riots caused by the killing of George Floyd, I posted a comment on a video on youtube… guess what. I was immediately attacked by a black woman saying that my “stupid remark” just went to prove how a white person would never understand “things like these”. She had not even read my post carefully enough to understand what I actually wanted to say, she simply felt entitled to offend me.

I do not say that I dislike trans people or that they are bad, I’m sure there are as many good or bad people among them as anywhere. If someone says e.g. that though born with male organs they identify as female that is their very own affair. I must not like it or understand it. Tolerance means leaving other people alone to do as they please. Any person is “bad” only the moment they behave badly towards others; being different from the mainstream does not count.

But when I have to watch and read people nowadays defending trans or gays or blacks or some other minority, believing to be being open-minded or particularly noble and heroic by supporting them, all I can say is that I have been there and it did me no good. I won’t get caught up in another wave of “minority tolerance”: in my experience, it’s a waste of time. Many of those who now proudly burn their Harry Potter books and proclaim that they will no longer support the author, respectively that they “love Harry Potter but love trans people more” will make the experiences I made. Except they most probably won’t talk about that, because these experiences are so humiliating.

Minorities of any kind do not want to be supported, understood and defended by people who are not in their shoes: it hurts their personal pride. Which I can understand, although it’s a lame excuse for being mean to the very persons whom they expect help and support from. They will tend to envy the ones who do not have their problems due to being white / straight / cis etc., and consequently turn a blind eye to the fact that these can have huge problems of their own. Many of them expect their supporters not only to understand them but to support them enthusiastically at every turn, and if these don’t, (or if there is the slightest reason for them to assume that they don’t) these “victims” will feel entitled to be offended and become vicious aggressors, with a whole fan club behind them protecting their backs and convinced of promoting a honorable cause.

I am fed up with being tolerant. It seems you can hardly do anything anymore without offending someone: watching Disney movies or old classics, wearing a pink dress, calling a woman a woman instead of woman / trans / cis / non-binary etc. There is always someone who will point to these things saying why they’re not right.

I’m sorry but clichés, prejudices and stereotypes can’t be totally avoided: the human brain is not wired to know all facts about everything and everyone. What you can do is teach children and adolescents to be respectful towards everybody, even if they don’t like a particular person or group. Nobody has the right to force you to like everybody and to agree with every life style. But it seems the world has become full of people who seem to have nothing better to do but feel personally offended at the drop of a hat and make a fuss about how hurt their feelings are. Helping someone out who is in a difficult situation is not the same as catering to the keyed-up hysterics of some entitled brat. Seeing the difference between these two can be quite difficult because the latter often show their true face only after years and years, when they realize that for some reason or other, they can no longer squeeze you out for their personal benefit giving nothing back.

Who follows my account is aware that I did not like The Rise of Skywalker. Heaven knows I wrote enough about it. But I did not and will not harass the studios twittering, mailing, making youtube videos etc. ranting and raving about what rubbish it supposedly is for years, like the haters of The Last Jedi. Listening to them, one would think their whole reason for living had been destroyed on purpose. We most probably largely have to thank them for the Episode IX disaster, the flattest and most uninteresting Star Wars film ever made; not to mention the harassment the actress Kelly Marie Tran was subject to. Anyone has the right to dislike the development the authors chose for the saga, but for heaven’s sake: after all, it’s just a movie. If such a relatively insignificant thing can be hyped up like this, I don’t want to know what’s in store coming from people who feel offended for much more personal reasons, like race or gender.

Tolerance cannot be one-sided; it cannot mean that whatever one side wants does not have to be reasonable or useful, but they are entitled to scream and yell until the other side gives in. (If for no other reason than to satisfy them so they will finally shut it.)

Conclusions (I did warn you…)

I. Hogwarts is not my world

Hogwarts is supposed to sound like a dream come true, but I never liked the idea of a “school” where pupils, who are still children and adolescents, are taught spells and engaged in games and tournaments where they have to risk life and limb. These facts are commonly overlooked, I guess, because “the heroes” usually don’t get hurt. The heroes overcome their traumata but do not get wiser from them, on the contrary: their suffering is supposed to make them seem nobler so that we will root for them more. Harry loses his parents before he could get to know them; his adoptive family mistreats him, but he doesn’t care about them; Cedric dies in his stead, but they were not close friends; Dumbledore dies when Harry was getting too old for a father figure; Snape dies, but Harry never liked him either. The list could go on. Harry always remains an innocent; he never gets to look into a metaphorical mirror where he has to see all of the bad that is inside of him, his darker sides are always projected and personified by someone else. (When he does look into a metaphorical mirror in the first book and movie, he finds out that the Philosopher’s stone is, magically, in his pocket. How convenient.)

I can’t invest emotionally in a fictional character who stands out before having earned or deserved it. Harry is like a Chosen One who skips the hero’s journey: from an abusive household, he is catapulted into a whole new world made of mystery and wonder, where he immediately is singled out, admired before he lifts a finger, unexplainably lucky, awed due to his heritage, envied by who is not as special as he. Harry remains untainted by own sins because other people do the dirty work for him; which seems ok because they are, for one reason or another, uncool - Dumbledore = old, Ron = weak / foolish, Hermione / Snape = unpleasant, his parents = dead, and so on. Yes, Harry sometimes makes mischief, but people usually cut him slack because of his past as an abused child, his parent’s tragic death, and his undefinable power that makes him resist the Evil One. The Dursleys, Snape and Draco don’t tolerate him, which is why they are coded as villains or at least very disagreeable characters. How do you recognize a villain in these stories? Simple, he’s being mean to Harry. Everybody else gives him special treatment because you don’t want to upset the person whom you expect to defeat the ultimate villain. I always found his character bland and uninteresting. We e.g. learned why Snape was so lonely and bitter, but not why Harry was so “good” although he had grown up unloved, in an abusive household, until he was eleven.

For decades now Harry Potter fandoms and clubs gather all over the world proudly proclaiming that they are something really special and not like “them Muggles”. No wonder these stories are so popular with who feels misunderstood and downtrodden. Wouldn’t it be nice to be born with capacities ordinary people can’t even dream of? When maybe you’re just a common person, shocking thought. Nowadays, if you want to be someone outstanding, make it up in your mind and it automatically becomes true. And if you identify with the protagonist, you get to be a hero before you did anything special into the bargain. Harry is a victim of other person’s sins and / or blunders and his story is about unfolding the details of his victimhood and correcting them so he gets his happy ending. We are supposed to sympathize with this: well, I can’t. Victimhood and alleged inborn virtue are insufficient to make a protagonist “overcome his trials” and emerge triumphantly over his sidekicks or enemies, without any real loss on his side, while they get killed or, at best, ridiculed. And I will not pick up the part of that sidekick any more.

II. Feminism Is Not My World

While I am an advocate for women’s independence, I do not identify as a feminist. I have an independent nature: that does not mean I am or should be ashamed of being a lady. This where we live is the era of the tomboys, of the feisty, cool, tough females. And often they don’t just go their own way but feel entitled to scorn women who do have their own job and live with a man who respects them, but also like the color pink, pretty clothes, flowers, romantic stories and everything else the new wave feminism likes to dismiss as “brainwashing”. Today you can hardly let your daughter watch a Disney movie without being accused of undermining her identity with false ideas about womanhood because, oh wonder, it seems a “real woman” must think and act like a badass guy.

Louder for the feminists in the back: you can actually look and behave in a way that is coded as “female” and be intelligent, independent and self-respecting. Women who went their own way have existed in every age and culture, often making great achievements and changing the world around them; they were intelligent, compassionate and took matters into their own hands. They did not proclaim that they unfairly were victims of men: they knew how to make men respect them. Being a woman is not a stereotype thrust upon you, it’s natural. If someone rejects qualities that are identified as “female”, it’s their very own affair. If I wanted to return the offense, I might as easily say that “feminists” and “empowered females” are just too smug to do the dishes.

III. Trans, cis, binary etc. is not my world

For millennia, people had to accept the sex they were born with. Now you can have surgery and take hormones to get rid of a problem which you can’t solve on your own. Sorry, but I can’t get my head around it: to me the gender diversity discussion is unnatural. Good and right things are always the same, they cannot change with time and “scientifical / medical progress”. Tomboyish females and same-sex lovers are as old as the world, but it’s only a few decades since you can surgically have your sex changed if you feel uncomfortable with it, and even less time since you can claim the right to be both male and female or not to choose any sex at all. Excuse me, what’s behind it? Fear of missing out? I know, nowadays we are supposed to “change the stars”, but excuse me, it’s not possible. Rowling did not change the stars: as I wrote above, she got lucky.

I can say from own experience that for healthy growth a person needs limits. It is not “tolerant”, in my opinion, to say that one can be male or female or binary or none of that, all by choice. If I raise a child calling it a boy because he was born with male organs, or by Catholic standards because I am a Catholic myself, I believe no one has the right to say that I am intruding into its personality. I would be intolerant if said child would later come out to me e.g. as trans or atheist and I would dismiss its identification and opinion as a matter of principle, or disown it altogether. Rejecting rules and values is like pretending that it is wrong to be e.g. female, or straight, or that Catholic values are rubbish. None of that is true. It is true that a trans or gay or atheist or Buddhist etc. is not automatically an immoral or inferior person.

I can accept other people’s choices about their gender identification; that doesn’t mean I must like or support their mindset. It doesn’t automatically make me “transphobic”. If it is intrusive or intolerant to say that someone is male because he was born with male organs, what will come next? Will “normal” females no longer be entitled to protect their most intimate privacy because any guy can share our private space, like a public toilet or dress room, claiming he’s a woman (and he might well not be trans, but a lying voyeur?) Will we no longer give our children male or female names? Not teach them any values? No longer send them to kindergarten, to school, maybe not even feed or clothe them or furnish their nurseries according to our own judgement, because the poor babies can’t choose by themselves yet?

We all did not choose to be born in the first place.

If you want to protect your children from suffering, don’t have them: suffering is a part of life. Trans is not my world. I don’t want to destroy it or to behave rudely towards it; I simply do not want to have part in it. I want people to care for me, and to do so because I am me, not because I come out with this or another sexual orientation or make myself an advocate for people who belong to this or another minority.

All of the above is why I will not jump on the current “I defend minorities” respectively “I defend downtrodden victims” train. The good part is that I don’t have any Harry Potter book or merchandise I could burn anyway. 😊

Anyone who is uncomfortable with my point of view can unfollow me. Bullies will be blocked and reported without further ado. Greetings from a notorious Muggle.

#minorities #jk rowling #trans #harry potter #disney #gone with the wind #the godfather #goodfellas #feminism #prejudices #bullying #read more

10 notes · View notes