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luxlightly · 4 years ago

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Ok I was originally not going to post this because it's A Lot of headcanon for an improv video game comedy series and just send it to one person but they never responded and I'm attention starved. So here's my huge, Bubby centric, monster of a headcanon that ties the whole series together. Mostly under a cut because it's A Lot. (written in one sitting on my phone so excuse the multiple changes in tense and typos)

So the big sort of thing is that Bubby caused the resonance cascade. He sabotaged the computers. He just meant for it to be a distraction to escape black mesa but Benry's involvement and the chaotic element of the Player Character interacting with him caused everything to go to hell fast. Also Benry and Bubby are sort of brothers.

Going backwards to explain:

So some of this really stretches the canon because it's mixing a "it's a real world" au and "it's still a video game" au kind of ideas.

Basically the world of the video game exists sort of as a parallel dimension within the game's code. The G-man exists kind of outside of the rules, able to control more or less the code or console. He's kind of the Mastermind behind black Mesa as a whole who exists outside the game's code to a sort of in between layer (in those time stop moments) where he can only be seen by those who are also in some way connected to the Real World through either direct connection to the Player or sufficient connection to the console code. His reach is in ways limited because of this and he cannot easily interact with the game world characters. He uses Black Mesa as a way to use the science of their word to try to create new things from the code or otherwise more precisely control it.

Which is where Bubby comes in. Basically, black Mesa took the basic code for the security officer Barney and tried to create new copies with connections to the code they could use. However it was pretty much a complete failure. Only two of the attempts even survived to maturity with any kind of personally intact, but they weren't right. Trying to connect them with the code like that broke them in certain ways. On creation, the scientists asked them their names to try to get them to access their own files to find the name, but neither could, it came out garbled. So instead they went by the names they more or less gave themselves.

Bubby is able to connect to the console commands specifically to set objects and characters on fire(among some others in small amounts that are far less well controlled), but he can't understand that's what it is. It's just psychokinesis to him. And he's not good at controlling it, especially when he was younger. He's also scrawny, has several phobias, and is overall much more suited to academic pursuits than being any kind of soldier for them. It also causes him to glitch at times('here i come, Gordon! Here I come, Gordon! Here I come, Gordon!). His code is more or less like a badly implemented mod that tried to unlock god admin mode but failed and now doesn't quite fit back in with the original code right.

They kept him as a scientist at black Mesa mostly to keep him under surveillance. He knows this. He doesn't know anything about the code or anything, but he knows he was made there etc etc. He spent most of his time just keeping the other scientists afraid of him and his spontaneous combustion and studying as much as he could. He'd never been outside. He wasn't allowed to leave. He'd never really cared to.

Until (and this was largely inspired by the '30 something Coomer and Bubby when Coomer first joined black Mesa by @inkwellstars) a new scientist was hired. Bubby largely ignored him except for trying to scare him away from any annoying attempts and friendship with some showy (if poorly controlled) pyrotechnics. But Coomer was just fascinated and made a terrible pun about his new coworker being 'a real hothead'. Which infuriated Bubby into taking an interest in him. Coomer remained the only person who was unfazed enough by the fire and the shark teeth to not just still hang around, but even tease him, no matter how hard Bubby tried to intimidate him out of it. Eventually, Bubby realized it was the last thing he actually wanted. That this man was the first person who he'd ever had treat him… Like a human being. And for the first time, he considers a world outside black Mesa. And it's somewhere he wants to go. He wants to follow this man when he walks out the sliding lab doors back to a world he'd never been a part of.

Not that he's pining or anything!! Coomer was a married man, after all!(no way no sir not that).

Bubby has a lot of unmanaged anger because he just catches on fire if he gets too frustrated. After a discussion of Coomer's past boxing ambitions, they set up the underground boxing league mostly just as the two of them, letting Bubby actually let off some steam in a metaphorical instead of literal way. He gets his ass handed to him every time but it's nice to not be treated like either the boss' fragile, expensive toy or a living Molotov cocktail. Bubby learns a bit of fighting along the way,to boot. He gets much better at controlling his fire. Coomer picks him up in a "lift off the ground and spin around" bear hug when he manages to set something aflame without setting any part of himself alight first. Bubby somehow feels that was more important to him than the accomplishment itself. Eventually word gets out about the quite literal underground rings they've started up and it becomes a whole league and Bubby takes a more spectator role, contented to play coach to Coomer.

However, Coomer's impressive strength and fortitude aren't only noticed by an admiring(and sightly love struck) Bubby. Black Mesa decides to try, instead of using code to try to create a new entities with connection to the code, to use an existing character, enhance them, and then create copies of them. Coomer became that existing character.

At first it seemed to work perfectly. They had a character able to alter the world at their will(sending Gordon back and forth through time/creating portals), access a super human, nearly godlike state of power(super player feature) and alter the code in a multitude of other ways. They implemented a system of authorization to stop him from accessing these powers without permission from a handler. These PlayCoins could only be gained and used by someone directly connected to the console code or real world. Someone connected to that liminal space between code and reality the g-man exists in. However, trying to create duplicates didn't create a new, equally powerful entity, it just split the power of the original. From there, Coomer's spirit was still too powerful to be completely controlled, so they split him into dozens of clones, dividing up that power until he was within a range they could control. The effect on his psyche was devastating, however. It trapped him into the code of 'tutorial npc' but his response triggers got completely broken so he responds to the wrong things. Before the scripted events of the game in which those triggers are, it didn't affect his day to day behavior, but it did leave him with an inescapable partial awareness of the game itself. As split as he is, he can't understand or remember anything about what it means, it's just a constant disconnect between him and the game's reality. It causes his marriage to fall apart.

Bubby doesn't know about what happened to Coomer. A lot of his own memories are controlled and tampered with as well. But he feels as though his getting close to Coomer caused his suffering and they end up drifting apart for a long time and Bubby's longing to see the world outside his laboratory home fades alongside their once strong bond.

Until. The other failed test tube character made from the mangled and stripped code of the security officer Barney who was torn out of the code to be twisted to the g man's whims comes to Bubby with an idea. The man who is not a man. Who has no parents and named himself : Benry.

Benry seemed like he should have been perfect. He kept the most physical resemblance to the original Barney, he seemed physically stable. As far as anyone could tell, he was completely connected to the console code. He should be able to control whatever he wanted, but besides the sweet voice and an unnatural fortitude, he seemed to have no remarkable qualities. Also he was all but totally incoherent. Memory, temporal and spacial awareness,and speech function were severely impaired. He often forgot where and when he was('... What happened to your arm?'), got his own memories confused with the memories of the now non-existent Barney ('you and me we used to be friends do you remember i don't know what happened'). Along with an erratic and unpredictable personality. He was considered another of countless failures and given a menial security job, like with Bubby, mostly just to keep an eye on him. Benry and Bubby, despite being practically siblings, aren't close, but do trust each other insomuch as they know the other probably won't outright kill them.

But Benry was not as unremarkable as he seemed.

And the introduction of a new element would throw everything into chaos: The Player. And, by extension, The Game.

The Player, in this instance, refers to the assumed person who is playing the game in which the characters exist. They are a discrete, unseen, and unmentioned character, who is neither Wayne nor Gordon Freeman. Wayne is the actor playing both Gordon and, in ways The Player, in the same way that Holly is playing the character of Coomer. Gordon is the AI character who exists within the game world. He believes he is in control of his actions and that what he experiences is real. He exists on the same layer of fiction as the other AI such as the character of Coomer. The Player is whomever, within the fiction of the series, is physically playing The Game.

The Game is the actual scripted, programmed events that were programmed in the "real world" (the Player's real world in which they live and are playing the Game). It represents the events that happen from the time the Player begins the game and when they complete it. The Game represents the overlap between the reality in which the AI exist and The Player's world. Presumably a copy of the original game Half Life.

As the events of The Game draw nearer, it makes every charterer with a connection to the code antsy. Bubby starts thinking, for the first time in years, about the world outside black Mesa's walls. Thought becomes longing. Longing becomes desperation. A need to escape from here by any means necessary.

Benry approaches him with an idea. They'll sabotage the big test that Dr.Freeman is running. The whole thing will likely explode, causing enough destruction and distraction for them to slip away in the chaos (with Coomer in tow if Bubby could help it). Freeman would almost certainly die but that was a necessary casualty for their freedom. Bubby never liked him anyway. There was just something...off about him. Like a weird double vision he couldn't shake around the man. Like something was both there that shouldn't be and missing that should be. Bubby avoided him. He didn't think he'd ever had a single conversation with him. He agrees.

Benry stops Gordon at the entrance and tries to stall him as long as possible with bogus requests to give Bubby as much time to sabotage the test as possible (which he does by crawling inside the computers, claiming he's fixing a problem).

However,Gordon is not connected to the console code, but directly to the real world through being controlled by The Player. As the Player triggers the scripted events of The Game, the holes and mangled code the g man and black Mesa have been tampering with start going haywire. Especially as Benry interacts with him directly. His latent connection to the console code starts activating, giving him ability to control himself and the game more and more, but his memory issues and temporal confusion makes him unable to determine what is and isn't real so his code powers start just making it real, beginning to actively break the Game from within. The bogus excuse about a passport (he forgot the word for ID and had to roll with the lie) became a reality and a powerful one. He starts teleporting and clipping through the walls.

Bubby starts the test, unaware of the change. He played along with the passport thing to not blow Benry's story. But by the time he reaches the chamber, it's already a real thing everyone else there had and should have.

When the cascade starts, though, Bubby is caught off guard. It was just supposed to explode. It wasn't supposed to bridge dimensions and cause this rift. He assumes Gordon did something to cause it to fail so catastrophically. He phases through the window of the observation room (something he didn't even know he could do and likely didn't even realize he was doing and forgot afterwards since he was immediately knocked out) but it's too late to stop it.

Then the events of the Game are in full swing and all the broken code of every character crumbles and results in the "look Gordon! Ropes!" Glitched tutorial Coomer, a Bubby whose setting himself on fire on accident for the first time in years, and a Benry who transcends beyond the confines of his code into an extradimemsional Chimera of sorts who can pass in and out of the liminal G space, become and summon skeleton minions who also can be or not be in that space, able to be seen by anyone or just by someone able to perceive that plane of existence, such as Gordon.

As Coomer destroys his clones, he gets pieces of his power and fragments of memory back. Enough to know that they are clones and that killing them returns his powers to him. Bubby and he quickly rekindle their bond, with the memory tapering being undone.

Bubby is still desperate to leave, trying to get Gordon to go faster by guilting him and saying he wants to go home (though black Mesa is his actual home). However everything just seems to get more and more drawn out and they can never really make progress.

Benry convinces Bubby that Gordon is the reason that they can't leave. Bubby can sense that something is different about Gordon so he believes it. Benry may or may not believe it himself. He may have realized that leading the Player to the end would only end the Game and tried to subvert that path. Or the programmed event of Gordon's ambush might have just pushed them both to it. Impossible to say.

In any case, Bubby is quickly also detained and put back in his tube.

With enough clones killed, and having accidentally jumped out of the play box and seen that there's nothing physically beyond black Mesa, Coomer becomes aware of and connected to the console code and aware of the "real world". He tries to use Gordon's connection to the Player to get to the real world, though at this point he can only understand it as the world of Gordon's "dreams". When Tommy kills all of the clones, then knocks out Coomer, it causes a full reset and Coomer becomes his full,unshattered self again. He still is limited by his need for authorization through PlayCoins, but he's much more coherent and quickly becomes completely aware of his situation within the Game and starts talking directly to the Player through Gordon at times.

The rest is history.

As for some other non directly related things: Tommy is g man's attempt at a more biological connection between the code and the game universe. Tommy is his son and has all the abilities of a g-man but is largely unable to use them and unaware of them due to his young age (comparatively to the immortal g man, 36 is still a child) and his innocence. He is also completely integrated with the game universe with no glitches from the union. Tommy is not aware he's the Gman's son. He thinks it's just some guy who bought him Vin Diesel and the minions. Tommy tends to use his powers entirely accidentally when he does, with the exception of creating Sunkist. In doing so he also surpassed his father's ultimate limit: creating a completely new element to the game without having to gut other code. He created the perfect dog out of completely new content he willed into existence. Unfortunately for G-Man, Tommy is far too pure and goodhearted to be used to any nefarious ends.

#hlvrai #bubby #coomer #boomer #benry #gordon hlvrai #tommy coolatta

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theroseandcrown · 4 years ago

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The Rose & Crown: Chapter Twenty-Four

Rating: M Chapters: 24/24

Summary: Clara is getting ready for her big date with Danny Pink when she is unexpectedly visited by the sound of a telephone ringing.

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

Present Day

“The Satanic Nebula,” the Doctor called towards the other side of the wall, then shifted his attention to the brightly lit fish tank situated above the icebox. “Or the lagoon of lost stars. Or we could go to Brighton!” He exited the small kitchen and followed the sound of his companion’s shoes tapping around in the next room. Discovering her in her bedroom, he stopped at the entrance and leaned against the doorway. “I’ve got a whole day worked out,” he informed her, somewhat impressed with himself for having managed his time in advance to prepare something for them.

“Sorry but, as you can see, I’ve got plans,” she replied over her shoulder as she hurried to put on her coat.

A confused look passed over his furrowed face as he studied her, unable to place what was unnaturally different about her more than usual. “Have you?” he inquired, failing miserably at sounding interested.

“Look at me,” she invited, finally acknowledging him for the first time all evening.

“Yeah, okay,” he replied, perplexed by the strange request. A test maybe?

“No, no, no. Like, no. Look at me,” she tried again, signalling to her hair and clothing as she approached him.

“Yep, looking.” Definitely a test, he thought. But what could I be missing?

“Seriously?” she asked, feeling deflated by his misuse of the obvious.

He found himself increasingly distracted by the brightly lit features of her face, his eyes fixed upon what he could only assume was some sort of reddish war paint plastered to her lips. “Why is your face all coloured in?” he questioned her, watching obliviously as she returned to the mirror to begin applying a floral-scented liquid to her neck and wrists. Something was definitely different about her, he was sure of it. “Are you taller?” he asked, sizing her up and down.

“Heels,” she answered, lifting her foot to reveal one of her black heightened shoes. Taking one last look at her finished form in the mirror, she turned and headed towards him once more.

“What, do you have to reach a high shelf?”

“Right,” she replied, smirking at his adorable cluelessness as she passed him in the doorway. “Got to go. Going to be late!”

“For a shelf?” he prodded, trying to prevent her from leaving before he had solved her little mystery.

“Bye!” she called to him and headed towards the front door. She reached for the knob and began to turn it when an unexpected sensation of fear caused her to stop, freezing her in place. A tremendous sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was felt as if something were warning her of an oncoming threat. “Don’t answer it,” she blurted out inadvertently as though the words had been spoken by someone else.

The Doctor, employed by his curiosity, removed himself from the doorway and stepped into the hall. His head tilted slightly to the side as he studied her from afar. “I’m sorry?” he called to her.

His words seemed to dissolve into oblivion as her consciousness was dragged deep into the dark unvisited centre of her thoughts. Before she could determine the cause, her mind became flooded with thousands of images bursting their way into her head faster than she could even process them. She heard herself gasp under her breath as the visions tore through her defences and shattered her understanding of reality altogether. The more she tried to latch onto them, the quicker they passed her by. It was as if someone else’s terrifying memories were being downloaded directly into her thoughts all at once. A dark mask, a hooded demon, a red raven. The frightening images and emotions rushing through her were so very foreign and yet strangely intimate as they consumed her. Red grass, an infant girl, a vast sea of unknown faces, strange exotic new destinations never seen before. They felt so real, so powerful, it was as if she were drowning in the depths of an endless out-of-body experience. She found herself questioning her existence as the vast amount of fragmented memories swarmed around her. The part of her still fighting to take control was desperately clawing its way to the surface of her thoughts hoping to latch onto any aspect of familiarity before she became lost in the sea of inevitable insanity.

At last, the faint whisper of the Doctor’s voice penetrated the darkness like a pillar of light guiding her back to him. Following the sound of his calming lull, the walls around her slowly faded into recognition once again. Her eyes searched for anything commonplace that might anchor her to this world until they met with the Doctor’s own. The expression on his face suggested he had been waiting for a reply from her. Quickly attempting to shake the images from her mind, she released the knob and turned towards him. “Sorry, what?” she called back.

“You said, ‘Don’t answer it,’” he accused her softly.

“No, I didn’t,” she disputed, unwilling to accept the temporary loss of control in his presence.

“I’m rather sure that you did,” he insisted, taking a hesitant step in her direction.

She could feel his inquiring eyes upon her, dissecting her piece by piece in search of answers. And yet, as frightened as she was of the true meaning behind the strange visions burning their way into her thoughts, something about the look in his eyes felt calming as if he were luring her towards him for protection. Slowly approaching him, they looked to each other with an equally puzzled expression as if trying to decide amongst themselves in which order they were supposed to speak next. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t find the words to calm his growing concern for her well-being. She feared the thought of telling him the truth. That he would somehow think she’d gone mad. And maybe she had. What other possible explanation could there be? As he continued to study her, she couldn’t help the uneasy feeling of nervousness growing within her at having become the target of his sudden interest. The longer he retained his position in front of her, the harder it was to keep hidden what was going on inside her head. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to speak but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a telephone ringing nearby which shattered the awkward silence between them. Startled by the noise, her head quickly turned towards the entrance of the living room where the sight of the time machine could be well observed.

The Doctor raised his brow and followed his companion’s distracted gaze towards the direction of the blue box parked in the middle of the room. Clara stared at the TARDIS intently as if entranced by its presence there. Her pulse began to rise as the unexpected feeling of déjà vu emanated from somewhere in the back of her mind. “There you go, you’ve got another playmate,” she recited as if by memory, though the words seemed to fall unnaturally from her lips as she spoke them. Through their returned silence, the phone continued to ring.

Returning his attention towards his companion, his eyes narrowed as he continued to ponder her strange behaviour. “It isn’t me. It’s you,” he replied, gesturing towards her pocket.

Her wide eyes shot back to his as if searching for the truth behind his words. Reaching into her back pocket, she hesitantly pulled out her phone and held it in front of her for inspection. She frowned in disbelief as a series of unfamiliar numbers were displayed upon the screen. This isn’t right, declared a voice from somewhere deep inside her mind. Something has changed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, growing more concerned by the less-than-satisfied expression on her face.

“Yeah, sorry,” she replied, trying to mask the rising apprehension forming at the thought of who or what could be calling her.

“Who is it?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, aren’t you going to answer it?” he questioned her, taking notice of her unusual reluctance. It wasn’t like her.

Taking a deep breath, she brought her hand to the screen and hesitantly hovered her finger over the answer button. “What if something happens?” she asked nervously.

“Like what?”

“A thing.”

“It’s just a phone, Clara,” he assured her, attempting to ease her scattered mind. “Nothing-”

“Nothing happens when you answer the phone,” she interjected, observing as he stared at her in a bewildered state of silence. “That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” she asked, though his reaction only seemed to confirm her accusation. She lowered her glance towards the ringing object. Staring at the screen one last time, she pressed the button and answered the call. “Hello?” she spoke into the receiver. “Who is this?” The suspension between them grew by the second as they waited for an answer.

“Clara?” asked a familiar voice she knew very well.

The tension in every muscle of her body quickly dissipated as she realized who the voice belonged to. “Yes, hi! Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”

The Doctor felt his face frown with displeasure as he finally put two and two together. “Oh, I see. Is that the boyfriend then?” he asked, not even attempting to hide his irritation over the diversion taking place between them and anything else that could have been more interesting.

She glared at the Time Lord murderously and brought her finger to her lips to shush him. Turning around, she stepped away and plugged her ear to bring even the smallest amount of privacy to her conversation. The old man rolled his eyes and scoffed quietly to himself over her ridiculous attempt at ignoring him. “Yeah sorry, running a bit late. I’m just about to head out. Where are you calling from?” she wondered, making her way towards the front door. Before reaching it, she paused momentarily and leaned her shoulder against the wall. “Oh,” she replied discouragingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “No no, it’s fine. Yeah, totally understand. I was feeling a bit tired, actually,” she lied. “Rain check then. Okay. Yep, see you tomorrow. Bye.” Lowering the phone, she hung her head in defeated silence and ended the call.

Though her back remained turned to him, he needn’t see her face to understand what had happened. He uncomfortably cleared his throat, feeling very unsure of what he should do or say next that might alter the sombre mood in the room. “So, you’ve been stood up I take it?” he asked, then immediately thought to himself that it probably sounded a lot better in his head.

Clara quickly gathered her thoughts and did her best to appear unaltered by the unexpected interruption to her night. “Yeah, uh, I guess something came up,” she answered, turning towards him once more. Returning the phone to her pocket, she slowly made her way to him and concentrated all of her energy on trying not to feel sorry for herself.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he inquired delicately. Though concerned for her current state of mind, a part of him remained hopeful that the sudden disruption to the evening would still work out in his favour.

“I’m fine,” she replied unconvincingly towards the floor.

“I see,” he conceded, seeing little point in challenging her obvious deception. He didn’t have to. He knew her all too well. As the silence grew between them, he peered at her hanging head and gently lifted her chin to meet his curious expression. “How did you know what I was going to say?” he wondered, eyeing her suspiciously.

Her eyes passed back and forth to each of his as she searched for an answer. “I dunno. Just a weird feeling I guess. Maybe we have been knocking about too long. I’m starting to think like you,” she teased with a warm smile. He matched her smile with his own as he continued to hold her in his grasp. His thumb inadvertently grazed over the surface of her cheek as if he had become possessed by her. His eyes seemed to be pulled into hers at their strong connection to each other. She found his unexpected touch oddly soothing despite her lingering fear of what was happening inside her head. Embracing his simple display of affection, she caught herself glancing towards his lips for the first time since she was in the presence of his last body. The thought alone of what they would feel like against hers betrayed everything she thought she understood about their relationship. And yet, the longer he held her, the more natural his sudden intimacy had become. In that one small moment, she sensed something developing between them that she hadn’t noticed before. Buried somewhere beneath her many layers of security was an aspect of familiarity she couldn’t quite place. A feeling she couldn’t explain as if he had held her this way many times before. Whatever the cause, she felt the need to break their connection to each other before she became lost in his gaze any further. It took all of her remaining willpower to carefully pry herself from his grasp. She nervously cleared her throat and quickly attempted to change the subject. “Well, I suppose it’s just you and me then. How do I look?” she asked, raising her arms from her sides.

“Uh, well,” he began, unsure of how to respond. “Sort of short and round-ish. But with a good personality, which is the main thing.”

“I meant my clothes. I’ve just changed,” she noted, gesturing towards her appearance once again.

“Oh,” he stated awkwardly, looking her up and down. “Well, good for you. Still making an effort I see.”

“Thanks,” she replied, frowning at his unsuccessful attempt to cheer her up in his own Doctory kind of way. Hoping to relieve her mind from the strange and very disappointing turn of events, she looked to her best friend and sighed. “Well, come on then. You’re my date.”

“Who, me?” he asked, pointing to himself in disbelief. “Oh, no. No, no, no. No, I don’t think so.”

“Yes, you. Like it or not, you still owe me from that little death-defying detour to the frost fair last week,” she pointed out.

“I agreed to no such terms,” he retorted. “If I’m not mistaken, you rather enjoyed that one.”

“I was almost vaporized by an incendiary grenade, no thanks to you,” she bit back.

“You’re still here, aren’t you? You can’t expect me to come running every time there’s a minor threat of death. We’d never get anything accomplished.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one left alone with Strax, all day,” she replied, squinting her eyes at him.

“You’re right, that sounds terrible.”

“You think?!”

“I’m starting to, yes.”

“Good. Glad to know at least something works up there,” she noted, gesturing towards his daft head. “Now come on, let’s go! Chop chop!” she insisted. She took his hand and began to pull him towards the door as he sulked behind her.

“I don’t do dates, I’m not a dating person!” he argued, trying to release himself from the vice-like hold she had on him.

“Not sure you get a vote,” she disputed, continuing to drag him down the hallway.

Realizing too late that he was rapidly losing the battle between them, he quickly pulled her into him and placed his arm around her waist to herd her towards the direction of the blue box. “I’ve just remembered! I know this extraordinary little restaurant at the other end of the universe. They only serve invisible food there! Bit of a gamble, but I’m sure you’ll love it. Let’s just pop into the TARDIS and-”

“Oh no you don’t,” she spun out of his grasp and pointed a stern finger up at him. “I’m not falling for that one again. The last time you promised me dinner on another planet, we nearly drowned trying to escape from an angry mob of fish people!”

“And? We didn’t, did we? Besides, what’s dinner without a bit of perilous entertainment?” he countered.

“Just dinner!” she exclaimed, trying her hardest not to murder him out of frustration.

“Exactly, boring. Very not me.”

“Doctor, so far my night has gone horribly and I’m extremely upset about it. Just this once, I’d like to pretend I still know how to live a normal life among actual people without things exploding all around me! Is that so much to ask?” she inquired adamantly. He opened his mouth to speak. “Never mind, don’t answer that,” she stopped him. “Look, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to walk out that door and do my very best to enjoy what’s left of the evening. And if you care about me in any way at all, you’ll put away your screwdriver for just one night and come join me.” Allowing him only a moment to think it over, she turned from him to make her way down the hall and out of her flat leaving the door wide open behind her.

Surprised by her unexpected leave of him, he found himself torn by the choice she was forcing him to make. His focus teetered between his time machine and the direction of his impossibly stubborn companion. Either way he saw it, it all came down to which decision could be worse. Travelling without his best friend by his side or the gruelling experience of having to mingle amongst other humans. It was so unfair.

“Doctor?” she called from outside. “Are you coming?!”

Having weighed his limited options in the moment of brief abandonment, he rolled his eyes and childishly groaned at the question. “Fine!” he conceded, knowing deep down he couldn’t resist the charm she had about her that continued to draw him in no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He adored that about her and wouldn’t change it for anything. Reluctantly making his way towards the exit, he took hold of the knob and called to her from the doorway. “But there will be absolutely no dancing!” he insisted.

“Yeah, still not sure you get a vote!” she called back.

He frowned and glanced at his hand still grasping the knob of the open door, suddenly realizing that she had already anticipated the choice he planned to make. He had fallen right into her clever laid trap. She knew him all too well. Returning his gaze towards her direction, he sighed defeatedly and watched from the doorway as she strode farther away from him. He observed intently as she made it to the end of the walkway and peered over her shoulder at him with those irresistible sparkling brown eyes. As she turned the corner out of sight, he allowed a warm smile to spread across his face before closing the door behind him to pursue the next potentially dangerous mission of following after her.

#dr who #dr who fan fiction #dr who fanfiction #12th doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #the doctor #twelve/clara #clara oswald #whouffaldi

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the-l-spacer · 4 years ago

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This is a sort of sequel to @earako‘s post (which was pretty much a response to this post), about a scenario where Lloyd and Raven heard each others broadcasts.

This was supposed to be a fluffy, three sentence thing, but it kind of got away from me. Also, starring The Floozies.

The Floozies hate seeing Raven Baby so unhappy.

Or at least, even unhappier than usual, since ‘unhappy’ is pretty much their boss’ default state of being. He thinks he hides it well, of course, behind his manic grins and show-stopping numbers and shots of rum thrown back one after the other during the after-parties, but being the ones that actually run the Carnival, The Floozies know that once he’s out of sight from the crowd, or alone in his dressing room (they weren’t spying, okay? They just needed to pop in to borrow some stage makeup and saw him practically wilting as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, muttering something about a man named David), the ‘Raven’ everyone thinks they know fades, just a little bit, and standing in his place is, well, a man. And a pretty unhappy man at that.

All that’s to say that lately, he’s been more down than usual, and The Floozies know exactly why.

It’s the fault of that darn radio.

Raven Baby likes the radio, and listens to it practically every day. He explained to them one night how playing the radio while stuck in the Collective Unconscious was a tricky but intriguing process, that with luck, you could tune in to an infinite number of broadcasts, from places both real, fictional, and like the Carnival, somewhere in between. Raven Baby even gave them a demonstration, skipping frequencies that talked of boring things like ‘politics’ and ‘current events’ and ‘and now, the weathers’, before finally arriving at a station that was playing an unfamiliar but catchy showtune.

One of The Floozies’ eyes widened as she realised he had sang that exact number during one of his more raucous shows, wholeheartedly claiming it as his own composition.

Raven Baby had grinned a slow grin, winked, and mimed pulling a zipper across his lips. The Floozies winked and grinned back, giggling in conspiratorial delight.

Since then, Raven Baby always let The Floozies listen to the radio with him, hopping from station to station together, their little escape from the carnival that served as their gilded cage.

Until the one night, when their boss turned the little knob on that little box, resulting in the sounds of static, before a tinny voice issued from the radio’s speakers, announcing, “Welcome back to the New Albion Radio Hour!”

One of them swore up and down that Raven Baby honest-to-God flinched at the sound, but before she could ask why, had stood up with a clatter, snatched up the radio, and practically ran back to his tent.

And up till now, he still hasn’t emerged.

To be fair, they had managed to drag him out once or twice, mostly to eat or check on some ride malfunction they had made up on the spot, but every time, he would emerge looking haggard and worn, and the night before, as they silently listened outside the tent (not spying), they heard the radio still playing that same channel, that same voice.

Something had to be done.

As one, The Floozies march up to Raven Baby’s tent, and peek in. As expected, there he sits, in front of the radio, where an unfamiliar voice was talking about a ghosts. His head is cradled in his arms.

“Raven Baby, we’re worried about you.”

One eye cracks open and stares up at them, standing awkwardly at the threshold.

“You didn’t knock.”

“Tents don’t have doors we can knock on, Raven Baby.”

“Use your imaginations. Picture a door right where you’re standing. Now picture it slamming shut. Now picture yourselves walking away.”

“But-“

“-Walking. Away.” One arm raises languidly and makes a shooing motion. The voice from the radio continues to drone.

Reluctantly, The Floozies exit the tent, leaving one, who says, “Sugar, if you need anyone to talk to, you know where ta find us,” ducking out before she can spot his reaction.

Getting (politely) thrown out doesn’t stop The Floozies from listening outside, though.

From what they gather, the radio broadcast is hosted by a man named ‘Lloyd Allen’, and when they hear the name, they swear they half-remember nights when Raven Baby would drink too much and mutter about an ex of his, and something clicks into place.

Their little mission that morning may have been a failure, but The Floozies don’t let that deter them.

Over the course of the day, they sneak an assortment of pastries under the tent flap (that was what people who went through breakups were supposed to eat, right?), several bottles of water, and some aspirins (who knew how much he had been drinking since he first heard the broadcast) for good measure. Even if he doesn’t want them around, they can still support their favourite person from afar.

They can’t help but feel the slightest bit of satisfaction when they find the pastry tray sitting empty outside the tent the next day, along with a note, on which is scrawled a simple ’thanks’.

They continue listening to the broadcasts along with Raven Baby at night, fascinated by the stories they tell of monsters and witches and realities they cannot begin to comprehend, all dovetailed by meandering stories of this Lloyd’s present and past, and how said past intersected with that of their boss.

And then one night..

“Maybe, I’ll even be able to track down my boyfriend. My old boyfriend. My boyfriend. I would never be disloyal to him or turn my back on him no matter how many years pass.”

The Floozies don’t quite catch the rest of the broadcast, as Raven Baby lets out a sharp sob, and they quietly return to their own tent.

The next day, The Floozies enter the kitchen to find a Raven washing dishes at the sink. He looks like hell, but better than he was the last time they saw him. As he sees them, he gives a small smile and wave.

On the counter sits a plate of freshly-baked cookies.

The Floozies smile back.

Their afternoon is spent together, laughing and joking and sneaking cookies from the cookie jar. They paint each others’ nails and Raven Baby even lets The Floozies tie multicoloured ribbons in his long hair.

He tells them of the man in the radio, of Lloyd, and cries a little, but it’s all okay, because the Floozies have his makeup touched up in a jiffy, and Uncle Raven strides onstage and gives the best performance the Carnival had seen in a long, long time.

And the world seems to brighten, if just for a moment.

#new albion #shaperaverse #ITS FLUFFY AT THE ENDDD #I PROMISE #lloydven #also its like midnight and I'm tired so this probs has so many errors but whatever #hope u like it ^^ I'll post it on ao3 like tomorrow haha

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sanoiro · 5 years ago

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Lucifer 5x07 - Our Mojo - Spoilers & Speculation

Warning! There is always the possibility that certain scenes might have been mixed up under their non-respective episodes.

Written By: Julia Fontana

Directed By: Nathan Hope

Julia Fontana has written/co-written the episodes:

2x10 - Quid Pro Ho

2x15 - Deceptive Little Parasite

3x08 - Chloe Does Lucifer

3x16 - Infernal Guinea Pig

5x07 - Our Mojo

Cast: Tom Ellis as Lucifer, Lauren German as Chloe, DB Woodside as Amenadiel, Lesley-Ann Brandt as Maze, Kevin Alejandro as Dan, Scarlett Estevez as Trixie, Rachael Harris as Linda Martin and Aimee Garcia as Ella.

Season 5 Recurring Characters: None Officially Announced Guest Cast:

Giovanni Bejarano...Mario Canales

Nancy De Mayo...Nina

Glenn Fernandez...Danilo

David Figlioli...Les Klumpsky

Cara Koh...Madison Evans

Behind The Scenes

youtube

As we get close to the Midseason Finale S&S do remember the past seasons Midseason and Season Finales. There were never standalone. You see there is always a pattern to be followed and this will happen with 5x07 and 5x08. The two episodes 5x07 and 5x08 act both as a Finale but also as a medium to the story to move forward and for P2 to bring elements from P1.

Going back we should remember how the following episodes intertwined thus a recap is needed.

1x12 - #TeamLucifer & 1x13 - Take Me Back to Hell were based on three elements. One Lucifer’s vulnerability, Malcolm and the Pentecostal Coin. A bargain was made there which moved us to S2 and the introduction of Mum.

2x11 - Stewardess Interruptus, 2x12- Love Handles and 2x13 - A Good Day to Die built up to the point of where the supernatural aspects of Lucifer’s mythos are explored with Chloe being revealed to be a Miracle while Dr Carlisle acted as a serial killer poisoning his victims and Chloe. What we also tend to forget here is that early in S2 Uriel’s threat was almost materialized as Chloe would have died if Lucifer had not gone to Hell and thus broke the balance of time and effect Dr Carlisle had started. It is also why in that season we had to focus on Mum and the blade.

2x17 - Sympathy for the Goddess and 2x18 The Good, the Bad and the Crispy used the blade and Mum was set as yet another problem while Lucifer regained his wings. Again we needed two to three episodes if you add 2x16 - God Johnson into this, to build up the story.

In S3 3x09 - Sinnerman and 3x10 - The Sin Bin led to the Mid Season finale which foretold Marcus way of dying by a blade which Lucifer had struck. The end of S3 actually started from 3x19 and was led to the very end but again episodes 3x23 - Quintessential Deckerstar and 3x24 - A Devil of my Word delivered the conclusion of S3 and led to the issues of S4.

Now S4 actually help us structure S5. There were Kinley and the vial, in 4x04 - All About Eve we get Eve and the conclusion happens between the episodes 4x09 - Save Lucifer and 4x10 - Who’s Da New King of Hell. Also, certain episodes were connected like 4x06 - Orgy Pants To Work and 4x07 - Devil Is As Devil Does where Julian becomes the connection between the story as it involves

With all the above in mind, we see what the writers like to use but also how they pace their seasons and what is included.

In S5 up to 5x10 you will see this as far as I understand.

First 5x01 will set in motion an issue that needs to be resolved so Lucifer ascends but a new factor is introduced and that way the episode will end with a question of how things will move from there while the promise of Lucifer staying on Earth will not be that clear.

In 5x02 we get the realization that something is amiss and that action needs to be taken but that connects us to 5x03 so 5x02 and 5x03 connect through the lingering issue from 5x01, Lucifer’s desire to stay on earth or perhaps the insistence of others to keep him away from Hell. Hell you see is like a drug and it acts slowly so at some point we will get a cold turkey Lucifer in 5x02 with 5x03 acting as his re-introduction to society and his old life.

Amidst all that we get the consequence of Lucifer’s actions probably from 5x01 which I suspect will affect Dan and a more permanent solution will be sought which leads us to 5x04. 5x04 offers us a lot of answers but also questions and that is why it is tied so well with 5x05. Lucifer is not the same nothing is but a solution has been found as maintenance does not fix a hole in a sinking ship.

Along with all the above, we also have Deckerstar and revelations which are bound to be set in these episodes and which will lead to the rocky episode of 5x06. Fear not though as 5x06 opens the door to the last two episodes of P1. In these two episodes actions will be made that will turn the tables first to how our characters act but also what they expect from the future. It is also where we will understand why in 5x04 the title was “It never ends well for the Chicken”.

Divine solutions do not come without collateral and thus a sacrifice will be made yet to what extent and what that will mean for our leads it remains to be seen as we only have scattered pieces which hint that Chloe will take the blow but not in the conventional sense the fandom loves to lament over. Chloe dying is overplayed and in my opinion to fan fiction like to be put forward in the mid-season finale. No here we are talking about more revelations on Lucifer’s past but also Chloe’s which may date back to the Pre-Fall era.

So let’s try to go through 5x07 episode first as we connect it lightly to 5x08.

First of all, we know that we have a Serial Killer played by David Figlioli* in these two episodes so I would expect to see a plot similar to Dr Carlisle’s. That means that in one of the two episodes either the effect of the character will set in motion an unavoidable plot that will affect all the leads pr that past actions are bound to fade the immediate future.

*If you do not want to know who that is please do not look him up and think twice before spoiling that element to people who do not like spoilers or like the procedural subplot of the series. I do not add his bts here for that reason.

Now our Serial Killer has been described as “Nerdy and Creepy” which fits the description from the locations they were used.

At this point please remember that we usually LOVE to speculate only on Lucifer and Chloe but in reality their story is supported and the plot moves forward through the events on every single character’s life. So certain points might be considered from all angles meaning from every character’s point of view on 5x07 and 5x08. That is practically impossible as we have no idea what has happened to most of them during S5P1, we can only guess so let’s see.

Dan - We expect him to have a health issue that ties him to Lucifer for the most part of the season. As we have said Dan’s arc is very similar to Charlotte’s and also after 5x08 the bracelet disappears but that’s for the S&S of 5x08. So notice that Kevin Alejandro did not appear in the bts of 5x07 and 5x08 while the actor had some other engagement during the shooting of 5x07 and he directed 5x08. Of course, bts are not reliable on how much screen time a character has but is nonetheless suspicious.

Amenadiel - It seems that Amenadiel according to his garments has decided run LUX early in S5 but in some bts there were some hints of boxing yet I cannot tie them to an episode so I’m just mentioning that here. We also know from the photos at Linda’s fridge is you look closely that he has a calm domestic life but here is the twist we do not know if he is romantically involved with Linda or if in S5 the usual working pair Maze and Amenadiel move from where they left things in S1-S2. Whatever happens, what we know is that Amenadiel is deeply involved in this seasons plot so keep an eye on him.

Maze - You have seen her in different clothes and it does not seem like she has left her demonic character attitudes and choice of wardrobe behind in S5. On the contrary, her relationship with humans like Ella and Linda seem to now be better and I do not think she will be bitter towards Lucifer although who knows, as he left her when he went back to Hell. In short, she seems to be coping well but there are a lot of fights which I’m not sure whether she acts out in S5 towards Lucifer and Amenadiel or tries to fend off whatever attacks them. Do not go to oh the demons have ascended scenario just yet…

Linda - Linda seems to be in a very good place we know she has her son, Charlie is growing and all the baby proof wrapper is still on so you never know when wings or powers might come forward in her life. We do know that she continues to have a close relationship with Chloe and Maze and also an amicable one with Amenadiel. Finally, we know that she resumes her sessions with Lucifer.

Charlie - Charlie is a bit of an enigma and he may be one of the contributing factors of these two episodes. For all, we know the kid finally gets some powers and do expect him to surprise you.

Ella - You just don’t know with this character as all of Aimee’s bts are vague at best yet I do not believe she has found out yet about Lucifer but P2 might be her time to do so. She does not seem to occupy much of S5’s plot but I would keep an eye on her on the second part of the season and especially on 5x10.

Trixie - Trixie’s role is doubtful to be elevated to something more in this part but she has some great moments with Lucifer. At the moment I cannot really speculate about her as whatever happens in the stages rarely gets out so we have very few appearances of Scarlet at the lot…

Lucifer - Lucifer seems to be getting a bit different, you see a different side of him one that the perhaps wanted to forget as his past comes knocking throughout the season. His evolution through the series is interesting but the supernatural elements worrisome. Again the fact alone he is willing to help Dan says a lot.

Chloe - As you saw I was very brief with Lucifer as I wanted to focus a bit more on Chloe. Aside from her relationship to Lucifer in S5 we get to see that every person has two sides even if for some they were unaware it existed. That’s not a good and bad side kind scenario but I’m talking more about Chloe being more than a miracle. Before you speculate and ask I would just say that her being a Miracle is not where S5 will step on so look for clues while you watch because all lead to 5x08. I may be right I may be wrong but I’ll spend some more time explaining this in the S&S of 5x08.

So let’s start with 5x07’s case. It’s the easy way to figure out what is going on or at least put in order the scenes. Here we have two plots and we do not know if the Serial Killer’s victim/s is the case of the week. We do know that the Serial Killer, for the most part, was in the lot so I do not think he was on location much. The reason for this is because we have two locations at the backlot where 5x07 was mainly shot.

The first one is a flower shop which if I can guess is connected to the Serial Killer perhaps. He might be this kind of peaceful guys who run a flower shop and who you would never suspect on killing people in their free time. It adds up a bit but I cannot be sure.

The second one is a house that was used as a crime scene location. In the heart of the WB lot they setup a house that exhibited a lot of wealth and eclectic taste. It’s only normal as this case is also connected to an opera?** performer or at least someone who is seen to be performing at the Los Angeles Theater a wonderful old Cinema and grand landmark in DTLA.

**We cannot know for sure of the genre he performs but the taste of his house shows he is into classical pieces so...

(See the BTS video there I always include bts that I have not posted before and are all Lucifer related)

^The police car and the coronary’s car outside the lot house location.

First, we need to remember that during a quick ext the cast and crew had to do from the Stages there was also an actress that played a human body. She wore a lot of grey and blue makeup and we can assume she was part of this story. I cannot tell if in 5x07 a body of that kind will make it to our screens but a cemetery will.

The cemetery most probably is though related to the season’s supernatural plot. They filmed at the Rosedale cemetery with several stunts and from the videos you can see that Lesley Ann had a lot of action scenes in this episode. At the same time, DB had twitted to have a lot of scenes with her in that episode. According to what DB revealed the two characters are working together. I would predict that this has to do with whatever Amenadiel is searching for since 5x05.

^In general D.B. has been thrilled with the final season and that pleases me a lot!

The Rosedale cemetery has several wonderful tombs and crypts which some of them could be used to a similar theme that was used early in the season. Confusing I know but let’s say that in P1 it seems like they are trying to find something, an object perhaps and I wouldn't be surprised if it was either hidden in a cemetery or simply that the object that they are looking for is connected to the serial killer somehow… I mean remember Azrael’s blade… I doubt they will use the same scenario but the divine influence on mortals never ends well.

Now the second location which I mentioned before is the Los Angeles Theater. I do not know if Ellis and German were also in the cemetery but they will be at the Theater along with the opera? singer. There is also some stunts involved so I would keep an eye on someone escaping or at least putting a fight. For all we know this case might also be a bit similar to 3x17 one with Axara.

^The stand-ins taking notes for the scene

^We expect some to happen to that grand staircase oh and there were again a lot of stunts there so :D

As you can tell the majority of 5x07 as an episode eludes us and there are bts we cannot really explain but we can only speculate about.

For example why Lucifer wears a budge and has a gun? Why now? Is he threatened or Chloe has decided that enough is enough. Perhaps even in order to not endanger her Lucifer might have taken her badge and gun. The possibilities are so many yet a definite answer cannot be given. If we take into account that the title is Our Mojo it can be a million different things. Like the opera? singer has the same captivating effect as Lucifer’s mojo for some reason but not a divine gift. It might have to do something with Charlie or it can be taken completely out of context. All we know is that Lucifer has to be armed so I would speculate this.

I admit I was not the one to notice that but my dear Amy was :P I just did the visuals a bit clearer.

Let’s assume that Lucifer’s connection to Dan is weakened him and it goes both ways hence why we do not see Dan as much in 5x07 and a permanent solution becomes more urgent. His strength, mojo and overall his capacity to protect himself. Or perhaps he has to pose as Dan but that wouldn’t explain the protection of authority and a gun full of bullets. So we know things are dangerous when Chloe? caves in and hands Lucifer a gun to protect himself or if Lucifer has decided that in order to keep himself safe he has to play with human toys.

What we also cannot totally explain is the green screen *around* the penthouse. After discussing this with some friends we have agreed that it should be a large scale event or something. We do not know when or if Lucifer and Chloe get intimate, if that’s why that green screen is there or if there is a divine consequence that has to be shown through VFX. All we know is that there is something big coming. The last time they had used such a big screen well it was smaller actually was for the Fall nightmare scene of 3x15.

Additional Info

The stunts were rehearsing a fight at the stages but that’s normal for when they have to perform on location.

Something seems to happen at the precinct and mainly in episode 5x08. Something like a fight

^Naughty Woman? Perhaps I’m wrong...

The director posted this as a lucifer bts but here is the thing little Charlie as far as the babies used go cannot operate that but with CGI everything is possible. Also, the babies used were shooting for a different show at that time.

#lucifer spoilers #lucifer speculation #lucifer 5x07 #Lucifer 5x07 - Our Mojo #Sanoiro S&S

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jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 6 years ago

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What If I Told You (7)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members at times.

Summary: You and Jensen have been the closest of friends for years after meeting on the set of SPN, but what will happen when you and Jensen have a kissing scene?

Warnings: Cursing; divorce; break up; angst-ish at times, but mostly fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is divorced from an unnamed ex in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

A/n: This is mostly filler, if I being honest. Its fluff, but I needed some build up to the next chapter (which will be allllll the fluff, so stay tuned). Special thanks to my rosie for beta-ing this for me.

You awoke to a light tapping on your apartment door that grew progressively louder as you ignored it. Shoving your comforter above your head, you attempted to will the infernal knocking into another dimension. The sun had yet to rise, and in your fatigued state of mind you couldn’t understand why someone would be trying to rouse you from blissful sleep so early… until you realized

why

they were here.

You shot up quickly enough to cause a head rush, glaring at the clock on your nightstand. 5:45 a.m. Shit! You were supposed to be up a half an hour ago.

You kicked your bare legs out from beneath your down comforter and sprinted towards your door where Clint, your driver, body guard, and whom you affectionately called your ‘one functioning brain cell’ was standing with a latte from your favorite coffee shop.

“I’m so sorry!” you practically shouted at the man in front of you, causing him to wince and hold up his hands in surrender.

“Whoa! Calm down kitten.” His velvety southern accent calming your nerves slightly. He took in your frazzled state and disheveled hair and deduced that your alarm didn’t go off. “Phone not workin’?” He asked.

You exhaled dejectedly, “Oh, son of a bitch.” You muttered as you stomped back into your apartment. Damn you for not having a real alarm clock. “I forgot to charge it last night. Damnit. Mother fuc—“

“Y/n!” Clint stopped you in your fury. “Relax, okay? Your set call isn’t until 7:30. We’ve got plenty of time to make it to set for makeup and wardrobe. Just get changed and meet me downstairs.” He called as he led himself back to your door.

With haste and hurry, you shrugged into some leggings, a faded t-shirt, and a flannel. Brushing your teeth was the most “grooming” you had time for, resolving that they’d be doing your hair and makeup when you got to set anyway. The messy bun you were sporting was just a little… messier than normal. You were notoriously the first to set on days when you had an early schedule, and waking up late just threw off your whole rhythm. You grabbed your bag and the latte Clint had left on your counter and hurried down the stairs, careful not to slip on the rain drenched concrete.

“Brrrr.” You mumbled as you shook off the light drizzle from your clothes as you hopped into Clint’s SUV. “It’s freezing. And wet. Why is it either always freezing or wet here?”

Clint’s deep chuckle bounded from his chest and turned his cheeks a rosy shade of red as he cranked up the heat. He was from Alabama, had a thick, bushy beard, and his salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back with gel. He was in his fifties and reminded you a lot of an uncle you hadn’t seen in many years. Although he didn’t have the title, per se, he may as well have been your assistant. He knowingly kept track of your schedules, made sure you were where you needed to be, when you needed to be there, and was a fierce force against any paparazzi that dared question you or the boys when you were with them. You lovingly called him and Cliff, Jensen and Jared’s bodyguard, “C2”.

“I’m still not used to it, and don’t know that I’ll ever be.” He commented as he shifted into drive. “You wanna plug in your phone? Your spare charger’s in the glove box.”

“Nah. We’ll be on set soon enough. I can plug it in then.”

It was only a twenty minute ride to the studio, so you decided to just charge it in your trailer while you were being prepped for filming.

You chatted with Clint about his kids and wife and their new puppy, Frank. You couldn’t help but smile when his eyes shone at the mention of his newest love that he’d adopted from a shelter a few weeks ago. He was a big ole softy when it came to dogs.

It wasn’t until you were driving through the gates of the studio that you remembered what scenes you were filming today. Every nerve ignited in your body as you opened your trailer door, excitement and fear both coursing through you as you remembered Jensen’s lips attached to yours.

And damn Jared and his gold-star meddling. Sure, you liked to reason that you would have eventually noticed that your name was said during rehearsal, but all of the emotion swirled in that instant made your recollection fuzzy. Words spoken could have been mistaken in memory of that instance, but that kiss was burned into your memory forever.

With a deep sigh, you plugged in your phone and rushed to the cosmetics trailer, plopping down as Jennifer set to work on your hair.

Your latte was emptied and your hair was freshly curled when Jared swung the trailer door open Kramer-style.

“Always late to the party.” You teased with a smirk.

“Cinderella is never late to the ball.” Jared retorted with a wink.

“Oh!” you chuckled as you stood from the ‘hair chair’, “is that what we’re calling you these days? I’ll be sure to make some adjustments to your trailer, princess.”

As you moved away, Jared peeled the beanie from his head and shook out his locks, preparing for his turn as you moved on to makeup.

As brushes were being cleaned and supplies gathered, you and Jared had a slim moment of privacy in the small space.

“Hey, Jar?” you whispered into the silence. “Jar?... Jared!”

He peaked up from his phone when you nudged him. “Hmm? What?”

“Man… you have the attention span of a rabbit.”

“I can be a rabbit or Cinderella, not both, Y/n.”

“Whatever…. Quick question, though…”

“Okay…” he waited, eyes trained on your fidgeting hands.

When you finally pushed down the lump in your throat, you asked, “How did you know about yesterday?—About, you know, what Jensen said?”

His hazel eyes sparkled for a sharp second, too much knowledge behind them for your liking, when he replied, “He told me.”

You nodded, not wanting to seem to eager to press for information, but couldn’t resist, “What else did he say?”

“I—“ Jared shushed when the ladies returned and set to work getting the two of you ready for filming.

The two of you sat in silence as you contemplated what else was said during their interaction, but Jared was not giving you any further hints as to what happened. You itched for your phone so you could text him repeatedly, glaring at him out of the corner of your eye as he was entrenched in Twitter.

“Alright! All done.” Jennifer patted Jared on his shoulders.

“Us, too.” Trisha smiled at your reflection.

Jared swung his long legs to pull himself out of the chair, meeting you halfway in between them. “So?” you asked, feeling shorter than ever in his presence.

He secretly loved being the middleman between the two of you. He’d been eyeing the two of you for the last few years and eagerly noticed all of the lingering touches, stolen glances, and small glimmers of affection that you both seemed to miss from the other. He knew you were almost there… almost to the point where the maddening run-around would be over, so he gave you one final push.

“Y/n…” he scowled gently. “You and Jensen need to talk. Trust me.” He murmured with a soft smile and a loving pat on the shoulder.

The door swung open once more, but with less vigor than Jared’s entrance. Jensen shouted something over his shoulder to his P.A. before climbing the two metal steps.

His green eyes glistened as they locked on your face, a breathless call of your name escaped from his lips.

“Jay… hi.” You breathed.

Jared not-so-gracefully shoved your arm, causing you to stumble in the direction of the man that made your insides turn to mush.

“Hey.” He smiled. A light scruff donned his cheeks and his hair was fluffed in the most gorgeous way, like he had just finished running his hands through it. He lightly raked his tongue across his plump lower lip, making your skin tingle. “How are you?” he asked.

“Good, you?” you tested as he came to stand in front of you.

“Tired, but good.” He chuckled. “I—uh… I tried to call you last night. Did you get my message?” he asked shyly, one hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

Your face fell in confusion and disappointment, kicking yourself for missing his phone call, “My phone died last night… I’m sorry. I haven’t checked it since I woke up.”

“Its okay, really. I figured you were sleeping anyways.”

“Jensen?” Jennifer called. “Your chair’s ready.” She said, gesturing for him to take a seat.

“On the way.” He smiled to her. Shoving his hands in his pockets nervously and rocking on the balls of his feet, he continued, “Well, give it a listen and uh… tell me what you think, okay?”

You nodded, “I will, I promise.”

Just as you were turning to leave, you felt a slight grip on your hand. Jensen grasped your petite palm in his and gave it a light squeeze, “I’ll see you in a few, sweetheart.”

With flushed cheeks and a stupid grin, you nodded again, dumbfounded, giddy, and unable to do anything else.

He sat down and met your eyes once more in the mirror, his lips curling just enough to make his adorable dimples appear.

Once the door shut, you almost missed the last step and fumbled down to the pavement with a curse, taking a second to shake off embarrassment before racing to your trailer and immediately checking your voicemail.

“Hey, Y/n. I’m sorry it’s so late, but uh… I wanted to… see how you were, I guess. Well, I know you’re asleep now, but… can we spend some time together tomorrow? Just you and me? There’s something I need to tell you. I’ll see you then, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

A mixture of dread, anticipation, and joy flowed through you quickly before you went to wardrobe and the large warehouse that held the bunker’s set, carefully holding your umbrella as to not ruin everything that had just been done for your look.

When you arrived, Jared and Jensen were in the ‘library’ with scripts in hands.

“Alright, folks!” the director shouted to the cast and crew. “We’ve just got a quick meeting here before we travel to location for the day. Here are your schedules and breaks and travel itineraries. Jensen, Jared, and Y/n will be filming first, stunts and extras are already in transport. Any questions?” he asked while papers were being shuffled to each actor and staff member. “Nope? Alright, then. Let’s get this show on the road!” he clapped.

Quickly and gently shoving through the sea of people that were making their way out, you made your way to Jensen as he handed off his script.

“Jay?” you called, causing him to look up to where you were squeezing through the last of the mob.

Rushing towards him, you planted yourself as everyone else filed out around you. “I got your message.”

“Yeah?” he replied with a flicker of hope and a hint of a smile.

“I’d really like that… us meeting up later, I mean.” you said.

He sigh, almost relieved, “You would?”

“Absolutely.” You beamed.

“Me too.”

A/n 2: I received an anon ask when I was looking for fic ideas(see below) for a Jensen x actress!reader fic a while ago, but recently got hit with a spark of inspiration. This is based off of the song “What if I Said” by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner and will be a short mini-series. Also there is a wife mentioned in some parts, but I purposefully left this person nameless as to not insinuate anything for Jensen’s real life.

Anonymous said: Hi! Just saw your post about looking for fic ideas. I’ve had this idea that I really like where reader is an actor on Supernatural and is friends with Jensen. They have a scene where they have to kiss or even just have to be right up in each other’s space and it makes them realize they like each other. It’s probably a common thing to write about, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Thanks!

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grandmascottlang · 5 years ago

Text

a beauty and a beast ch.1 (b.b.)

So. I am so freaking sorry that this has taken weeks to come out. So much happened that I don’t really want to get into, but it really prevented me from being able to finish and post this story, and I’m really excited to write it! This is for @sincerelymlg‘s writing challenge! I hope you enjoy this! (Also note: I changed the story a little bit so that it is more modern but it still follows the main story!)

Masterlist | Taglist | Buy me a ko-fi?

Summary: A tale as old as time between a beauty and a beast. [Modern!Beauty and the Beast!AU]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slightly unedited writing, Bucky isn’t in this part (sorry!), also if you squint there might be a Good Omens reference or two lol

Words: 1.6k

[A/N: I just revamped my taglist and deleted everyone on it so I wouldn’t have to go through over 200 accounts to see who was active. If you’re currently not on my taglist and want to be added, please click the link above! On top of that, if you add yourself to my taglist and don’t interact within three stories (which includes this one!) you will be removed.]

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a young woman who was obsessed with reading, writing, and anything else that had to do with literature. She lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone. But when she was reading, she was in her own little world. And people didn’t like that.

The people of this village liked people who were open and very involved in the community, so when someone was reclusive and shied away from most community events, rumors were started.

“Maybe she’s crazy.”

“Maybe she’s ill.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for the right moment to leave.”

Leaving the community was almost as scary as someone finding the small town that was in the middle of nowhere and attempted to move in. Needless to say, the people feared change. The very thought of change irked them to their cores, scorched their souls, reeked of treason, or rather, resentment.

[Name] was never one to shy away from these rumors, she didn’t want to be like everyone else who acted almost robotically, she always thought of her village as one of the cities that she read about in dystopian societies. It was too perfect for her, and nothing in the world should be and truly is perfect.

Her adoptive father, Steve Rogers, was always encouraging her to break out of the norm and be her own individual instead of being what everyone expected of her. She excelled in school and aspired to be a famous published author after she made it out of her hometown.

“Dad?” She asked Steve one day.

Steve cocked an eyebrow at her, briefly pausing from his writing. He was in the process of writing a fictitious war novel, most likely another one of his best sellers (except of course in the town the two lived in, where becoming a writer was looked down upon and shunned). “Hm?” He turned around in his spinning office chair to look at his daughter. “Something you need?”

“I just wanted to run an idea by you quickly before I head over to the bookshop and before you leave for your convention! My favorite author, besides you of course,” she chuckled, always having admired her old man’s writing, “is gonna be over there signing! I found out that he was going to stop here during his book tour at the bookshop!” She began to converse with Steve about his thoughts about the idea and afterward, she grabbed the book that she wished to get signed along with her bag and bolted out of the house, yelling a quick “Bye, dad!” as her hand turned the handle to go outside.

On her dash over to the bookshop, eyes tracked her path, followed by sneers and rude statements being said to her. Seeing someone run to the bookshop was odd, and to the town, she really was an odd girl.

She opened the door to the surprisingly large bookstore (which looked from the outside as if it took up an eighth of the space as it did in reality), heading to the second floor of the store.

“Hello, [Name]! Good to see that you’re back again! Are you here for the book signing?” the store owner questioned her, a bright smile on her face.

“Vienna! I’ve missed you! I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by recently, but I’ve been working on my own writing so much that I really haven’t thought of giving myself a break,” she giggled, scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment. “And yes! I’ve been so excited about this for weeks! I’ve been telling my dad about how much I love his book and when I saw our little village on the book tour list, I screamed!”

“Oh, stop it, girl, you just stopped by last week to pick up a book! Don’t apologize. And I was so excited! His agent, however peculiar, reached out to me and asked if he could stop here during his book tour and of course, I said yes! He is one of my favorite authors after all, too!” Vienna said, beginning to ramble off about the email that she received from the author’s quite… odd agent to say the least as she began to lead [Name] over to where the book signing was.

“Anyway, as soon as you get your book published, you have to let me know! I really wanna sell it here; I have to support my best friend!” Vienna smiled over at [Name] before stopping in front of the author’s signing booth.

[Name] smiled back, waving as her friend, the bookshop owner, began to walk away to reshelve some books that had just been shipped to her store.

She pulled the book out of her bag, smiling at the blond man in front of her. “Hi, I’m [Name] and I absolutely adore your books, Mr. Fell! All of your historical fiction seems very real but at the same time, extremely entertaining and interesting to read, it’s impossible for me to put a book down!”

“Have fun this weekend, old man!” [Name] waved her dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, smiling at her before focusing his attention on the road.

[Name] walked back in the house, closing the door behind behind her. She told Steve to text her as soon as he was boarding his plane to the convention, and the name of it had slipped her mind. While she waited for his text, she picked up the book that she was currently reading and waited, passing the time with a good book.

After a few hours and no word from Steve, [Name] began to get worried. Seventeen of her calls went to voicemail and she grabbed her car keys and dashed out of the house.

She remembered her dad saying that he was going to take a short cut to the airport through the forest by the town and she began her drive in that direction.

She couldn’t remember there ever being a forest by the town until a few months ago and the woods seemed more mysterious than they initially had. As she drove deeper into the woods, it got darker and became almost pitch black when it was only an hour past noon when she started driving. On top of that, it was the middle of summer and it was snowing. Something wasn’t right.

Her headlights reflected off of something and she stopped the car. She hopped out and didn’t worry about her feet getting wet from the snow. She had other things to worry about.

She walked closer to what her headlights were reflecting off of. Steve’s car was totaled and his phone was in shambles. She could see spots of blood staining the snow red, leading away from the car and deeper into the forest.

She shivered from the cold and headed back into her car, following the general direction of the blood. She was also shaking from the thought of what could’ve happened to Steve.

[Name] drove for about twenty minutes until she stumbled across a clearing in the forest, revealing a mysterious looking castle. ‘Why have I never seen this place before or at least heard of it?’ she questioned herself as she opened her car door, exiting her car. She slammed the door shut, seemingly in awe of the massive structure in front of her. She walked up the marble staircase, continuing to follow Steve’s (or at least what she believed was Steve’s) blood.

The castle oozed an aura of nobility and richness, but it was covered in vines and in different places, the castle looked almost faded away. It looked very regal, yet run down at the same time. The doors were a great example of this: they were large, ebony-wooden doors that were carved to portray a scene of a knight riding on his horse into battle and the night seemed to be almost faded into the background, with moss covering his face.

Once [Name] had opened the doors to the strange castle, she looked around the grand foyer. “Dad? Dad, where are you?” she screamed. She began to look around more frantically when she heard a faint “[Name]?” from somewhere deep in the castle.

The castle was fairly well-lit, the girl looked and admired all of the architecture, it seemed as if it had been ripped right from the pages of her favorite novels. It was very fairytale-esque and the girl questioned how on Earth no one had mentioned that such a place existed only a few miles away from the town.

While she marveled at the architecture, she also noticed that every piece of furniture, every decoration, had a very antique feeling to it. Even though many of these items seemed outdated, they looked as if they had been used regularly and recently, however, the castle seemed deserted and empty.

There was a candelabrum placed on a small, oddly placed table. The candelabrum was immaculate and very well detailed, with gold leaves and vines traveling along all of the different “arms” holding up the candles. There wasn’t a single spot on it that faded with age and it looked shiny as if it was new. There was a box of matches next to it, clearly placed there to light the wicks of the candles.

The table stood next to a large, dark oak door. When [Name] opened the door, there was a staircase leading downwards, without any lighting leading down into the passage.

[Name]’s first instinct was to reach for her phone and use the flashlight on it, but she couldn’t find her phone anywhere. She facepalmed after remembering that she left it in the car’s cupholder and she knew that her dad was more important than any phone.

She struck one of the matches on the striking surface, lit the three candles on the candelabrum, and began her descent further and deeper into the castle.

Permanent Taglist (Strikethrough means that I wasn’t able to tag you!)

@sendspidermanpics @coffeebucko @eternallovers65 @ymeradonnadx @spidey-pal

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selenelavellan · 6 years ago

Note

If you feel inspired, I'd love to see reverse reincarnated Dirthamen awake in Selene a new love of mathematics. I'd love to see her healing from that bad start.

Sorry for the wait!

Reverse Reincarnation AU

Dirthamen is @feynites

tw for nightmares, abuse mention, and vomit

Living with an abomination is less ofa hellscape than Selene thought it would be.

It's a strange feeling, to be morecomfortable in this home than she ever had been with the clan.Though, she supposes her home life with the clan turned out to bemore of a hellscape than she thought it would be, so...maybeshe just fits in better with those who exist outside of a standardsociety. Maybe she just wasn't meant for aravels and husbands andfamilies; maybe she's just meant for a different sort of life, spentwith demons and abominations and boxes of forgotten items of pastlovers of the man that she's starting to...

It's a ridiculous notion.

A ridiculous thought, even, thatshe might be developing romantic feelings towards a man who stalkedher in dreams and tracked her down in reality until he found her onthe side of the road and then...and then flewher back to his home, to a country she's never even seenbefore.

Farther from her clan than she everthought she'd manage.

Farther, she thinks, than she evercould have managed on her own.

She's thankful for that. Always willbe, she hopes.

As time passes, she only finds herselfmore thankful. More grateful, and more conflicted about expressingher gratitudes. He pays attention to her; learns her likes anddislikes, notices what sort of food she prefers, even recognizes her nervous ticks before she realizes she's doing them.

She doesn't know why he's doing thesethings for her. Doesn't understand why he went to the trouble oftracking her down; the slew of people ringing the doorbell only to beturned away by her presence proves there was no lack ofcompanionship. There is nothing particular about her.

She is, on all accounts, only averageor worse.

He is very handsome, though.

The sharpness of the cut of his jaw hascaught her on more than one occasion, accented by light streaking inthrough the curtains. Light that highlights the muscles of hisshoulders, the cords of his neck, the curve of his waist. It's veryenticing, and too often she's had to drag her eyes away from himbefore her mind could turn to lewder concepts of touch and taste.

She supposes that's part of thepackage, when you merge with a desire demon.

The concept that her husband is deadis...difficult to wrap her mind around. That he could truly be gone,could truly be incapable of hurting her again, of fulfilling thelingering promises he left her with when last they met.

Her fingers brush against hershoulders, memories of bruises now long faded still rising at thetouch.

The nightmares persist.

The most common is the worst; that hefinds her here. That he strolls right in the front door, somehow evenlarger than he had been in life with his hair the same color as thefires that destroyed the clans home, his mere presence fills the air with smoke, choking theair from her lungs as she struggles to breathe and fails to scream,barely able to cough while hands wrap around her shoulders and forceher down against the kitchen counter-

But that is where the nightmare ends.Where Dirthamen appears and turns her husband to ash night afternight after night. He stands there with his eyes and nails turnedblack as pitch with hair to match, horns stretching out of hissilhouette while he takes slow and careful steps toward her, smokereplaced by air with every pace as he inspects and ensures she issafe and unharmed.

And then she thanks him.

It's a terrible thing for her to do,she thinks. To thank him, for murdering her husband. For saving her, because she is too weak to save herself. It only illuminates the worstparts of her; the parts that are selfish and disloyal and moreconcerned with her own wants than the needs of others.

She is not sure why this nightunsettles her more than the others. Why she jolts awake so suddenly,and so violently, with a burning in her gut that sends her racingto the bathroom to empty her stomach and shaking droplets of sweatfrom her skin with every motion.

She is unsure why her skin feels likethere are flames still licking at it, like there is still smoke inher lungs.

Like there is still a tall, red-headedelf standing on the other side of the door.

She showers, and brushes her teeth forthe second time that night and tries to shake whatever it is thatseems to be plaguing her, but finds no relief. Still feels asthough her world could be stripped from her at any point, that shewill need to vacate her body at a moments notice, that somethingterrible will happen and she will be powerless to stop it.

Her hair is still damp and her feet arestill bare when she finally leaves her bathroom. She doesn't stop ather bed, or her door, or at any point in the hallway between whereshe was and where he is. Doesn't even knock when she opens his door.

He is awake, at least.

Dirthamen blinks up at her, the pen inhis hand mid-signature as it presses against a small pile of paperson his work desk, the lamp upon it the only source of light in theroom.

Selene lets out a breath, and for thefirst time in an hour doesn't taste ash on her tongue.

“Sorry,” she swallows, hand stillon the doorknob. “I couldn't-I don't know why it was differenttonight, but I can't-...D'you mind if I just sit with you for a bit?I'll be quiet. I just...” She shakes her head, taking a deep breathand feeling a bead of sweat drip down the length of her neck. “Idon't think I can be alone right now.”

“Of course,” He says. His eyes arewide, and his body tenses as though conflicted about whether heshould stand to help her into the room or stay where he is to allowher her space.

It's a strange sort of politeness hepossesses, but she finds herself enamored by it all the same.

She finally releases the doorknob, hisrug soft and plush beneath her feet as she carefully moves into the largewingback chair sitting against the wall opposite his desk. It occursto her now that she is only wearing her bathrobe, as the warmthof her flames finally starts to calm down and she's left feelingexposed to the chilled air of the room. She curls her knees up to herchest, leaning against one side of the chair as she finally letsherself relax again.

She can only relax in the presence ofthe man who murdered her husband.

Probably not a great steptowards self sufficiency, she thinks wryly.

Dirthamen stares at her for a fewmoments more, and she tries not to be too awkward about it, beforehis attentions return to the papers on his desk. Selene takes thetime to look around the room; no photos, but plenty of mirrors.Shelves littered with tie and jewelry stands, bowls filled with ringsand loose change, and in a few places there are even books, laying ontheir side or propped up between other decorative pieces. She readsthe spines of a few, noting that most seem to be 'how to's forvarious hobbies and the rest are all biographies and oddly titledfictions.

Nearly half an hour passes beforeDirthamen seems to be finished with whatever he was working on, andSelene tenses slightly as he rises from his chair. But he makes noapproach towards her; only steps out of his own bedroom in silence.

Selene shifts awkwardly in the chair.Should she leave? His footsteps thud distantly against the stairs, andshe feels a distinct pang of guilt that he might be moving to sleepon the couch instead of in his own bed. That's not right, sheshouldn't-she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable in his own room.

She stands and straightens her robe, meaning to go downstairs andapologize for her intrusion. But just as she starts to move for thedoor, it swings open again.

Dirthamen is standing there with twopencils and two books, and looking at her curiously.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

“Yep,” Selene says a little tooquickly. “I was just-I didn't mean to bother you, I was just-”She sighs. “...Sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,”He assures her, closing the door behind him with what she assumesmust be his tail. “I thought you might enjoy these with me.”

Selene blinks quickly, taking the softcovered book from him and glancing over it with a frown.

Sudoku and Other MathematicalPuzzlers

“You mentioned earlier that you thought you were not gifted withnumbers,” He says before she can bring it up again. “But Ifind these often help me to unwind and relax before sleeping. Ibelieve you would also find them similarly beneficial.”

“Dirthamen, I...” She starts, eyes darting briefly to the way histail flicks when she says his name. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” He says with a smile. “If you have any difficulties orconcerns, feel free to ask. Though I believe you will do just fine.”

She swallows nervously, nodding as she takes one of the pencils fromhis other hand with a quiet thanks.

She hasn't worked with numbers in quite some time. Once, she hadthought to help Haleir with his own work; had found some of hisreceipts and bills of sale and value listings, and thought that perhaps, she had seena more productive and prosperous way for him to handle such things.

But she had been incorrect in some manner she could not see, and he hadbeen very angry at her actions and made it abundantly clear that thiswas something she knew nothing about. That she should concern herselfmore with the simple matters of her healing tent than the businesswhich he was trying to run.

So of course, she expects a similar disaster to await her in thepages of the book. But as she manages to complete the simple puzzles,and makes her way through to the intermediate, she finds she doesn'thave much difficulty with it at all.

It could be a fluke, of course.

She skips ahead, to one of the more advanced puzzles, and finds itstill does not take her long at all to find the solution.

A strange sense of pride wells in her chest.

She tries another, and another, and another still, and finds that thenumbers and the clarity and control she is given over the numberedboxes is comforting, in its way. After five of the Master levelpuzzles are completed, she skips further still into the book, findingpuzzles more akin to algebra than a crossword. Strings of lettersarranged into several equations, with a goal of finding out whichletter equals which number. It is a slow start, but Selene findsherself solving even those with ease, before long.

“I see you are finding them enjoyable,” Dirthamen finally speaks, breaking the silence of the room.“I think that is the first time I have seen you smile tonight.”

Selene feels her face heat slightly, pulling the book up to coverher darkening cheeks and the bridge of her nose while she mumbles outa reflexive apology.

“It was not mean to be a negative statement,” He assures her. “Iam afraid I am not having quite as much ease with my own endeavors,however. Would you mind assisting me?”

She hesitates.

He is laying in his bed, back against an array of overly fluffedpillows with bright pink socks covering his feet. Still wearing hisblack slacks and belt, though his shirt is clearly one he regularlysleeps in, with a slightly stretched out collar. As though he hadremembered he had work to finish half-way through his night timeroutine.

There is something oddly vulnerable and alluring about theappearance.

And so she hesitates.

But only briefly.

Selene crawls over the side of his bed closest to her chair, peeringdown at the offered book from beside him.

“You have a five where you should have a three,” She informs him,pointing out the offending square on the page.

“Ah,” He notes, staring directly at her and not so much asglancing at the page. “So I do.”

Selene raises an eyebrow at him as she straightens from where she hadbeen on all fours, pulling her robe back over where it had loosenedon her chest. “Was this a trick?”

“No,” He assures her. “I truly was not sure where I had madethe mistake. Though...” His tongue darts out briefly to lick histop lip and his eyes flash gold for a brief moment. “I think it isthe best mistake I have made in a very long time.”

Selene snorts, before immediately covering her face and apologizingagain. Nobody likes snorting, and its rude to do in front of people.

“I do not mind it,” Dirthamen assures her. “It is a sign thatyou are happy, correct? How could that possibly be a bad thing?”

Her face flushes, and she feels flames licking beneath her skin foran entirely different reason than earlier.

It's a ridiculous notion, she reminds herself.

“I suppose I should just go back to my puzzles then...” Dirthamendrawls, eyes still on her expectantly.

Selene clears her throat and nods, opening her own book back upbeside him. “Yes. That-that's probably for the best.”

He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment, and they both return totheir tasks, close and in various states of undress on one of thenicest mattresses Selene has ever been on.

She realizes this, of course, when she wakes up on it in the morning.Covered by the blue blanket that had previously been slung over thewingback chair, and curled into thestill-only-partially-dressed-for-bed abomination that had kept hersafe through the night.

Dirthamen is still dozing, breaths light and even with the rise andfall of his chest, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, touchingthem in a way that doesn't make her flinch. In a way that just makesher feel safe, and warm, and content.

She closes her eyes, her own hand tightening in the hem of his shirt,and takes a deep breath.

No smoke. No ash.

No nightmares.

#answered #reverse reincarnation au #dirthalene #thanks for the ask <3 #sorry its not 100% what you asked for #but its definitely a solid step in that direction #powredpaintcoll

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theonyxpath · 6 years ago

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This week for Fiction Friday, we’re pleased to offer Part Two of Catherine Lundoff’s story for the upcoming World of Darkness: Ghost Hunters, “A Cry in the Night”. Catherine also wrote a story for the V20 Dark Ages anthology The Cainite Conspiracies, and we are thrilled to have her back for a new supplement. Missed part one? Catch up before you read part two!

He nodded and she shoved a CD into the car’s player as they drove away from the store. The park was deserted when they got there, not a jogger or a dog walker in sight. Bethany’s stomach twisted. What if that woman at the convenience store wasn’t nuts? Her feeling of dread got worse as they found a parking lot near the bend in the river where the woods started and Al pulled in.

She looked around, hoping to see campers or boaters or anyone who looked even halfway normal. Not a soul in sight, but there was one small bright spot. “Look,” Bethany pointed at a park sign. “We have to be out of here by 1 AM anyway.” She hated how relieved she sounded, how glad she was that someone besides her was putting a firm time limit on this whole thing.

“Well, there we are then.” Al sounded the way he always did when he was trying not to sound nervous. “Let’s get this over with.” They piled out of the car and popped the trunk. The Specter Detector with its sensors and temperature gauge and records was there in all its homemade glory, not a wire out of place from the trip in, nothing to delay them or prevent them from lugging it into the woods with them.

Bethany looked at it and chewed her lower lip. Al tapped a couple of wires like he was hoping they were loose. But no such luck. They loaded it into the backpack. She grabbed the cameras and portable charger, then handed Al a water bottle and a flashlight. He picked up the pack and swung it onto his back with a grunt. “Ready?”

“I guess.” She turned on her flashlight, grabbed her bag and walked with Al up to where the park ended and the woods began. They clambered awkwardly over the wooden fence that separated the two and found a narrow trail that wound off into the underbrush. The moon was up now and almost full so they didn’t really need their flashlights yet, but the trees looked thicker up ahead so they kept them ready.

Under the trees, the woods were utterly silent, apart from the sound of their breathing and their footsteps on the pine needles and brush. The noise from the video suddenly echoed around them, bouncing off the trees and lifting the hairs on the back of Bethany’s neck. From the corner of her eye, she could see Al shiver and rub his bare arms. It had been a warm night when they left the park, but now there was a glacial chill all around them. Bethany thought she could see her breath in front of her. The noise faded as quickly as it had started and the woods fell silent around them.

It was still cold, though. She tapped Al on the shoulder and he turned around so she could reach into the backpack. Bethany flipped on the Detector and it started with a low, high-pitched whine. Immediately, the temperature gauge went to its upper limit and the box shook. Bethany tried tweaking the settings, her fingers freezing on the metal dials. “Shit, Al. I don’t know what’s going on here.” She gasped through chattering teeth and suddenly, as if her words had banished whatever it was, the chill disappeared.

“Well…” Al volunteered after a long pause. “That was weird.”

Bethany didn’t trust herself to respond. Instead, she pulled out one of the sensors from the backup and showed Al the recorded reading. The temperature had gone all the way up to freezing, then dropped just as suddenly. “If you’ve got any ideas…” she trailed off.

“One of those temperature inversion things? Giant refrigerator in the woods with the door open?” He looked up like he expected to see a freezer suspended over their heads.

Now that Bethany had warmed up, she was starting to tremble again. Every instinct told her that there was something nearby, something that felt old and predatory. Part of her screamed that they should run or at least hide. The hush in the woods now was so intense it was as if no night birds or animals lived anywhere in these woods.

Maybe there weren’t. Maybe that’s what the cold was: the ghosts of a hundred owls and robins and whatever else used to live here. Al took off the pack and started fiddling with settings while Bethany watched the trees around them. For a moment, she almost thought she saw a face, pale and white and glowing under the moon, peering down at them from the treetops, but it disappeared at her strangled cry. Al jumped and looked up at the branches, then back at Bethany. They both let out nervous giggles.

The quiet that descended after they stopped was even worse than before, if that was possible. Then, just like that, the cold was back, covering them like a blanket and seeping into their skin. Al pulled Bethany close to him in an involuntary gesture and they huddled together, looking around them with fingers too frozen to work their equipment. This time, the cold came with bursts of air, yanking Bethany’s hair loose from its ponytail and making the straps on the back snap.

Something was watching them. Bethany could feel it now and she squinted into the wind, trying to see whatever or whoever it was. Something howled long and low and otherworldly, then switched octaves to the sound they had heard on the video. It was somewhere between a howl and a shriek and both of them clapped their hands over their ears in a futile effort to shut it out.

The wind picked up, knocking them to their knees with an icy breath and Al tore one hand loose from his ear to flip the switches on the monitors. The camera kicked in as well, just in time to pick up the sound. He smacked his free hand over his ear again and Bethany could feel his body tremble as they huddled together.

She tried hard not to scream, tried to think of bunnies and kittens or work or whatever would help her check out of this and stay sane. Instead, her mind kept returning to the video. What had happened to those people after their camera went dark? Bethany really, really didn’t want to find out. Al’s low groan cut across her thoughts and she swiveled sideways to look at him, hands still clamped over her ears.

He convulsed, only the whites of his eyes showing and she grabbed at his shoulders, trying to hold him still. “Al! Al! What’s the matter?” He twitched under her hands and the noise intensified for a long moment, the woods shaking with unearthly wails. Bethany screamed, covering her ears again while Al suddenly floated upward, eyes still rolled back in his head. His body went rigid and he rose to about two feet off the forest floor. Bethany stared at him open-mouthed, frozen in cold and terror.

It was only when a white fog rose from the ground and started to move him forward into the trees that she snapped back to a version of reality where she controlled her body. Jumping to her feet, she scrambled after Al, trying to catch him. The fog struck her like a hand between her shoulders, knocking her back down to the ground. She tried rolling away, but it reached out and wrapped around her like a sleeping bag. Then it rolled up and covered her face until she couldn’t see the trees anymore.

She flailed, punching and kicking out at the cloud of white that enveloped her, trying to see where they, whoever they were, had taken Al. Rolling and flailing, she dropped down into a hollow patch in the forest floor and the fog lifted a little so that she could see out again. Not that it did her much good, but at least she could see that the mist, fog, whatever it was, filled the forest around her now.

Then she saw the dim pale shapes moving around between the trees, hovering above her, rising from the ground like mist. Once she saw them, they saw her too. With a screech, a pale, bony face with eyes that were great black pits and a mouth that opened into something endless and horrible, shot up into hers. It made a sound like laughter when she screamed and struggled, trying to break free of the fog. It swung off into the mist, then another and another creature like it appeared. She could see an ornate knife in one skeletal hand, something that might have been a gun in another.

She screamed with everything she had in her. Al was out of sight in the mist and she could barely move, but she kicked and flailed and did her best to break free. The howling slowly died away but the fog stayed on, holding her, trapping her. The skeletal figures vanished into the mist, following Al, and she screamed and cursed at them, threatening them as they faded. Her brain kept rejecting what her eyes were seeing. This wasn’t happening, it was a hallucination or some kind of setup. If she just repeated that enough times, maybe it would be true.

From deep in the woods, she thought she heard an answering scream, then from much further away, sirens. The wind spun her around, lifting her off the ground and she flailed wildly, trying to catch hold of a tree to brace herself, to stop them from dragging her away to some netherworld or worse. A wave of icy cold struck her and an instant later, something else was looking out of her eyes.

Bethany could feel herself pushed aside in her own mind by something ancient and powerful. The fog bonds that immobilized her vanished but she was trapped in her own body now. Whatever it was that rode her opened her mouth in a screaming laugh. Then she found herself standing up and running after Al and the ghostly figures that followed him. She willed her legs to stop, willed her feet to stumble, willed herself to blunder into a tree, anything to slow down, to get herself back.

None of it worked. She could see Al through the fog now, still floating above the ground. He was stationary in a clearing in the trees and the two figures she had seen earlier were drifting around him, as if waiting for something. Whatever was in her head felt like it was eager, anticipating something that was going to happen. All of a sudden, the forest turned red, as if covered with blood. It oozed down the trunks and up from the ground. The sky began to rain red, soaking the world around her.

Bethany, squashed into a corner of her own mind, could feel the thing inside her mock her, even without words or coherent thoughts. She was still fighting it when everything went red again, this time clouding her vision. The sound was back and her head was full of it and red, so much red. She had no idea where she was or where Al was or if they’d make it out of here. With what little shreds of sanity she had left, she vowed that she would never do this again, that this time she would quit, no matter what Al said.

That last bit of her awareness drowned in a sea of otherworldly cold and red and noise. She didn’t see the misty figure press a spectral dagger into her cold hand, didn’t feel it turn solid. Didn’t feel her arm go up in the air or get guided down by icy, foggy hands. Didn’t see the look in Al’s eyes when they released him, just before the blade sank in.

Bethany had nothing to say when the police found them afterwards, following up on a tip from the convenience store clerk. She was crouched next to Al in the woods, rocking back and forth on her heels, the bloody knife a few steps away. She didn’t resist being restrained or tested for alcohol, didn’t respond to any of their questions or object to getting loaded into the back of their car. It was only when the ambulance stopped nearby and the paramedics came to pick up Al’s body that she seemed to come to life. She threw herself at the door as it closed, screaming, “He’s still out there! Why are you leaving him?”

The door closed and the only sound she heard was the howl from the video. But now it sounded like laughter.

• •

It was a very different Bethany who appeared at the convenience store in Cobb’s Center six months later. Her brown hair was cropped short and her eyes behind her glasses were still wide from the drugs that they’d given her at the psych ward. She was thinner and up until yesterday, she’d had a tremor. But her hands had stopped shaking today. They were steady enough to help her escape, help her find the Specter Detector in Al’s garage. His roommates had packed it away, maybe keeping it as a memento.

She made some adjustments to it before shoving it into the pack. She didn’t go in to the house to ask about it or anything else. After all, they thought she’d killed Al; they’d never help her. But one of his roommates still kept a spare car key hidden under the floor mat in the back of his car. She took the car and the pack with the Detector in it. There was an old jacket in the back of the car and she put that on as she drove down the snow-covered road.

The same clerk was working that night and her eyes got wide when she saw Bethany walk in. There were more faces, more names, on the board, but Bethany didn’t waste her time looking at them. They didn’t matter; Al was still out there, though, picture or no picture. She knew it, bone deep. She couldn’t have really killed him; those things had just messed with her mind.

So she was going to rescue him tonight, whatever it took. She was done with nightmares about howling and mist, blood and terror. Here, standing in front of her, and cringing away from her, was the answer to how she was going to do it. “I know you know what’s out there. You called the cops because you knew what kind of danger we were in.”

The clerk shook her head as if her tongue was frozen. Her fingers shook a little as she played with some kind of religious medallion on the chain around her neck. They stared at each other until the clerk choked out, “You shouldn’t have come back here. You were…the only one who got away. Get out of here, go!” She raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the door.

Bethany squinted at her. “You’re coming with me. I can’t do this by myself. We have to do it tonight, before they…look for me here.” The clerk shook her head, reaching behind the counter for an alarm or a weapon, Bethany didn’t know which. She lunged across the counter and grabbed the woman’s arm. “How long are you planning on just putting up flyers, knowing what you know?”

Leaning in this close, she noticed the woman’s nametag. “Ellen. You don’t want those things to go on doing what they’re doing, do you? Gives you nightmares, too, doesn’t it?”

“You’re nuts,” Ellen’s voice trembled. “Why do you want to go back?”

“Because I know Al’s still out in those woods and I’m going to bring him back. Now, are you going to let whatever’s out there kill me this time?” The clerk closed her eyes and clenched her necklace tighter with whitening fingers. Bethany crooned, her voice turning singsong, “You believe that they’re real.” She gestured her free hand at the posters. “We didn’t. They didn’t. But you do and that’s how we’re going to save him. I can fight what’s real. You make them real, I’ll do the rest.”

Ellen drew in a long and shuddering breath, then exhaled and opened her eyes. She stared deep into Bethany’s dilated pupils, then went limp and nodded. A few minutes later, they were in the car, a sign saying “Closed for Family Emergency” on the door of the darkened convenience store behind them. Bethany murmured, “There is something out there. There is. I’m coming for you, Al” like a prayer as they drove through the quiet town toward the dark woods.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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twistedrunes · 7 years ago

Text

George - Chapter 20

A Peaky Blinders Fanfiction

This is a series. If you’re new here welcome! I would recommend you start at the beginning: Chapter One

More chapters of George are available on the Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. All original work is my own

Hello everyone!

Well, here we are, chapter 20 who would have thought it? Thank you again to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs. Really those reblogs make such a difference to the popularity of a post. So to those of you who reblog - thanks.

Until next time xoxoxo

Chapter Twenty:

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.*

This is another very dark chapter - please if you’re at all triggered by violence and or sexual abuse perhaps leave this one alone - you can send me a message if you’d like a synopsis without the yucky bits.

Warnings: NSFW, sex, language, threats of violence, actual violence, sexual assault, rape, racial slurs, ethnic slurs, torture, character death, panic attack/flashback, pain and suffering. Just the tiniest bit of fluff.

You’re in a hospital, you can tell. Despite being unable to see, the harsh antiseptic smell, hushed voices, the cold of the steel gurney beneath you and the soft footsteps of rubber-soled shoes confirm it.

RUN!

“No, no. Stay still now.” Tommy’s voice coos, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Their resistance enough to prevent your escape. You take a deep breath, his familiar smoky scent calming you. You slump back on the gurney.

“Sir, you have to wait outside.” A harsh voice demands.

“No.” You shriek, grabbing Tommy’s wrist desperately with one hand while the other hits out at the hands pawing at you, trying to hold you in place.

“Stop!” Tommy’s voice commands, his free hand touching your shoulder reassuringly. “Get your hands off her now.” The hands release you.

“She needs to be sedated, and you need to go outside.” Another voice attempts to seize control back from Tommy.

“I’m not leaving. You’re not sedating her, and that’s fucking final.” Tommy growls.

“I said no-one was to touch this patient.” Doctor Prendergast roars, you hear his heavy footsteps quickly crossing to you, his voice hard in a way you’ve never heard. “All of you get out now.” He orders.

You hear a door close as another hand rests on your arm soothingly. “It’s okay now. It’s only Tommy and me. No-one else will touch you.” Doctor Prendergast assures you.

“Good.” You mumble around swollen lips. Adrenaline gone, and medication waning, things are starting to hurt. A lot. But you welcome it, focusing on the pain. Tumbling gladly into the maelstrom of burning fire and cold lightning created by broken bones and battered tissues. Allowing the tempest to consume you. Obliterating reality.

“Anna? It’s Doctor Prendergast.” His hand touching your arm lightly.

“Mm,” You acknowledge.

“I’m sorry, but you need to stay here for a few days.” He continues.

“No,” you whine rolling away from the Doctor’s voice.

“I know you don’t want to.” The Doctor’s hand rubs your arm. You’re aware of Tommy taking your other hand. “But your cheekbone is broken” the Doctor continues, “and we need to put it back in place. There’s pressure on your eye, I’m afraid you might lose your sight in that eye if we don’t do it. Once it's done, you will have to stay a few days for the swelling to go down and to make sure you don’t have any complications.” He explains.

“No, please.” You whimper “I can’t stay here.” You pull your arms free and begin to sit up. Tensing and hissing with the effort and struggling to get your legs out from under the covers. Turning towards Tommy, you beg “Please take me home, Tommy. Don’t make me stay here.”

“We’ll look after you. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” Tommy says quietly. He stands, you can feel his warmth as he takes hold of your shoulders and leans in towards you. Your forehead rests against his chest. “But I need you to stay here and get looked after properly. Please.” He breathes in your ear.

You nod resignedly, you can feel your tears burning hot trails over your cheeks and leaving salty residue on your lips. Tommy guides you back onto your pillow, fixing the blankets around you. Then he very carefully brushes the tears from your cheeks with his handkerchief.

“Good girl.” The doctor says kindly. “I’m going to give you a shot.” Your body tenses and both men place soothing touches on your hands. “It’ll just help you relax and sleep. You need to sleep.” The doctor continues, his hand brushes over your hair. You nod once. “Just a little sting.” The doctor says as the needle penetrates into your flesh.

The doctor leaves, but Tommy’s hand stays resting on yours. You feel yourself sinking, a black abyss opening up around you and you let go, allowing yourself to fall. Welcoming the nothingness.

A small gasp from the door distracts you from the sound of Tommy’s voice. He’s reading to you. You can’t follow the words, finding the effort of concentrating too great. He could be reading the form guide for all you knew, but the rhythm and melody of his voice is reassuring. You open the eye not held closed in the swathe of bandages. Bandages which covered the new wounds made in surgery. You turn your head so you can see the source of the noise. Selene is standing just outside the doorway, slightly in front of Alfie, hand raised to her mouth.

“That bad?” You say quietly. Tommy stops reading and looks up.

“Oh no, darling. I didn’t mean.” Selene hurries over to your bedside. You shake your head holding up your hand indicating she should stop. Selene stops, hands clasped in front of her. Alfie stands behind her and places his hand on the small of her back reassuringly.

“Alfie, Selene.” Tommy greets them standing from his chair.

“Tommy.” Alfie replies, his eyes flicking to Tommy before returning to you.

Tommy’s fingers graze over the back of your hand lightly “I’m just going to step outside.” He tells you.

You nod. To the best of your knowledge, Tommy hadn’t left you since you’d arrived at the hospital. Other Shelby’s came and went, sometimes Tommy would step out into the hall, having hushed conversations but always where you could see him. He’d wait in the hall while Doctor Prendergast was examining you. But would loiter in the room, back turned for your privacy, whenever anyone else came to do anything. Often asking questions about what was happening and if it was necessary. He even washed, using a small basin, and changed in your room, pulling the curtain between you, but talking the whole time, so you knew he hadn’t left.

“Sit.” Tommy instructs Alfie and Selene, indicating they should move to the side of the bed he had just vacated. The side where you could see them easily.

“How are you?” Selene asks her fingers brushing yours.

Tommy answers for you from the doorway. “She’s doing well. If everything goes how the doctor says, she should be right to go home in a few days.” You simply nod in agreement.

Alfie remains standing, giving the chair to Selene. He rubs his hand through his beard, scratching around the corners of his mouth. Keen eyes examining you. The visible parts of your face are still a mixture of yellow and green hues, the superficial damage from the assault fading. But he knows the look in your eye, seen it before too many times. The tell-tale thousand yard stare looking through him. The absence that comes with overwhelming loss. When the constant uncertainty and danger gets too much, even when the threat is long gone.

Again he wondered at the soundness of doing what he was here to do. Selene insisted that to wait any longer would only make it worse. At first, he had been so confident in your ability to overcome. Citing all the other trauma’s you had endured and survived. Hell seemingly thrived. But now he sees the foolish optimism in that thinking. Everyone had a breaking point, and it seemed you had reached yours.

Alfie pulls a small box from his pocket, turning it in his fingers. Silent. Selene lays her hand on his forearm. Alfie glances at her “Yeah. Right.”

“Goliath didn’t have the best start in life, bit like yourself.” He begins. Selene nods mutely. “Anyway his dad went during the war and well his ma,” he pauses, and you nod. Goliath had told you his mother had been driven mad with grief when his father passed. “So he only had me. Poor fucker. Still, don’t know how he turned out to be such a sweet boy.” Alfie shakes his head sadly before continuing “Only thing he had from his folks was his ma’s engagement ring. A plain thing really, just a band.”

You watch him blankly trying to focus, to hear and understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Alfie frowns slightly before opening the box towards himself. “So he came to me a few weeks ago, and he tells me he wants to get the ring his mother left ‘im altered, right. But he wants it done all Kosher. Nothing illegal.” He turns the box towards you and places it carefully in your hand.

Your hand is shaking wildly as you look down. It’s a simple single pearl ring.

“The ring’s platinum,” Alfie explains. “Goliath wanted the pearl added. Told him he could‘ve brought ya whole fucking strings of pearls and fucking earrings to match, bloody ruby’s, diamond’s or fucking sapphires.” Selene gently touches Alfie’s arm bringing him out of his ramblings, “But, he said it had to be just the one pearl.” Alfie shakes his head a little “Anyway got it done by a friend, right? He’s a fucking magician he is. It’s all legal and above board from reputable dealers.” Alfie’s hands drop to his sides as he watches you intently.

The box falls into your lap your hand is shaking so much. You can barely see as your eyes fill with tears. “I can’t” you whisper “It’s your family heirloom.”

Alfie picks the box back up, putting it in your hand and closing your fingers around it “No. It was his, and he wanted you to have it.” He says firmly.

Selene leans forward in the chair and places her hand over Alfie’s. “Did he tell ya the story about pearls?” She asks.

You nod, remembering. The tears flowing freely now. Selene stands, leaning over and gently embracing you. “He really did love you. Don’t ever doubt that.” She says.

Clutching your shopping, you walk quickly along the road towards home. You’d been home for a few weeks now. It had been hard to come back. Tommy had offered you to come and stay at Arrow House for a while. But you needed to try and get back to normal. Selene had told you to take some time off. But you had returned to work in three days. The four walls of the apartment seemingly closing in on you. Suffocating you in memories of Goliath. He was embedded in every piece of furniture, every floorboard, every tile. George kept filling your head too. The busyness of work providing a welcome haven.

Something is wrong. You feel a familiar shiver down your spine. You look around you trying to work out what or who is out of place. Your heart races and your breath is coming in gasps. Your free hand pushes against your chest. You hurry past the alley next to the brothel, trying not to look at the spot where Goliath died. Decaying flowers still marking the spot.

A loud bang behind you stops you short. Packages dropping from your hands. You collapse against the wall sliding down into a pile of rubbish, arms covering your head. Losing yourself in the memory.

Goliath is dead.

You’re in Sabini’s cellar. Head in the trough, water blocking you from the sensations of the world. You feel only cold and panic. Your lungs scream and blood pounds in your head.

“Miss Hunter?” one of the new girls crouches down next to you, tugging at your arm “Are you okay?” You neither see nor hear her. Another of the girls approaches her. “Get Will.” The first girl says anxiously.

Goliath is dead.

Water is pressing in on you from all sides, squeezing the life from you. You reach the precipice, teetering on the edge. Only to be pulled back, gasping and shivering. Air filling you with life and hope. Each second that passes bringing you closer to the end of the torture. You take a breath and then another. Before being plunged back into the abyss again.

Goliath is dead.

“Anna?” Will says touching your hand lightly.

You look through him shivering and gasping. “He’s dead.” You say flatly.

“I know love. I’m sorry. Let’s get inside, hey.” He says easily picking you up.

“Dirty whore. The place should be burnt to the ground.” A woman, drawn in by the cluster of worried workers, spits at you.

“Fuck off ya slag.” One of your girls screams at her, as others stand between you and the public, protecting you from prying eyes.

Will strides past them all, not paying attention to anyone but you. Once inside he carries you up to your room. Calling for one of the girls to bring a whiskey over his shoulder. Will pulls a blanket from your bed wrapping it around you, before placing you gently on the sofa. When the drink arrives, he holds his hand over yours guiding it to your lips.

You look through him, barely aware he’s there. “He’s dead.” You repeat in the same flat monotone.

Will sits next to you on the sofa, pulling you against him. He looks over at the girl who brought the drink “Call the doctor.” He instructs her.

Will’s hand smooths your hair. Still confused and scared you break down and cry.

The expansion of the prostitution business had been your idea. The death of Sabini and subsequent dismantling of his empire had left Alfie, and the Shelby’s as the only two gangs in England and an alliance had been formed. Both parties had illegal and legitimate interests. Nearly all providing significant scope for other illegal activities, such as booze and gambling. You had suggested they add prostitution.

Your plan was twofold, firstly establishing a business to run prostitutes across the partnership, and secondly ensuring no-one else had any piece of that business. Essentially, a prostitution monopoly.

Both Tommy and Alfie had been reluctant at first to ‘sell flesh’, but you had won them over. Pointing out that none of Selene’s prostitutes worked against their will and that the provision of high-quality girls and boys, catering for a range of tastes, along with the removal of any competition would result in excellent profits. You were fairly sure it was the money that won them both over.

On top of the expansion, you were finishing up the paperwork for Selene’s return to work. So you had been busy, really busy. It was a blessing, exactly what you needed. Mind always occupied you had little time to think about anything else. Cocaine helped you stay awake and your brain racing. Liquor and morphine numbing you sufficiently to sleep a few hours each night.

You were currently sitting in Selene’s office, in the middle of the floor working on the accounts. Piles of carefully sorted paper around you.

“Anna?” Ruby says from the doorway.

“Mm?” You reply not really looking up.

“There’s a woman here to see you, a Mrs Thorne,” She says her eyes sweeping over the mess surrounding you.

“I’m not seeing new girls until tomorrow.” You interrupt.

“I don’t think she’s here for that, or if she is, she’s new to the game.” Ruby observes.

“What did she say she wanted?” You ask, finally looking up at her.

“Shelby business.” Ruby shrugs indicating the woman hadn’t felt the need to provide any more information than that.

“Fuck” You sigh. “Show her to the reception, get her a drink, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dragging yourself up off the floor you slip your shoes back on and put on your holster on and jacket over the top. You sit at your desk and pull the mirror, razor and silver straw from your drawer and quickly do a line. The whole time trying to remember who the hell Mrs Thorne was. Coming up empty you decide the only way to know is, to go out and meet the woman.

Stepping into reception, you recognise who it is immediately, Ada. You take a deep breath and stop briefly at the bar, pouring yourself a large whiskey and checking she had a drink before you go to her table.

“Ada.” You say curtly, coming up behind her.

“Anna.” Ada turns giving a small smile and a nod. You notice she has a small, unmarked envelope in front of her on the table.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were married, I didn’t recognise the name.” You begin.

“No. I guess we never really got the chance to get to know each other better did we?” She says reflectively.

“No.” You say stiffly “What can I help you with?”

“Tommy’s at Mr Solomons’. He thinks I’m shopping.” You nod waiting for her to get to the point “I wanted to apologise for the way I treated you at Tommy’s.” She says quickly.

You can’t stop your eyebrows from rising in surprise.

Ada nods contritely at your reaction “It was aimed at Tommy. I forgot you were a person too.”

Still, you say nothing, merely shrugging.

“He’s such a slut you know? And he treats women like shit. He doesn’t see the trail of human rubble he leaves behind him." She stops herself before her rant gets away from her. "Anyway, what I’m saying is, the things I said were comments on his character, not yours and I’m sorry if anything I said hurt you.”

You soften slightly, surprised. “Well, Tommy and I have never slept together so,” you begin but don’t really know how to finish.

Ada nods. “I know. I think that was good for him. I think he actually tried to be a friend. He seemed,” she pauses looking for the right word “better.” She shrugs knowing it wasn’t the right one “Well at least he did, until whatever he did for you to leave anyway.” Ada shakes her head.

Not in the mood to discuss Tommy or leaving Alea House any further you press on “I’m sorry Ada but I’m quite busy at the moment.” You nod discretely at the envelope.

“Yes, well.” She fingers the package nervously as if trying to decide what to do with it. “These are for you.” She says abruptly, pushing the package towards you.

You take it and pause. Ada nods that it is safe to open in the public view. You shake the contents out onto the table. Six or seven pieces of card fall out. You pick one up and turn it over. Your heart stops. It’s a photo of you and Goliath, with the Shelby’s after his last fight. Obviously, the photographer had taken a candid shot of you all. You were sitting on Goliath’s lap. The group were all smiling and laughing. You drop the photo on the table. “Why?” is all you manage to say trying to keep your emotions in check. Your thumb rubs over the pearl on your ring, your chest getting tighter.

“I lost my husband. Pestilence, after the war.” Ada says. You nod. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Ada continues pulling a photo from her purse turning it to show you. “Freddie.” She says simply “It helps to have a photo. For the days when you think that you’ll forget what they looked like. When you wonder if it was real or just your imagination.” She rubs her thumb tenderly along the edge of the photo. “Tommy said you didn’t have any photos.”

“No, I don’t.” Surprised that Tommy had even noticed. You pick up another of the photo’s “Where? How did you even get these?”

“I figured that a fighter would have had their photo in the paper. So I found out which papers covered his last fight and went to their offices.”

“I never saw these.” You say confused.

“They weren’t published. Apparently, Mr Solomons’ suggested there was no one of interest in them.” Ada cocks her eyebrow. She picks up another photo looking at it briefly before turning it towards you. “He obviously loved you.” She says showing you the photo. The two of you were looking at each other, oblivious in that moment to anything around you, completely absorbed in each other.

You’re stunned. You feel a tear escape, dropping on the table, you wipe it up quickly. “Why?” You whisper.

“Just saying you’re sorry isn’t enough, is it? Words don’t mean anything. I should have apologised for what I said at Tommy’s ages ago. It was mean and cruel, and you didn’t deserve it.” She pauses for a moment, finger playing in the condensation on her glass. “We all know he suffers, that he has his demons. But he doesn’t let any of us in. You were there for him when he needed it, and I should have been thanking you. Not being a bitch.” She insists holding your eye.

“He did the same for me.” You say quietly.

Ada nods, you can see she’s surprised. “I’m really sorry about what happened to Goliath, and you. Women involved with this family are always getting fucked over. Even the ones not fucking my brothers." She looks up at you. "And with the new alliance, you’re back with us, and I was hoping this time we could be friends.” She concludes as she squeezes your hand.

“Okay.” You say more out of shock than agreement. “Thank you, for these.” You say quietly, slowly turning the photo’s over one by one. It’s like looking into another person’s life. You barely recognise yourself.

Ada pats your hand and stands up. “Anyway, I’d better get going, or Tommy will think something’s happened to me.”

You snap out of your reverie “Let me get you a car.” You say looking up to catch the attention of one of the girls.

“No, it’s not necessary.” She says. You look at her not needing to say the words. She gives a half-laugh before explaining “I drove Tommy’s car.”

You give her a quick and awkward hug at the top of the stairs, the package of photo’s clutched in your hand. “Thank you.” You whisper.

She squeezes you back. “Don’t be a stranger. They all miss you and want to see you.”

“Fuck.” You groan in response to the persistent clanging of your alarm. You reach out to turn it off but hit only timber. Lifting your head, you find yourself face-to-face with the bottom of the sofa. You realise you’re on the floor in the lounge-room not in bed. The cacophony continues.

Grabbing the edge of the coffee table, you attempt to pull yourself to your knees. You only manage to flip an ashtray over, covering yourself in a layer of ash and discarded butts. Coughing you try again. Managing to get to your knees, you grab the half-empty glass of, something, from the table. Adding a good dash of morphine you knock it back in one, shuddering at its harshness. You misjudge the distance from your hand to the table and release the glass too early causing it to clatter loudly.

On your feet, you make a haphazard attempt to remove the ash and butts from yourself. Realising you’re wearing only a slip you look around you for your clothes. Finding a dress, you struggle to pull it over your head as you make your way to your bed and the alarm. You pick up a half bottle of gin from the assorted bottles on the bedside and skull the contents as you bash on the alarm to make it stop.

Trying to get going you put the kettle on the stove. Reaching up to get the tea canister, you’re touched by the memory of Goliaths body against yours, hand over yours on the canister. Warm breath on your neck as his free hand would pull you closer to him. His lips inevitably caressing the skin of your neck, as you worked making the tea while Goliath stayed attached to you like a shadow. Lost in the memory your hands press against the counter as your head falls to the side exposing your neck.

“Where’re my fuckin’ smokes?” You hear a man’s voice grumble from the lounge room. Snapped harshly from your comforting memory you turn towards the voice, as a man wearing only boxers’ stands and stumbles to the bathroom.

Frantically trying to remember anything about the man, even his name, and failing you quickly collect his scattered clothing from the floor. You shove them into the man’s arms as he steps out of the bathroom.

“Oi! What’s this?” He says annoyed. “Ya man comin’ home or som’in’.”

“Yes.” You lie just wanting him out.

“Ya fuckin’ got a man? Jesus.” The man hops along simultaneously trying to dress and walk. You all but push him out the door in his underwear. Your eyes flit to the mirror next to the door, eyes drawn to the raised pink scar which shadowed your cheekbone. Doctor Prendergast had told you that the top reconstructive surgeons had done your operation and you were sure they had done their best. But, the scar was still there, a daily reminder of the worst day of your life.

Turning away you hunt through the assorted bottles, and other refuse on the kitchen table looking for a cigarette. Finding one, you light it and slump into a chair. You smoke as the tea goes cold. Stubbing out the cigarette, you run a line of cocaine on the table and start your day.

Swirling the ice in your glass, you glance around, bored. You’re waiting for Arthur and John. They were late. You were at Alea house setting up a new brothel. The part of the house Lord Tarwin had previously occupied was being converted, and you were there overseeing the process.

“Another?” Robert the barman asks.

“Thanks.” You say, turning to look out across the foyer. The place was full, and punters seemed to be having a good time. You notice Isiah and wave to him.

He grins happily and changes direction towards you. “Miss.” He says tugging at the brim of his cap grinning cheekily.

“Hello, Isiah.” You greet him with a quick kiss on the cheek “Congratulations.”

Isiah glows “So ya saw Peggy? Can ya come? You know you’re kinda the reason we’re together.” He ducks his head as a slight blush blooms on his cheeks.

“Of course I’m coming. Is your dad doing the service?” You reply patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, he is.” Isiah says happily. You fall into silence for a moment. Something you had noticed often happened in your conversations recently. “I’m sorry about Goliath,” he says quietly his tone softening, “he seemed like a real nice fella.” You nod in thanks. Silence falls again. “It’s good to see ya. We’ve missed ya, ya know? No-one to keep us inline.” He says, breaking the silence.

“So I can see.” You tease back “I’ve missed all of you too. It’s nice to be back actually.”

“How’s the conversion going?” He asks.

“Great. But I was meant to meet John and Arthur. Do you know where they are?”

“Yeah, they’re just sorting out a problem in the cellar.” He says with a cheeky grin.

You sigh “FG’s?”

“Oh fuck, no.” Isiah cries. “Nah, just some mouthy cunts who thought they could try and cheat us.”

“Good.” You say.

Isiah laughs “So violence is okay, but cheating is not.”

“Well mouthy cunts deserve what they get don’t they?” You shoot him a grin. “And you better watch yourself if you ever step out on Peggy. You’ll get to see just how much I disapprove of cheating.”

Isiah’s eyes light up as he laughs again “Did you just give me the shovel talk?”

You put your arm around his shoulders leaning in close “You better fucking believe it.” You say seriously.

Isiah giggles nervously “You know Anna, that’s actually fucking terrifying.”

“Good.” You say gruffly, clipping his ear playfully. “Anyway, you better get back to work hey?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Isiah says taking an exaggerated bow.

You wait for two more drinks before deciding to go and find John and Arthur. You’re already feeling a little tipsy but get a bottle each of gin and whiskey to take with you, and stop at the ladies to ‘powder your nose’, on the way. As you walk along the halls of the cellar, you just need to follow the noise to find Arthur and John.

“You thought you could cheat us?” Arthur says. His words followed by a wet thump.

“I think he did.” John replies. An oof followed by a low groan.

You knock on the door, and open it without waiting “I thought you boys could use some refreshments.” You say holding up the bottles. You are greeted by the sight of two men, both slightly bruised but still conscious, tied to chairs in the middle of the room with Arthur and John standing over them.

“Perfect timing Anna.” John says, a cheeky grin on his face as he swaggers over and takes the whiskey from you. Pulling the cork with his teeth and spitting it across the room before taking a long drink. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve before handing the bottle to Arthur.

Arthur takes a long drink. Handing the bottle back to you. “You here to help love, or just observe?”

“Oh no don’t let the lady hurt me.” One of the men laughs mockingly.

A look passes between you, John and Arthur. A silent agreement that you were going to make the man regret his words. You were so glad you wore a dress today.

“Think you can give me a few pointers?” You tease Arthur.

Arthur grunts affirmatively.

“Well, I don’t know Arthur. Women have no stomach for this kind of thing.” John says shaking his head.

You pop yourself up onto a barrel “Oh please, teach me.” You whine.

“Alright then.” John says with a heavy sigh. “Now what we’re doing here is teaching these fellows a lesson about the sin that is cheating at cards.” John says explaining slowly.

“Yes.” You say eagerly leaning forward.

“No John.” Arthur cuts his brother off “She needs to learn by doing.”

“Oh, do you think I could? I mean I’m just a girl. I only came to bring drinks.” You squeak batting your eyelashes as you pop down off the barrel, walking towards the men. You notice the loudmouthed man squirm uncomfortably. Arthur notices it too, and he grins.

Seeing your faces, John beams at you “Start with something little, like fingers.” He suggests, patting your ass playfully.

Isiah and some of the other Blinder boys have joined you, John and Arthur in the bar.

“It was fucking epic boys.” John crows “So there Anna is, saying I’m just a girl” He pitches his voice high, bats his eyelashes and holds his hands up in front of him, imitating you. “And then she walks up to this fella calm as you fucking like, and he’s laughing at her." He stands demonstrating now as he continues "So stands in front of him pulls the hem of her dress up, real fucking slow like a fuckin’ stripper, and he’s fucking drooling, thinking it’s his lucky fucking day right? So she inches her skirt up right up to the top of her stockings and then she pulls a fucking straight razor from her garter and calm as you fucking like she chops his fucking ear off.” John collapses back into his chair.

You duck your head at the crowing and cheering of the boys and snort another line of coke.

“No.” You say rubbing your nose. “The best bit is Arthur. He walks over to him right? And he’s still fucking sooking about his ear. And Arthur stands on the side with no ear and says. Don’t fuck with the Peaky Fucking Blinders. And the man is just fucking crying about his ear, and so Arthur walks around to the other side.” You stand at this point, leaning down to John’s ear to demonstrate. “And Arthur says. Oh, I’m sorry you mustn’t have heard. Don’t fuck with the Peaky Fookin’ Blinders.” You laugh mocking Arthur’s accent.

The boys cheer and clap, and you laugh dropping back into your chair. Ducking your head to do another line.

The bar is suddenly very quiet. You turn rubbing your nose. Tommy is standing in the doorway. Eyes boring through you, body stiff, and hands clenched tightly.

“What the fuck are you lot doing?” He asks quietly, clearly audible even across the expanse of the hall.

“Drinking!” You say happily draining the contents of your glass in one.

“Just telling stories Tom.” Arthur says quietly, sensing his brother’s mood better than you. The other Blinders including Isiah quickly vanish leaving only you, John and Arthur to face Tommy’s anger.

Tommy’s jaw twitches as he pounces, snatching the vial “What the fuck is this?” He hisses, his face in yours.

“Snow.” You say with a nod, rubbing your nose again with the back of your hand.

Tommy nods jaw flexing in irritation. He grabs your hand, “And this?” He says turning your wrist to show you. Your knuckles were bruised and scuffed, with dry blood crackling across your hand. The blood was from the loudmouthed man’s companion when you had punched him.

“She was just helping us with some fella’s who were cheating at cards.” John says.

Tommy doesn’t acknowledge John at all “Is that true?” He asks you coldly. “Because you don’t work here anymore. You left remember?”

You stay mute. Arthur opens his mouth to intercede on your behalf, but Tommy cuts him off before he can form his first word. “Since when do you let other people handle family business? Eh?” He demands of his brother.

“Now Tom,” Arthur says “Anna’s a Blinder, just like us.”

“She left.” Tommy reminds him and you.

“I’m going to get a drink.” You say standing, turning in the direction of the bar. But you lose your balance and end in a tangled mess on the floor. Giggling.

“You’ve had enough Anna. You need to go.” Tommy says coldly.

“I’m staying here.” You reply childishly. Crossing your arms across your chest defiantly.

Tommy closes his eyes for a moment before he leans over you snatching your purse from the table. Shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. Then bending down, he hoists you over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Not a single person speaks, moves or even coughs as Tommy carries you across the foyer and out into the cool night air. "Bye," you call blowing kisses back at John and Arthur.

You giggle, waving goodbye to the Blinders on the front door as you pass them. You bounce along as Tommy strides across the gravel. Opening the door of his car, he dumps you unceremoniously into the front seat. As he makes his way around the car, you slide across into the driver’s seat.

“Move.” Tommy says opening the door. You stay put. Tommy drums his fingers on the roof of the car in irritation. “I won’t repeat myself.”

You roll your eyes and slide over.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Home.” Tommy says tersely.

“London?” You ask confused.

“No, Arrow House.”

You say nothing looking out the window at the black nothingness either side of the car. You begin to get bored. You shuffle over closer to Tommy. He glances at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. You slide closer, so the outside of your thighs and upper arms are pressing against each other. You rest your head on his shoulder.

“You cold?” Tommy asks.

“No.,” you say sliding your hand onto his thigh. You feel every muscle in Tommy’s body clench. You slide your hand over his crotch. You feel him stir under your hand.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asks carefully.

“I think you know.” You reply, continuing your ministrations, he’s hardening already.

“Stop.” Tommy grabs your hand moving it to your lap. You say nothing sliding your hand back onto his thigh, you glide your hand along his length. Tommy pulls the car over and turns to face you “The fuck?”

“Yes, fuck.” You reply nodding as you reach out and cup his cheek in your palm drawing yourself up on one knee and leaning into him. “Isn’t that why you’re taking me home?”

“No.” Tommy says batting your hand away. You slide back over to your side of the car in a huff. “Not like this.” Tommy mutters as he climbs out of the car. Slamming the door behind him. He paces angrily along the road, puffing furiously on his cigarette. He stays outside the car for a good ten minutes. Coming back he leans down and speaks to you through the driver’s side window. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Fine.” You say shrugging and resting your head on the door frame closing your eyes.

Mary embraces you happily “It’s so good to see you, Miss.” She glows. “Charlie will be so excited.”

“It’s good to see you too Mary.” You say giving her a quick hug.

“Go and wait in my office.” Tommy dismisses you.

This time you decide not to argue and walk down the passage. You can hear Tommy and Mary speaking softly behind you.

You make your way to the liquor cabinet, picking up the whiskey bottle and pouring a glass. Tommy appears at your shoulder, taking the glass from you. “You’ve had enough.” He says sternly tossing the drink back himself.

“Humph.” You sulk., picking up a new glass and the whiskey bottle. Tommy grabs both attempting to pull them away from you. You struggle for a moment before letting go suddenly. Tommy takes a step back to balance himself. You grab a bottle of gin, falling back into a chair with a giggle.

Tommy stands in front of you, hand out in a silent demand for the bottle.

You shake your head. “I have a complaint about your gin.” You say holding the bottle up for Tommy to see, but keeping it out of his reach.

“What’s that?” Tommy says through gritted teeth.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ work, does it?” You say, resting the bottle on your thigh.

Tommy raises his eyebrow obviously tiring of you. “Really? Because you’re fucking drunk.” He says sarcastically.

“No.” You say shaking your head adamantly. You turn the bottle, so the label is facing you. Tracing your finger along the print on the label, you read it aloud. “For the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness.” You look up at Tommy holding his eye “Doesn’t fuckin’ work.” You say collapsing back in the chair and chugging straight from the bottle.

“Fuck.” Tommy rubs his hand over his face, before snatching the bottle from your hand. “You’ve had enough.” He says firmly.

You roll your eyes. Tommy’s eyes close, you can see him trying to hold his temper. Inhaling deeply through his nose and blowing the breath out between pursed lips. “Come on.” He says opening his eyes and holding his hand out to help you up. “You need to go to bed.”

“Hold on. I gotta take my medicine.” You say. “Where’s my purse?”

Tommy grunts and drops it in your lap.

“Thank you.” You say with a satisfied nod. You open the clasp and pull out the bottle of morphine and a spoon. Carefully pouring the morphine into the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You shudder as the bitterness coats your tongue. You pack the spoon and bottle away and close your purse. You get to your feet. “Ready.” You say.

Tommy’s face is unreadable. “I didn’t think you liked morphine.”

“I don’t like it, Tommy. I need it. It helps, with the pain.” You snap.

“I thought you saw things. Finn says you saw monsters.”

“Not anymore.” You say pushing past him towards the door. You stop short catching sight of yourself in the mirror above the fireplace. You stand looking at yourself “The only monster now is the one in the mirror.” You say softly, more to yourself than Tommy.

Tommy’s shoulders slump slightly. He steps forward and places his hands on your shoulders meeting your eye in the mirror “You’re not a monster. It’s just a scar.” He says softly in your ear, the warmth of his hands seeping into your shoulders.

Your eyes close. “It’s not what’s on the outside that makes me a monster Tommy.” You correct him.

You feel Tommy’s forehead press against your shoulder. “Anna,” he begins.

“The room is ready Mr Shelby.” You hear Mary say from the doorway.

You open your eyes and step out of Tommy’s grasp “Night Tommy.” You say following Mary from the room.

Leaning against the window frame, you look out over the drive. The moon is full, the poplars casting long shadows across a silvery lawn. You look down, hearing the crunching of the gravel drive. Even from above you recognise the figure as Tommy, cigarette glowing, smoke forming a misty veil briefly before being whipped away by the wind, dark cap casting his face in shadow and coat billowing behind. He glances briefly up at your window, the moon making his pale eyes ghostly white, you can’t tell if he sees you. Then he gets in his car and drives off.

Keen to avoid sleep you decide to go back downstairs. You take your shoes off to avoid waking Mary and tiptoe down the stairs. You sneak into Tommy’s office, pouring yourself a drink and taking a book from the shelf. Detouring by Tommy’s desk, you help yourself to a cigarette lighting it using the crystal lighter next to the cigarette case. Puffing happily you settle yourself in the large armchair Tommy favours, tucking your feet up under you and open to the first page.

After an hour or so of reading, you decide you should probably go back to your room as you have no idea when Tommy will return, and you don’t feel like another discussion about your drinking. Or anything else really. Knowing he will notice the missing or used glass you decide to wash it yourself and return it. You pad quickly down the hallway, and down the stairs to the kitchen.

In the dark and intoxicated you stumble on the last step. You fall heavily against the table, your cheek thudding against the timber. Reeling, you lose your balance and knock a chair over causing it to scrape against the stone floor. You pitch forward, putting your arms out to stop your fall, the glass smashes in your hand. Dazed you lay there as the cold from the floor seeps into you.

The smell of blood fills your nose. Cold drawing the air from your lungs. The only warmth you feel is from Zamir’s body pressed against you. His dick hard against your buttocks. You flinch as the blade skates over your skin, whimpering as your underwear falls away.

“Tsk, tsk” Zamir hisses pressing his tongue flat against the side of your neck, creeping up to your ear like a slug on a leaf, “have you been a bad girl?” He asks, his voice slimier than his tongue. He forces himself into you. You bite your lip reminding yourself not to react.

Pulling out again, Zamir’s dick slides over your ass. He’s already panting. You can hear the wet suction of his hand as he plays with himself, your blood acting as a lubricant. Grunting, he pushes you down onto your knees. He rubs his bloody fingers over and around your mouth, holding your nose to force your mouth open. You resist for as long as you can. But eventually, you gasp for air. Zamir yanks the wet rag from your mouth, shoving himself in. He presses his gun to your head. “You know the rules.” He threatens, hand gripping your jaw painfully to keep your mouth open. You gag tasting your own blood. Zamir groans as your throat flexes, thrusting his hips.

Holding his eye defiantly you bare your teeth, pulling your lips back, so your teeth grate against his vulnerable flesh. Zamir’s eyes flare, and he slams the butt of his gun into your cheek. You scream in pain, falling backwards as you lose all control of your muscles.

As before, you concentrate on packing the pain away. On staying alive. The vision of Goliath dead in the alley returns to you again and again, and you want to give up, just die and join him. But you know that you won’t go where he’s gone. So you need to live. You need to avenge him.

You can feel blood running down the back of your throat. Zamir grabs your jaw again, hauling you back to your knees. He presses his dick against your cheek coating it in more of your blood. You vomit. Zamir jumps back swearing and cursing you. He drags you to your feet. Slamming you against the crate and driving himself into you again.

“You’re safe.”

You’re trapped. Your wrists bound.

“Just breathe.”

You need to get free.

“You’re safe. Just breathe”

“No!” you scream thrashing trying to break free. You hear someone grunt. But, you remain trapped.

“You’re safe. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look around you frantically. Disoriented and confused.

“Just breathe. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

You’re on the floor. There’s a large wooden table above you.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Tommy. He has enveloped you with his body. Legs either side of you, hands holding your wrists tightly. Your arms and his tightly wrapped around you. Your back pulled firmly against his chest.

“I’ve got you. Just breathe.” You can feel the words reverberate through his chest into you.

You take a deep shuddering breath, slumping against Tommy. You can feel tears streaming down your face but don’t seem able to stop them.

“I’ve got you.”

Tommy loosens his grip on your wrists. You can feel his heart pounding. The rapid rising and falling of his chest as he breathes. He lets out a slow breath, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel some of the tension release from his limbs.

You pull your knees to your chest. Slumping your chest forward you wrap your arms around your legs, laying forehead on your knees.

Tommy stays wrapped around you. His head resting on your back. His hand gently tugs yours lifting it so he can see.

It’s covered in blood, a deep gash across your palm. You begin to shiver violently. Teeth chattering.

“Let’s get off the floor, ‘ey?” Tommy says quietly. Slowly slipping his arm around your waist. His free hand clutches the edge of the table, and he uses it to leverage you both off the floor. “Don’t move.” He instructs firmly. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I fell down.”

“It’s just a glass.” Tommy says shrugging off his overcoat and placing it over your shoulders. He pulls it closed around you. “I’m going to carry you, so you don’t cut your feet.” He explains. You nod, and he lifts you. Resting your head against him, your eyes close as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to his study.

Your breathing is still laboured and erratic, and you’re still shivering. He sets you carefully on the sofa. He crosses the room and rings one of the servant bells before returning to you. Squatting in front of you he and lifts your feet, inspecting them for cuts or glass before brushing them off with his hand. “What are you doing running around barefoot hey?” He asks trying to make his voice light.

“Didn’t want to wake Mary.” You admit, dropping your head back against the back of the chair.

Tommy nods, resting his hands on his thighs for balance as he stays squatting in front of you. There’s a light knock on the door. “Come.” He replies.

Mary steps into the room, “Mr Shelby?” she asks, her eyes flitting between you, and Tommy.

“Thank you Mary. Anna’s had a little accident. Could you call the doctor for me? Bring some warm water in a basin, some tweezers, cotton and gauze? Be careful in the kitchen there's glass on the floor.” Tommy speaks quickly and efficiently.

“Yes, Mr Shelby.” Mary says.

“Oh, and can you get Anna some socks and slippers and bring some blankets too please?” Tommy adds.

“Yes, Mr Shelby.” Mary says slipping out the door again.

You watch the exchange blankly as tears continue to roll down your cheeks

“She’s in a bad way, Tommy.” Doctor Prendergast says quietly keeping his voice low, so you don’t hear him through your bedroom door. Mary is in the room with you helping you change into a pair of pyjamas.

“I know that.” Tommy says tersely, before shaking his head. He leans back against the wall, dragging heavily on a cigarette.

“Normally in situations like this, I would suggest she spend some time in a Sanatorium. But with her experience with the hospital and the Asylum,” the doctor doesn’t bother to finish his sentence, lighting his own cigarette.

“What does she need?” Tommy asks.

“Rest. Quiet. Sleep. A break from everything. Less booze, less cocaine, less morphine, less violence, less heartbreak.” The doctor holds his hands up helplessly before continuing “Outside of the war, I’ve never seen anyone who’s been through so much and is still functioning.”

Tommy rubs his fingers around his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose. He reaches over and pats the doctor on the shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Thanks for coming ‘ey. I’ll show you out.” Tommy says pushing himself off the wall.

The doctor pats Tommy on the back. “I know the way.” Placing his hand on his upper arm, he stops “You call if you need anything. Anything at all. Right?”

“Will do.” Tommy replies nodding and patting the doctor’s back as he opens the door to your room.

Mary's leaving as he enters. “Can I get you anything, Mr Shelby?” she asks.

“No Mary. You go to bed.” Tommy says shutting the door.

Tommy drags the armchair over next to the bed. Glancing down at you staring up at the ceiling before he settles himself.

“You know if I were a horse you’d shoot me.” You say quietly.

“I always hated seeing a horse killed, hated it even more when I had to do it myself.” He replies, smoke from his mouth wafting up through a moonbeam.

You both stay silent for a long time.

“Tommy?” You ask quietly, turning your head slightly to see if he's awake.

“Mm?” His eyebrows raise, but his eyes remain closed.

“I’m sorry about in the car.”

“It’s fine, just forget it.” He replies.

“I just miss it.”

The moonlight catches the slight arch of his eyebrow and the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“No. I don’t miss that. That’s easy to get.” You sigh closing your eyes. “I miss the closeness, the warmth. Him.” You bring your hand to your face covering your eyes.

Tommy’s hand glances over your elbow “I know.”

Mary is in the armchair when you wake. “Good morning Miss.” She greets you looking up from her knitting briefly.

“Good morning Mary.” You reply rolling to face her. “What are you making?” You ask.

Mary smiles. “A little jacket and cap for Finn and Daisy’s baby.” She says happily.

“How do you know it’s going to be a girl?” You ask, tapping the beautiful pink blushed yarn.

“Polly says.” Mary replies.

You nod. “Where’s Charlie?” You ask suddenly realising that Mary was again looking after you when she should have been with Charlie.

“With Mr Shelby. Down with the horses.” She replies. Finished her row, she sets her knitting aside “Can I get you some breakfast?” Your stomach turns, and you shake your head. “Just tea then.” Mary says, collecting her things. “Do you want me to bring it up or will you come down?” She asks.

“I’ll come down.” You reply. Mary nods and leaves. Your suitcase is in the corner of the room. That must have been where Tommy went last night you realise. You flex your hand uncomfortably. Your purse is on the bedside, and you open it and pour yourself a dose of morphine.

Getting up and dressing, opting for pants, a shirt and jacket you look out the window and notice a caravan pulled up outside. Tommy's standing next to it talking to another man. Tommy isn’t wearing a suit you notice. Rather an open-necked shirt, jacket and of course cap. Charlie is sitting on the bench at the front, examining some little treasure he had found. Ready, you tap out a line of snow and head downstairs, meeting Mary at the bottom.

“I’ve put your tea in Mr Shelby’s office, Miss. He’d like to talk to you.” She says.

“Thanks, Mary.” You reply walking the short distance down the hall to Tommy’s office. Entering the room and finding it empty, you forego the tea and pour yourself a whiskey. You lean against Tommy’s desk, after helping yourself to a cigarette, looking at nothing in particular out the window.

“So do you eat at all anymore or are you living on booze, cigarettes, snow and morphine?” Tommy asks.

“I drink tea sometimes.” You say not bothering to turn to face him.

You can hear Tommy behind you, the gentle clinking of the china letting you know he’s making tea. He comes around to you, taking the empty glass from you and replacing it with a cup of tea.

“Thanks.” You say. Tommy leans against the window frame, facing you, lighting a fresh cigarette. He rubs his thumb along his jaw as he watches you. “Something, in particular, you want Tommy.” You say finding his gaze typically uncomfortable.

“The doctor says you need rest. Time away from everything.” He begins.

You stiffen, pushing off the desk, the hairs on your body bristling “I heard you last night. I’m not going to a fucking Sanatorium or fucking convalesce home.” You say quietly.

Tommy holds his hands up to stop you. “No.” He agrees. You relax slightly. “But, I have spoken to some friends, Gypsy’s, travellers, and they have agreed for you to go and spend some time with them.” His eyes roam your face trying to gauge your reaction. “You need to get away from all this.” He says waving his arm indistinctly.

Your eyes close. You feel Tommy step closer, hands holding your upper-arms lightly. “You need to stop this. You need to look after yourself. If you keep going like this, you’re gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere.” You don’t open your eyes, knowing you couldn’t meet his. “And all of us have had enough loss yeah?” He finishes.

You open your eyes but fix them immediately on a button in the middle of Tommy’s chest. “But I have work, commitments.” You say.

“It’s all sorted. I’ve spoken to Alfie and Selene, they’re worried about you too.”

You shake your head “I’ll be fine Tommy.”

“You’re not.” Tommy says cutting you off.

“My boyfriend was murdered, and I was kidnapped and,” You stop, the words catching in your throat. Hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks again. You slump back against the desk. Wiping your hands over your face.

“I know.” Tommy says. “But you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“How dare you.” You snarl. Tommy steps back. “How fucking dare you use his words against me.” You step towards him, furious.

“What?” Tommy says off-guard.

“That’s low even for you Tommy, using his words against me to get me to do what you want.”

“Anna. What the fuck are you talking about?” Tommy says. “Are you talking about Goliath?”

“Yes.”

“Anna. I never met him. I never said a word to him. How could I possibly know what he said ‘ey?” His voice is quiet and gentle, not meeting your venom with his own.

You pull out Tommy's chair and sink down onto it, resting your head on the desk and covering your head with your arms. They were the exact words. The exact words. You rub the pearl against your palm. Trying to make sense of what was happening. Maybe Polly was right about spirits and the life-after and predictions and signs. Maybe Goliath was telling you to go. “Alright.” You relent. “I’ll go.”

“Right. Good.” Tommy says.

Suitcase in hand you stand next to the caravan. “Anna this is Johnny.” Tommy says by way of introduction to the man you had seen him with earlier.

“Lovely to meet you, Anna. Just lovely. I’ll take that for ya shall I?” He says, taking the suitcase from your hand.

“And you, Johnny.” You say quietly, clasping your now empty hands in front of you.

“Charlie!” Tommy calls. Nothing. “Where’s Charlie?” Tommy calls again. You hear a small giggle from inside the caravan. You catch a soft smile on Tommy’s face “Johnny? Do you know where Charlie is?” He says playfully.

“No, I’m sure I don’t Tommy. I’m sure I don’t” Johnny says smiling.

“Oh well, Johnny. Guess we’ll just have to go without him.” Tommy says. He guides you to the back of the caravan “Come on then Anna, in we get.” He says opening the door of the caravan. You climb up inside. “You know it’s a real shame Charlie couldn’t come.” Tommy carries on. “Ah, well. I guess we’ll just have to make ourselves comfortable and get on our way.” He says.

“It’s a shame, I was really looking forward to seeing Charlie.” You say joining in.

“Well, there’s nothing for it. Take a seat there Anna.” Tommy says, lowering himself lightly on top of a very lumpy pillow. The pillow giggles.

“This is a very squirmy pillow.” Tommy says standing and patting it down.

“Must have rats ‘ey, Tommy.” Johnny pipes up. “Shall I get the shovel for ya? So ya can squish ‘em.”

Tommy reaches under the cushion “No Johnny I think I’ve got it. Oh my, it’s a big one.” He says pulling Charlie out by his ankles and holding him upside down. “Watch out Anna. I’d better throw this rat out.”

“I’m not a rat! I’m Charlie!” the little boy cries giggling.

Tommy shakes him playfully “But my Charlie has blonde hair, this one has black hair.” Tommy says referring to Charlie’s black shoes.

“No, Daddy, those are my feet. I’m up-side-down.” Charlie chuckles.

Tommy quickly flicks Charlie around, pulling him into him and kissing his cheeks resulting in another spurt of giggles.

Charlie squirms and Tommy puts him down, patting his head. Before opening up the hatch between the caravan and the front seat. “Charlie, you sit back here with Anna.” He says as he climbs over to the front and picks up the reins. “Come on Johnny!” He calls.

“Right Tommy, right you are.” Johnny says you can hear the door being locked off and Johnny quickly pops up next to Tommy.

Tommy clicks his tongue, and the horse moves off. You sit quickly on the bench next to Charlie, who climbs up into your lap. You rest your hands around his middle holding onto him. You feel Charlie lift your bandaged hand. “You got hurt.” He says.

“It’s nothing Charlie I just fell over and cut it a little bit, it will be better in no time.” You reassure him.

He nods and lifts you hand higher pressing his face against it gently “Mwah.” He says “I kissed it better. It’s all better now.” He says proudly.

“Thank you, Charlie, that was very kind of you.” You say.

“Charlie and I will come with you to Johnny’s camp, or nearly anyway, then we’ll catch the train back home and Johnny and you will meet up with the families tomorrow.” Tommy explains turning slightly.

You nod. Charlie begins to wriggle and climbs down and Johnny lifts him over the front setting him between himself and Tommy. You sit back, resting your head against the side of the caravan. Johnny and Charlie chat away about the things they can see around them. You feel your eyes flutter closed.

“Anna?” a hand touches your knee.

“Yeah?” you say rolling your neck painfully, you were stiff.

“Charlie and I are going now.” Tommy says.

“Right.” You nod, not knowing what else to say.

“I’ll see you in a week or so.” Tommy reassures you.

“Thanks.” You reply. Charlie climbs into the back to kiss you goodbye his little hands holding your cheeks. “Bye Charlie.”

You wave as you and Johnny pull away from the station. You pull the bottle of morphine from your pocket, taking two spoonfuls and swallowing them with a shudder. You rest your head back against the side again and allow the gentle rocking and rhythmic sound of the horse's gait to lull you to sleep.

Everything hurts. It’s dark and you feel cramped. You have no idea where you are. Panic rises as you try to remember. You feel your way around you frantically. You’re not bound you realise. You can see a chink of light in front of you, scrambling towards it on your hands and knees you pound against the timber.

“All right, all right. I’m coming.” A man’s voice says, light and cheerful.

You reach for your gun, it and your holster are missing. Going for your concealed knife you find that missing too. Panic again clutching at your chest you feel around you for something to use as a weapon. Your hands find nothing fit for purpose. Scrambling you hurry back away from the door, cowering in the corner.

“All right ‘ere we go then.” The man’s voice says again as the door opens and sunlight blinds you. “Morning Anna.” The man smiles broadly, it’s Johnny you realise. “How ya feeling today?” He asks as he steps backwards clearing the doorway. “Come on now.” He says encouragingly.

“Where are we?” You ask stopping at the top of the steps and looking around you.

“Paradise.” Johnny says happily, holding his arms out wide.

“Would ya like some breakfast while we wait for the others to arrive?” He asks

A faint waft of sausages reaches your nose. You gag and then retch. Johnny quickly helps you down the stairs and you spend the next ten minutes heaving beside the caravan. Johnny lays a kindly hand on your back and hands you a clean hanky when you’re done.

“How ‘bout some tea then love? Seeming as you ain’t feeling the best. Good cuppa will fix you right up.” Johnny offers kindly, seemingly unfazed by your behaviour.

“Thank you.” You manage your voice harsh from the acid in your throat.

“There’s a little creek, just over the hill there.” Johnny points in the direction he means “Go wash your face, it’ll help you feel better.”

It was indeed a little creek, not more than a foot wide. Hidden by the grasses, you nearly step in it. Johnny finds you, sometime later, doubled over with your hands pressed just above your knees as you heave again. He pulls the kerchief free off his neck and dunks it in the cool water of the stream before wringing it out and laying it on the back of your neck. “The Lee’s ‘ll be here today. They have good healers who’ll be able to help ya.” He says reassuringly.

A fresh wave of nausea overtakes you and your skin is beginning to crawl. You pull the morphine bottle from your pocket groaning as you realise its empty “Where are my things?” You ask.

“Your suitcase is in the caravan.” Johnny replies.

“Great.” You reply walking back to the caravan. You quickly climb back inside, opening your suitcase and finding your toiletries bag. You open it and tip it out. You know you had put a bottle of morphine in there before you left London. It’s gone. You start going through your clothes checking you hadn’t put it somewhere else by mistake. You tip the suitcase out and start double checking all the pockets and compartments. Nothing.

“Fucker.” You mumble under your breath.

“You right there love?” Johnny calls out.

“Do you have any morphine? Snow? Mine seems to have gone missing.” You say trying to keep the stress out of your voice.

“Ah, no lass. Have no use for it meself, see.” He replies apologetically.

“Is there somewhere we can get some, some town or something?” You ask.

“No. Just fields and forest from here on. Not even many roads really.” Johnny replies happily.

“Whiskey?”

“Ah, now Tommy said that the doc said ya should avoid it for a while, so there’s no whiskey, or any other hard liquor, in your van or mine.” Johnny says ruefully.

“I don’t suppose you would just drop me off somewhere?” You asked already knowing the answer.

“Ah no. Tommy’d have me balls over the fire in no time.” Johnny cheerily replies.

By mid-morning you are a sweating, shivering mess. Dry heaving constantly. Your muscles are cramped and sore. Hollowness gnawing at your insides. By noon you are huddled in the back of the caravan, wrapped in as many blankets as Johnny could find, drifting between sleep and delirium.

As the sun sets you are wracked with pain, curled in a ball on the floor of the caravan.

You open your eyes to be greeted by the sight of a stern-faced woman, her hair tied back with a black scarf. Her eyes piercing through you. Same look Tommy has you think. “He should have sent you to us earlier.” She comments, turning her attention elsewhere. Her hand slides under your head, lifting it as she holds a small tumbler to your lips. “Drink it all.” She instructs.

The harsh fluid feels like it’s stripping the lining of your mouth, you splutter but do as the woman instructs. Swallowing the last of it, you wipe your hand over your mouth. “What was that?”

“Medicine.” She says simply setting the tumbler aside. “Sleep now.” She says placing her hand over yours and patting it. Her brow furrows “Who gave you this?” She says tapping on the pearl of your ring.

You shake your head, feeling a lump rising in your throat. The woman’s eyes flutter shut as she touches the pearl again. “Mm, two men. One who intended to give it, and the one who gave it on his behalf.” She says nodding to herself as she turns your good hand over and examines it closely. She mutters to herself for a while “Too much loss for one so young.” She says more to herself than you.

You look at her blankly, sleep already pulling you away from her.

“Good girl. Just sleep.” She says her hand smoothing your forehead. You sigh remembering it was something your mother would do when you were little. “Just sleep.” The woman repeats.

Your eyes begin to close and the woman begins to sing. A high haunting melody fills the caravan. And you sleep.

* The final line of the poem “In the bleak midwinter” by Christina Rossetti

As always I look forward to your thoughts, comments, questions and suggestions.

Chapter Twenty-one: Out Of The Woods > > >

More chapters of George are available on the George Masterlist

Interested in my other work? Find them on my MASTERLIST

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #alfie solomons imagine #arthur shelby imagine #john shelby imagine #finn shelby imagine #michael grey imagine #polly gray imagine #twistedrunes imagine

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hollywood-hobo-blog · 7 years ago

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How to Be a Homeless and NOT Look the Part

1. Travel Light At most, to not be seen as a complete bum, DO NOT, have more than one tote bag or any bag in your hand. I carry a Starbucks tote bag I got from Goodwill and a backpack. In my backpack, I carry all the important items, things I want to keep near me at all times. My tote contains my hygienics, towel, and a change of clothes. This can bring the assumption you are either going to the gym, the laundromat, or are heading out to the beach if you're close to one like I am. If you have a tote bag or are looking to buy one, don't buy a 99 cent store bag or a Walmart bag. Those are the cliche homeless bag to carry. Think college town life and find a used but a branded logo. Something considered as the modern norm.

2. Wardrobe Give up the Nirvana shirt, Vans, and faded jeans. Buy black dress pants at Goodwill, A proper dress shirt or two (Sky blue, white, grey) One long sleeve one sleeves, and a tie. Shoes should always be dress shoes as your objective at this point is to get employed. Use wardrobe samples from Pinterest or movie actors (James Bond, Tom Hanks, Red carpet events, etc) Perhaps if the future permits, you can buy Vans and regular casuals but remember, your wardrobe says a lot about you to the world around you. I received a lot more smiles and respect wearing my formal clothing than I would have if I just wore casuals.

3. Hairstyle/Grooming Do not keep a beard or facial hair. I have to shave at least every two days to maintain a clean young look. I take advantage of my gym membership to do this and at the same time, I apply hair wax. I keep a comb with me in my pocket to fix it up as the day goes on. If you have long hair, find styles online that you can do. If your hair is short, find a combing style best representing a business style or formal as possible. I'll repeat this often, look like a businessman, not the employee. People need to see who is boss. This world is very judgemental and I don't need to tell you that at all.

4. Communication On a couple occasions, I have been able to bypass the need for the fare. I have fibbed a fair bit to transit drivers to avoid paying but it doesn't work all the time. In some cases, I would say my wallet is missing and then continue talking about something in pop culture. A Netflix series, Jennifer Aniston, music, etc. Anything to derail the driver from the initial point of interest of you lacking money. If you look clean, they won't say much. But the best part is that you get to talk a driver who otherwise spends a countless amount of time doing circles around the block without any real conversation. You may just make their day by asking how there's is going.

5. Body Spray/Cologne If you're a person who walks a lot like I do, I take advantage of the cologne section of malls where they offer free samples. I spray various types of spray or just one on my clothes. I may even take some sample strips and throw them in my pocket or my backpack to assure I'm always carrying a strong rich scent that attracts others. On one occasion a girl told me I smelled nice but I couldn't tell her what it was since my backpack was carrying various types. Needless to say, having a social respect from others puts a big smile on your day you'd otherwise wouldn't find.

6. Read, Write, and Stay Hydrated Always carry a bottle of water, a notebook, and a book with you at all times. The idea here is to present to the public you are either a student, employee or somebody working on something very important. In this instance, you can easily walk onto a University campus and not be thrown out by security. In my time, I have witnessed countless of homeless people being escorted off campus because they carry a lot with them and just seem out of shape. Avoid that at all costs. Don't let that fear seep into you that you are becoming this individual. You are not, you can get a grasp on this reality and bend it to your desires. Nothing is impossible.

7. The Tourist Trick - "Do you have a quarter?" In this day and age, you can trick society almost like a con artist. I panhandle mostly on busy intersections and my look confuses people as I don't look homeless and some reason people feel obligated to help out. But when I was tight on money and needed to collect at least 10 quarters from 10 different strangers, I did a simple trick around bus stations. Most lines and bus services in the city are close by which makes this a very simple tactic. Here's how to do it. Considering you don't look like a complete vagrant, the way to do this is take out your wallet and passport and keep it in your hand. If possible, stick a piece of paper in the passport to give the impression it's a flight ticket of sorts. At a bus stop near a Metro, Expo, Lightrail, or Subway line stand at a bus stop in a busy street and approach somebody who seems well rounded in appearance. For me, it was, "Hey, so I'm trying to get to the airport, which station do I go to and what train do I board?" They'll tell you "Across the street, go down and take the train to Union Station and there should be a flyaway bus service. Then you should say "It's 1.50 right for the train?" (Mention it as a quarter less from the actual service fare price in your city.) While holding a hand of some change pretend to count. The stranger will be like, "No, it's 1.75" That's when you should ask if they have a quarter since your international debit card is being rejected at the kiosk. When they do give you the change, shake their hand and say thank you. Ask for their name, not that you need to see them again, but because when such transaction occurs you need to present to the public that it was a formal agreement of sorts and not simply you asking for change. The handshake is a gesture that changes every interaction. It's respected, pleasing, and the stranger feels satisfied with helping somebody and also being appreciated for this service. In the end, you have 2.50 plus some extra dollars from previous collections. I live comfortably with 8.00/day.

8. The Graveyard Shift From 10:00 pm to 6 in the morning, you are on the graveyard shift. You cannot fall asleep during these hours. Most of your sleeping should be done during the day. There are some exceptions when you have had to walk five hours to get home like I did but on most occasions, I save some extra money for the evening to go to Denny's and order coffee. The refills are free, the staff usually hate their life and can care less about who you are if you don't give them a hard time. And, if you have your books, pens, laptop, and other stuff out, you'll be presumed as a student who is putting on a heavy workload and just needs to focus. The illusion is to the public you are working hard at your goals and career. (Which you should) I spend my time writing fiction, a screenplay, or browsing the web. I admit, sometimes I do fall asleep with micro naps but I don't carry this for long as I remember I'll have an entire day to sleep.

9. Sleeping I have three locations for sleeping, one is hidden from the public and is a combination of a cardboard box folded into a nice little house format and rests against a wall near another box where a homeless man sleeps. I know a fairly clean bin in the area that was recently replaced and have sometimes wanted to jump in it for the night because of the comfort but have resorted not too. My second sleeping location is the Metro Line. I panhandle enough to get me onto a train with a boarding ticket. I stick in headphones in my ears with no music (or little ambient music) and close my eyes. At six in the morning, I blend in. I take at least 4 round trips. In Los Angeles, I sleep between Union Station to North Hollywood. I get off North Hollywood and switch to the other side, sleep, and do this up until my body feels well rested enough to go outside. Finally, when I'm well rested, I take a stop to USC, go to the library, and rest off for the day. By the time I'm up, I'm hungry and I move to the next location.

10. Employment Whether you have a bank account or not, I have been in both positions. Luckily, California is a state where it offers a lot of help and payment methods most of society frowns upon. I had an occasional luck with some dishwashing jobs, however, due to my body's physical condition, this does more harm than good. I am currently trying to maintain my mental stamina as this is what's been breaking me down, but if you need a quick buck try out foreign restaurants owned by Asian men or women and ask if they need a dishwasher. Explain to them your situation and that you need some time to go to SSA to get your documents and if they can pay cash part-time for a bit. In my own experience, I have not been rejected from any place with a dishwashing position. Although be wary of employers in this political climate as a lot has changed over the years and working cash is seen more as a violent act much greater than school shootings. (Intended sarcasm)

#writing #life #homeless #california #los angeles #personal #mental health #depression #how to #life hacks #tips and tricks

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maxattack-powell · 7 years ago

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Coffee Break

***This is an original fic included in The Freshman 1-5 in my masterlist***

Masterlist - go here for other chapters and related original fics

Disclaimer: The following are fics (adaptations from actual game chapters AND original works) to Choices: The Freshman and The Sophomore stories. It is a fictional adaptation. I (we) do not work for Pixelberry Studios, the game developer or own the rights to the characters Chris Powell, Nicole or any other IN GAME character. All of the ORIGINAL characters, storylines and events were developed for my adaptation of The Freshman story.

Comments: I enjoyed playing Choices The Freshman… and then I found this awesome group of people and their works - I’ve loved it all, very much so. Deciding that I wanted more interaction than the options allowed, I’ve gone through the first book, chapter by chapter (omg painfully slow) to follow the story (95-99% I’d say) and add to it as I felt would benefit.

Basically, I wanted to include certain things that weren’t really full fic size worthy, adding to the story. However, I did add some full size fic moments also… some are included in cannon chapters, some are their own full chapters in between. I wanted to see MC and Chris through their freshman year… with more angst, fluff, sweetness, real life and overall detail. So, if you like that pairing then you’ll be satisfied, otherwise sorry James & Kaitlyn fans lol. I even added some parts from Chris’s POV, so that we have a chance to see what he’s thinking, knowing what she experienced.

There will be ADULT and/or NSFW moments in certain chapters - this is a warning lol. I will try my best to make it obvious as it occurs…

Paring: MC x Chris

POV: ~MC~ or ~Chris~

~MC~

Later that night…

MC has been studying at the kitchen table for what feels like days, but she knows it's just been the majority of the evening. However long it's been, it's starting to get to her. Her mind needs a break. Her back and hands need a break too. Everything just screams for her to stop. Zack and Tyler had been studying at the table earlier as well, but each finished the assignments they had, that or they had given up for the moment - she wasn't sure. They both retreated to their bedrooms only moments before, telling her to do something else for a while as they left the table. She sighs and runs her hand through her hair, not noticing a door open down the hall. The roommate quietly approaches her as she rubs her eyes, trying to focus on the books in front of her. "Hey MC, you okay?" Chris slides around her to sit down at the table.

She looks up quickly, startled by his ninja like entrance. "Oh my god, Chris!" She places her hand on her chest, covering her heart. "You scared me."

He gives her an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you, but I could see the exhaustion in you from my door." He pauses and studies her face. "So... you doing okay?" He asks again, his eyes searching hers. She gives a weak smile in return. "Uh, yeah. I guess so. I'm just tired... I could really use some coffee. Or a walk... or something other than sitting in this spot for a moment." She laughs softly. Chris perks up at her words. "You know, that's a great idea. Let's go get some coffee from the café... I need a study break too." He stands up and offers her his hand, not taking no for an answer. She grins and nods, grasping his hand and standing up. MC realizes then that she's been in her pj pants all evening. "Oh no, wait. I need to change real quick." She self-consciously tugs at her Harry Potter pants and faded baseball tee. Chris shakes his head. "Why? It's just the coffee shop, and people go in like that all the time." His eyes slide up and down her form, making her cheeks warm. "And honestly, that looks pretty comfortable..." He raises his eyes to hers. "...why am I wearing jeans?" He quickly asks himself. She tilts her head, about to question what he means when he suddenly takes off down the hall and disappears into his room. She stands there alone, baffled, for about a minute before he appears again. This time in his Henley and a pair of fitted grey sweatpants. She can't help but let out a small, much needed laugh. Chris raises his arms out to his sides, grinning at MC. "Ah, yes. Much better. That's two good ideas in a row MC. What's the third one going to be?" He winks at her. She just snorts and shakes her head, still grinning at him. They both slip on a pair of shoes as he walks to the door, holding it open for her. She quickly grabs her wristlet and phone from the table and pulls him out with her as the door shuts quietly behind them. They take their time walking across the campus, mostly making small talk with the occasional deep personal information thrown in. Chris mentions some of the things he misses from home already, making a fuss about the lack of variety in lobster dishes and Whoopie Pies in particular. MC imitates his light accent with a grin each time he says certain words like lobster, mother or brother, earning her a huge smile in return. "Think that's funny, huh?" She shakes her head. "No, I think it's cute." "Ah... well." He sucks in a deep breath and sticks out his chest, showing her how 'cute' his northern manliness really was, while he tries not to laugh at himself. He soon goes into a rant about the Whoopie Pies. Oh how he missed those. She can't help but laugh as his face turns blissful as he tells her how long it's been since he's had one - the reality being that it had only been a few weeks. "Maybe you could ask your mom for a Whoopie Pie care-package?" She jokingly suggests. He whips his head towards her. "Wha... why didn't I think of that?! I mean, I brought some with me but they didn't last very long." He frowns a little and looks down, grabbing at his tight abs. "I may have a problem..." She snorts at him. "Um, what? I don't see any problem." She raises her eyebrow and bites her lip while ogling his body. He takes offense to her observation, clearly disagreeing. "Hey! I have to work extremely hard to burn off a single pie!" He holds a very serious face, but only for a moment before he busts out laughing with her. "But I'm actually going to do that though... maybe she will ship me a box. I need you to try one of those damn things." He points at her seriously as they walk side by side. "Then you'll understand." She just smirks at him and rolls her eyes playfully and he grins. "So what do you miss the most about home so far?" He gently asks. "Well, I miss my friends. And the things we would all do together. I haven't done some of that stuff here yet." "Oh yeah? Like what?" Chris's curiosity is piqued. "We used to go see movies. Sometimes new ones at the theatre, but other times we would pick someone's house and all camp in for the night. Whenever we did that it turned into a basement sleepover nightmare. Oh man, the pranks I've seen..." Her eyes widen at the horror in her memories. Chris laughs. "Yeah, like you didn't participate..." She looks at him with overly innocent eyes, her hand on her chest as she gasps. "Me? Oh no, no, no. I would never." Her mischievous smile makes him pause in the middle of the path. "Should I be worried? No, better question - should I be checking my lock before I go to bed every night?" He gives her a dead serious look. "Maybe..." She gives him a challenging smile. "Hmm." He smirks at her and catches up quickly with a few strides, right as they make it to the café door. She opens and holds the door for him but he steps behind her and takes the door from her. "Please go in." She smiles and blushes slightly as his blue gaze holds her hazel eyes. "Thanks Chris." They walk up to the counter and get in line. MC looks around and notices that the place is fairly quiet, with a few people and couples scattered about. She's grateful for that, hoping it wouldn't be too noisy. She really needed to relax for a bit. The customers in front of them place their order and move down the counter, letting MC and Chris place their order. He looks to her and gestures for her to go first. She takes in a deep breath, smelling all the different fragrances in the café. "I'll have... a Caffè Mocha. And can you add some cocoa powder on top? Thank you." The barista nods to her and turns to Chris. Chris briefly looks at MC questioningly, humor all over his face. "What? No Pumpkin Spice Latte?" She scoffs at him and crosses her arms. "Pft, no. What are you going to get Powell?" He seems thoughtful for a moment before he nods. "What she ordered, that sounds good. And can you box up some blueberry, walnut and a couple of other kinds of muffins? Thanks man." The barista gets to building their order as they walk down to the register. MC starts to pull out her card, but a warm hand is on hers before she can pull it out of her wristlet. She looks up and meets Chris's eyes. He shakes his head softly and gives her a warm smile. "My treat. Put that away." She pauses her movements for a moment, distracted by his warm hand on hers. "T-thank you." The barista calls their names and Chris grabs the drinks as MC picks up the box of muffins. He leads them to the far, dark corner of the shop, near the window so they can easily look out across the campus. They slide into the booth, taking the same side so they can people watch together. He sets her drink down in front of her as she opens the box to give Chris access. He gently pushes the box towards her. "Pick something, I got them to share." She thanks him and reaches in, choosing a blueberry. "Nice choice, that's my favorite." He beams at her. "Oh, I'm sorry. You can have it." She leans towards him, offering it to him instead. Chris shakes his head. "No ma'am. You picked it out, I want you to have it. Besides, I'll eat any of them to be honest." He cough laughs, and runs his hand through his hair, causing her to pull her bottom lip in and hold it, trying not to smile. They sit there for a while, sipping at their lattes and making up crazy stories and conversations for people as they pass by outside. Chris even starts making funny voices so MC joins in. At one point they are laughing so hard she has to cover her mouth with both hands as he bites his fist to stifle the sounds. They both gasp for air, trying to settle down before they draw more attention than they already have. Chris sighs and takes another sip of his drink, placing his other arm behind her on the back of the booth. MC catches herself looking at him through the corner of her eye as he licks the foam off of his mouth. She bites her lower lip as she realizes he missed a good bit, trying to decide if she should tell him, torn over the decision because he looks so cute with a foam mustache. She decides to save him from his plight and begins to point it out, "Chris, you have some um..." She chews on her lip as she raises her hand to point. He turns to fully face her, waiting for her to finish. Though instead of completing her sentence, she continues to raise her hand to his face, softly placing it on his cheek while her thumb rests on his chin. He sucks in a quick breath at the contact, freezing as he watches her, waiting to see what she is doing. She remains silent as she gently runs her pointer finger across his upper lip before gradually pulling her hand away, showing him the foam. Chris's eyes flicker to her hand before jumping back to her eyes as she brings the foam covered finger to her lips. He lets out his held breath in a light groan as his eyes drop to her lips, watching her put it in her mouth and suck off the foam. "Sorry..." She says softly. "I thought that would be easier then trying to explain it." She blushes as he continues to stare. He raises his eyebrow at her and licks his lips again. "That might be the third..." MC looks at him questionably, not immediately remembering his 'three good ideas' comment from earlier. She takes a sip of her drink to excuse her from speaking for the moment, starting to feel embarrassed. As she lowers her cup to the table, she feels that she too has some foam on her upper lip. As she is about to wipe it off with her napkin, her action is abruptly halted. She looks down and sees that Chris has blocked her hand as she began to raise it, still clutching her napkin. He then reaches around, placing his hand on the side of her face, turning her to face him. She swallows and opens her mouth slightly to lick her lips, but Chris interrupts her plans again, this time covering her mouth with his own. He gently licks and sucks at her lips before pulling away, his hand still holding her face in place. Her cheeks are hot, and she assumes very red. Stunned, she blinks a few times rapidly, still looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes. It's his turn to apologize. "Sorry, I just thought this would be more efficient. Yanno, cut out a step." He grins at her as her red cheeks turn an even brighter scarlet. He rubs his thumb across her cheek before he pulls his hand away. She internally sighs at the loss, her cheek instantly cooling. Chris smiles and lowers his other arm from the back of the bench onto her shoulders. He takes a bite out of a muffin, looking back out across the campus, as if nothing unusual just happened. MC tries to hide her excitement, her body still tingling from his kiss. She leans into him and grabs a piece of his muffin, earning a mock gasp. They both laugh before turning quiet and contemplative once again as they finish their lattes. A few muffins later, they box up the rest and head outside. They walk in comfortable silence for a while, both stealing glances at the other when they think they can't see. As MC looks out towards the brightly lit sorority and fraternity row, she feels a warm, firm grip on her hand. She turns and finds Chris looking ahead, a small smirk on his lips. She fights a huge smile as it threatens to take over her face as their fingers interlace together. When they return to the suite door they finally separate and head inside. Zack is the only roommate in the shared space when they enter, waving at them both. Chris tells Zack he's welcome to the muffins, if interested, and says goodnight to them both. He hesitates only barely by MC, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and very quickly kissing her on the top of the head, trying not to draw too much attention. Her face goes hot, knowing Zack probably saw it all. Chris makes it all the way to his bedroom door before he turns, looking over his shoulder to MC with a smile before he slips into his room. MC tries to play it all off and to avoid Zack's smirk. "What?" "Ooooh nothing." Zack sings through a giddy smile. MC shakes her head and sits back down with her pile of books, now more than energized to finish the night. Partially due to the coffee, and partially due to Chris's lips. She scolds herself for becoming distracted again, trying to focus. It was a long, but enjoyable night, her mind jumping back and forth between her homework and the exciting memories of how she felt when he kissed her at the café.

#chris x mc #Chris Powell #Christopher Powell #The Freshman #the sophomore #thefreshman #thesophomore #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choicestoriesyouplay #TheFreshmanChronicles #choices the freshman #choices the sophomore #choices the junior #choices the senior #tf/ts/tj

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katherineschileanlitblog · 4 years ago

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10 Interesting Fiction Books

Curfew by Jose Donoso

“Donoso’s engrossing novel spans 24 hours in the stifling and oppressive political atmosphere of 1985 Santiago under General Augusto Pinochet’s military regime.

A leftwing singer returns after 13 years of exile in Paris. His fame now faded and his politics softened, Mañungo Vera is no longer the revolutionary he once was. His visit coincides with the death of Matilde Neruda, widow of the Nobel prize-winning poet and icon of the Chilean left, Pablo Neruda.

Vera is reacquainted with old friends and comrades as they prepare for the funeral. But, caught out by the curfew, he is forced to spend an eventful night on the streets with his former lover, during which they have a dangerous run-in with her suspected torturer.

Donoso paints a harrowing picture of life under the repressive regime, and shows how negotiating its daily horrors damages both individuals and society. He also shines a harsh light on the left, as factions squabble and jockey for advantage from the funeral.

This intense, introspective tale reflects the political and spiritual decay of the nation, after more than a decade of dictatorship.” (Khaneka, P. 2015, April 9. The best books on Chile: start your reading here. 2020, September 27.)

The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende

“Allende’s classic, hugely successful family saga is a masterwork of magic-realism. Fusing the personal with the political and fact with fantasy, it tells Chile’s recent history through several generations of the Trueba family, ending with a savage military coup that leads to the death of a president.

The principal protagonist, Esteban Trueba, is used to getting his own way – in his family (as an irascible patriarch), on his farm (as a wealthy landowner), and in the country (as a rightwing senator): “The day we can’t get our hands on the ballot boxes before the vote is counted, we’re done for.”

When a socialist candidate finally wins the presidential election, Trueba backs a coup. But in the ferocious denouement that follows, he finds himself sidelined as brutality and terror spiral under the newly installed military regime.

The novel celebrates the spirit and resilience of the Trueba women, which shine through the political tumult and family turbulence in this clever, witty and stunningly assured debut.

Allende’s father was a cousin of President Salvador Allende, who was overthrown and died during a military coup in 1973. In 1975, the author fled to Venezuela, and later moved to the US. She has said the book is an “attempt to recreate the country I had lost, the family I had lost”. (Khaneka, P. 2015, April 9. The best books on Chile: start your reading here. 2020, September 27.)

Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende

“Orphaned at birth, Eliza Sommers is raised in the British colony of Valparaíso, Chile, by the well-intentioned Victorian spinster Miss Rose and her more rigid brother Jeremy. Just as she meets and falls in love with the wildly inappropriate Joaquín Andieta, a lowly clerk who works for Jeremy, gold is discovered in the hills of northern California. By 1849, Chileans of every stripe have fallen prey to feverish dreams of wealth. Joaquín takes off for San Francisco to seek his fortune, and Eliza, pregnant with his child, decides to follow him.

As Eliza embarks on her perilous journey north in the hold of a ship and arrives in the rough-and-tumble world of San Francisco, she must navigate a society dominated by greedy men. But Eliza soon catches on with the help of her natural spirit and a good friend, the Chinese doctor Tao Chi’en. What began as a search for love ends up as the conquest of personal freedom.

A marvel of storytelling, Daughter of Fortune confirms once again Isabel Allende's extraordinary gift for fiction and her place as one of the world's leading writers” (Amazon)

The Savage Detective by Roberto Bolano

“In this dazzling novel, the book that established his international reputation, Roberto Bolaño tells the story of two modern-day Quixotes--the last survivors of an underground literary movement, perhaps of literature itself--on a tragicomic quest through a darkening, entropic universe: our own. The Savage Detectives is an exuberant, raunchy, wildly inventive, and ambitious novel from one of the greatest Latin American authors of our age.” (Amazon)

By Night in Chile by Roberto Bolano

“As through a crack in the wall, By Night in Chile's single night-long rant provides a terrifying, clandestine view of the strange bedfellows of Church and State in Chile. This wild, eerily compact novel―Roberto Bolano's first work available in English―recounts the tale of a poor boy who wanted to be a poet, but ends up a half-hearted Jesuit priest and a conservative literary critic, a sort of lap dog to the rich and powerful cultural elite, in whose villas he encounters Pablo Neruda and Ernst Junger. Father Urrutia is offered a tour of Europe by agents of Opus Dei (to study "the disintegration of the churches," a journey into realms of the surreal); and ensnared by this plum, he is next assigned―after the destruction of Allende―the secret, never-to-be-disclosed job of teaching Pinochet, at night, all about Marxism, so the junta generals can know their enemy. Soon, searingly, his memories go from bad to worse. Heart-stopping and hypnotic, By Night in Chile marks the American debut of an astonishing writer.” (Amazon)

Distant Star by Roberto Bolano

“The narrator saw that man for the first time in 1971 or 1972, when Allende was still President of Chile. He wrote distant and cautious poems, seduced women, and aroused indefinable mistrust in men. He saw him again after the coup, but at the time he was unaware that this aviator, who wrote Bible verses with the smoke of a WWII plane, and the poet were one, and the same. And so we are told the story of an impostor, of a man of many names, with no other moral than aesthetics, dandy of horror, murderer and photographer of fear, a barbarian artist who took his creations to their last and lethal consequences.” (Amazon)

Ways of Going Home by Alejandro Zambra

“Alejandro Zambra's Ways of Going Home begins with an earthquake, seen through the eyes of an unnamed nine-year-old boy who lives in an undistinguished middle-class housing development in a suburb of Santiago, Chile. When the neighbors camp out overnight, the protagonist gets his first glimpse of Claudia, an older girl who asks him to spy on her uncle Raúl. In the second section, the protagonist is the writer of the story begun in the first section. His father is a man of few words who claims to be apolitical but who quietly sympathized―to what degree, the author isn't sure―with the Pinochet regime. His reflections on the progress of the novel and on his own life―which is strikingly similar to the life of his novel's protagonist―expose the raw suture of fiction and reality.” (Amazon)

The Shadow of What We Were by Luis Sepulveda

“Sepulveda packs more than three decades of Chilean history into this lean and darkly humorous novel. Three aging revolutionaries-Cacho Salinas, Lolo Garmendia, and Lucho Arancibia-reunite to pull off one final, spectacular heist, gathering in a hideout to await the arrival of the Shadow, a legendary Robin Hood-type anarchist. As the comrades with their graying beards, thinning hair, and chubby physiques wait, they revisit the past and ruminate on losses: after Pinochet's coup, Cacho and Lolo fled to Europe, while Lucho, whose brothers were murdered by the regime, stayed and endured torture that has left him brain damaged. Meanwhile, and unbeknownst to the trio, the Shadow lies dead on the sidewalk, struck down by a freak accident. Although the narrator frequently runs away with the story, trailing off into history lessons, Sepulveda maintains a high level of suspense as the police investigate the Shadow's death, and Cacho, Lolo, and Lucho decide whether to go through with their plan, turning their collective sorrows into a celebration of the resilience of the human spirit. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved." (Amazon)

Tengo Miedo Torero by Pedro Lemebel

“This is a love story in Santiago de Chile in 86, the year of the Pinochet attack. A boy from the Manuel Rodriguez Patriotic Front, who is going to participate in the action, lives a sentimental relationship with a gay man who supports him, without knowing-knowing it, in his political plans. But they fail and their relationship ends as well. I am afraid of a bullfighter is the verse of a song that Sara Montiel used to perform. His words suggest, beyond theatricality and melancholy, the recondite interiority of a country that, as defined by the author, sounds very little, it sounds like credit, it does not sound the impossible.” (Amazon)

Frozen in Time: Murder at the Bottom of the World by Theodore Jerome Cohen

“The trail from a major theft at the Banco Central de Chile in Talcahuano following the Great Chilean Earthquake of May 22, 1960 leads to Base Bernardo O'Higgins, a wind- and snow-swept Chilean Army outpost on the North Antarctic Peninsula. When Chilean Army 1SGT Leonardo Rodríguez fails to return from a seal hunt in the waters around the base, two Chilean Navy non-commissioned officers, CWO Raul Lucero and CPO Eduardo Osorio, become LCDR Cristian Barbudo's prime theft and murder suspects. Fearing he will die, Barbudo reveals the identity of his two suspects to visiting scientist Ted Stone, thereby placing Stone's life in jeopardy. But who can Stone trust with this information, if it comes to that, to see justice done? This story is a work of fiction based on real events that took place between 1958 and 1965. It is a tale of greed, betrayal, and murder-one in which the reader is given a window into the frozen world at the bottom of the Earth that few people ever will read about, much less experience. Among other things, it explores why, though seemingly unfair, bad things happen to good people; how the battle between good and evil can change forever even the most innocent person; and most of all, the role deception plays in Nature, Man, and Life.” (Amazon)

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theroseandcrown · 4 years ago

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The Rose & Crown: Chapter Twenty-Three (Part Four)

Rating: M Chapters: 23/24

Summary: With Missy defeated and the paradox on the verge of collapse, the Doctor and Clara must face their final moments together before the timeline is wiped out forever.

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

The Doctor observed from afar as Missy sat slumped in her chair. Her catatonic condition was brought to life by the wide-eyed terrified expression on her face. He could only imagine what sort of horrors she was being forced to face. The sight of her helpless crumpled form before him was nearly unbearable. If only it hadn’t needed to come to this. As many times as they had tried to kill each other in the past, this was the best option he had to ensure he could win without either of them being harmed.

After a moment, the doors to the TARDIS opened and Clara exited the box. She rested her hand upon the frame as her eyes met with the familiar presence of her Time Lord. “Doctor,” she called to him softly.

He quickly spun around at the sound of her voice. “Clara,” he whispered back, feeling relieved by the sight of her presence. They cautiously approached each other and met in the middle of the room, their focus drawn to one another as if nothing beyond them mattered. There were so many things he wanted to say yet didn’t know where to start or how to begin. Being forced to openly deny his love for her had destroyed him on the inside. And now that they were standing in front of each other again, all he could think about was wanting to hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was. But he feared that it was too late. That he had already ruined everything between them. “Are you okay?” he managed to ask.

“I’m alright. She didn’t hurt me,” she assured him. His eyes softened with apology and remorse as the events of the evening continued to tear him apart. She knew all too well the pain he was suffering at the cost of risking their friendship to save her. All she had left to offer was her compassion and understanding. “That was a nice touch back there, your tragic confession. Not your best performance, but she seemed to have bought it pretty well,” she teased, attempting to lighten the mood between them.

Though surprised by her words, he was greatly pleased to hear that she had seen passed his deception and through to his hearts. “How did you know I was lying?”

A compassionate smile passed over her as she gazed at him. “The way you look at me. The way you’ve always looked at me. That was never a lie.”

Matching her smile as best he could, he delicately took her by the waist to pull her closer and lowered his glance to the space between them. His hand passed along the front of her and gently pressed against her middle. “Is it true?” he asked, his eyes lifting to read her expression carefully.

Her smile quickly faded as her guilt of having kept him in the dark about her condition devoured her. She fought her shameful tears and found the courage to tell him the truth. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes and sighed disheartenedly. “How far?”

“A few weeks, maybe more,” she answered, realizing how long she had been hiding her secret from him. “I knew the moment I felt the warmth.”

The moment between them became still as his senses were lured towards a pair of tiny hearts beating deep within her. His fingers protectively spread over their source as he met with the new life form growing inside of her. The feel of his child’s pulse beneath his palm was both sentimental yet incredibly tragic as if he were welcoming them into existence and bidding them farewell at the same time. “Oh, Clara,” he whispered, meeting her eyes with his tearful gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would we have ever gotten this far if I had?” she wondered, though she already knew the answer. Coming to terms with the reality they were facing, he nodded softly in understanding. He pulled her towards his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a loving embrace. She laid her head against him and allowed her tears to fall openly as the wound of her betrayal set in. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I know how much this baby means to you.”

He sighed and kissed the top of her head. Though the chances of meeting his child were highly improbable, he couldn’t imagine what the alternative would have been if he had lost his companion instead. “Don’t be sorry. As long as I still have you, that’s all that truly matters,” he replied. He held her quietly for a few moments before turning his attention towards his daughter who approached the couple holding the Comasphere out to him. He nodded his appreciation and placed the sphere into his pocket. Releasing his companion, he turned to face his oldest friend who remained seated in her comatose state staring off into oblivion. He made his way to her desk and peered down at a series of neatly stacked letters upon its surface. Retrieving them, a small smile passed over his face as he thought about all the hardships he had overcome just to reach this point. How far he had come to finally win.

Clara regained herself and approached his side to better observe what had taken his interest. “What are they?”

Turning towards her, his brow playfully raised at the question. “Beethoven’s Fifth,” he answered with a child-like grin and tucked the letters neatly into his pocket.

“What will happen to her now?” she asked, glancing at Missy’s unresponsive form. For a moment, it was almost as if there was a part of her that couldn’t help but feel sorry for the deranged woman. Almost.

“She can’t hurt anyone. As long as she remains here, she will be trapped in fear by what she has done.”

“You’re just going to leave her here like this?” she questioned him, knowing how unlike him that sounded.

“No,” he assured her. “If we have indeed altered the future, then she will be released. It will be as if none of it ever happened. And if not, then I will come back for her. That is until I’ve felt she has endured enough.” He sighed and took one last look at his most notable foe. “Perhaps one day we will set aside our differences. Until then, I might be in the market for something large enough to keep her contained for a while,” he laughed and glanced over his shoulder towards Quynn, only to discover her sombre expression staring off into the void of her thoughts. His smile quickly faded at the sight of it. He cleared his throat and peered down at his companion. “Clara, will you give us a minute?” he asked, observing her curious expression at the request. “I’ll see you in the TARDIS, okay?”

Her eyes diverted towards Quynn for a brief moment then returned to his in understanding. “Of course,” she complied before removing herself from his presence. Approaching their daughter, she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Surprised by her mother’s sudden affection, Quynn hesitantly embraced her caring gesture. “Thank you,” Clara whispered, hiding her face behind Quynn’s shoulder. Feeling her tears returning, she released her and leaned away to see her face. She placed her hand on her cheek and smiled tearfully as she gazed upon her one last time. Doing her best to maintain her composure, she returned to the desk and took up the carrier in her arm before heading through the open doors of the TARDIS.

Now alone, the Doctor tucked his hands in his pockets and hesitantly stepped towards his daughter. “Where will you go?” he asked solemnly.

Quynn smirked to herself as she thought about how his determination to remain hopeful in even the bleakest of times was worthy of her admiration. Deep down, they both understood the cost of what they had done and what it would mean for both of them. And yet, just this once, maybe there was room in her hearts to view things in a different light as he did, even if only very briefly. “Perhaps I’ll create my own path throughout the stars.”

He smiled as best he could as the pain of their inevitable reality settled inside of him. “Don’t run. Stay with us,” he pleaded softly.

Quynn drew her attention towards the time-machine where the sight of her mother could be seen rocking the baby in her arms. “She needs you,” she replied, looking to him once more. “If this doesn’t work, the child will need a father in her life to show her the ways of the universe.”

A regretful sigh escaped him as the memory of everything that had been taken from him began to surface. No matter where they were to go from there or what was to happen, he’d never be able to fix what had so wrongfully been done to her. “I wish things had turned out differently for us,” he confessed, doing what little he could to hold back his heartbreak.

“Everything is as it should be,” she comforted him, taking a moment to find the words to say that would earn his understanding in exchange for the gratitude she had gained from his wisdom. “A brave man once told me that life is very fleeting when you’re not immortal. I only wish I had understood what he meant sooner. I’ve come to realize that our existence in this universe is never guaranteed. That the paths we forge can only be carved by the choices we make. If we’ve accomplished anything here today, I can only hope I have given back what I’ve taken from so many. You and I both know that for balance to be restored to the universe, I must never exist. I have accepted that,” she explained as genuinely as she knew how to be.

Turning his head, he glanced towards his companion. He watched from a distance as she carefully placed their baby in her bassinet and admired her from above. He smiled warm-heartedly as she rested her hand over her middle and allowed her fingers to brush over the surface with great affection for the life she carried inside of her. The elation she displayed towards their growing family was enough to bring even the smallest glimpse of hope for what the future had in store for them. “Never say never,” he replied, returning his attention to his daughter. “Perhaps our paths will cross again one day.”

“Yes, perhaps they will,” she smiled in return and extended her hand to offer a final farewell. “Goodbye, father.”

Peering down at the gesture, he took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips to kiss it softly. He returned his tearful eyes to hers and took in every last detail of her before releasing her from his grasp. Glancing towards the blue box, he headed in the direction of his companion. He crossed the threshold and turned towards his daughter, nodding his farewell before closing the doors to this reality for what would be the last time.

His grasp upon the handle, he inhaled a deep breath and called to arms all the courage he had remaining to help prepare himself for what he knew was to come. After everything they had been through together, after all the challenges they had faced, the hardest part was finally upon them; their final moment together. There would be no turning back now, it was only a matter of time. Releasing the handle, he slowly turned to face his companion. The sight of her presence before him relieved him of his held breath, being drawn to her beauty as if she were the very last flame still fighting to bring an essence of life into the surrounding darkness. Taking his place beside her at the console, his eyes gazed into hers as if he would never leave them.

“So, I suppose this is it then,” she spoke solemnly, fighting the flood of emotions attempting to gain control over her heart.

“I suppose so,” he answered sorrowfully.

Her eyes fell shyly to the floor as she tucked her hair behind her ear and allowed a small smile to spread across her lips. “We made a pretty good team back there.”

He matched her smile with his own and brought his hand to her chin, carefully lifting her gaze to meet with his once more. “You were brilliant.”

Her expression brightened for only a moment at his affection. “I had a good teacher.” Her eyes passed back and forth to each of his as the reality of what they had done forced its way into her soul. “We won’t remember any of this, will we?”

He sighed and held back the tears that yearned to form. “No,” he whispered, trying his hardest to stay strong for her as his hearts tore themselves apart. “The moment we leave here, every event that had led up to this point would never have happened. All that had been accomplished would cease to be. The paradox will be shattered.”

She swallowed the pain rising from within her, feeling every bit of it burning her throat as she fought her tears in his presence. Attempting to shield herself from the look of heartbreak in his eyes, she glanced at their child resting peacefully in her bassinet. She hesitantly approached her side and peered down at their sleeping baby girl. “Will it hurt her?”

“No, she won’t feel a thing. She’ll have no idea that anything has happened,” he assured her.

“Will I ever see her again?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that. All I can tell you is that I know how deeply her parents love each other, even when they don’t say it. Even though they should. People like us, we should say what is really in our hearts. Our truth was never meant to be kept hidden away. Never a moment wasted. No matter where we are to go from here, as long as we remain bound by the love we share between us, there will always be hope for her and perhaps more in the future.”

Clara smiled towards their baby as the sincerity of his words warmed her heart. Even at the most difficult of times, he always knew exactly what to say. Lowering herself to her, she closed her eyes and softly kissed their daughter’s cheek, knowing this was goodbye. But maybe not forever. Perhaps there was still a chance they would see each other again one day. Returning to her natural stance, she took a deep breath and nodded as confidently as she could. “I’m ready, Doctor.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, raising his brow.

“No,” she answered, turning to face him once more. “And I don’t expect that I ever will be. But I’ll have you, and that’s as good a place as any to start.” She smiled and returned to his side, to the place she knew in her heart she would always belong.

He returned her smile and carefully took her hands in his, feeling comforted by the trace amount of electricity flowing through her fingers. Bringing them to his lips, he gently kissed their surface and gazed tenderly into her eyes, knowing everything he wanted to say to her she already knew. Once ready, his smile brightened to the newfound enthusiasm taking place inside of him. “So, Clara Oswald. What would you say to another adventure?”

She couldn’t help the grin that formed on her face at the offer. “What did you have in mind?”

He excitedly released his grasp on her at the question and hurried along the outside of the console, swinging the view-screen around to the other side as he circled it. As he animatedly began to fire up the engines, he looked to her with a new sense of exhilaration in his eyes. “How about the fiery rings of Collabria?! Or a holiday on Halergan Three?! Your choice! Wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space!”

“Back in time for tea?” she asked playfully, peering around the glass pillars of the time rotor to observe his elated expression.

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, smirking at the unmistakable look of wonder in her eyes he missed so dearly as it finally made its return to her face.

“Just like old times then,” she laughed and rushed around the console to his side.

“All of time and the universe, right at our fingertips! Anything could happen!” he exclaimed. His fingers danced energetically over the buttons and keys in front of him as he awakened all of the ship’s systems.

“We best get on with it then. The planets aren’t going to save themselves,” she teased.

“Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. What would you say to lunch on a distant asteroid, followed by breakfast in ancient Rome?! Then cocktails on the moon! Why? Because we’re time travellers and that’s how we roll!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied, gripping the edge of the console in anticipation.

“It could be dangerous,” he grinned excitedly.

“I’m counting on it,” she grinned back.

His gaze never leaving his companion’s, he placed his hand on the lever and held it steady as the emotion observed within her eyes captivated his soul. He took a deep breath and allowed every part of himself to be immersed by the vast amount of electricity between them striking the air. “This is it, Clara. Our moment of truth. The end of the line. There’s no going back. No guarantees. From this point forward, our futures will be uncertain. Our fates left unsealed. One last pull of this lever, there’s no telling what might be waiting for us out there.”

Closing the small distance between them, she peered up at his beaming expression and hesitated for only a moment before nodding confidently in his presence. “Then we’ll do it together,” she smiled brightly and placed a gentle hand atop his own with care. “Just as we always have.”

He returned her smile and brought his remaining hand to carefully rest upon her cheek, taking in every detail of her for all it was worth. She was every bit as beautiful to him as the very first time he laid eyes upon her in his previous form, and she always would be. “My impossible girl,” he spoke softly, allowing his fingers to brush over the surface of her soft skin and through her hair. He delicately cupped her head in his palm and gazed into her vibrant brown eyes as they stared back at him. He slowly leaned his head towards hers and stopped, their lips nearly touching. “See you on the other side.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers as a wave of passion came over him, savouring every moment of her divine taste for what could be the very last time.

Gripping the lever securely, they pulled it down together and held onto each other tightly. The time rotor suddenly began to spring into action. Its mechanisms ascended and descended back into itself as the TARDIS signature melody of time travel clattered all around them. The feel of its engines purred underneath their feet as the living machine dematerialized towards their next unknown destination.

And then there was a flash of light…

#dr who #dr who fan fiction #dr who fanfiction #12th doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #the doctor #twelve/clara #clara oswald #whouffaldi

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