speedforceprotector-archive-blog

[jrwiyuri]

It’s official the dsmp ending is the worst thing in the world and likely ruined multiple peoples lore. I HATE THIS!!!

[dracoria-azucar]

I will never forgive C!Techno for painting C!Tommy as a betrayer

When at the final Manburg VS Pogtopia battle, there had been MONTHS of multiple characters making their intentions of RECLAIMING not DESTROYING L’Manburg incredibly clear. When C!Techno and C!Tommy had more than one dialogue about the future of Manburg where Tommy refused to agree to Techno’s plans of chaos and destruction for the nation. When literally no one asked Techno to farm what he did for the vault. When the only person who ever reaffirmed Techno’s belief that Manburg would be demolished was C!Wilbur, who also straight up lied to Tommy about his intentions later to keep him loyal.

And certainly not when Tommy rolled up to Technos retirement base verbalizing that he would help Techno but NEVER directly harm C!Tubbo or cause mass destruction to L’Manburg. Not when Tommy’s attempts at being friendly where repeatedly shot down by Techno referring to their dynamic as “strictly business”. Not when Techno made light of Tommy’s situation by offering him up to his abuser* and immediately demeaning/infantilizing Tommy when he became distressed. Not when Techno on more than one occasion directly lied about his intentions for L’Manburg and confessed his true plan just the night before the community house confrontation. Then had the audacity to be upset with Tommy wanting to stop Techno from bombing the nation he co-founded despite him vocalizing that the concept made him uncomfortable and straight up refusing to help go through with it the night before.

Like. Their relationship wasn’t great on both ends for sure. Tommy shouldn’t have been so pushy with the whole “Blade” bit because Techno had hinted at the fact that it made him feel objectified in the past. And he shouldn’t have stolen the Axe of Peace.

But he never betrayed Techno because he never fucking broke the promises he made with the guy in the first place!

All of the “betrayals” Techno felt were based on expectations and agreements that he fabricated in his own head. He never got Tommy to agree to any of that shit but he just expected the kid to go along with him at the end of the day. Then when Tommy didn’t, he got mad.

*despite Techno not knowing the extent of Dreams treatment towards Tommy, he did know that whatever happened between them was enough to leave Tommy thoroughly traumatized. he knew that Tommy believed Dream had reason to perma-kill him but still referred to them as friends. plus he saw the remains of Logstedshire multiple times, the pillar, the explosions, etc. even C!Phil admitted to working with Dream as a “necessary evil” and the man knew substantially less about the situation.

[habeascorpseus]

Ok now that wilbur is possibly going to be resurrected I desperately need him to wake up, mind foggy, but eyes clear for the first time in months, and gaze up at his teary-eyed younger brother. I want tommy to help him up as bad cleans up the ritual, telling him about the months after he died and filling in the gaps in his memory that he has of his final moments. I want tommy to tell him of his death at the hands of their father, who came too late to save him from his own corruption. I want tommy to tell him of phil, his last remaining family, abandoning him for techno only moments after the war was over. I want tommy to tell him of new L'manburg, of ghostbur reaching out but never quite bridging the gap. I want tommy to tell him of his exile, and Logstedshire, his abuse at the hands of Dream and how no one, besides ghostbur and ranboo, came to help. I want him to be told of an unlikely friendship, and the dissolution of bonds never meant to break. I want him to be told of new L'manburg's sins, and their efforts to do better. I want him to be told of two traumatized teenagers, both crossing a line and stepping back across it. I want tommy to tell him about not-total forgiveness, but apologies and showing that you mean them through your actions. I want him to be told of hope, and taking one final stand for what you believe in. I want him to be told of philza's abandonment of L'manburg and of tommy and wilbur's feelings. I want tommy to tell him that his symphony is finally finished. And after all the tears, belated rage, hugs, and whispered apologies, I want phil to arrive, late to his own son's rebirth. I want oppressive silence, as phil stares at his two sons, now both alive and well. I want phil to rush forward for a hug, and for wilbur to step between him and tommy. I want wilbur to push back. I want wilbur to look between phil and tommy and choose tommy, conclusively. I want phil to be told, on no uncertain terms, to leave and not come back until he's ready to support his sons for the first time in his fucking life. I want him to reassure phil that, though he may not be all there in the head, he will at least try to stick by tommy through and through. That he will finally be the adult tommy and tubbo need. And that he's going to try and do a damn better job than phil ever did in raising him. And after all of that, as wilburs words hang in the air, heavier than the sword phil used to impale him, I want phil to turn around and walk away. I want phil to walk home to the antarctic empire and greet techno and ranboo with a smile on his face. I want him to feel no regret as he sits down with them and quietly repairs his armor. And far away, back in whatever land wilbur and tommy have ended up in, as they both put away their armor for the night and organize their chests, I want wilbur and tommy to be at peace as well. Because phil was never really their father in anything but name, in the first place.

[karlnapity]

(tws: manipulation, emotional abuse, panic attacks, agoraphobia)

Even after this long, there are still people Eret needs to reconcile with, and people they likely won’t ever, and they’ve made peace with that.

Tommy is one of those people.

It’s not that they don’t want to. It’s been a combination of things, from continuous wars, to exiles, to Tommy’s complete and utter stubbornness, to a hell of a lot of avoidance.

So they’re a bit taken aback when Puffy suggests it, but she seems set on the idea.

“I think he’s probably the one whose experiences are most similar to yours,” she says, in that therapy voice she uses when she’s trying really hard to convince you of something.

They almost want to laugh at that. Tommy’s been through hell, more than they can even imagine, and it’s laughable to think their experiences are at all on the same level.

But, all the same, it’s an excuse to try again to amend their wrongs, and they’ve been trying to get better at confronting their issues.

So, they shoot him a whisper, and wait in the throne room with anxiety they haven’t felt since the prison gained a guest.

It’s hard to break free of habits they gained. It’s hard for them to relax, even when they’re on their own, because who knows if they really are. Who knows if they’re being watched, who knows if this is just a test.

They shake their head, let themselves relax a bit into the throne, let their robes crinkle around them.

And that’s when Tommy enters. They quickly reassemble themselves, garner their royal expression, make themselves look as dignified as possible because that’s what he demands.

They’ve got to stop doing that, but it’s so much easier to fall into old habits.

“So?” Tommy asks, as demanding as always, and Eret holds back a chuckle.

“Here, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” they say, and sweep off the throne, lead him down a few hallways to the garden. There are a few benches, and they occupy one, Tommy taking the other.

This was the closest thing they had to the outside for months, and they say as much, try to get Tommy comfortable. He makes a sound.

“What do you mean?”

They sigh. “Puffy wanted us to talk. She thinks our experiences with him are similar.”

It’s not like they need to say his name. They’re not sure they can.

“Ok? And?” Tommy asks, huffing, but they don’t miss the way he tenses, just a bit, the same way they do when they’re trying to hide anxiety.

“He stopped me from leaving the castle for months. Told me I could only go out when he said I could. This was the closest thing I had.”

Tommy’s staring at them. They can tell he’s trying to find the safest thing to say, that he’s trying to decide whether to share anything of his own.

“Oh,” he settles on. “I get that.”

They nod, and sigh. “I don’t think my experiences compare to yours. You had it a lot worse. But I wanted to have a chance to explain everything.

I know you don’t forgive me. I don’t blame you, believe me. But trust me: you know what he’s like. He had me from the beginning. And it’s still hard not to let myself be influenced by him. So I thought… if we could commiserate, or something. That it might help.”

They don’t look at him, but he lets out a sigh of his own.

“Ok, then.” And he huffs a laugh. “Then stop talking to me like a king, alright?”

Their head snaps up, and Tommy is smiling, a rueful little thing that forces a small smile onto their own face.

“Ok.”

He grows a bit more serious. “Then why did you betray us?”

They shrug. “I guess, in the beginning, I did want more power. I thought being king might help us become more powerful. I should’ve known he wouldn’t have let that happen, but… I was hopeful.”

They clear their throat. “I was manipulated.”

It’s still hard to say, they still feel like it’s dramatic, but Puffy’s been encouraging them to tell the truth. Tommy nods.

“We both were.” He looks like he wants to make a joke, but he doesn’t. “When I was in exile, he told me I was the only person he could trust. All that fucking shit.”

Guilt floods them, heavy and painful. They push through it. “I should’ve done something. I’m sorry.”

He pulls a face. “Then I shoulda done something! Back when it was fucking Manberg, or whatever.”

They sigh, shake their head. “It’s not the same… but thank you.”

He shrugs. He stands, looks around the garden. Eret can tell he’s just trying to keep moving.

“He just… he just fucking convinces you you can’t rely on anyone else. That he’s the only one who can help you, or hurt you, or anything. That no one else cares. Did that happen to you?”

They think of nights where he’d pull off their crown gently, where he’d treat them like a person and give them gifts and nice food, and even nights where he’d let them roam outside the castle alongside him, where he’d lay new, soft robes on their shoulders, where he’d hand them speeches he’d prepared so they didn’t have to stress, where he’d tell them they looked like a king, where he’d say he made the right choice in choosing them.

“It did,” they say, quietly.

“That’s what makes it so fucking hard!” Tommy exclaims, throws his hands up in the air. He looks like he wants to punch something.

“It makes it so hard for it just to be hatred,” they say, nodding. “When you’re wearing his clothes and living in a place he helped build, and when you’re eating the food he provided.”

He throws himself down on the bench next to them, looks them in the eye with a sad grin. “I’m so glad you get it.”

And then he pulls a face, waves his hands. “Not like that! I’m just… it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t gone through it.”

They let out a rich laugh, something that’s so rare these days. He told them it was undignified for a king, but they push down the shame that bubbles in their stomach. “I get it, I get it.”

“I’m glad too.”

>

Gardening’s been a strangely soothing activity. It keeps their hands busy, keeps their mind off things they don’t want to ignore, keeps them feeling accomplished. Sometimes, on the good, good days, they can even plant outside the castle, on the sprawling lawn, but it’s rare.

Today it’s just the garden within the castle. Their hands are coated as they kneel in the dirt, fancier robes exchanged for more casual clothes, almost humming to themselves in contentment, when they hear the voice behind them.

“King Eret?” The voice is quiet but unmistakable. They jump, turn around. They stand, brushing their hands of dirt, and offer a small curtsy, skirt blowing a bit in the wind.

“George,” they welcome. They’re not close with the ex-king, though there’s less bad blood than might be expected.

They have more in common than first assumed.

George looks out of his element, standing awkwardly in the archway. They wave him to the benches.

“What brings you here?” They ask, settling their skirt around them. Royal etiquette dies hard, and they suppose even after all this time the poise hasn’t leaked out of them.

“I wanted to talk,” he says. He fidgets with his goggles. “And I wanted to apologize.”

They tilt their head, expression pinching. “For what?”

“For…” He gestures around, vaguely. “All of this. Kingship shouldn’t have been pushed on you. I shouldn’t have tried to usurp it. I should’ve stepped in, I should’ve stopped him-”

Eret can recognize mounting anxiety, from experience as much as anything. They lean forward, lay a hand on his knee. “It’s ok, take a breath.”

He reigns in his breathing after a moment, lays hands over his face. “I’m sorry.”

They sigh, smile gently. “Don’t worry about it. I think… we probably share experiences, after all. I don’t blame you at all.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his lap. His hands twist. “Do you think he ever intended to actually make me king?”

“No.” It’s an easy answer, but there’s no point hiding the truth.

“I didn’t think so.” There’s a deep sigh. “I just feel like… I should have realized, earlier.”

They lean back, peer at the clear sky above them. The sun feels soft on their skin. “When he was around, controlling me… I knew he was horrible. I knew he was the source of my problems, my fear, everyone else’s pain, everything. But all the same… I wanted to follow him. It wasn’t just out of fear of what he’d do to me, or anyone else. It was easier. It was easier to do what he wanted, because then I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to be scared.”

They look to George, who’s nodding.

“I guess it’s sorta like that. It was just easier to follow orders, I suppose.” He purses his lips. “All the same, though, I’m sorry.”

As much as they want to rebuke his apology, insist it really isn’t his fault, they don’t. They’ve learned that sometimes it’s easier to apologize, even if the other person doesn’t need it.

“I forgive you.”

>

On very, very hard days, it’s hard to leave their room.

He wouldn’t let them leave it first thing without first checking them over, making sure they were presentable, making sure everything was in order. And, even now, it’s hard to leave without that first assurance.

They still feel like he’s going to pop out of the shadows, like he’s going to yell at them for getting breakfast without his go-ahead first, like he’s still there critiquing his every move.

In a way, it was assuring. It was simple, having everything decided for them. They were like a doll, positioned every way he wanted them to be. They needed to think over everything and nothing.

On the worst days, they felt inhuman. Their mind went on autopilot, doing everything he requested without even thinking, simply moving through the course of the day without even processing.

He especially approved of them, those days, always saying how he appreciated it when they didn’t speak, didn’t make noise, just stood and acted and followed him around exactly how he wanted them to.

The gaps in their memory disturb them, but all the same some part of them misses it, wants to avoid having to think about it all.

They really are a coward.

They curl deeper in their blankets. Today is one of those days where they don’t move from sun-up to sundown, just wallow in the memories and the self-pity. It feels pathetic, but all the same they can’t bring themselves to move.

There’s a knock on their door. Their entire being screams to stand, to pull on robes as quickly as they can, to make themselves presentable before he sees them, before he yells at them, but they still can’t even roll over to face the door.

“Eret?” It’s Puffy. They want to tell her to come in, or to go away, they’re not sure, but their tongue feels like lead.

The door creaks open, and she comes in.

“Having a rough time?” she asks. There’s a dip in the mattress where she sits beside them.

Puffy is perhaps the only person they can entirely relax around, and even then sometimes it’s a struggle.

She doesn’t judge them. She tells them their feelings are justified, helps them figure out everything. They’re not sure what they did to deserve someone like her.

She rests a hand on their shoulder. “If you want to talk, let me know. If not, I can stay here.”

They put a hand over hers. Stay.

They’re not sure how long they sit like that, but eventually they’re able to pull themselves together enough to eat breakfast she brought. She makes easy conversation even as they can’t, and they rest their head gently on their shoulder as she talks.

At the end of the day, they’re able to say one thing.

“Thank you.”

>

Leaving the castle is a constant struggle, one that most days they can’t bear. Most people have learned, at this point, to come to them if they want to talk.

Somehow, Niki seems to have forgotten, they think as they stare at the letter.

It tells them to meet her at her base, that she wants to spend time with them but can’t miss a day of work.

She’s been working hard, lately, to rebuild, to rediscover her life much the same as they have.

Their hands tremble. Her base is close to the furthest they’ve ventured, and even then that was on one of their best days, and even then they had a panic attack on the way there.

They could just miss it. They could just pretend they didn’t get the letter. They could just pretend they were busy.

No. They want to see her, desperately.

They crinkle the paper in their hands as they start to pace. They already feel the mounting panic at even the thought of venturing that far.

They’d need someone to go with them. They’d need someone to watch them, make sure they didn’t just have a meltdown, but Puffy’s busy and they don’t want to bother anyone else, and they’re likely too embarrassed to ask anyways.

No, they’ve got to do this. Puffy told them to push themselves. This counts, right?

They dress in some of their nicest robes. If they’re going to have a panic attack, they’re at least going to look good doing it, and there’s some comfort in looking as kingly and dignified as possible, even at this juncture.

And they make it to the gates before their confidence starts to waver.

It’s not uncommon for them to stand here, to people watch, but they barely make it past the door most of the time.

Ghostbur passes by within the ten minutes they’re standing there. He catches their eye, and he waves ecstatically before heading to stand next to them.

“Hello, Eret!” he exclaims.

It’s still odd to hear Wilbur’s voice, so similar and yet so different. Eret’s not sure they talked to him again before November sixteenth, and even then he only ever commanded them as a group.

“Hello, Ghostbur,” they return with a smile. “Where are you off to?”

“I wanted to see Niki,” he says, and Eret feels like they could collapse with relief.

“What a coincidence. I do too,” they say, and before their anxiety can get the better of them, they continue. “What do you say we head there together?”

Ghostbur nods happily, extending a hand, and Eret takes it.

They get about ten feet from the door before the anxiety kicks in.

They feel a bit bad for Ghostbur, considering how sweaty their palms are already getting. Their heartbeat’s loud in their ears.

It’s as frustrating as it is terrifying. He’s in prison. He’s not here, and there’s no way he could be here. Sapnap and George stopped reporting to him months ago, and the both of them apologized directly, so there’s no way they’d tell him even if they saw them.

So why are they so fucking scared?

“Are you ok, Eret?” He asks as they walk. They wave him off, but breath is already coming hard for them.

They can remember the first time he caught them. It’d been months into their sentence, as it were, in the castle, and they’d snuck away in the dead of night to see Fundy.

He caught them only a few feet from the door, but he’d been furious. It had taken hours of him teasing, threatening to hurt Fundy, hours of them begging on their knees for him not to do anything, and in the end they’ve never been sure whether he did. They can’t bring themselves to ask.

He’d hardly ever threatened them. If he wanted to hurt them, he did. He always threatened to hurt their friends.

And it was so much worse. What would he do if he caught them now?

They can’t breathe. They let go of Ghostbur’s hand, crumble to their knees. They knew this would happen. They shouldn't have even tried.

Ghostbur’s calling their name, they’re pretty sure, but it’s too much, because if he calls their name too much he might hear where they went, he might be able to find them, and he can’t find them because what is he going to do to their friends, they were trying to find Niki so what would he do to her if he found out, he might hurt her, they were an idiot for even trying to leave and they should have just stayed where it was safe for everyone-

And they’re being hauled to their feet, someone is leading them somewhere. They don't fight back, because it's probably him, and if they fight back it'll only make it so much worse for everyone. They just let themselves be led.

It always takes them a long time to come back from a panic attack. The first thing they become aware of is someone humming, The second is how bright it is. No matter how much they seem to add to their castle, it’s always dim no matter what.

They open their eyes. They’re sitting on a bed, Ghostbur to their right. And Niki’s bustling around on the other end of the room, back turned.

They whisper her name, and she whips around, face softening before she pulls them into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and they hold onto her, tightly. “I’m ok.”

They ask everyone to say that they're ok, after they panic. It was embarrassing, initially, but it really, really helps.

She pulls back a bit, and they grip her arms. She brushes hair out of their eyes. “I’m so sorry, Eret, I should have known not to ask that of you, I wasn’t thinking.”

They shake their head. “No, I wanted to. It’s- I wanted to challenge myself.”

She nods. “I’m glad you got Ghostbur to come with, so he could let me know and I could come get you. I support you pushing yourself, but be careful, ok?”

They smile, nod, and push themselves off the bed. They’re still a bit shaky on their feet, but they look around all the same. “This is gorgeous, Niki.”

As she and Ghostbur show them around her new base, the anxiety doesn’t fade. It might not ever, when they’re outside, and it might not ever even if they follow the rules.

They can’t undo what Dream has done to them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t do the best they can to work past it. They have people, friends who are willing to work with them, and people who care, and even when they’re in their castle it seems so much brighter than before.

And when Niki drops them back off, they don’t worry whether she’ll be ok. They know they both will.

[zodiyack]

Good Intentions with Bad Outcomes

Requested by anon: Could you write for shelby sis who fights with tommy and in his anger he says something really hurtful to her and she leaves. Tommy doesn't take it seriously cause he thinks she'll be back soon anyways but she stays way a couple weeks because she had to hide from someone? and when she comes back everyone is angry at first till they realize that something's off with her and she tells them later on? With a fluffy family end? Sorry if it's too specific:)

Pairing: Tommy + Shelby!Female!Reader, Shelby & Gray family + Shelby!reader (no romance)

Warnings: Swearing, angst, reader being best friends with Esme that’s a warning and we all know it, fluff, smol sexual reference, mention of homophobia + abuse, mention of blinding; Peaky Edition™, slight straying from request(?)

Taglist:  @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @simonsbluee​, @peakysputain​

Tags just for this fic: @mzcrazy2​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

He snapped.

It was just a small argument, at first, but Y/n wouldn’t stop digging. She fought first, he tried to reason with himself, but he knew it was his fault. He was going to apologize, as soon as she dropped the act and came home.

He waited in a chair by the door.

Any moment now. Just a couple seconds and she’d come bursting through the door, admitting her defeat and accepting her brother’s apology, perhaps even apologizing herself.

He checked his pocket watch.

If not now, maybe, and preferably, before 4 am. Tommy grew tired with each passing moment. He knew Pol would kill him if anything happened to Y/n, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself either, so he told himself to sit by the front door and wait for her, but sleep just seemed far too important. It was something he didn’t get much, and it wasn’t like he could stop himself.

So he slept on the couch. Like a baby, might he add.

However, his awakening was not as peaceful as his sleep. Polly slapped his leg rather harshly with her glove. Her eyes were beat red and her heart was racing faster than the horses her and her family bet on. “Wake up, you bastard!”

“Whatever seems to be the matter, Pol?” He rubbed his eye sleepily and sat upright, but yet again was attacked by his aunt’s gloves.

“You know damn well what’s the matter!” Tommy gave her a look of confusion. “Your sister is missing, goddammit!”

He chuckled, loudly. His amusement earned him more attacks from the gloves as Polly glared down at him, “What the bloody hell do you think is so funny about Y/n being missing?”

“She’s not missing Pol, she’s too fucking chicken to run. Just, relax, alright Pol? She’ll be back in what, five hours?” Thomas smirked at his aunt before grabbing his coat and walking out the front door. He went on his way, walking back to his own home.

“Tommy! Like I’ve said, he’s just a friend!”

“Yeah? Just a friend? Look at him, he just wants to get in your knickers, Y/n/n!” He laughed with his older and younger brother, watching the boy, their sister’s age, flush red with eyes the size of saucers. He noticed his sister look away, equally embarrassed as her guest. “Is that what you are, huh Y/n? A whore? Look at that brothers, our baby sister’s become a whore!”

Y/n grunted and pushed past them, trying to get out of the room, but Tommy grabbed her arm. His teasing smile was long gone. “Y/n/n. Send. Him. Home.”

“You lost the right to call me that when you called me a whore.”

Weeks had passed. Still no sign of Y/n.

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too! Whoring around with some kid-”

“Thomas! I’m not a fucking whore! You may keep your sanity by sneaking around with those women, but I can assure you, brother,” she spat the word with a certain venom to her tone, “none of the whores in the whole bloody fucking world could show you how much of a worthless, sad, piece of shit excuse for a brother you are. Lucky for me,” she leaned in, speaking through clenched teeth, “I’m no whore.”

Y/n grabbed her coat and ran out the door, flipping Tommy off in the process of her exit mission. The shocked expression lazily covered with a horrible attempt of a blank look on Tommy’s face was priceless. He never expected nor meant for it go this far.

That’s when she left. That’s when he laughed to himself and waited by the door, telling himself over and over that she was only kidding around. That she was going to come home.

It had almost been a whole fucking month.

He finally saw the truth.

She was either missing, serious about leaving, or had, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, died. And he was the one who had to break the news to his family. When he did, many different reactions were shared.

Esme, who held a close bond with Y/n, slapped Tommy with small “cat-fight” hits to his arm until John pulled her back. John refused to look at Tommy, full of his own guilt for not stopping the joke before it got too far. Arthur drank his sorrows away, but not before bowing his head in shame as well.

And as for Polly, she gave Thomas a disappointed, disapproving glare and hit his arm, similar to Esme, but with full force, figurative steam coming from her ears accompanied by the tears flowing from her brown orbs. The action spelled it out better than words could’ve. Not that she would’ve said anything about it anyways, as she currently wished to be on something, anything, worse than “not on speaking-terms” with her nephew.

They knew Y/n was at fault as well, but she wasn’t there at that moment, so Tommy was facing his punishment while they had their free time. Esme baked Y/n’s favorite Romani treats, the reasoning quite obvious when Pol and Ada had pointed it out,

“You’re going through a grieving process. She may not have died, for all we know, but you feel that you lost her, and it’s hurting you intensely.”

Some days, Ada joined in, baked her share, and brought them back to her house. Today, however, it was just Esme.

Or so she thought.

The feeling of unease washed over her. A chilly wind blew into the room. She’d had her fair share of the supernatural, but this presence felt alive. Esme’s hand reached for the knife before she spun around, dropping the blade at the sight in front of her.

“Y/n- what the bloody hell...?” Y/n tried to walk over for a hug, but only managed to get half way before Esme snapped back to her senses and hit her friend over and over again with one of her aprons. “Where” hit “Have” hit “You” hit “Been!?”

“Oh you know...exploring.”

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you grew up in Birmingham, in fact, you’re still growing up, here, in Birmingham. So tell me. What’s wrong? If you decide not to tell me, just know that John’s sleeping upstairs, and don’t, for one second, think I won’t go wake his lazy arse up.”

“Oh yeah, sure, Esme, maybe get him to tell Tommy to get that stick out his ass, would you? I mean, it’s got to be painful with how far up there he makes it out to be.”

Esme frowned, remembering what Thomas told them all. “Oh hun... you should’ve told me and came over here! I’m sure John wouldn’t have minded, and if he would’ve... well that’s too bad for him, innit?” Y/n giggled softly and began to smile, causing Esme to cheer with joy. “See! Come, I’ll make you some tea!”

“Well? Where the fuck were you!?” Polly inspected Y/n for injuries, finding bruises along wrists. 

“Nowhere, I’m fine. I just fell into some trouble and, like Arthur taught me, won.”

Arthur chuckled proudly, “Attagir-”

“No. Tell us the truth, Y/n.”

“I am.”

Polly leaned closer to her niece. They held eye contact, Y/n could see the tears threatening to spill over her Aunt’s lower eye lids. She inhaled, preparing to speak, hesitated, to up the dramatic effect, and finally let a word free. “Liar.”

“To be fair Pol, she had been at my home for the past week-”

A gasp and a cough, both from Pol, sounded in the room from shock. “She what?” she drawled.

“My point is, Aunt Pol, my small home, all the little ones, there would be some points where she’d trip, ya know? Even Esme gets some bruises like that-”

“Mhm. It’s totally from the small house.” Arthur chuckled into his cup, snorting when Pol flicked him on the back of his head. “Anyways, she said it Pol, she’s fine. No broken bones, no bloody noses, John gave an explanation for any bruises, she’s fine.”

“I’m with Polly on this one. She didn’t seem all that well at our home, John, and she didn’t run around enough to get bruises. Sorry, love.” She winced apologetically at her sister-in-law.

Y/n shrugged and walked from the room, trying hard to keep the emotions inside. If she didn’t cry, they couldn’t know that she had lied. Not that it was any use, Pol was already onto her and her siblings were giving her suspicious looks.

Tommy followed his younger sister and closed the door behind himself. “Y/n/n. Are you alrig-”

She hugged him, tightly. Thomas could feel his shirt dampening from his sister’s tears. Y/n broke, despite her plan not to, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her sobs were painful for Tommy to hear. His protective and brotherly instincts kicked in as he processed the muffled cries of the voice belonging to the girl he watched grow up, the girl cared ever so deeply about, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly.

“Tommy... I couldn’t help him.”

“Who?” She looked up at him with sad expression. He remembered the night. He called his sister a whore for joking purposes and with the intent of preventing her from ending her night with a broken heart, it didn’t help that he was slightly drunk, and he didn’t realize she’d take it to heart. “I-”

“It’s alright, Tom, you had good intentions, they just didn’t have the best of outcomes.”

“Y/n/n, I shouldn’t have called you that, no matter my intentions.”

She hugged her brother again, both Shelby siblings unaware of the door opening and their audience that stood on the other side of it. “Tommy, you wanna know what happened? I was like you, had good intentions, but a bad outcome.”

“What’s this of bad outcomes?” Pol stepped forward, tears spilling over the brims of her eyes and a small smile upon her lips. Y/n began to cry harder, and Polly wrapped her arms around her after Tommy moved out of the way. She rested her head on Y/n’s and mumbled soft affirmations as her hand moved up and down her back soothingly.

“Tells us what happened, dear, from the start, okay?” Y/n nodded, separating from her aunt and sitting in the middle of her clan, who sat on either the sofa or a chair.

“The boy Tommy assumed was into me, was being abused. I was trying to help, prevent him from being hurt anymore than he already was. His father hated him because he... he likes boys. I figured, if I hung around, his father would think the opposite and leave him alone. But one day he slapped him, right in front of me. I got so mad, I- I- it was like I- like all I could see was red-”

“Deep breath, there’s no rush, little sister.” Arthur rested a hand on Y/n’s shoulder reassuringly, earning a kind and appreciative smile from the girl.

“Thank you, Arthur. I hurt his father, so I wasn’t lying about that part, but he got back up. Illia, the boy, helped me out of his house and ran with me. We got pretty far and ended up staying at a small abandoned cabin, a good place for us while we were in hiding. He managed to find a place with his grandmother out of the UK, who could care less about his romantic or sexual preferences in gender, and that’s when I started for home. We went our separate ways and our hiding was no longer necessary.”

“I have a question.” Ada raised her hand, in attempt of getting her family to notice her. Y/n nodded and awaited her older sister’s question. “If you were free from hiding...why didn’t you come home right away? Why’d you stay with John and Esme for an extra week?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too. We all thought you’d died, Y/n.”

“Oh...” She looked down, wiping away some of her tears, “I didn’t want you to get mad at me. Or have Illia hurt due to certain lovely trios attacking before thinking. He didn’t kidnap me, but if I came back after news of him fleeing Britain spread, you’d probably assume such.”

Polly sat beside her niece with a soft smile and pulled her into yet another hug. “It’s good to have you back. You’ve missed so much, and we’ve missed you. What do you say we eat dinner as a family today, celebrate your return?”

Ada walked over and joined the two women, wrapping her arm around Y/n as well.

“Get over here, all of yous. I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to hug all of us, right now it’s about Y/n-”

“Pol,” Arthur chuckled heartily, “We’re not gonna argue, we missed her too.”

Tommy was first to step up, stopping in front of Y/n. He pulled her into him, welcoming her into a warm hug, then Polly wrapped her other arm around Tommy, Ada mirroring her Aunt. Arthur found a spot, as did Esme and Finn. John muttered something along the lines of “to hell with it” and finally joined in on the family hug.

That night, they celebrated, just as Polly said. The girls exchanged gossip with Y/n about what she had missed, the boys teased her, with lighter jokes this time, and shared the news the girls failed to inform Y/n of. By the end of the night, everyone had passed out in the living room with smiles on their face, adults with alcohol in their stomachs, all apart from Y/n and Tommy.

“Tommy?” He grunted in response to his sister, fidgeting with the glass in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Tom paused, inhaling slowly. The entire time, he thought she was the own who owed him an apology, at least a small one. But he was the one who said the words. He was the one who watched her leave without chasing after her. “Don’t be. If anyone here should be sorry, it’s me.” He looked over to her, the siblings holding eye contact, “You’re not a whore, okay? I never should’ve said that, even if it was true or not, it wasn’t kind of me. I hurt you because I misread your friend’s intentions and-”

“Good intentions, bad outcome.”

“Y-yeah. But my intentions were not needed, Y/n/n. They were something I should’ve kept to myself, but I did it with Ada too, and now she and I have... well a relationship that’s not as strong as ours.”

“Tommy,” she knew what he was trying to say, “you could never ruin our relationship. We may fight, but at the end of the day, your my big brother.” She moved closer to him. “I look up to you, admire you, shit, I wish I was you sometimes.”

“You don’t want to be me, trust me.”

Y/n laughed. “You’re right, I don’t want to be you. I don’t think having a stick up my ass sounds the most comforting-”

“Oi, watch what you say, Miss Blinder, you’re messing with the rest of the world now.”

He tickled her, but stopped when she held up a hand and made a face. “Wait- Peaky Blinders..?” He nodded. “No- you aren’t- Tommy!” Thomas shushed his sister with a chuckle that matched hers, pure happiness in the Shelby home.

“Yep. You’re a Blinder now, sister.” He raised a shot glass, “May all your good intentions have greater outcomes.”

“No, actually.”

“What?” He stopped his hand before the glass could reach his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

She smiled at her brother, raising her own glass, “I prefer the good intentions with bad outcomes, after all, if this is the aftermath of a good intention and it’s bad outcome, I’d be more than happy to make sure all my good deeds had bad endings.”

“Careful there sister, one should be wise about how they phrase such a promise.” 

He didn’t believe in bad luck, nor God, or really anything, for all Y/n knew. That’s what he led others to believe- yet it was like he was warning her about the possibility of bad luck. Beliefs aside, his words were showing a hidden genuine concern to his sister’s.

“I suppose a few good outcomes are acceptable.” They clinked their glasses together and drank their drinks with matching smiles. 

It felt amazing to be back, even better to be back and offered with an opportunity to initiate revenge for Illia. Being a Peaky Blinder had many perks, like the infamous line that was known for being the first thing one hears after losing their sight.

The line that brought motivation to her good intention that could end with a very bad outcome for herself instead of the person she planned it for, had she gone through with it before being presented with the razor dawning cap. The line she’d finally be able to say. The line that could, should, and would be the last thing the evil bastard heard.

Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 14)

Title: Forgiveness is Not so Easy (the void will protect those shunned)

Summary: Phil and Techno are at the house. Ranboo isn't sure he likes it, but he's got his family to support him.

(Death is mad at Phil. He doesn't know it. Once she's done with something, she'll chew him out.)

Part One

Part 15

Masterlist

_________

Ranboo wished he was stronger. He wished he could put the past behind him and move on, but something held him back. Something looked him in the eyes and told him that he could not grow without closure, but even closure was too much to bear.

When he had looked over to the door and saw not only Technoblade but also Philza, leaning and eyes glassy, his first feeling was terror. It was an act- they had come here to kill him-

But his second thought was maybe they were here to kill Tommy. Or Sam. Or any of the family that had actually cared about him when he was at his lowest. Maybe Tubbo, Fundy, Purpled, maybe they wanted a way to Puffy. Because they hadn’t ever cared about him, so why would they now? Why would they have hunted him down? No, the world and the ones he used to live with both united in that they had left him behind, so it wasn’t Ranboo who was in trouble, it was his family.

When Sam had ushered Technoblade and Philza into the medical room, Ranboo let out a deep breath. “C’mon guys. Let’s go to our room.”

Tommy had taken one look at his wide eyes and agreed, as if he hadn’t just seen his father bleeding out over the man who’d once told him to die like a hero. “Yeah, let’s give them some space.”

They all ended up asleep, though he was sure that someone had gotten up, but Ranboo’s dreams were not kind. Had they ever been? Had he ever known compassion from something as simple as his own mind?

His dreams were plagued with heartache and pain, as his life had been, and though he was no stranger to it, he did not want it. He never wanted it, but no one ever cared about his opinions before he found this family.

Ranboo woke up gasping. He had already forgotten what the nightmares were about, but the adrenaline still pumped through his veins as he tried to calm down.

“You got ‘em, too?” Tommy whispered, from somewhere among the mass of blankets.

Ranboo swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice sounded hoarse. At least he hadn’t been crying. Had he? “Just memories. I think.”

Tommy shifted in the covers. “I know that you don’t like them. I have issues too, but… is it so much to hope that they feel sorry? I just want.. I know it’s selfish but I want them back. I have this family, but losing them… losing them still hurts.”

“I can understand that.” Ranboo said. “I think it all depends on what they do now, since we’re close together and can’t really avoid each other. It depends on how they act.”

Tommy hummed. “I hope they feel sorry.”

“If they don’t feel sorry now, after all they’ve done,” Ranboo whispered, “then they never will.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said, but he didn’t elaborate. They stayed in silence until weak beams of light began to shine through their window, and then even longer, until there was a soft knocking on the door.

It opened, and Sam stood there. “Ranboo? Tommy? Are you awake?”

“We sure are, big man.” Tommy said, and though his eyes were tired, his wings twitched. “What do you need?”

Sam hesitated. “Uh, Phil’s awake. He and Techno want to talk with you guys. You don’t have to, of course…”

Tommy’s wings drooped a little. “I guess. Will you be there?”

“If you want me to.” Sam said softly. “Or if you need space, I’ll just be outside the door.”

Ranboo thought about all that had happened. “You might… you might want to be further than that. If they want to apologise, and they mention what they’ve done… I’m not sure they’d get out of here alive.”

Sam huffed. “I’m well aware that they haven’t been great people, but if they want to apologise, then I’ll let them. You deserve to hear their apology.”

“Thanks, dad.” Tommy smiled lightly. “Do they want to talk now?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Sam nodded, but Ranboo knew that he couldn’t keep them waiting. Not when Technoblade already had a short temper.

Ranboo clambered over the slumbering bodies of his family to get to the door. “Where’s Purpled? And Punz?”

“They chatted with Phil about what they were. I left a while ago, but Punz came up to me and said they wanted to talk to you guys. Purpled’s trying to sleep on the couch now.”

Ranboo wondered what their hybrid parts were, but he knew he’d find out eventually. “Alright.”

On the way to the medical room, they did pass Purpled on the couch, wings draped awkwardly over the edges. It didn’t look comfortable, and he grunted in acknowledgement as they went by. They got to the door to the room, and Sam put a hand on their shoulders.

“If you need something, anything, let me know, okay?”

Ranboo nodded, and Tommy opened the door.

Phil and Techno were on one of the beds, looking like they didn’t belong there. Ranboo thought for a moment that they really didn’t, they’d distanced themselves from family and in doing so they had forever condemned the possibility that they could fit. It was what they deserved, but Ranboo felt sorry.

“Hey Tommy, Ranboo,” Phil said slowly. “How, uh, how’ve you been?”

Tommy scoffed as he went to sit down on a bed. “Been doing alright, considering all of my trauma.”

Ranboo cracked a smile, but it fell when Techno started talking.

“Can’t have been too bad if you’re friends with Tubbo again, given that he exiled you.”

Tommy’s eyes were set alight. “Tubbo was never part of the problem. Dream was.”

“How?” Techno asked, and Ranboo thought he almost seemed genuine. “From my point of view Dream doesn’t have anything to do with what happened. Help me understand, Tommy.”

Ranboo spoke instead. “Dream’s manipulative. He didn’t like that Tommy stood up to him, so he needed Tommy gone. But gone would get rid of the fun of this server- so exilling him and getting him submissive was the best option. Setting George’s house on fire was never as bad as he made it seem, Dream just needed a reason to exile him. That’s why he never cared that I was part of it, too.”

Phil looked surprised. “You were part of it?”

“Yeah. My first day, and I was committing arson.” He scoffed. “Not that you care.”

“We can get to that later,” Techno said. “What happened in exile, Tommy? Why were you under my house?”

Tommy’s wings fell until they settled on the bed. “Dream’s manipulative. What more do you need? What haven’t you figured out, considering that you’re able to analyze everything I do?”

“I need to hear it from you,” Techno said. “Because otherwise, I can’t be sure.”

Tommy sighed. “It started out alright, other than the fact that he blew up all my stuff and made me start from scratch. Then he did it every day, he told me to put my armor in a hole, and if I didn’t, he threatened to put me in it. He said he was my friend, he said Tubbo hated me, and ghostbur disappeared. I made a party, and Dream sent out the invites, but no one came. Only Dream, and then I started believing that he was my friend.”

“But what made you run away?” Phil asked.

“I’m getting there.” Tommy snapped. “He kept getting into my mind, making me believe that I had no one but him. I really thought he cared about me, despite all that he did to me.”

“What’d he do?” Phil interrupted again.

Tommy hesitated, so Ranboo spoke up instead. “Abused him. Why do you think he flinches? Or did you not care enough to find out?”

“I said we’d speak about that later,” Techno growled. “One thing at a time.”

Tommy barged back into the conversation. “I think it would have continued, but Dream found the room where I kept all the important things I didn’t want blown up. He blew up the entire room, then everything that I had built while in exile. He said that I deserved it, because I had disobeyed. I said sorry, but he said it wasn’t enough. He said that I needed to be punished, and I believed him, but I was so sick of it all, I was sick of exile, I was sick of life. So I took whatever building supplies remained from everything I’d worked so hard on, and I built into the sky. I didn’t reach as far as I’d wanted, but it would have been enough. I could almost touch the clouds. Then…” He trailed off.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Ranboo whispered, and Tommy just curled into his side.

“I’ll be fine. I was on that… the fucking pillar, looking down at the ground, when I realized what Dream had been doing. I’d almost let him win. I couldn’t let him win, so even though I knew my eyes were grey and I woke up every night submerged in the water, I jumped. I landed in a little lake, and ran. I ran to the snow, because I knew it would cover any footprints I made. I found your house, and I meant to just take some supplies, but it was so warm, and some part of me still hoped you’d care about me. So I burrowed under your house and tried to sleep.”

Techno made a small sound. “And you grew your wings?”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “It was hell.”

“I’ll bet.” Phil huffed. “Why didn’t you have Techno call me?”

“Because I thought he wanted to put an axe through my skull.” Tommy snapped. “And I wasn’t exactly proven wrong, was I? What made you think it was a good idea to decimate my home?”

“I was angry.” Techno grumbled.

“That’s not a healthy way to take out your anger,” Ranboo argued. “And don’t you dare blame it on your voices. I know you could’ve ignored them. I know you have before.”

“They were a government,” Techo began, and Tommy groaned.

“He was sixteen!” Tommy exploded. “You expect a sixteen year old to run a country? He was stressed, and grieving, and you certainly didn’t help! The problem isn’t Tubbo, it’s that you expected him to be an adult when he never got to grow up. The problem isn’t a government, it’s that you wanted to be the most powerful thing on the server. You wanted an equal playing field, and for you, that means you control what everyone does. You weren’t some savior, you were just some overpowered guy with anger issues who wanted to destroy everything.”

Techno didn’t have a response. Ranboo figured there wasn’t really any way to respond to that.

“I guess,” Techno started after a tense silence, “you may have a point.”

Ranboo snorted, and Techno shot him a look that probably was supposed to be playful, but he couldn’t help but flinch.

Phil sighed. “And we heard what went down with Dream’s lair. Do you want to tell us about your, uh, your issues?”

Ranboo cracked a smile as Tommy draped a wing across his shoulder. “The main cause of my problems begins with D and ends in ream, pretty much. I heard his, well it wasn’t him, but it sounded like him, his voice, in my head, sometimes. Telling me I did things that I didn’t, or maybe I did. I can’t remember. It stopped when I went to the End, or sometime after. I don’t know why.”

“And why’d you go to the End?” Phil asked.

He breathed deeply. “I overheard you guys talking about your, your syndicate, or whatever you called it.”

“Oh.” Techno said, like he knew where this was going.

“I don’t even remember why I was there, but I heard Technoblade, who’s notorious for hating people using him as just a weapon, speaking about how he could send me to be their assassin to relieve them of the blame. How he could take advantage of my forgetfulness, and then I thought, surely Philza of all people would shoot that idea down, but I had to stand there and listen to Philza agree with Techno.”

Phil wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Ranboo kept going. “So I figured, this can’t get much worse, but then, and here’s the best part of it, I listened to Technoblade say that he hoped that I didn’t mistake our relationship for a personal one, because it was purely business. How was that supposed to make me feel?”

Techno wouldn’t meet his eyes either.

So, he kept going. “So I packed up my stuff, and I prepared to leave. But then, Phil noticed I was leaving. He didn’t bother to notice that I was being suspicious, almost as if he wanted me gone. The rest is history, the Enderman of the End don’t like me all that much.”

Tommy looked over at the people who used to be his family. “So? Your turn. Are you going to try to justify your actions?”

“No,” Phil said, and Ranboo noticed he almost seemed mortified. “No. Admittedly, we might have meant everything then, but after we tried to talk to Tommy last, we spoke about everything. We tried to figure out why you were angry at us, and we realized, well, we had this huge realization that, well, we’d fucked up.”

“You think?” Techno laughed. “We, amidst our thinking, might have noticed that we are, quite possibly,”

“Massive jerks?” Ranboo asked.

“A pair of bitches?” Tommy offered.

Phil and Techno both laughed a bit. Ranboo tried to not be scared.

After a while, Phil quieted. “I just… you guys are allowed to feel mad. You can be angry. But… I want you to know that we’re sorry. We’ve noticed that we’ve done wrong, we want to make it better, but it’s your choice. If you never want to see us again, we understand, but… we want a chance to fix our relationships.”

“From a business standpoint?” Ranboo asked, and Techno winced.

“I deserved that.” He admitted.

Tommy thought for a moment. “Well, as much as I would like to never have to see Techno’s ugly face or Phil’s old-ass one again, you seem at least half genuine. I guess I could give you a chance, but it’s not me that should be the deciding factor. Sure, you hurt me, but I’ve got a shit-ton of other things to get over before I even start to address it. Ranboo’s the man you should speak to about forgiveness.”

Ranboo didn’t like all the eyes on him, but he knew it was necessary. “I…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know. Me leaving led to a bunch of other trauma, and I… I just don’t know if,”

Phil smiled gently. “That’s okay. We can leave, or we can stay, or if you want to take it slow we can visit later…”

“No,” Ranboo shook his head. “You’re hurt. I’m not gonna kick you out. Just… I might not come see you for a while.”

“That’s okay,” Techno said. “Are you okay if I walk around?”

“If you take off your weapons.” Ranboo said, after a pause. “I can’t really expect you to stay cooped up here.”

“I’d do it if you asked me to.”

Ranboo tried not to immediately latch onto the fondness in Techno’s voice. He grew attached to people easily. He knew that. He’d just have to hug Sam or something after this.

“No, it’s fine.”

So that’s how Ranboo ended up in his room, alone. He still didn’t trust Techno, but he knew Tommy had missed them. He knew that Purpled and Punz needed their help. So, he’d tolerate it.

The door opened and he burrowed out from under the blankets just enough to see who was intruding on his brooding.

“Awww,” Tubbo cooed. “I know you’re probably sad but you look really cute in your little blanket cocoon.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but feel a little happier. “Whatever you say, Tubbo Underscore.”

“Can I get you anything?” Tubbo asked, softer. “I know this is rough for you.”

“What about you?” Ranboo asked. “Doesn’t the festival still scare you?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I dunno. I have nightmares about it sometimes, but it’s in the past. We’re even, too. I didn’t kill him, though.”

“It doesn’t change that he still did that to you,” Ranboo argued as Tubbo sat down. “How do you forgive him?”

“I don’t want to live with the feeling that not forgiving someone brings,” Tubbo admitted. “It might be a weak reason, but I want to move on. I don’t want to think badly of anyone. I will, if I need to, but Techno is trying to be better, I think. I don’t really know, he’s a hard person to read, but I tend to give people as many chances as they want, so I dunno.”

Ranboo grinned. “That’s a lot of ‘I don’t know’s Tubbo.”

Tubbo scoffed. “And you’re here listening, so…”

Tubbo stayed a little longer, until dinner.

Dinner was a tense affair. There were a lot of failed jokes, a lot of winces, a lot of silence. They were healing though, slowly. Ranboo knew it’d be a while, but he knew that Tommy had talked with them while he had hidden, so maybe they’d be okay. They talked about moving closer, since living in the arctic was a little unnecessary, and Ranboo was conflicted on it. He faked nonchalance, but he doubted anyone other than Phil and Techno believed him.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

He expected to just stay up, but around what he predicted was… midnight, Purpled turned over and groaned.

“Are you going to fall asleep or should we just watch a movie?”

Ranboo froze. “What?”

“Oh.” Purpled realized. “You weren’t there when I told everyone. I’m part Phantom.”

“I’m gonna act like I know what a Phantom is.” Ranboo chucked, feeling how the exhaustion was creeping over his body.

Purpled laughed. “True. Want me to tell you, or do you think that you’ll be up for a long time and wanna do something else?”

“Just talk.” Ranboo said. “I’m pretty tired.”

“I’d bet,” Purpled responded, and crawled over to where Ranboo huddled. “So, a phantom is an undead creature, which is kinda concerning, but that’s why I look like I need some rest. It can fly, and in worlds where they aren’t banned, they show up when someone hasn’t slept in three days, which is why I have characteristics that center around sleep. They don’t like daylight, which is why Punz gets a headache from sunlight, I guess. Uhh…”

Ranboo leaned his head on Purpled’s shoulder and sighed. “Continue.”

“I will. Oh, my eyes glow. I don’t know why, but it might be because there’s something to do with invisibility potions don’t work on their eyes? I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening when Phil talked about it. They’re apparently the fastest mob, so that’s why Punz is fast, uh, what else… you getting sleepy there?”

Ranboo hummed.

Purpled went on. “Oh, elytras are made of phantom membrane. Since you can only get elytras from the End, I guess that’s why I found the portal.”

Almost asleep, Ranboo frowned. “Don’t go to the End. It’s not nice.”

“Not nice?”

“No. The creatures don’t like me, but the void does, I think.”

Purpled frowned too. “The void?”

“Yeah. The void talks to me. She calls herself Death, but I don’t believe it. She was mad at Phil.”

“Yeah?” Purpled asked, and it’s clear he doesn’t really believe Ranboo. “Death and you had a chat?”

“Mhmm. She said she had to stop. She was nice, though.”

“Don’t go chatting with death.” Purpled said softly, as Ranboo started to drift asleep. “I want you to stay alive, okay?”

Ranboo nodded, but he was asleep a few seconds later, leaving Purpled alone with his thoughts.

If he was part of an undead mob, and Death was a real being, hypothetically, would he be able to talk to her? Purpled ended up deciding it was a question for another day, because it wasn’t really his problem. Death would show herself eventually, if she was mad at Phil, poor guy.

[awesamhimbo-abandoned]

Okay um... I want to actually make a PROPER post about the "c!tommy apologists have the worst takes" thing that I was ranting about earlier.

Once again I'm going to but a few disclaimers because this might end up being a very, very triggering topic for some and I understand that!

First off: This post goes into trauma both of myself and the character along with a few of the common symptoms.

Second off: I am not fully excusing all of c!Tommy's actions, I simply want to explain why he did it and why it triggers me personally.

Lastly: You are allowed to dislike or even hate the character for whatever reason you do. Like above, I only wish to explain why some sentiments about the character are triggering for me personally.

I want to start this off by saying that the entirety of the mcyt has a problem and even sometimes bordering on weird obsession with trauma, mental illness/disability, child soldiers, war, ect ect. It is honestly a very, very long list that I do not have the time to go into right now, but those are just some to name a few. I have seen them on both side of fetishization to bastardization and both very much trigger me because it both makes me feel like something to look at along with making me want to hide who I truly am.

For the past several years I have been hiding from myself, hiding from my trauma, ignoring the fact I was abused, so on so forth. This was all down to how society saw me, but it was also because I was raised to believe these things that were a part of me were not there because they looked like someone else.

Rounding back to the proper topic, or at least trying my best to. c!Tommy, along with many other characters on DSMP, show their trauma and PTSD through anger and rage. These things, the way they show them, make me feel valid for how I feel and react to things. They don't make me feel happy, but they make me feel like it's at least partially okay and even normal to be mad at the world.

What the fandom wants from these characters, them to sit and cry dramatically into the wind while a best friend or lover wipes away their tears, is what SOCIETY and the whole world wants from people like me. They want us to sit still an exist as a prop, and if we even look like we're going act another way? They'll abandon and hate us at the drop of a fucking hat.

The second c!Tommy and c!Tubbo started to act on their trauma, the second they got mad and yell and fought and did something instead of nothing, the fandom made them both out to be villains. After that? You had Villaininnit as a popular theory/headcanon/au for a decent amount of time and c!Tubbo somehow being treated both as a hero and a villain at the same time.

Go further into the future? c!Tommy is back to dramatically crying in the wind. c!Tubbo is just treated as some quirky dumbass with nukes, his trauma only occasionally being brought and it's almost exclusively to compare him to c!Wilbur or c!Techno. c!Ranboo is seen as a soft boy, the relatable one of the group who has severe memory issues that are joked about, and for some fucking reason him attacking and killing his own goddamn child is a fucking trope used solely for drama and nothing else.

These are the only characters, oh boy they are NOT the only characters who are treated like this. I know that, but it hurts more for people to be yelling at fictional kids rather than adults.

On the child soldier thing, it is also heavily romanticized for similar reasons to the trauma stuff, though here it's more focused on naive kids then anything else. I personally have no strict feelings towards it, mostly because I see their canon ages as being close to their irl ages. This all being said, aging the characters up in your mind and getting mad when they don't "act their age" is fucking triggering and awful. As a fucking ten year old I was always told that I needed to "act my age" and sit still or something, I was even slapped and spanked for not following the rules which caused to get trauma. Because of this trauma, I flinch everytime someone raises their hand or their voice. I know that this sounds very off topic and a "me problem", but I feel like it's important to explain why this phrase is horrible and should never fucking be used.

Sorry for the trauma dump their.

Last thing I want to do is round back towards the anger mention and once again explain a story of my own. Once, back when I had a therapist and was just realizing I had trauma from abuse, just told me with the straightest face possible "anger and hatred are bad for you. You should move on from him" as if the boy who abused me didn't intend to break me. Forgiving abusers is okay if you are the abused. Being mad at the abuser is okay if you are the abused. These are two lessons I have learned since then and are now things I project onto OCs and comfort characters because they make my anger feel valid. I know this emotion is bad for me, but I have moved on from what happened and still feel anger and hatred and hurt for what had happened to me.

I'm sorry I posted about this twice. I'm sorry if my point didn't get across. I'm sorry if this counts as cross posting. This fucking fandom just needs to hear words from the mouth of someone who knows how c!Tommy feels and I hope to god you all fix your bullshit.

Goodbye.

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 27

27. forgive me my sins

Summary: Lola decides to confront her mother. Nikki's on board, but he's not allowed to go, so lola and manages to convince tommy to come along, but it just does not go well At All.

Warnings: So Many: nsfw, mentions of psychological and physical abuse and arson and murder, emotional manipulation, so much angst

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove   @toofasttofallinlove    @xrosegoldwolfx   @obsessivesky    @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite   @angelicjoonie23   @marvelismylifffe    @lilytalebi   @glitterdreamsz    @freddiessmallnipples   @crazysaladchopshop   @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi   @missqueeniewrites @calspixie    @aryssav   @catsoo12    @sweetshutter   @silvertonguedserpent    @shamelessobsessions   @lavenderbones22    @keepcalm-and-beyou   @scarecrowmax    @nicholeh7   @unknownoblivion   @sighsophiia

"I'm not a child!"

"All of you are children to me."

Since leaving hospital barely a week ago, Lola's has not been sober for a single minute, has landed back in hospital, this time with a broken wrist from punching a hole in the wall, and has been unofficially put under house arrest for Doc, who has hired literal security guards to keep her confined to her house. The band spends time with her, but she's too overwhelmingly angry to be any good company, and Mick's only around because he sort of pities her now that they all know the full story.

For the record, Lola doesn't care who knows the story; if she could, she'd hire a sky writer to tell the world about the shit her mother put her through, the lies she'd told, the blame she'd put on Lola's young shoulders. But the pity stings.

So she yells, taunts him and throws things, actively tries to burn that bridge as she's standing on it. For the first day, Mick tries, God knows he tries, but after hanging up the phone in the middle of Lola book a flight to Boston for the third time, he snaps.

In the middle of her kitchen, he turns on her, done with pity, he scowls, fingers still holding down the hook switch, phone having gone dead in her white-knuckled grip.

"And what exactly do you plan on doing in Boston? Taking your goddamn pound of flesh? Getting revenge seven years after the fact?" He shoves her, looking to get a rise, to get honest answers, but surprisingly, Lola doesn't fight back.

"I'm gonna burn her fucking house down," she snarls, and for thr barest moment, Mick feels genuine worry; he's never heard her so sure of anything before in all the time he's known her.

"You're gonna burn her house down?" Mick asks by way of quiet confirmation, and Lola, no longer shouting or throwing things or lashing out, in a moment of terrifying stillness and clarity, nods.

"It won't go how you want or expect, girlie," his voice turns, and there it is again; pity. Lola slams the phone back into its place so fast Mick barely has time to move his fingers before they're crushed.

"I want her to say sorry, to say my father's dead and has been for years," she paused, raised a challenging eyebrow and crossed her arms, "and then I'm going to burn her fucking house to the ground."

"You're not in your right mind."

"Yeah? So? At least you know why now."

Mick sighs, sags, the fight leaving him as he starts to feel like the eight years age difference between them becomes more like a lifetime.

"So you're gonna go to Boston, high and drunk - because when are you not? - and set fire to your mother's house for revenge?" He paused, leaning back on the counter, watching as she makes her way to the refrigerator. "You're- girlie, you're justified in your anger, I get it okay? I get shitty childhoods -"

"Get out of my house, you bitter fucking fossil; go tell someone else about how shitty your childhood was because honestly, I don't fucking care." Lola tells him through gritted teeth, staring him down. Mick's mouth snaps closed, and he heaves a sigh.

"Don't go to Boston." He's almost pleading now.

"I said get out of my house."

Nikki's not due to be home until the evening, he and Tommy are in the studio working on the rhythm section for a new song, so Lola formulates a plan.

"Doc," when she calls him, she puts on a voice that's as teary and remorseful as she can manage, makes herself sound young and sweet. She's well aware that Doc is riddled with guilt over her situation, feels responsible since he wad the one who has the information tracked down to begin with, was the one who told her about her father. She wasn't above using his guilt against him.

She she cries and sniffles and tells him that all she wants is to see her father's final resting place, which isn't necessarily a lie, its just not the whole truth. His heart softens against her house arrest when she sniffles and lies through her teeth and tells him she'll be on her best behaviour.

"Of course, Miss Gone," Doc agrees easily, though he stipulates that she needed to take Tommy. It was a tactical move on his part; for all that he knew he was enabling Lola, he also knew that she and Nikki could be far more dangerous, each feeding into the other's spiteful nature, while Tommy, on his own, went a ways to keeping Lola level, well as much as he could.

And Tommy could drive.

"Where are you going?" When Nikki comes back home, Lola's sitting on the sofa, drinking whiskey on the rocks, looking the calmest she had in days. Beside her sits a backpack.

"Gonna kill my mom." Lola tells him easily, eyes not straying from the television, which was play a fluff piece on rescue dogs. She's neither screaming, nor crying, nor actively trying to OD in their living room, and Nikki knows he'd be stupid not to lean into it, especially when he's quietly been wanting revenge on Lola's mother for years now for all the shit she'd put Lo through.

"What do I need to bring?" He doesn't even hesitate, and Lola's smile turns sharp and amused. Finally she looks away, something appreciative in her gaze when she looks at him.

"Doc says I'm not allowed to bring you -"

"Fuck Doc!"

"He's not into me," at least this gets Nikki to laugh as he sits beside her, pulling her close. "He's making me bring Tommy."

"They don't know why you're really going, do they?" Nikki snorts, and Lola's answering, affirming laugh, is dark.

"Please, please Doc," she sniffled, voice snapping to a mocking immitaion of her earlier phonecall with the manager, voice faux sweet and helpless, "I just wanna see his final resting place, he's my dad, I just- please I need closure." Her laughter, when she snaps out of the ruse, is mean and triumphant and Nikki wouldn't lie and say he didn't miss the bitter and manipulative streak she'd had in her youth.

"Of course Tommy knows how to say no to you when you wanna go off the rails," Nikki snickers sarcastically as his hand finds its way beneath her shirt, nails dragging down her chest. Arching sharply, Lola gasps, turns a smile on him that's all teeth and pupils blown wide.

Part of him knows its unhealthy to encourage her like this, but part of it feels like a form of catharsis for him too.

"I'm gonna burn her house to the ground," Lola's voice is a growl, all enticing in ways that that statement absolutely shouldn't be, but the idea of Lola silhouetted against a house fire that she'd started - fuck.

There's not even a moment to breathe, to process, before she's straddling him, knowing exactly what her words were doing to him.

"You sick fuck," Lola's grinning as she palms his half-hard cock through his jeans, "you get off to the idea of me setting fires?"

"Fire, revenge, you; you tell me you're gonna rob that bitch at gunpoint first and I won't last much longer," Nikki grins, and when Lola laughs, he brings her in to kiss her, raking his nails down her back, the physical reminder of her childhood. Lola's eyes light up at the touch, and she's lighting fast, her hands in his hair, pulling sharply. Then, her teeth on his neck, his collar, his shoulder, hands shaking and tugging at clothes.

They fuck right on the sofa, biting hard enough to bruise, to bleed, the first time Lola's fucked anyone since she'd recieved all the news. She's intense, ferocious, pins Nikki and rides him while she leaves grazes down his sides, but comes on her back, hands tied above her head, screaming his name, his teeth on her collar hard enough that he tastes blood, her hands pulling his hair.

When she comes down, Nikki sees the way her eyes are misting over as she stares at the ceiling.

"Lo?"

"Yeah?" She turns to look at him with a genuinely affectionate smile that he hadn't been expecting. Whatever he was going to ask, going to say, it leaves him, doesn't want to ruin the moment.

"Wish I could be there," he tells her, and Lola actually bites her lip, looks overhis naked, bruised body, and grins.

"I wish you could too, if this is how you get over the mere thought of it."

Nikki is the first to stand, brings her bandaids and cream for her collar, and a drink for the both of them as they wait for Tommy to come pick her up. He's not long, but Lola dresses herself before the doorbell is rung, and Nikki grins at the idea that if they had gone for round two, Tommy probably would have been able to hear them practically tearing each other apart.

"Give that bitch hell," Nikki grins, planting a kiss on Lola's lips as she picks up her backpack, "and call me for bail money; those other fuckers wouldn't get it." He grins.

"Fuck, I love you." Lola laugh appreciatively, and its the most genuine smile he's seen on her in a long while.

But Lola knows that Tommy probably won't be so easily convinced; however, Tommy's always been weak for her, and Lola's always known exactly how to push his buttons.

They fly that night, first class, first flight to Boston that Doc could book, and Lola does an incredible job pretending that she's not absolutely hammered at all times. Getting there doesn't matter, she doesn't mind Tommy's hand in hers as they go through security, curling up by him in first class, letting him choose the accommodation.

"What's the plan?" Tommy asks, on his side, facing Lola, who lies on her back, staring up at the roof. She's fidgetting, being avoidant, and Tommy's voice turns gentle and a little needy, "please Lols?"

"I'm not here for my dad," and she makes it sound like a nervous admission, like she's letting him in on some terrible, which okay, technically she is, but she's putting on a show she knows he'll be more receptive to. "I'm here for... I know its extreme, okay, I know, but after everything she's put me through... Tommy, I just... I'm gonna kill her," Lola tells him with a sniffle, glad Tommy can't pick up on the insincerity in her sob story routine. It's this exact moment that Tommy's pretty sure this is the worst thing Lola's ever roped him into in his entire life. He's never seen Lola mad enough to kill before; he's never been actively scared of what she might do, but here they are.

"Probably... that's probably not the best move, Lols," he tries, being as gentle as he can.

"You and Nikki put out cigarettes on yourselves," Lola adds a sniffle for effect, "and set your clothes on fire for kicks, but you can't even begin to fathom what it's like to be held down and set alight by the person who was meant to love you, who you loved because you didn't know anything else, anything better, even though she blamed you for the death of the person you both loved dearly," the words spill from her like a torrential downpour, having been held inside for so long she physically couldn't keep them back anymore, and the act became less of an act as she poured forth the truth she hadn't known she'd been keeping inside, "you, Tommy, lived in a white picket haven; your parents, who love you, love me, love fucking Nikki, who hit on your mother in front of your father, you couldn't even for a second imagine that they'd ever hate you." Tommy keeps his mouth shut, doesn't even begin to know what to say, but Lola's not done, now actually, and honestly, crying, "I doubted it for so long because of what Irene told me, but finally, fucking finally, I can start believing my memories of him are true, that all my father cared about was my happiness, but I'm gonna level with you dude, for the seven and a half fucking years since he left, right up until I met Nikki, I wasn't. From nine to sixteen I was a miserable wreck, convinced that my ungrateful behaviour had broken the kindest person I knew, driven away the only person who seemed to care about me, my own fucking father, so excuse me, Tommy, if I feel like murdering the woman who ground my self worth into the dust and literally tortured me." Lola flipped angrily to her side, away from Tommy, fluffing her pillow angrily. "I should have brought Nikki."

Its a low move, she's never directly compared any of them, or made preference of one over the other. Sure they'd made assumptions, but Lola had always been quick to dispell accusations of favouritism. Showing of the scars on her back only added insult to injury now, and when she felt him gently rest his palm flat on her back, she knew she'd one.

"I think I get it," Tommy finally agrees, though he still hesitates, "are you- are you really gonna kill her?"

"I'm gonna set her house on fire."

Its easier for Tommy to swallow than murder, and he shuts up for the rest of the night. He's quiet the next day, distant, and they get breakfast at a diner and he won't even look at her.

"Tommy," her voice is gentle over her blueberry pancakes, "baby -"

"Why'd you lie to me? About why we're here?" He snaps it, and Lola sits back, eyebrows raised, mouth agape.

"I told you last night -"

"No, I know that, why didn't you tell me straight up?"

Lola splutters, tries to give him some half-assed apology, some line about Doc, but Tommy just rolls his eyes, crosses his arms.

"Its like you get off on manipulating me."

"Why would you even -?!" Lola tries, but Tommy's clearly spent more time thinking about it than she'd given him credit for.

"Whatever, this clearly isn't the fucking time or place; I won't leave and I won't fuckin' snitch, because I don't do that, but you know, I know you'd only try and pit me against Nikki if you needed something really fucking awful from me, and," he gestures widely, expression unamused, "here we are."

He leaves her in the diner, tells her to get whatever she needs ready during the day, because at ten at night, he's picking her up, and they're going to Lola's mom's house.

"That's not the plan," Lola tries to tell him as he's leaving, but Tommy turns, slams his hands against the table.

"It is the plan if you want a getaway driver." And he's not going to stay to argue.

Lola gets;

- a flare gun

- drunk

And when Tommy picks her up, he can feel how worked up she is, but can see her holding it all in. She doesn't talk to him except to give directions, map in hand, flare gun in her lap.

"How'd you find her address?" Tommy finally breaks his own silence, voice tight.

"Doc's folder." Is the only information she gives, jaw set in a firm line.

They pull up at ten thirty, with Lola triple-checking the gun. Silently, the sit in the car for almost a full minute as Lola looks at the white picket fence, at the light on in the upstairs window.

"Don't do this," Tommy muttered, and Lola swallows hard.

"If you don't want to be here, leave." She tells him flatly'and opens the door. Tommy stays in the car.

Lola's banging on the door loud enough that its sure to wake the whole neighborhood, hollering, damnding Irene come out and face her.

"Get off my property; I'm calling the police," comes a timid voice from the other side of the door.

"Irene I know that's you, you fucking coward!" Lola slams her fist into the door again and again, her other hand shaking where she's gripping the flare gun like a lifeline.

"Who the heck are you? What do you want?" To Lola's surprise, there's a second voice, deep and masculine, but clearly concerned. Lola stops, and her expression twist from surprised to furious.

"Who the heck am I? Who the hell are you?! I'm her fucking daughter is who I am!"

This is met with silence as Lola's words hang heavy in the air. Slowly, so slowly its almost glacial, the door opens, and Tommy waits with wide eyes and baited breath. Behind the door stands a broad shouldered, clean faced man, holding a baseball bat as he pulls the door open.

And then, behind him, there's Irene; gentle-eyed and portly, with crows feet and frown lines. Shorter than Lola, there's something about the set of her mouth that's familiar, the shape of her eyes, the dead straightness of her black hair; she and Lola look like they're related, but the parental resemblance isn't there like it is with Lola's father. 

It's a deer in the headlights reaction, seeing her daughter, seeing the ghost of her husband, and she looks half ready to scream.

"Kaitie, I thought you were dead." 

And even Tommy hears it where Lola's left her window open. He's hand his head resting against the steering wheel, but when he turns, he sees Lola swaying on the spot, frozen.

"Katie?" Irene tries again, emboldened by Lola's unmoving state, moving past the man in the doorway.

"That's not my name," Lola stumbles back the moment Irene, in her soft, lilac dressing gown, comes into view, "that was never my name you crazy fucking bitch."

"Watch your language," the man in the doorway responds automatically, tightening his grip on his baseball bat.

"What are you gonna do? Fucking beat me to death?" And Lola laughs, loud, angry, and delirious, "you know she tormented me for seven years and set me on fire, right? Who even the fuck are you?"

"Katie -"

Lola's arm raises, flare gun in hand, leveled at Irene's chest.

"Call me Katie one more time, I dare you." And she's crying, her voice is thick with tears, her hand is shaking. Everything about her is shaking.

"Please do not point a gun at my wife," the man says carefully, and so Lola turns it on him.

"Its a flare gun."

"Its still a gun."

"You married a psychopath," Lola spat, "a violent, manipulative, delusional bitch."

"That was seven years ago," Irene's voice is gentle, "Keola, please, please, put down the gun, I've missed you, I'm sorry, I just-"

"You can't just apologise," Lola sobbed, dropping her arm, and the gun along with it, shaking like a leaf, "you can't erase the years of abuse with an apology! You can't pretend I'm dead just to play happy families!" She turned on the man now, "do you even know what she did?"

"I was her nurse on the ward -"

"And you married her?!" Lola shouted, anger and disbelief loud enough for the whole street to hear. A light switches on upstairs. Tommy can spot stars stuck to the ceiling through window. Fuck.

"When properly medicated, she's a wonderfully kind and loving person -"

"Shut the fuck up. Shut up right now." Lola drops the gun, and it clatters to the ground as she angrily rubs at her eyes.

"Mom, what's happening?" A voice asks from just beyond the door, and Lola freezes.

"Nothing, Milo," Irene bends reflexively as she turns, soft smile gracing her face, "just a lost soul needing a little help. Go back to bed."

Lola feels like she's going to throw up. Tommy can't sit by any longer, and is bounding from the car, sliding across the hood to join Lola, his arm around her.

"With all due respect, which is fucking none," Tommy wraps his arms around Lola, looking unflinchingly into Irene's eyes, "what the fuck and how fucking dare you?"

"Language -" Irene's husband tries fruitlessly, as Irene cuts in.

"And who the heck are you?"

"Someone who actually cares about your daughter, you spineless bitch." Tommy snarls, and Lola takes refuge in him, overwhelmed and distraught, she presses her sobbing face to his chest. "You gonna set that one on fire too?" He snapped, gesturing to the half closed door where he presumed Milo had been standing. Both Irene and her husband looked horrified, aghast, all but shouting angry protests. "Then what made Lola special?!" And he tugs Lola's shirt up at the back, reveals the thick and angry scarring that resided there, and finally Irene is brought to tears.

"Lola?" She asks softly, and even her husband seems surprised by her change of demeanor. "Leo used to call her that." She sniffles, and Tommy is absolutely floored. "Can I call you that? Lola?" She asks gently, and Lola's head turns, expression furious.

"Only if you want me to burn down your fucking house."

Irene nods, far less hostile than she had been earlier. Her husband looks lost.

"Keola... I'm sorry." And it sounds honest, sounds genuine, and Lola, at least, has stopped crying so hard with her face against Tommy's chest once more. "Sweetheart I'm so so sorry," and her eyes are misting up, "but I'm so grateful for this miracle; never thought God would grant me the chance to make it up to you."

Slowly, so slowly, Lola turns, absolute disgust, loathing, written all over her face.

"You can't." And she moves from Tommy's arms, stalking towards the pair, who were regarding her with all new fear. "You will never be able to attone for the shit you put me through, you know that? You can play happy little fucking families forever knowing that I'm out there hating your guts and never forgiving you, be born again, worship a bullshit God who you think is just, and know that if Jesus died for the sins of humanity, then you're absolutely going to hell, you cruel, inhumane woman." Irene was crying at Lola's words, though she didn't seem close to slowing down. "Yeah, a lot can change in seven years, right? Seven years since you've seen me? That's exactly how long you spent blaming and punishing me for my father's death. It's a long fucking time."

"I shouldn't have -"

"No fucking shit!" Lola cried, disbelieving grin on her face as she throws her arms out to the sides. Finally, she turns on Irene's husband; "if you care about your son, don't die and leave her in charge." With that, Lola turns, doesn't watch her mother collapse in the doorway'sobbing and distraught. Tommy is silent as he follows Lola to the car.

Driving away, he's not quite sure what to say, but as soon as they get back to the hotel, Lola bursts into tears, curling up in thr passenger seat. Tommy sits quietly, a war waging within him as he wanted to comfort her, despite how disgusted he was with how she'd treated him. Lola cries. Tommy grips the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. They don't speak for the rest of the trip.

"I think we should take a break." Tommy tells Lola when he drops her off at her house. She's been subdued the entire trip since seeing Irene, drinking steadily but not heavily, not going anywhere or saying anything.

"I'm bad for you." Lola agrees, voice cracking. "Worse than anything else."

"Yeah, you are." Tommy agrees. "And we all do some awful shit." He adds. Lola swallows thickly.

"I know." After a deep breath, she reaches for the handle of the door, "I am sorry, genuinely, for what it's worth." And she leaves. Nikki's not home, she doesn't care where he is, just sits in the shower, dissociating and crying in equal measure.

A violent, manipulative, delusional bitch. That's what she'd called Irene; they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and in Lola's case, she's sure its just plopped straight down.

[jaxl-road]

Scar Tissue chapter 3

Things get a little better, things get a little worse, Slash gets a lot more confused and frustrated. Love makes people crazy or dumb, sometimes both.

Pairings: Slash/Duff, side Axl/Izzy, side Nikki/Tommy

Warnings: ((not in this chapter)) Implied/discussed past abuse (non-explicit)

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~

Things were tense in the Hell House the next few days.Despite their initial prediction, Axl apparently didn’t “get his rage out” at Duff’s ex. If anything the confrontation had him blazing like an oil fire, snapping at every little thing and slamming doors and storming out of the house more than once to disappear for hours. Even when he sang his whole body was coiled and tense like a wire about to snap.

Duff spent most of the time in his and Slash’s shared room, avoiding the red-head’s temper with loud music and a collection of bottles he’d taken to keeping next to his bed. And, well, Slash didn’t exactly feel like risking whatever was going on with Axl either, so he took the opportunity to spend more quality time with the bassist.

Because- and Slash still couldn’t believe it- he actually had a shot. When hot guys crossed his path it felt like they were either straight or trying really hard to be straight. Either way, Slash never got far with those dudes. But Duff actually liked guys, had even been in a relationship with one, albeit one that apparently had an ugly ending. And when Slash had drunkenly made his statement about having a chance, Duff had scoffed, but he hadn’t outright rejected him, which Slash was choosing to take as a good sign.

So they drank, and smoked, and talked music more often than not. He learned a little more about Duff’s punk background, and fuck if Slash didn’t manage to fall for him even harder when he found out Duff was a multi-instrumentalist.

“I just wanted to play,” he shrugged, nonchalant and completely unaware of Slash mentally carving their names into a tree, “I learned everything I could- bass, guitar, drums- so that I could take any spot that needed filling.”

Other than band and music related stories though, Duff avoided talking about any other aspects of his life, in Seattle or LA, changing the subject anytime Slash encouraged him to elaborate on his time off-stage. But he didn’t push. Instead, Slash would lay on the floor next to Duff’s mattress (because his own bed was simply too far away) and ramble away as they shared smokes and drinks. He talked about his parents, his brother, his childhood with Steven, learning guitar, meeting Axl and Izzy, anything and everything.

Slash doesn’t think he’s ever talked this much at once. Steven had always teased him for being so shy and introverted, yet here he was, chattering away just to help Duff relax and maybe hear the boy laugh once or twice. It’s embarrassing how much he likes him. He’s never been this love drunk before.

Something crashes in another room followed by muffled shouting, and Duff shoots up in a heartbeat, making Slash jump in surprise. The bassist’s eyes are locked on the door, a hand on his chest to still his heart.

“It’s probably just Axl,” Slash says, waving at the door.

“Maybe I should…”

“No way,” he pats Duff’s mattress, motioning for him to sit down again, “He’s fine, this happens sometimes. I don’t know what his deal is, but Axl gets in these moods sometimes and it’s better to just let Izzy calm him down.”

Duff nods slowly as he sits. Something Slash has realized during their hangouts is just how… high strung Duff could be. He reminded him a bit of a jackrabbit- constantly on high alert, head snapping to any noise, body tensed and ready to flee at any moment. It made Slash’s attempts at flirting infinitely more difficult. Most of the time he was used to relying on body language to get his point across to people he was interested in, throwing an arm around their waist, playing with their hair, running a hand up their thigh. But whenever he tried one of those moves with Duff the bassist would flinch or jump. Steven usually ignored those reactions, keeping his arms around the taller man until he relaxed a little, but Slash couldn’t manage it, always pulling away immediately.

The more he witnessed the anxiety running through Duff’s veins, the more he understood his drinking. Vodka seemed to help dilute the nerves, allowing him to loosen up and relax if only a little. And hey, it wasn’t like they weren’t all drinking and smoking and snorting all hours of the day, so he wasn’t about to make any judgements about Duff’s motivations behind it. He just drank with him, kept his hands to himself, and told ridiculous stories until they were both giggling and at ease. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but it felt like Duff was looking at him a little differently now. Like maybe he was a little closer to where he wanted to be. Like maybe they were moving towards something more.

Of course, that optimism faltered when he once again woke in the middle of the night to find Duff’s bed empty.

He’s less surprised but just as confused when he creeps into the hallway and spies Axl and Duff together in the kitchen again. They’re sitting at the rickety table, Axl holding his head in his hands while Duff stares down at a bottle of beer. Soft murmurs barely reach Slash’s ears. Jealousy flares in his chest. After days of avoiding Axl and spending most of his time with Slash, Duff still shared some soft, intimate thing with the red-head that Slash just didn’t understand. What could they possibly be talking about that had to be hidden away in the dark? What could Duff be sharing with Axl that he couldn’t share with him?

It was frustrating, and Slash had to will himself not to slam the door when he returned to his room. Axl was with Izzy, and he knew Slash liked Duff. He fell onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling. He was head over heels for the bassist but fuck, this felt harder than it should be.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

~~~~~~~

After that night, Axl finally seemed to calm down. He even apologized for his mood, which had Steven, Izzy, and Slash staring at him like he’d grown a second head, all of them barely managing to stutter out their forgiveness in surprise. As usual though, once the rage burned out, Axl crashed hard. Slash and Steven were used to it by now, so when they saw the singer curled lifelessly on the couch with his head on Izzy’s lap, they knew it’d be best to head out to give them some space.

“Come on, I think the Crue is playing at the Whiskey tonight!” Steven threw his arms around Slash and Duff as they left the Hell House.

While Slash appreciated the alone time with Duff, it was nice to go out with Steven. It felt like it had been awhile since he had hung out with his best friend, and it was easier to relax and just have fun with the drummer there. The three rockers spent a couple hours bar hopping, working up to a decent buzz by the time they reached the Whiskey.

“Have you met the guys from Motley Crue yet?” Steven asked Duff as they elbowed their way to some seats by the bar.

Shaking his head, Duff settled his arms against the bar, “Nah. I’ve seen them play a few times, but haven’t talked to them or anything.”

“They’re cool guys,” Slash chimed in, leaning against Steven, who was sitting between them, “Fucking insane sometimes, but still cool.”

When the show started, the three boys cheered and hollered excitedly, downing more drinks as the set went on. They joked about keeping an eye on the competition, but in truth it was always fun to see other rockers and cheer them on. Motley Crue had just put out their first album, and record companies were starting to take notice. Guns N’ Roses was a few steps behind them, but despite all the teasing they were more excited than jealous.

Once they ran off stage, it took about half an hour for the four members of Motley Crue to make their way to the bar and subsequently find Slash and Steven with their new bassist.

“Sup guys!” Tommy greeted cheerfully, Nikki exchanging high fives with Slash.

"Hey, great show!" Steven grinned.

“Thanks,” Nikki responded, “Glad you guys could make it out, I feel like we haven’t hanged in awhile.”

“And who is this tall drink of water?” Vince purred, sliding up to Duff.

It was almost comical the way the six foot three bassist nearly fell off his stool, flinching away from the five foot nine singer like he was about to attack him. Steven giggled, reaching out to catch and steady him before the alcohol brought him to the floor.

“This is Duff, he’s our new bass player!” He explained excitedly as Duff regained his balance.

Nikki’s eyes immediately lit up, shoving Vince to the side to take his place and holding a hand out, “Rad! I’m Nikki, bassist solidarity and all.”

They shook hands briefly before Vince huffed indignantly, “Hey! You’ve already got a man, no cockblocking!”

Worming his way back to Duff’s side, Nikki rolled his eyes. But he quirked an eyebrow as the other bassist chuckled nervously, carefully leaning away again as he downed the rest of his drink.

Slash narrowed his eyes as he watched Vince cozy up to Duff, “Hey, you guys sang some new stuff tonight. It was awesome, how long have you been working on that stuff?” he interrupted, practically elbowing Steven as he leaned across him to insert himself in the conversation.

Grunting as Slash leaned more of his weight on him, Steven rolled his eyes dramatically, “Jesus dude, just switch seats with me!” Slash barely responded, simply fumbling into his seat while keeping his eye on Vince. Once he was settled, he threw an arm around Duff, and the alcohol and jealousy fueled him enough to keep his arm there even when the bassist tensed.

Beside him, Steven sighed heavily, turning to Mick and Tommy wearily and leaning forward so only they could hear, “Vince never flirts with me like that.”

“Count yourself lucky,” Mick replied, grunting when Tommy elbowed him.

“Be nice!” Tommy hissed.

But Steven simply continued, “It was bad enough when it was just Axl and Izzy. Now I’ve got to deal with this lovesick idiot,” he jerked a thumb at Slash, who was still hanging all over Duff.

Mick snorted, “Can’t be any worse than the three fucking months it took our fucking drummer and bassist to finally hook up.”

“Hey!” Tommy cried indignantly, “We weren’t that bad!”

“I have never drank more in my life than I did while you two had your heads in your asses,” Mick deadpanned, Steven laughing as Tommy rambled to try to defend himself.

Meanwhile, Duff continued downing vodka like water, Vince and Slash on either side of him, constantly interrupting each other in an attempt to win his attention, telling exaggerated stories of their own greatness. For the first few minutes, Nikki could only look on in awe at the trainwreck attempts at wooing he was witnessing. It was almost comical- it reminded him of two children fighting over a doll.

Slinking over to Tommy, he wrapped an arm around the drummer’s waist, pressing his lips against his cheek before he began whispering into his ear. Steve snickered as he watched Tommy’s expressive face cycle through a host of emotions- confusion, concern, excitement, determination, and finally landing on mischief, which could only mean a good time was coming.

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy exclaimed once Nikki pulled away, catching the attention of the group, “Let’s head back to our place! There’s probably already a party on our doorstep, and you’d be amazed how much free junk they’ll throw at us just to crawl through our window.”

“Awesome! I’m totally in!” Steven drained the rest of his drink and jumped up, the two drummers leading the way out of the building, the others following close behind. The sky was dark, but the city was as alive as ever, and sure enough there was indeed a crowd hanging around outside the Motley apartment.

They piled in, quickly filling the space. Within minutes the air was hazy with cigarette and weed smoke, tables quickly being covered with lines of coke and bottles being passed around enthusiastically. Slash loved these kinds of parties- surrounded by people who loved music and loved getting fucked up even more. He and Vince barely took time to breathe between their bickering. If he was a little more sober, he might have realized that Vince was more interested in riling him up than winning Duff over, but as it was he couldn’t help but feel like the stakes were high in their arbitrary competition.

“I bet you don’t even practice or anything- you don’t need any sort of dedication or shit as a singer,” Slash mocked.

“Excuse you, I am a frontman, and it’s not like you could do it. You couldn’t handle being front and center, you’re constantly hiding behind your hair and your hat and shit.”

“You hide behind three inches of makeup, I barely know what you look like.”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you.”

“Arrogance is unbecoming on you!”

Back and forth they went.

Eventually though, before things could get too heated, Steven wormed his way over and shoved the two of them apart so he could sit between them on the couch. With a wide smile and devious eyes, he turned to Slash, “Hey guys! Where’s Duff?” he asked innocently.

When Slash and Vince looked at each other, they could practically hear the tires screeching in their minds. Because as they whipped their heads around to search the apartment, they suddenly realized that the object of their competition was nowhere to be found.

“Ah shit,” Slash cursed under his breath. He couldn’t help but worry- last time he lost track of Duff during an outing was when the bassist got confronted by his ex. What if he was in trouble again? Standing up, taking a moment to steady himself, he stumbled away from the two blondes, “I’ll go look for ‘im.”

“Good idea,” Steven responded cheerily, slinging an arm around Vince, keeping him in his seat, “We’ll stay here in case he comes back.”

Nodding absently, Slash made his way through the crowd. He felt so stupid; he had gotten so caught up in trying to puff his chest and impress Duff that he ended up completely ignoring the other boy. That was attractive.

Wandering through the apartment, he found all sorts of debauchery going on (and also got yelled at by Mick for bursting into his room), but no sign of the bassist. He realized that he must not be inside the apartment. Had Duff been so fed up with Slash and Vince that he just went home? Had he been so fed up with Slash and Vince that he went home with someone else? Stepping through the window and onto the fire escape, Slash almost wanted to rip his hair out. But when he leaned over the railing to look down onto the street, he saw him.

Luckily Duff was hard to miss, being so tall and with his bright blonde hair. He was leaning against a wall, smoking and laughing with Nikki and Tommy. The three seemed to tower over the slew of people stumbling around them, but they paid them no mind. Tommy stood behind Nikki, his arms around his waist and his chin on his shoulder as Nikki gestured wildly about something.

Even as Duff looked away from them shyly, he was still smiling, looking more relaxed than he had most of the evening. And Slash was glad that Duff was getting along with the two Crue members, but at the same time, he felt that same familiar flare of frustration. No matter how hard he tried, it felt like every time he started getting closer to Duff, someone else would slide in and get even closer.

After a few minutes, Tommy noticed him standing above them, waving cheerily. Duff gave a small wave as Nikki flipped him off with a wide grin. Slash chuckled and rolled his eyes. He was just about to go down and join them when a loud crash sounded from inside, followed by shouting. Rushing to the window and sticking his head inside he had to do a double take. Because it looked like Vince and Steven were on the floor, wrestling and fumbling to hit each other as they both yelled furiously. But that couldn’t be right.

And yet, that’s exactly what was happening.

Scrambling inside, Slash stumbled over and wrapped his arms around Steven’s stomach, trying to pull him off Vince who had a vice grip on his hair, “What the fuck, guys! Knock it off!”

“He started it!” Steven screeched. A few partiers had finally stepped in to help pull Vince back, allowing Slash to finally get some space between the two blondes.

“What the Hell is going on?” Nikki and Tommy stepped through the window. Duff stood at the window, brows furrowed as he watched the scene.

“Your drummer is a fucking prick!” Vince snapped, snarling at Slash who was standing between him and Steven.

“Well your singer is a little bitch!” Steven shot back.

It looked like the two were going to try to start fighting again, so Nikki jumped in front of Vince, “Jesus Christ, cool it! I thought we could get through the evening without spilling any blood, I mean, Axl’s not even here,” he tried to lighten the mood.

But Steven simply glared and shoved Slash’s arms off him, turning and storming over to the window. Duff skittered back to allow him to exit, snapping his head between Steven and Slash as the drummer took off.

Slash rushed after him, calling over his shoulder, “Sorry guys, we’ll, uh, work this out later.” Nikki and Tommy simply shared a look of confusion as the three Guns members disappeared for the night while Vince stomped away to his room.

“Stevie! Steven, hey!” Slash jogged to catch up with his friend, Duff trailing close behind, “Dude, what happened?”

“Nothing. Vince is just a fucking asshole, what else is new.”

“Hey, seriously, what happened? It’s not like you to get in fights like that. And I thought you liked Vince?”

“Just fucking drop it, Slash!”

That had Slash’s jaw clicking shut. Steven almost never snapped at him. He shared a look with Duff, who looked concerned but lost as to what to do. Swallowing thickly, the guitarist nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry, man.”

The rest of their walk home was silent. Slash could barely wrap his head around the night’s ending. After all, he had been the one pushing Vince’s buttons all night. How did Steven end up throwing fists with him? And any ease Duff had managed with the terror twins was long gone, his body tense and stiff. When they arrived back at the Hell House, Axl and Izzy looked like they hadn’t moved since they left. Izzy raised an eyebrow when Steven stalked into his room, slamming the door behind him, but Slash simply shook his head. He’d explain as much as he could later.

In their own room, Duff wasted no time grabbing on of the half empty bottles next to his bed, tipping his head back and downing most of it in a single pull in an attempt to soothe the anxiety that had dug its claws into him the moment he heard the fight start.

Slash sighed as he fell into his own bed. It looked like things were going to be tense in the Hell House for a little while longer.

[funnefatale]

I'm gonna have to do this in two parts because I have spent WAY too much time and effort rewriting Arrow. Also, get some popcorn and a glass of wine or something, because this is gonna be A Post. The Queen family stays the same. Thea came before Emiko so she would probably still be Thea. Unless we don't care about the timeline of reality, in which case Oliver would grow up thinking he was an only child only to find out Emiko exists during the five years he's gone. Maybe he meets her in the season three flashbacks and she stays with him for a few years, but doesn't want to go back to SC with him because that's not her world. Maybe she eventually joins him in SC in like season four. Tommy is still around. Colin can stay for the first season. I don't care enough to change his story. Malcolm has an age appropriate actor who is not Barrowman. And Malcolm would fucking stay dead at the end of season one. Diggle stays the same. Diggle/Felicity is probably a thing. Felicity is played by a Jewish actress and has more arcs that directly tie into her being Jewish (maybe she practices more, maybe she doesn't. But she would speak Hebrew more often and at least acknowledge holidays other than Channukah and maybe have an episode where she deals with antisemitism). Or, if getting the characters I want isn't a problem, instead of Felicity we have Babs but she's Jewish and maybe played by a disabled Jewish woman of color. Roy would be played by a Native American, if possible. The entire lance family are probably PoC. Not sure what race though. Maybe some form of Asian (not Japanese) since Gail Simone was so obsessed with Dinah having Dragon Lady characters in Birds of Prey. Maybe black so the name Black Canary looks less dumb. Maybe DLL is biracial so Oliver and Dinah could eventually have Connor without taking his heritage away. Idk. I would base it off of whoever is casted for Dinah, and the actress having a martial arts background would be super important. Dinah Drake would not be a shitty parent. She can be some famous florist or something, and that's how the Lance Family knows the Queens so well and how they can afford to send their kids to the same school as the Queens and Merylns. She would go by Drake or Dee or something else to distinguish her from her DLL. I would not have Sara (I know, I know. Hear me out) and Laurel. There would be Dinah, who would not resemble Laurel or KC in the slightest, and her adopted sister, Shado. Shado was the child of a Yakuza crime lord who faked his death and left his daughter behind so she could have a better life. Since Kurt Lance (because I hate the name Larry) worked the case, he and DD got close and just decided to take Shado in. I'm not sure how old she would be, but I'm thinking it would be a Barry-Iris type of situation with Dinah and Shado. Shado has always known she's adopted and that her parents were criminals. Still, I think she would have wanted to be a cop like Kurt. Dinah and Oliver weren't together before the Gambit (it just makes it so hard to ship them if they were together when he ran away). They kissed once and that freaked Oliver out so he ran away with Shado who always had a crush on him. Maybe he was getting close to Shado when he kissed Dinah. Dinah almost tells Shado she kissed Oliver, but sees how happy Shado is with him and so Dinah doesn't tell her. (Later blames herself because if she had then Shado may not have gone off with Oliver and she would still be alive.) The Gambit sinks. Dinah drops out of law school or the police academy and works with her mom in her store, much to the disappointment of Kurt. Dinah and Shado always had self-defense and martial arts lessons growing up, but Dinah starts using it to channel her grief after she loses Shado and Oliver. Oliver gets saved by Shado's father (who is not Chinese and Yao Fei because Shado is Japanese). Her father sticks around until part way through season two. He and Shado get their reunion and he dies to protect her. This would be paralleled with Shado coming back to SC in an episode called Yakuza or a play on it. After the Amazo sinks, Shado gets picked up by the Yakuza. So she has to make the choice to to die, or survive by turning her back on Kurt and joining the organization he hates. She chooses to live. I have no idea how the Slade storyline would play out. But I'm sure there's a comic book story that could be adapted that wouldn't require fridging. When Oliver comes back to the League, Dinah is icy to him (because the Lance Family saved Shado and gave her life and she feels like Oliver effectively killed her). Dinah and Tommy can still be a thing. But I probably wouldn't have that breakup at the end of season one. They would still be together when he dies at the end of season one. (Kind of like DD having to deal with Kurt Lance dying in New 52.) Dinah's hesitancy to be with Tommy would actually have less to do with Oliver and more to do with her being a vigilante. No one knows and the show doesn't immediately reveal it. There would be little hints about it (a newspaper article in the background, some kids talking about being saved, etc. It would get progressively more noticeable as the season went on). Dinah would say she's always busy because of business, but, really, she has people to do that stuff for her. Oliver doesn't notice this vigilante because he's so caught up with the top 1% on his dad's list that he doesn't notice a woman in black running around and saving people in the Glades. She would be called the Canary, because that was the pet Dinah and Shado raised together. (Maybe as a nod to the legacy mantle, DD would be the one who got them the canary.) Maybe one of the later Helena episodes, where she comes back, would have Oliver noticing the Canary for the first time. That episode would end with Dinah going back to her hide out and taking off her mask and wig, and revealing who she is to the audience. The project Dinah is working on all season is opening a shop in the Glades. Not like how Oliver opened Verdant and it's limited to rich people getting in. Dinah wants to open a flower shop that's affordable for the people there and provide more jobs for them. In the last episode of season one, it gets caught in the earthquakes and gets destroyed. Tommy goes there to save Dinah, not realizing that she's out in the streets saving people as the Canary. He gets caught in something and gets trapped, and that's how Oliver finds him. And that's how Dinah finds Oliver and Tommy, and their identities are revealed to each other. This would be paralleled with Oliver finding out that Shado is alive on the Amazo. After Oliver leaves at the end of season one, Dinah pseudo-works with Diggle and Felicity/Babs. But it's hard because Dinah closes herself off from grieving Tommy's death because Oliver left and she has to clean up the mess and if she stops and grieves the city will fall apart. When Oliver comes back, things are tense and awkward between him and Dinah, because, well, everything that happened with Tommy and with Oliver leaving. And she still doesn't know the story about what happened to Shado on the island, so she never quite forgives him for killing the sister her family saved. The tension would only get worse when Shado comes back and tells Oliver that he can't tell Dinah about her because Shado doesn't want her family to know that she went back to the Yakuza. Not only would Shado have the same grief Sara would about her family knowing about the League, but it would be even worse because their family has a history with the Yakuza. But Dinah knows something is wrong and she has all this pent up anger and pain and she is channeling that into figuring out what is going on. When they realize Dinah is going to figure it out soon, Shado goes to her the way Sara went to Quentin. Shado leaves SC after Dinah helps her fight off some members of the Yakuza. Dinah, finally getting closure on Shado, lets herself grieve Tommy. And only then does she realize that Oliver hid the truth about Shado because it's what Shado wanted. And that all this time, he did everything he could to protect Shado. And then, finally, Dinah would let go of her resentment and really, truly re-develop her friendship with Oliver. A few episodes later, Dinah meets some girl at her gym who starts training with her. It's Shiva. It seems like it's a nod to the comics, but she's actually a member of the Yakuza who is spying on Dinah because of Shado. Shiva and Shado were together when Shado was with the Yakuza. Shado finds out and comes back to Starling. Shiva is more threats and less action than Nyssa, and the Lance family would probably act first, not Shiva, because of their history with the Yakuza. (Basically, I'm trying to keep the essence of Nys*ra without the physical abuse and the trying to killing her family thing, both of which prevented me from ever really shipping them.) After Shiva leaves, Shado comes home and joins the Team. She and Oliver get together. It would be made explicitly clear that they are really in love and it's more than "emotional support" or whatever fandom tries to say about canarrow. The tension would be more between Dinah and Shado than with Felicity/Babs. It would be a different tension too, because they're sisters and happy to be back together, but also kind of stepping on each other's toes. Shado is the superior fighter, but Dinah knows the city and the team better. Maybe there's an undercover mission and Oliver takes Shado with her instead of Dinah, and Dinah has to crash it because she figures out something based on the layout of the Glades. I would do an episode in season two with the League instead of Birds of Prey (since Dinah and Helena would have had a BoP type of episode in season one) where the League tries to recruit Shado. She turns them down because she doesn't want to be an assassin and she's happy to be home. But she would go to them towards the end of the season in exchange for help with SC, but she would go in as a mole for either Kurt or Oliver/TA. But that wouldn't be revealed until maybe mid-way through season three. Season three would be about the League of Assassins still. Shado would eventual dismantle the League of Assassins and form the Red League. This would lead to a spinoff about a league of trained women who travel the world and save people who need saving. It would probably incorporate metas too. But Shado would be the leader. Oliver and Dinah would probably be endgame (maybe start becoming more explicit towards the end of season three?), but it wouldn't diminish the importance of Oliver and Shado. Oliver and Shado would just be one of those "we love each other but we know this just will never work out because our lives don't cross in that way." And that would never take away from Oliver and Dinah falling in love and having a real, genuine relationship/partnership.

[oathkeptroxas]

I loved your story on dean & laurel but I'm curious what's your take on those who say that Laurel is a gender-swapped version of Dean? If you agree I would love to get your take on the similarities between Laurel and Dean it's the only similarity I can think of is they are the oldest sibling.

Thanks so much for reading it!! :)

I don’t necessarily agree with referring to Laurel as ‘gender-swapped’ Dean because a) I don’t like that term and it’s implications that there are only 2, binary genders, and b) I feel it discredits Laurel’s individual development and dismisses her as ‘oh a female equivalent of something that’s already been done’.

However, there are a TON of parallels between these two that I believe would make them able to understand each other so well! There’s a difference between a similarity/parallel/comparison and ‘they are the same’.

Though Laurel and Dean are of course both older siblings, that’s not a similarity, that’s a narrative fact, a way in which they are the same. It’s the dynamics with their siblings and their individual personalities in how they deal with them that matter.

Dean would do anything for Sam. He’s sacrificed his life for Sam multiple times, Dean is willing to die for Sam at any given moment, no questions asked. When Sam died Dean did what he had to in order to get him back, consequences be damned. He gave up his childhood so that he could dedicate himself to preserving what was left of Sam’s. Keeping Sam safe is his priority.

Keeping Sara safe growing up was Laurel’s priority. Sara was free-spirited, a rule breaker. Laurel did things by the book, was studying to be a lawyer. Sara was prone to getting herself into trouble, Laurel got her out of it. When Sara died Laurel did whatever she could to bring her back, consequences be damned, no questions asked. 

Both Sam and Sara took their older siblings for granted.

Now, in Sam’s case it’s more than forgivable. Dean felt betrayed/deserted by Sam when he left for college, Dean just wanted his family to stay together and hated being alone. However, it’s necessary and healthy to put yourself first sometimes. Sam removed himself from a toxic environment and took the chance to better his life. Yes, it hurt Dean. But it was necessary for Sam’s well-being, even if Dean didn’t understand. Sam may have been far too young when all this started to realize how much Dean gave up for him, and even as the series goes on Sam learns new things about their childhood that allow him to appreciate Dean a little better. Sam’s ‘betrayal’ of Dean is justified and forgivable and not really a betrayal at all (though it felt like one to Dean).

Sara resented Laurel. When Sara told Oliver about how Laurel shut down that party Sara went to and then Sara got grounded and then Oliver and Laurel were dating and Sara said that Laurel only did that to be spiteful and steal Sara’s chance with him. That’s so fucking immature and short sighted?? And totally out of character for Laurel. Now, if you remove Oliver from the equation, Laurel’s actions would have been the same? Her underage sister was lying to her parents, going to a party with older boys where unknown substances were being passed around. Of course Laurel got it shut down? She was being responsible. The fact that Sara made that about a boy because she was jealous is absurd. Laurel had Sara’s best interests at heart and Sara dismissed her as being spiteful. She thought ‘Laurel doesn’t want me to have fun or be happy’, Laurel thought ‘My little sister is putting herself in dangerous situations with people taking advantage of her’.

Laurel and Oliver and Tommy were friends their whole lives. They grew up together. Laurel and Oliver were essentially childhood sweethearts. I’m an older sibling. I know younger siblings follow you around like imprinted ducklings and think that hanging out with the ‘big kids’ makes them cool. Younger siblings having puppy love crushes on their older siblings’ friends is common af. Thea had one on Tommy. So, any ‘feelings’ that Laurel may or may not have known Sara had for Oliver, she could have easily written off as just that? There was no malicious intent on Laurel’s end. Yet, Sara betrayed her by sleeping with her boyfriend to prove a point? And then when Sara returned she started sleeping with Oliver again before she had worked to build the bridges between her family, and then invited Oliver to a family dinner at Laurel’s home when she knew Laurel was going through a hard time? 

Now, Dean and Laurel also had similar dynamics with their fathers. John neglected/abused Dean, he took him for granted and made Dean shoulder the weight of his responsibilities. John even acknowledged ‘you shouldn’t have had to do that, it should have been me saying that to you’. Due to the circumstances, Dean was conditioned to believe that Sam’s well-being was his responsibility, and anything that happened to Sam was immediately his fault.

Laurel’s father emotionally abused her and her mother neglected her because they couldn’t handle the fact that Sara was gone. So, Laurel, not being given the chance to grieve her sister and boyfriend (who died whilst fucking behind her back) then got deserted by one parent and mistreated by another. Laurel became Quentin’s carer through his alcoholism and shouldered his responsibilities, despite her own trauma. Quentin even said ‘she was my rock’ because he used Laurel as a emotional crutch and leaned on her constantly whilst offering her constant criticism for her choices. He blamed Oliver for what happened to his family, and in a way blamed Laurel by association, because if it wasn’t for her relationship with him, Oliver wouldn’t have been in the Lance’s lives.

Alcoholism is another comparison. Alcohol is a huge coping mechanism for Dean. We see him wake from nightmares and immediately reach for a bottle, regardless of what time of day it is. Dean is drinking beer or whiskey in almost every episode. It helps him deal with his trauma. It’s not healthy but he’s dependent on it. Despite this dependency though, Dean is a high-functioning alcoholic, in the sense that his addiction does not hinder his ability to live his life and do what he needs to.

Laurel’s alcoholism hit her harder. She was never a big drinker, she didn’t even drink socially very often and not excessively. She went from 0-100. And with an alcoholic father (addictive personalities and substance dependencies can be hereditary) it was almost inevitable that she would become dependent, and that it would become a vice. She couldn’t control it, whereas Dean was able to control his to the point where, though he drank a lot, he did so to cope. Laurel started drowning her sorrows only for it to overrun her entire life, she lost control. Dean’s experiences with the mark of Cain and the first blade are a prime example of an addiction gone wild. Both Dean and Laurel have addictive personalities. This is also shown in their steadfast determination in doing whatever they can to reach an end they’ve set themselves.

Dean saw Charlie as an adoptive sister, they had a lot in common, he loved spending time with her and Dean is a big believer in finding and building a family. Laurel was exactly the same with Thea. Laurel was there for Thea more than Oliver was.

Dean uses meaningless sex as a coping mechanism for his trauma, his lifestyle doesn’t afford him the opportunity to commit. Yet, despite this, Dean has never forgotten the name of any of his one night stands. Dean wanted to build a relationship with Cassie Robinson, she was the first person he came clean about his life to. It was Cassie who turned him down, she knew they would grow to resent each other if they pursued something long distance and didn’t want that for them or herself. Dean was so enamored by Lisa Braeden after their weekend long fling literally years prior, that when he was given a year to live and found himself in her hometown one day, he tracked her down. He thought he was on borrowed time and didn’t want the opportunity to see her again to pass him by. When he found out she had a kid, he was shocked but not in any way upset that child could be his, was even disappointed when Ben wasn’t. He left them without attempting to pursue anything because at the time he believed he was going to die and didn’t want to allow Lisa and her son to become attached to him because he wouldn’t be around much longer. Dean had recurring dreams about a life with Lisa where he adopted Ben.

Laurel (as far as we know in canon) has only ever dated two men: Oliver and Tommy. Two boys that she grew up with and knew her whole life and trusted implicitly. We don’t know how exactly Tommy and Laurel first hooked up, but we know that during the time Oliver was gone it was strictly casual. It was more than likely a coping mechanism, they trusted each other, they comforted each other over the fact that they’d both lost Oliver and one thing led to another. She took comfort from someone who knew what she was going through instead of finding meaningless sex elsewhere. We see in flashbacks how Laurel had planned her and Oliver’s lives together and imagined getting married, how she told Oliver she wanted to move in together. Both Laurel and Dean are ‘all or nothing’ types. They are able, and often want to, commit. They love with every part of themselves, but sometimes other things just get in the way.

Which leads me to my next comparison, perhaps the most important one: Dean and Laurel are both loyal to a fault. They have forgiven people who never deserved it countless times. They’ve always put the well-being of others before themselves. They’ve been walked over and disregarded by people they loved yet they can’t help but still love them. Their sense of loyalty and family is unfaltering, even at the detriment of themselves. And despite this, they fight to keep the people they have and they don’t think they are deserving of the love they receive. Dean once said “sooner or later everybody’s gonna leave me.” Laurel once said “What is so wrong with me that everybody leaves?” They both fear abandonment because the people they devoted themselves to never showed that loyalty in return. 

These two would honestly be perfect for each other because their beliefs are cemented in the same ideals. I think they’d have an incredible dynamic and they’d understand each other so well. I’m sure there are things that I’m forgetting but this got long as hell and this is just the big ones that jump out at me. I’m sure @laurelwinchester would know more about this :)

[zodiyack]

Wrong Girl, Right Time

Requested by anon: Helloo! I am a big fan of your writing and I had an idea about a kinda dark angsty tommy x reader fic taking place in season 1 where the reader is a childhood of the boys and when tommy spends his first night with Grace inspector Campbell goes after the reader (maybe one of his men physically assaults her) and tommy learns about it the next day and realises he messed up big time and tries to fix everything. Thank you so much and I will understand if you don't want to do it.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst that was written while half asleep, implied smut, physical assault, fluff, me not proofreading

Note: Aaa! I hope you like it, I tried! Enjoy!

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @jenepleurepasbaby, @simonsbluee, @peakysputain​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Y/n walked back to her sofa, wrapping her sweater tighter around her body. The warmth of Tommy’s kind hugs, the firewood he’d bring her after he’d scold her for risking her life living in such a cold temperature, the smiles that warmed her insides- even if they weren’t directed toward her.

She sighed, plopping down on the cushions. She’d fallen for Tommy, since they were kids, and she had no idea how to tell him. Or if he even felt the same.

“Fuck.” She rolled over, curling into a ball and hugging herself, hoping for warmth. Hoping for Tommy to show up with firewood even if it meant he’d scold her. Hoping for Tommy to hug her tightly and kiss her hairline even if it meant she’d have to suffer knowing it was platonically. Y/n didn’t care the consequence, she just wanted him.

And somewhere out there, he was with her. Just not Y/n “her”. It was the woman he gave his heart too. Or rather, wanted to give his heart to, but, for once in his life, he broke down and verbally admitted he was too much of a coward to do so.

They danced together. Twirling around the room. Lust filled Tommy’s eyes, a mirrored look in Grace’s. They leaned in, connecting their lips and relieving themselves of the desire they both knew they felt.

Outside of Grace’s place, was officer Campbell. Tommy knew. He knew the man would have a high chance of coming across this. And he could care less for the man’s thoughts on the situation.

He smiled softly into the kiss, deepening it and their contact, suddenly becoming more cocky inside knowing Campbell saw him and Grace. But the lust remained, and like he’d told others and himself time and time again, he just really couldn’t find the fucks to give.

Unfortunately, thanks to his discovery, Campbell decided to retaliate. He knew of Y/n L/n. The girl who hung around the Shelby boys as a young girl, who looked at Tommy with longing in her eyes, who smiled and hid the hurt in her heart when she met Grace.

He chuckled as he walked to the girl’s home. He sent his men to the door, told them to break in, have two grab Y/n, rough up the place and then meet in the living room with the girl.

Officer Campbell kicked a shard of glass that lied on the floor. “Look at this place, Y/n. It’s a bloody wreck!”

“Because of you, asshole!” She spat on his shoes. Campbell gave eye contact to one of the men next to Y/n, and smiled when he heard the sound of a smack and a yelp of pain. Y/n sobbed and looked up at him, a red hand mark rested on her face.

“My goodness, Miss L/n, you really ought to cover that up! Don’t want Tommy thinking you’re a weak link, eh? Maybe he’ll find you ugly, inside and out, when he learns you went insane, trashed up your own place, then fought someone for no reason... and lost.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and big the inside of her cheek.

“What do you think? Y/n?”

Still, Y/n kept quiet, refusing to give into his game. She continued to glare at him, but kept her mouth shut. It pissed him off, to say the least. He nodded to the men again. Another yelp left her mouth. Blood leaked from her nose.

“Ooooh!” The officer scrunched his face in reaction to her face, “That’s got to hurt, doesn’t it? Well I can make it stop hurting. Just tell me whatever you can about your little crush, okay?”

He growled when she didn’t respond. A man behind her yanked her head back with his hold on her hair. A whimper escaped her lips.

“Answer me, you bitch!” She smiled. He returned it with the thought that he’d won. “Good. Now-” His face paled, then crinkled in disgust.

“That’s all I know, sorry love.” Y/n quipped with a mischievous smirk, wiping her mouth on her shoulder and looking down at Campbell’s shoe. A wad of her saliva coated the top of it.

“Alright then, if we can’t get information out of you, we’ll just... leave Tommy a little surprise.” He nodded to the man before walking out the door, the rest of the men following.

“You fucked up big time, princess.”

“Thomas?” His foot steps slowed, then rushed again. His breathing was unsteady as he ran up the stairs and to the room the person he was looking for was occupying.

“Oh God- what did he do to you?” Tommy heard his voice crack as he knelt beside Y/n’s bed. He regretted everything. The night he shared with Grace, the deal he made with Campbell, the mistake of giving Y/n the space she never asked for.

“It’s okay-” she coughed, causing Tommy to wince, “go back to Grace.”

“What? No, are you crazy?” He truly thought she was joking. He smiled with the side of his mouth and forced out a small chuckle of his own. “You need to rest, and I,” He grunted as he sat down next to her, “am not going to leave until you get better.”

“Why? You could be having the time of your life right now, why stay with me when I’m sick and possibly very ugly-” she dawned a goofy smile, unknowingly making Tommy’s heart race faster than it already was, “I dunno, I haven’t been able to look in a mirror quite yet.”

“You’re beautiful. You don’t need a mirror to see that.”

He let go of his tougher exterior, smiling brightly and genuinely. He grabbed Y/n’s hand and kissed it softly.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, what on Earth are you doing to me?”

Tommy looked up with slight confusion and noticed Y/n’s state, mental absence being a perfect words to describe it. She looked out of it, but still, just as beautiful out of it as she would be if she was unharmed. He was about to ask her what she meant, but she’d already turned over and slipped away into peaceful slumber again.

When she woke up again, her consciousnesses was more alert, as her body was healing while she slept, the foggy mind effect her injuries gave her was fading away with every moment she rested.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

“Tommy? Oh.” She clenched her jaw. Y/n really had missed him, but that night gave her a lot of arguments to settle with Tommy, things she needed him to answer.

“Pol told me you collapsed on the floor, already unconscious by the time she discovered you, and that she got Arthur to help you into your bed. She said you were healing, nothing major, just bruises and some blood here and there.”

“Tommy.”

“Said she didn’t know what happened.”

“Tom.”

“So what happened, Y/n? Tell me so I can be on my merry way, and blind them. That’s what you want, right? Me to like you enough to go and blind some bastard? Well you’re wrong if you think I don’t. Y/n, some things you underestimate about me, like how much I care abou-”

“Thomas!”

“...you- ...Yes?”

“He tossed me around like a fucking rag-doll.” Y/n ignored the ache of her head and held her composure. If there was ever a time to give Tommy a piece of her mind, it was now.

“I- Who?” Her eyes studied Tommy, the way he clenched his fists with anger.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. You don’t get to be mad. You went out there, fucked Grace, and I was stuck here, alone, cold, oh and abused by Inspector Chester fucking Campbell!” She stood up, wobbling slightly due to her lack of movement in bed rest. Tommy tried to help her stand, but she pushed his hands away with a huff. “I hoped, I hoped, that you’d show up. But you never did.”

“Campbell did that to you?” He looked at Y/n’s face, flinching internally at the purple, blue, and kind of brownish hues that marked her skin.

“Fuck you Thomas Shelby.” He flinched. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! Fuck you!” She stumbled over to him and hit his arms, punching him while breaking into tears. Tommy just stood there. He took her hits. His eyes closed in pain, not from her actions but from the situation; the pain striking him in the heart.

Finally, she broke. When she stopped punching him and began to drop to her knees, Tommy caught her. “I hate you.” She cried.

He felt the tears begin to form, spilling without his consent, “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’m here-”

“I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!” Though she was muttering words of her pain, she clung to Tommy tightly and refused to let go of him, as if her letting go of him now would be letting go of him forever. Her face was reddening and her nose was snotty, the tears were flooding.

“Let it all out, it’s alright, love. I’m here-”

“You weren’t the night Campbell gifted me to one of his men to use as a fucking pinata.”

He stopped. His heart ached. “I know... I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I’m sorry I didn’t show up, I’m sorry I-”

“Stop saying sorry. You’re not sorry. You slept with the woman you’ve been eyeing.Congratulations! Hey, want another medal? This one’s for world’s worst best friend! And another! Another for world’s best heart-breaker! Gonna throw ‘em in the cut too, huh? A man fights in a war for his home, but can’t bloody protect the girl who loves him the most? Why?? Oh, maybe because he’s too busy, I don’t know, starting another fucking war?!”

“W-what?” He muttered quietly, dropping with Y/n, who was pulling away to spew more angry words at her childhood crush. She looked him in the eyes with fury and hurt.

“You could’ve been there! You.. you could’ve been there, but you chose her... you chose her over me.. Just like you always did...with every girl... ever since we were kids...”

“Oh Y/n...” He cupped her cheeks, and this time- she did not fight. “You’ve been hiding that? For so long?”

She nodded, reaching up and wiping her eyes with her arm. “I was hoping... I was hoping you’d pick me one day. But that day never came. So I kept waiting. I watched you flirt, I watched you admire, I watched you be admired... I know, it’s silly, but no matter how many times I’ve tried to get over you, I can’t. And I know you don’t li-”

Tommy cut her off with a harsh, desperate, yet somewhat soft, kiss. “To be honest, Y/n,” He lifted her off the ground, swooped her off her feet and carried her back to her bed, setting her on the comfy mattress and tucking her in. “It’s not silly. I’ve tried the same, and yet, here I am.”

“Wait- How- But you-”

“Grace was a distraction, like the whores. Something to get my mind off of you. I suppose I just didn’t realize I was thinking of you...” He pulled away from the bed and grabbed his hat, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To make this right.” Tommy turned, a small smile gracing his face. “Do you have problem with that?”

“Yes, actually. I do.” Y/n smiled softly at Tommy as he raised his eyebrows in question, “You can make it right later. For now, I’m healing and I’ll be needing some company, preferably from my favorite of the infamous Shelby boys.”

“Finn?”

“No, dummy, you!” She giggled when Tommy rolled his eyes, his smile bigger than before, and crawled into the bed with her, draping an arm lazily around her waist and kissing her forehead. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“For you? Anything and anytime. You’re welcome, Y/n.” He closed the space between them, kissing her softly. Eventually, the pair fell asleep, unaware of Polly walking into the room a couple hours later, curious to where Tommy was and how Y/n was doing. 

She smiled at the sight; Y/n, smiling with her cheek pressed against her arm, chest heaving with each breath she took, Tommy’s head resting on it. Her hand was buried in his hair from her attempt of lulling him to sleep, and Tommy’s mouth was parted slightly, his chest moved up and down like Y/n’s.

“Really was the wrong girl, but had you been with the right one, I’d say damn near fantastic timing, Thomas.” Pol closed the door behind her. She knew this couple would happen; Polly Gray is always right.