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whispers-of-masser · 10 months

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Dragon's Tongue

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB, ft. Xelzaz & Khash ✧ Fluff, minor angst; 1300+ words ♫ "You And I (Stripped)" - PVRIS ✒ Something short n sweet today, I'm feeling soft

Nebarra was loath to admit it to himself, and he'd die before ever saying it aloud, but the Rift really was beautiful. Nothing compared to Alinor, to be sure, but... all the gold reminded him of home. And when he passed by a small, isolated farm, he could almost see himself on its porch, see his brother leaning against the door.

The illusions were younger, happier versions of themselves. So much more innocent, faces bright with naivety, eyes shining with plans for the future.

And then he'd gone to war.

He'd lost... so much of himself, in the deserts of Hammerfell. They had scorched and burned him inside and out, slowly bleeding him dry with every comrade he saw fall. And all that, for what? For all the Altmer's supposed superiority, the campaign had failed on all fronts – Hammerfell's walls and people defied them, and Cyrodiil remained in power, weakened but still unbroken.

How could the Thalmor still strut about, arrogant to Aetherius and back, when they had failed so miserably? How could they look at the faces of the families whose children and lovers they'd sent to die and only tell them they'd "served their purpose"?

Nebarra couldn't.

He couldn't face them at all. Not even through pen and paper, leagues away from ever having to look them in the eyes, ever having to see the pain and loss in their gaze.

Where the Thalmor were heartless, he was a coward.

And he didn't know which was worse.

~~~

Night fell, and you called the group to halt, to make camp until dawn. Nebarra set up the tent as you argued with Xelzaz, trying to convince him that no, he shouldn't summon a flame atronach and then kill it for its fire salts, no matter how good it would make dinner taste. Khash merely looked on, muching on some clover she'd picked up somewhere.

At last though, you got Xelzaz to relent, though he asked you to gather some herbs in exchange, listing off the plants he wanted you to find.

"Ah... and take Nebarra with you."

The elf froze. Turned slowly towards the lizard. Demanded, "What? Why?"

"Two eyes are better than one," he shrugged, "and that much safer, as well. We don't know what's out there, and I'm pretty sure we passed a necromantic altar on our way here."

At that, you groaned, head rolling back like a teenager who'd just been told to do their chores. "Gods, not another one. Why do we always seem to run into those?"

"Luck of the Dragonborn? Anyway, off with you now – I have to get set up. Let's see, in whose pack did I leave my cooking pot...? Khash! Come help me with this!"

And just like that he walked off, leaving you and Nebarra alone by the campfire. A chuckle escaped you, and he glanced over to see you shaking your head. "I'm surprised he didn't tell us to hold hands, too, so we don't lose each other in the dark."

"Yeah, I'm not holding your hand," Nebarra snarked. And it was true. Absolutely true. Totally, one-hundred percent true.

"Oh wow, Nebs, that one almost hurt." Your soft laugh seemed to echo in his ears, his mind. "Come on, let's go – I don't suppose you heard any of the plants he wants?"

Blue and yellow mountain flowers, to restore and fortify. Purple for rejuvenation, and to give to Khash. Scaly pholiota for fiber and strengthening. Wild gourds and dragon's togue for flavour.

He snorted from behind his helm. "That would require paying attention to him."

"Should have known," you sighed. "Alright, listen up before I forget: blue, yellow, and purple mountain flowers, scaly pholiota, and dragon's tongue. And be careful with the purple mountain flowers, they're gifts for Khash. Oh, he also wants some wild gourds. Got it?"

"...Yeah, yeah. Let's just get going."

He definitely hadn't feigned ignorance just to hear your voice some more. Definitely not.

~~~

"Ah, back at last! Perfect," Xelzaz said, stirring something in a pot over the fire. "Now I can get the real meal started."

"Then what's this?" Nebarra demanded as Xelzaz handed him a bowl, in exchange for the plants the Altmer carried. Even through his gauntlets he could feel its warmth, and a rich, savory scent drifted up through the slits of his helmet.

"Something amazing, from the smell," you sighed, and Nebarra didn't have to look to know you were drooling.

"Just a little sometime to hold you over," the Argonian demurred, handing you a bowl as well. "Thought I'd experiment with some of the flora I've gathered thus far."

That gave Nebarra pause. "Wait – experiment? That's settled, I'm not eating this."

"If you don't want it–"

Your words were drowned out by Khash's eager shout of, "I'll eat it! I'll take your bowl!" She rushed over to him, red eyes trained on the food.

"Khash, you had your share," Xelzaz chided. "Any more and you won't have room for the rest of dinner."

"Yes, I will! I have room for anything you make."

"She's got a point," you laughed, and Nebarra slowly, wordlessly handed her the bowl.

"I'll go keep watch," he grumbled, turning away.

"Oh, don't be like that! Nebarra!" When he didn't respond, you sighed, calling after him, "Alright, go sulk! I'll make sure Xelzaz doesn't poison your share, though you kind of deserve it!"

His back still towards you, Nebarra raised his hand in a rude gesture, and your laughter rang through the night.

Some thirty minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching; he didn't need to turn to know it was you. Your tread was distinct from the others, weighted with determination and confidence, whereas Xelzaz's was soft and steady, and Khash's light and hesitant.

"Here. Eat." Despite the short words, your tone was gentle, and Nebarra looked over to see you holding a plate out towards him, laden with a slab of meat and wild berries to the side. "It's delicious, and unpoisoned."

"How would you know?" he sniffed, catching a whiff of the food in the process. It... did smell amazing. "Did you try it?"

"I did, actually. Stole some of your steak when Xelzaz wasn't looking. And since I'm still standing here pestering you, I guess that means it's clean."

Nebarra paused, eyes training on your face. Half of it was wreathed in shadow, only the gleam of your eyes visible; the other half was illuminated by the campfire, revealing the soft smile you wore.

You... had a nice smile.

And before he could stop himself, he mumbled, "You're not... pestering me."

Surprise flickered in your gaze – surprise, and something else. Something he told himself he didn't recognise, refused to recognise.

After a moment, you said softly, "That's... good to hear, then. Because I have something else for you, too." Reaching down with your free hand, you pulled something from your belt and held it out before him. "I saved one, 'cause it reminded me of you."

Nebarra stared. There, held gently between your fingers, was a dragon's tongue flower, petals open wide and colours vibrant in full bloom. "This... reminded you of me?"

"It's gold. Just like you."

"...You really do have trouble with your eyesight, don't you? These are orange."

"Eh, close enough." You shrugged, the smile never leaving your face.

Slowly, Nebarra reached out and, ignoring the plate of food, took the flower carefully, delicately from your grasp, cradling it in his palm. "...Am I supposed to say thank you?"

"You just did." As he raised a brow from the shadows of his helm, you set the plate on a nearby rock and tapped the gauntlet that held the flower. "You accepted it."

He couldn't deny it. "Think you got me all figured out then, huh?"

Something in your smile shifted, your gaze flickering. "No. Not yet, anyways. But... I think I'd like to." And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him alone in the dark, stunned.

And that night, as he sat in the shadows of the campfire, he stared at the flower for a long, long time.

#nebarra #nebarra skyrim #skyrim nebarra #skyrim #tes 5 #whisper writes #finally wrote that thing from my tags ages ago #and by ages i mean like a week lmaoo #also i now officially have the headcanon now that khash likes to munch on clovers and i don't know what to do with this thought #anyway in other news im so tired?? like for some reason writing Just Tonight REALLY drained me #i dont know how to describe it other than the fact that writing it felt like.... it took something from me?#idk man maybe i just burnt myself out a little; i haven't written so much and been so intent about it in actual years #tragically im not even happy about how it turned out but tbfh when is an artists ever satisfied with their own work??? neverrrr #im so tired man lol #i wanna keep working on the second part of just tonight and I have ideas for it but i just.... cannot right now lol #anyway off to play more skyrim and hopefully recharge #starting an altmer mage/college of winterhold playthough with only altmer followers #so that means im grabbing nebs; caryalind; taliesin; rumarin; idrinth; and eventually Telmiltarion since I downloaded summerset isle too #he has a standalone verison that doesnt require the full mod but #figured i'd play through the whole thing at least once since it ties into the cow story anyways #help why does “college of winterhold” abbreviate to fuckin COW I just noticed😭#anywho... ive never actually played with tel or idrinth before so im actually a little nervous; i hope i like them lol #wanted to try daegon too but then i saw she was pulled for updates and was like nuuuuu #might see about posting a screenie once i've got the whole crew together #anyway im off to go play for reals this time lol bye

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microwaving-tesilid-argente · 4 months

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ok i might be talking complete nonsense here, but. the Strict Order as a metaphor for an author facing writer's block.

"the Strict Order abandoned the world," yeah if i wrote a sweet potato story where the main character just keeps suffering with no sign of resolution, i'd drop the story too (<- has actually done this with a tesilid fanfic orz)

"The world rejected the Strict Order's abandonment, so to keep the world going the Strict Order made Tesilid keep rewinding time." That's just like when you get stuck at a certain point in the plot and keep rewriting the events leading up to that moment to try to make it work. nods sagely i understand. i too make my OCs go through scenarios lots of times until we get it right. sometimes it takes months. sometimes it never works.

"The saintess only exists in timeline ~86," oh yes, the classic 'idk how to solve this problem so i'll introduce a new character' trick. i'm familiar

"okay but if time looping is the Strict Order rewriting the story, then why can Tesilid remember it" because the author already wrote those scenes and it'll be sad to throw them all out. and also it's a cool gimmick to have a regressor story. (<- has drastically changed the premise and worldbuilding of a story just to make an alternate timeline relevant before)

"what about ailette's existence--" same as muriel, where you insert a new character in hopes of solving a plot problem. except this time the characters write the plot themselves, because just this once you give priority to their character traits & goals rather than where you thought you wanted the plot to go. (tesilid has someone he can be himself around and who can do certain things on his behalf, instead of being fully constrained by his obligations. ailette gets insane buffs instead of being restricted by the world's difficulty.) therefore the chars now have more agency and are not only solving problems, but also taking the story in a direction you never would have thought of before. (whatever the hell tesilid and ailette are cooking rn, separately, which is surely going to result in interesting developments later on)

tldr; the strict order as a metaphor for an author who hit writer's block. their friend World Shaper inserts their OC Ailette in and their writing style is to let the characters run away with the plot. it works. world shaper and all their friends are co-writers working on the story together and reacting to it in real time.

#s-class heroine spoilers #if the themes of this story are actually orv-esque in that it becomes meta about the writer-reader-char relationship #then my mind will actually be very blown #like im extrapolating a lot here #im only able to make these comparisons bc orv changed the way i read fiction forever #anw no one tell me if i got it right i legit have not read any spoilers #im at mirror dungeon now #wait maybe im onto something #the timelines being linear and not recursive (ie. reed does not have his own ailette) makes sense as well bc with this timeline #the story has finally reached its end and the authors can put down their pens #no more writing no more regressing in order to get scenarios right #like SPOILERS FOR ORV SPOILERS FOR ORV SPOILERS FOR ORV MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV #LIKE RLY MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV IM SO SERIOUS #like for orv it makes sense that the timeloops are recursive #because YOU are kim dokja #the story keeps being written bc the kimcom want kdj back #there is no world where the regressions wont occur bc yhk want each other to be happy #and they will keep the timeloop going if thats what it takes to keep the other alive #yhs dooms the world with her pen (keyboard) because she wants that teenager to live #because she realised he will type 'how to survive' and she wants him to survive no matter how cringe he is #no matter how ruined the world he will be living in would be #woah.... fuck orv (positive)

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synthville · 1 year

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nah star trek picard really looked me in the face and told me to take my gay ass to hell lmao. like you’re telling me after making it through a season while buckling under grief and immense trauma they choose each other, get one onscreen kiss and dassit? the most integral and stable parts (maybe. they could’ve broken up the second they left guinans bar in the s2 finale for all i know) of their entire relationship happened between seasons? off-fucking-screen?!? yeah this show ain’t fucking serious. at all. they were together (how long? no one fucking knows!) and i ain’t even get to see that? sick and twisted lmao. didn’t even try. didn’t even pretend to try. teased seven and raffi’s relationship for a season and a half only to wrap shit up in 30 seconds—what happened to privacy. why was worf even in that scene like he couldn’t take a step back? why were they trying to present it as a jokey joke too like star trek picard what’s funny? nothing exactly. they really said here damn scram lol?????

i just. an offscreen breakup that is still a mystery because ????? because nothing. it’s not like they care so why not just get it over with in episode 1? what was the goal here? a breakup which was telegraphed yet dragged out for no discernible reason. biggest waste of time since idk when. and all this fast tracking time jumping shit they keep doing with their relationship is so transparent and boring. just zero investment. why are they allergic to telling coherent stories! and also joy!

god. what even is there to say about this bullshit that hasn’t been said. what’s the takeaway here? what was gained.

#seven x raffi #worf chiming in was my limit like sir pls go somewhere lmaooo #im def in my feelings but playing that moment off as a joke was so annoying #this show……#star trek picard a tek mi fi eediat #played in my face full jungle gym 😭#now i did giggle when worf said he was practicing deception but like hysterically #bc i couldn’t believe my mf eyes and ears #they’re handling this relationship so badly they do not give a fuck #they really could’ve kept it and i hate that that’s where i am now.#and if they possibly work their way back to each other it’s like #why are we revisiting season two?#another season finale kiss is NOT relationship progression #can they just be happy for a fkn minute like why isnt that okay!#god #wouldn’t even have been opposed to actually seeing them end things #w both of their personalities it would’ve been amazing (or reaaaaally badly written but still)#just nothing.#quite disgusting actually #r7

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skyburger · 17 days

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WHAT THE HELL NOBODY EVER TOLD ME TWO OF MY FAVE VILLAGERS GOT A LINE STICKER TOGETHER. ive loved tabby for YEARS like since 2019 at LEAST. and these stickers are from 2018 how did i not know !!! i love tabby and boots so much 😭😭😭 TABBY AND BOOTS ANIMAL CROSSING I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH OOMFS FOREVER AND EVER

#im so happy any official content of tabby is awesome shes my fave i looooove her so much SHES SO SILLY!!!#and boots was one of my starting residents on acnh so he holds a special place in my heart #in case anyone was wondering which im sure you were not. my other starting villager on acnh was rocket and shes soooo silly i love rocket #not enough people love her like shes so silly. u are all HATERS #anyway i love talking about my acnh villagers I WISH I HAD MY ACNL ONES WRITTEN DOWN. the only ones i remember are tabby and kyle #but my acnh ones atm (and when i say atm i mean they will be probably til the end of time)#are my guy sherb (found on one of the ticket islands)#stiches (who i also found on an island i think?)#chai (i have her amiibo card shes so cute.)#tammi (another island find)#stella (man i really did just take the first villagers i found on an island and kept them huh)#rocket and boots (starter villagers)#tabby (I WAS LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO TRADE HER TO ME ON REDDIT I THINK? and then they were like oh if shes ur fave u can just have her +#like for free. AND THAT WAS SOOOO AWESOME)#bea (i think she was also a ticket island thingy find)#and finally... tom (ok he has a fun story.#i think it was margie who lived on my island at the time and listen she was SUCH a sweetheart i wanted to keep her forever #(she replaced drift who i found on an island and he was mean to me so i have beef with him. still. like four years later.)#but them tom showed up as a camper and i got this crazy hit of nostalgia and i remembered my guy tom was in my childhood city folk town #and i was like. I MISS MY BOY. COME BACK TO ME. so he moved in)#umm only other villager we had was chadder which i think my little brother picked when we shared the island #i think i remember him saying he got chadder because of dantdm...? i dont remember the details #but i got the sanrio amiibo cards which i need to stress i had wanted for YEARS. i was so fucking happy when they got a rerelease #to the point where like. i couldnt get them at first because they sold out super fast. so #i bought them from someone in twitter dms im so serious. and it fucking worked thats how i got them #anyway i wanted chai to move in because shes my fave of that set (i love cinnamoroll) but i needed someone to move out #which i always get so sad about :( but my brother offered to take chadder so i felt a little better abt it #and then i think we forgot to like. have him come get chadder in boxes. so chadder went off somewhere hope hes living a good life #thats it i think. i wish i kept a list of all my villagers ever but considering ive been playing for a decade or so now that would be. crazy #muffin mumbles

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possamble · 18 days

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i already loved your fic but oh my god your dunmeshi analysis stuff is so. ahem. delicious. excited to see the next installment of a little creature when it comes out!!!

thank you so much!! I'm hoping to post it sometime next week, but let's see how work goes lmao

#asks #a little creature #the important parts of the chapter are mostly written #i mostly just need to wrap it up with the final gut punch and then fill out the first two scenes #im actually. lmao. trying to finish and post the chapter and the happy oneshot at the same time #so everyone will at least have a shot chaser and wont get too mad at me for being so so so mean to marcille

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imabiscuitinthousandworlds · 9 months

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I HATE when someone tells me something like "your writing/art is so good I could never create like that" because

Wrong. Creating is a skill. Some pick it up faster, yeah, and that'd be called talent, but literally anyone can learn it. You just gotta, like. Spend time on learning it. Like with any skill ever.

Don't depreciate yourself to copliment me. It just makes things awkward. The compliment on its own is a lot nicer, to be honest.

Don't tell me it's all just talent; because it's not. I know it's unintentionally, but you're telling me all the time I dedicated to this skill doesn't matter. You're telling me I didn't have to work to get here when I really, really had to.

Let's take writing, for example, since that's my main boat.

I've been telling stories for literally as long as I've been able to. My mum and I used to give each other 5 words, and the other had to tell a story with those. I've always had a thing for being creative, sure, but it's been honed for a literal lifetime.

As soon as I knew my letters I started devouring books, and writing my own. I wrote down my first story with 7 yo and decided to become a writer at age 9. I've more or less stuck to that, and I praciced for it. I spent so much of my time writing. It's been a decade. And those last three years especially - I've improved immensely, and you know why? I wrote - and still write - every day. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. And if it's just a sentence - it shows.

So, no, I'm not "just talented" at writing - I've dedicated a lifetime and so much sweat and tears and passion to it.

"I never could have written a line like that" thanks, I was stuck on it for three fucking days.

"You're so good at drawing clone armour" I was obsessed for over two years and sketched it all the time, every day, so guess why?

"I could never-" No. Shut up. If you spent as much time as I did on this, you very much could.

And don't you fucking dare tell me it's just talent.

Years of work aren't just talent. I worked so, so hard on all of this. Especially writing isn't just a hobby anymore - it's what I want to do with my life, it's what I have done with my life since forever. Every sentence I write holds years and years of experience and things I learned and incorporate subconsciously by now.

So, again.

1. If you spend your time learning this skill, you can and will learn it.

2. Let a compliment be a compliment instead of a comparison. Competition has already poisoned us all anyways.

3. This is the result of my lifework, treat it as such.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. (And I know my life hasn't been long yet, but still.)

#a biscuit's rambles #writer problems #im so so sick of all that self-deprecitation hid in compliments #and also all that talent talk #like NO its a SKILL its a SKILL I HAVE LEARNED and while i do have a talent for it it didnt just fall in my lap!!#look at a story from 3 yrs ago and it fucking sucks!! im growing im learning and i have been for so so long!#and i will continue to get so much better! ive written a few things im quite happy yet #but i wouldnt call myself a good writer bc of it! i probably never will bc im always striving for more but like! im still only a baby write #and just. idk. its annoying. i get this a lot whenever i do decide to share smth i wrote and ive finally been able to put into words #why i hate that kind of feedback/compliment

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raksh-writes · 1 year

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Last Line Tag Game

Tagged by @msmischief101 and @dual-desires thank youuu 🥰🥰

I’ve just finished typing up the first chapter of my VegasPete Sugar Daddy AU so I guess it counts as having the last line, hah. With some extra content here, for context! And because I want to 😂

Vegas’ fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone, thoughts smoothing out into nothingness, the flat surface of a lake with no wind stirring a single wrinkle. Then, the weird little something uncurls a bit further in his chest, an expectant look of two monstrous, hungry eyes burning him from inside out. His fingers move.

Vegas.

It’s Vegas.

~Oh, then – lovely meeting you here, Vegas!

~Hope to get to know you better soon ^^

Tagging (with absolutely no pressure involved): @livingbythewords @plushrumpasaurus @oenothera5 @roxannes-love-letters @fleet-off @theflowergirl and anyone who’d like to do it too! ^^

#Raksh posts #tag games #tagged #Im so happy with this first chapter #and that I finally typed it up ahhh almost 9k!#but it probably won't be posted until I have the second chapter written #and that'll take a while oof #but I prefer having something written ahead ngl #I AM eyeing another older vegaspete wip Ive had chilling in my docs tho #the first part could be posted on its own and its just feels filled post-canon angst with some smutty goodness at the end soo #hmmmmm lemme reread it and see how I feel then xD

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upsidedowngrass · 1 year

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amelia suffers from "fandom designated Nice Girl"

#hfjone #said this in a server but i actually think i finally worded it well #this isnt me getting mad at anyone in particular!!! but. i have a lot of thiughts on this #look. shes really nice and kind. she is VERY sweet a lot. but that is not all she is :(#and the only times ppl even WRITE that is when they want to make her. 'Snap?' i guess? or be 'worried about the boys' or smth?#it makes me a little sad :(#because she can and would kick your ass if you deserved it without hesitation #but shes always framed with the others and i. man #idk. wears shirt that says ask me about amelia euler #cus liam is my favorite character. but amelia is VERY important to me and high up there #shes an incredibly written person but people often . mute her character so bad and im like :(#(if they DO make her nice but capable of kicking ass they often . exaggerate that too anyway #like early 2000s cartoon girl whos 'nice but doesnt take bullshit!!! and looks out for her boys >:(' if that makes any sense #idk idk if this is coherent! i just have so many thoughts on her #(also yes this was prompted cus my amelia bloodshed post is getting more notes qnd that makes me VERY happy!!!)#ADDITIONAL note: this wasnt prompted by any recent posts in the tag i promise. just a general thing!!!

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spector · 9 months

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1:20h = ~1300 words... im insane once i start writing, its just the starting part that gives me so much trouble.

#this means i have written ~10k words for the final update and im not done yet ... this is gonna be so fortnite epic #tho i am dreading editing a little bit. esp the second part bc im not happy with the beginning ...

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haruchuiyo · 2 years

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omg I was gonna put in tags and it didn’t work, I tried so many times bruh, updated the app, restarted the phone and everything, I thought it was a lag that didn’t want to go away!

turns out, the tag system just didn’t want me to put the same tag twice lmao I didn’t see I had put that tag before first💀

#I’m so dumb bro #it’s almost 4 am #okay it’s late #I definitely have spelling errors here now #and in the fic i wrote #YEAH ITS A FYODOR FIC #im so happy to finally have written one for him #he so- he so wow #he is perfect bro #I know that’s a damn terrosist but #for him it’s okay❤️

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flysafepapi · 2 years

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siren song 7/?

masterlist

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: For a moment, just a second, it looks like the man’s eyes are black, even under the warm golden light from the ceilings, but when Tommy looks back up after glancing at the bottle of whiskey held in a surprisingly delicate looking hand, the eyes he sees looking back at him are brown. Dark, but nowhere near dark enough to be considered black by any stretch of the imagination. The man, who’s name Tommy realises he doesn’t know, doesn’t show any sort of expression on his face, but he still gets the impression he’s being laughed at somehow.

Tagging: @the-makingsofgreatness @zablife @lyarr24 (just let me know if you want to be added on or taken off)

Tobias keeps sending the gifts. Not all of them are big, extravagant gestures, though there’s a few every so often just because he can. It becomes like a game, of sorts, especially when a good amount of them return unopened, and slowly he learns what the other man keeps and what he doesn’t. Flowers are always sent back quickly but the books are kept. Sometimes the drawings return, but most times they don’t. The bottles of wine never get returned, but neither do the trinkets, and every letter he writes along with them never makes it back to him, though he can’t quite confirm that. It’s been a month since the room, and they’ve barely talked since, and even then it’s only ever been work-related.

“Excuse me,” Tobias clears his throat, and the sudden sound in the small shop makes the attendant flinch slightly. It’s not an uncommon occurrence. People tend to forget he’s around, especially when he’s focused on not making a sound, and he has been standing in front of the rack for at least ten minutes now, unmoving. The fabric feels soft under his fingers, but more importantly it feels sturdy and warm, and with the weather getting colder and colder it’s going to become a necessary purchase very soon. “How much for these?”

The shop assistant looks at him warily for a second, until the lure of the sale becomes too great, and Tobias has to stop the man from recommending additional items to him.

“Just these. I’d like them wrapped, if that’s something you offer. The extra cost is no bother.”

“Of course, sir.”

If he were human, or if he had any need for any of the currency that people relied so heavily upon, the total read out to him would have made him wince. For the quality, it’s not unreasonable, and they are well-made. He pays the price without any objection and waits by the counter for the attendant to finish packaging up the order.

“Have a nice night, sir. Come back any time.”

The night is relatively quiet when he steps out of the store, not that it ever truly gets quiet. There’s always people going about their business at all hours, so he doesn’t look out of place with the package held under one arm. People pass him by without a second glance and there’s something that’s still amusing about how they seem so blissfully unaware of the predator walking among them, even all these years later.

It’s hard to tell what about the window display catches his interest. He glances at the arrangement reflecting the light from the streetlamps and stops for a second to readjust his grip on the package before he opens the door and steps inside. The scent inside the store isn’t far off from what he was expecting; warmth and oil and the sharp tang of metal. He has a feeling the gifts will go over much better with this included.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“The arrangement from the window. I’ll take it, and the one beside it.”

“I’m afraid those aren’t for sale, sir, those are just our display models.”

“Do they work?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then I’ll take them. Name a price, but I’m afraid I won’t be leaving here without them.”

Tobias watches the frustration and the surprise warring on the man’s face for a few moments until the surprise wins out. It’s helped along by the considerable amount of money that Tobias sets down on the counter, and the notes get snatched up the second the shop owner realises he’s being deadly serious, almost taking Tobias’ fingers with it.

“I’ll need two boxes of these, for each of them,” he says, pointing to the boxes in the glass cabinet, “No, make it three. And the display boxes in the window. I don’t want to be walking around with them in the open.”

Tobias can practically hear August’s voice in his ear scolding him for spending this much money at all. He can imagine the lecture he’d be forced to listen to if any other them knew what he was spending the money on.

“Do you do engravings?”

“No, sir.”

“No matter, I can handle that on my own.” As an afterthought, he swipes up two of the bottles sitting on the counter and adds it to the considerable pile that’s accumulated. “These too.”

By some miracle, he manages to get all the boxes and packages back to the car without dropping anything, though it’s a near thing when he’s finished with the trip and makes it back to the house. The neighbour’s dog slips through the gap in the fences and charges towards him as soon as he picks the boxes up off the passenger side seat. Tobias doesn’t know how old Winston is, exactly, but despite the way he jumps up in excitement, he’s far from a puppy.

“Yes, it’s nice to see you too, my friend. No, no, don’t- Well alright then, come on in.”

Winston follows him inside and shadows him up the stairs, sniffing everything he sees as they go, and when Tobias turns around to look for him when he’s finished putting the day’s purchases carefully away in the closer he’s sitting out in the hall just outside the bedroom, waiting.

“I don’t have anything to feed you, I’m afraid. Downside to not needing to eat. I never have anything to feed to guests,” Tobias says, following the dog back downstairs, talking as he goes. It’s strangely comforting, knowing that he can’t be judged for what comes out of his mouth. “Well, there’s wine in the cellar, but I don’t think that’d be very enjoyable for you. I know the feeling. Can’t drink it, myself, but it’s a good thing to have regardless. Humans really do seem to love it.”

His neighbours will be coming home soon, they seem to keep a fairly regular schedule, and sooner or later they’re going to notice that their dog has disappeared from their yard.

“You’re a lot less noisy than you usually are. I wonder if it’s because you just like to hear yourself, or if there’s some other reason. Maybe it’s that small yard?” As soon as he sits down on the arm chair, Winston sits down at his feet and tilts his head back, looking at him as if begging for the scratches he knows Tobias can give. “Alright, just for a few minutes, then I have to take you home.”

An hour later, there’s been no sign of his neighbours coming home, and Winston has fallen into a light doze at Tobias’ feet, snoring softly.

“I can’t wait here all night, I have things I have to do. Stay here, and I’ll be back soon. I’ll even bring you back some treats, how does that sound?” He takes the furiously wagging tail as confirmation and takes Winston up to the bathroom, laying down an old blanket and a few pillows to cover the cold tiled floor and make it comfortable. “Here you go, old boy. Fit for a king, if I do say so myself. Take care not to spill the water.”

Instead of going to the Garrison, he heads towards the house on Watery Lane with the packages, ignoring all the curious looks that get thrown his way as he walks. He’d purposefully made the drive to London for his impulsive shopping trip. Aside from the bigger city having a wider variety of stores to get lost in, there hadn’t been anyone to recognise him and wonder what he was doing.

“What do you wa- Oh. Tobias.”

“Evening, Ada. Is your brother in?”

“Which one?”

Sofia can never meet Ada, Tobias decides. They’re much too similar. The glint of amusement in Ada’s eyes is something he’s seen from Sofia a thousand times over by this point, and the world might just implode if they were ever together in the same room.

“He’s upstairs, just go right up. Second door on the right.”

“Thank you. For you.” He holds out one of the smaller packages, wrapped in plain brown paper, and knows from the slight nod she gives him that she takes it for the blatant bribe that it is.

“Thank you. It was nice not seeing you tonight, I never even answered the door when I heard the knock.”

“What knock?”

The wood creaks underneath his feet as he scales the stairs to the second floor, and the hallway is dark except for the flickering light coming from underneath the second door on the right. Candlelight, he guesses, by the way the soft light shifts. Tobias keeps his footsteps louder than he normally would, stepping with a little more force so his approach won’t be a surprise to anyone, and knocks softly on the door.

“What?”

“May I come in?”

After a long pause, he hears the doorknob turning, and what light spills out from the open door is partially blocked by Tommy looking out at him.

“Can I help you?”

“I was hoping that you would. I’ve got all these boxes, you see, and it would be helpful if someone were to take them from me.”

Though he does open the door fully so Tobias can step through, Tommy looks like he’d rather be doing the exact opposite. Perhaps because of the familiar smell hanging in the air, one that Tobias knows very well, and when he glances at Tommy the man looks away, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Am I interrupting?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tommy says, and he does turn his head then, meeting Tobias’ stare head on with a resolve that’s admirable, really. It doesn’t work, because Tobias knows he’s lying, but he has to give the man points for the attempt.

“Yes you do. How long have you been killing yourself?”

His words hit a nerve and it’s immediately apparent by the way Tommy glares at him, and in any other situation it would’ve been funny that he still thought that had the effect he intended it to have. It doesn’t take a genius to put together all the pieces of the puzzle to figure out exactly what’s happening here.

“How often do you get the dreams?”

“Get out.”

For a second, looking at Tommy is almost like looking into a mirror. All the pain, and the hurt, and the rage. He knows every single one of them, inside and out.

“I get them every year. Sometimes more, if I travel to a place that’s closer to where I was born, or if something happens that reminds me. There’s a place in America, just a small town, but just being there made me feel like I was reliving the past over and over until I left.”

This whole thing has gone wrong, this wasn’t how this visit was supposed to go. The plan he’d come up with has been blown to pieces, and it’s probably his fault.

“I know what it’s like when you can never escape the memories in your own head. It was the war, for you, wasn’t it?”

“What was it for you?”

Tobias smiles, just a little, at Tommy’s question. He wonders if the other man is aware that he’s picked up on Tobias’ habit of answering questions with questions.

“I was twenty when my family were all killed. My mother had died giving birth to the youngest of us, the twins, but my father was there too. Six children and all of them boys. I watched them die right in front of me, because people are afraid of things they don’t understand, and they don’t care to try and understand anything they see as different. I would have died too that day, only I was saved by someone who I’ve come to count as a second mother. She took me into her family and changed my life, but still I hated her for saving me and not them.”

“How did they die?”

“They were burnt to death by men who condemned what they didn’t understand.”

For a second, the smell of the candle sends him right back there, but the sound of Tommy shifting snaps him out of it.

“I killed them all, years later, once I was able to track them all down. I made sure they all knew who I was, so they would know why I was doing this, and I made sure that they felt every moment. And every year, I dream that I’m right back there that day, hearing everything exactly as it happened.” He coughs, a poor attempt at dispelling the heavy feeling that had taken over the room, “So yes, I understand what the dreams are like.”

Tobias knows he’s said more than he ever should’ve, and that Tommy will remember every word of it and turn them over and over in his head to study them for an ulterior motive. It won’t do anything to stop him from smoking the opium that Tobias knows he’s got hidden somewhere in this room, but he was never expecting that to happen.

Changing the subject completely, Tobias holds the softer package out towards Tommy, gesturing at him to take it. The twine and paper disappears easily enough, and he watches Tommy rub his fingers along the soft wool of the coat and scarf, both of them black to blend in together, warm enough to withstand the worst winter chills.

“I thought they might be helpful to have around. I even decided against getting anything with a colour on it, because you seem to be allergic to a wardrobe with any variety.”

It’s barely there, the smile Tommy makes, but it’s a start.

“These, however,” Tobias says, picking up the heavier boxes and setting them down softly on Tommy’s knees, “are purely because I could and because I wanted to.” They’d cost a pretty penny, too, but he wasn’t going to mention the exact amount. The engravings aren’t the greatest, considering he hadn’t had time to find someone who could do it properly so he’d had to do it himself, but the words are legible and clear, so Tobias counts this as a victory. “And I’m not taking them back, so you’ve got no choice but to keep them.”

The boxes are redwood and unadorned, but they’re polished to a shine and the finished effect looks like slick, fresh blood under the dim lamplight. From the chair he’s sitting in, a few feet away from the door and opposite the bed, he watches Tommy carefully open them and see what they contain.

“As soon as I saw them, I knew they’d suit you, so I had to get them.”

The twin pistols are almost a match, just plain gun-metal grey, but the grips are what caught Tobias’ eye in the shop window. They’re covered in intricate swirls of what looks like mother of pearl set into the steel, and the twisting design looks like vines and razor sharp leaves against the polished black. Tobias had etched the engraving along the barrels of both as clearly as he could, and he knows that if anyone else read them they wouldn’t understand.

“How much-”

“Don’t even bother asking, because I’m not going to tell you.”

He watches Tommy run his thumb along the words, ‘To the ones we found along the way’ permanently scribed into the metal, and puts the few remaining packages on the small desk in the corner.

“Bullets. I wasn’t sure if you had any, and it’s always good to have extra.”

“I can’t take these.”

“Yes you can. It’s rude to refuse a gift, you know. I should be going, I have a dog at home that should probably be fed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait.”

For a second, he debates leaving anyway. This is the first time he’s ever been here in person to watch the reaction from any of the gifts he’s sent, and it’s far more nerve wracking than he’d been expecting. After the moment has passed, he turns back around, and it’s more than a little disconcerting to find that Tommy had managed to get so close while Tobias was lost in his own head.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” The other man says, slowly, like he has to force the words out against their will, “Not just for the guns and the coat, for the other things too. It still feels like this is an attempt to pay for-”

“It’s not. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.”

He stops, waiting for Tommy to continue, but when a minute passes and the shorter man doesn’t say anything, Tobias speaks. It comes out in a whisper, because anything else feels like it would break the fragile moment that’s happening right now.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?”

“I think I know why you’re so closed off most of the time.”

“And why is that?”

“You’re alone most of the time, not counting your family of course. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.”

The height difference between them means the quick glance down to his mouth is immediately obvious to Tobias, as clear as if the intent had been shouted from the rooftops, and he’s just reached down to wrap his fingers around Tommy’s wrist when someone bangs hard on the door, rattling the wood loudly.

“Tommy! Get down here, we’re going out drinking!” Arthur’s voice comes through loud and clear, if a little slurred, and Tobias takes a deep breath from the interruption.

“For god’s sake, Arthur, keep your voice down! He’s not even here, he left an hour ago.”

Thank the lord for Ada Shelby, Tobias thinks, when he hears Arthur’s footsteps walking away and back down the stairs. He makes a mental note to send her a gift basket of some kind, two even, for the lie.

It’s painfully obvious that the moment is broken when he looks back down at Tommy, and the urge to follow Arthur down the stairs and rip his head off his shoulders becomes more and more tempting by the second.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Shelby.”

He gets halfway down the stairs before he abruptly stops and changes direction, ascending the stairs again, and when he reaches the second door on the left and pushes it open, Tommy is standing on the other side with his hand on the doorknob, apparently caught by the same idea. They’ll catch hell for it later, Tobias knows, when Arthur becomes aware of Ada’s lie, but it’s hard to care when he’s got his hands around Tommy’s waist, feeling the heat radiating out from his skin.

“Would you believe me if I told you that not only do I know how, but that I’m very good at it?”

He’ll remember the sound and sight of Tommy locking the door for as long as he lives.

#peaky blinders #siren song #this one is much longer than what i usually write so i am making progress with my chapter lengths whoo #i mean it's about 3k words so nothing spectacular but baby steps #im super happy with this one #the ending was a bit difficult because the words were fighting me for a bit but i love what i finished with #winston owns my heart honestly he is the clear mvp of this story #winston was also a complete impulse decision that i ended up loving so im keeping him #the world needs more winston #finally we have something happening #well kinda #the implication of things happening is there #which is still a victory #tommy shelby #ada shelby #arthur shelby #tobias (oc)#yeah i stole that kisses line from gone with the wind i know #i was trying to find like a literary reference and found that one and decided to use it #even though the book wasn't written until a good ten years after this

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