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galaxy-parchment · 4 years

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Vampire AU

1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9 : 10 : 11 : 12 : 13 (you are here) : 14 : 15 (coming soon)

Guess who’s back (back again)! After an eternity of silence not only am I back with the Vampire AU, but I also have a shiny new beta reader (@hekyll-jekyll) so you don’t have to endure my terribly edited writing anymore! Don’t worry if it takes a little longer for future chapters from here on out since I’m much busier these days.

The silent panic sweeping the Society formed a thick tension in the air that almost suffocated Lanyon as he entered. Perhaps his show had put them just a little too on edge than he had aimed for.

The police carriages at the front almost blocked Lanyon out and the crowd of blue uniforms gathered at Luckett’s door encouraged him to see what was happening. As he passed he saw nearly all of the lodgers were eyeing the policemen with a mild terror that didn’t look like they could shake it off anytime soon.

Before he could approach Jekyll, the doctor turned and split from the group to greet him. He was looking almost as scared as the lodgers, even with his extensive practice of constantly looking like everything was fine.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Robert. We had a break-in last night! Luckett’s room was destroyed!” Jekyll exclaimed.

“Oh dear, is he alright?” Lanyon asked, placing a concerned hand on his own chest.

“Fortunately, yes. He was in someone else’s room at the time of the break-in,” he sighed deeply, bringing a hand to his forehead, “This is terrible, Robert! The lodgers could be at risk. This involvement with the police is starting to become commonplace. I'm worried about what this means for our reputation!”

“Don’t worry, Henry. Our reputation can withstand being the victim of a few crimes. Besides, as long as the exhibition goes well, none of this getting mixed up with the law will matter,” he reassured, placing a supportive hand onto Jekyll’s shoulder.

This didn’t do anything to ease how tense he was as he looked at Lanyon nervously. “About that…”

“What?”

“The lodgers have pulled out of the exhibition…” Time froze between the two. Lanyon suddenly felt the urge to make a repeat attack, one that was much less performative.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Frankenstein talked them out of it just to spite me. They won’t listen and I can’t make them work.”

“Like hell you can’t! They shouldn’t even be staying here if they’re not going to help keep the place open!” Lanyon said, careful not to let any of the lodgers down below overhear. He shifted his gaze back to the ruckus and remembered the situation. “Let’s just deal with this for now and we’ll talk about the exhibition later.”

“Right, let’s go. I’ll fill you in,” Henry said, eagerly accepting the distraction.

They approached the door and Lanyon looked inside. The room was untouched from the previous night’s events apart from a few markers placed around it.

“Robert, whoever did this had access to the inside of the Society; the window was broken from the inside. What if one of the lodgers is a vampire and I didn’t notice?” he rambled, worried sick at the prospect of being so careless. Guilt tugged at Lanyon but he reminded himself of what he was doing.

“Well Hyde has a key doesn’t he? I’ve been told he’s let himself in at night countless times,” he carefully suggested.

“Yes… He does have a key…” Jekyll didn’t look too convinced.

“Well he’s a known vampire. If he was a wanted criminal then coming here for easy pickings would make complete sense, especially for someone like Hyde.” He allowed himself a grimace. “Not to mention that it’d be a decent revenge for us outing him.”

“He wouldn’t do that! Hyde wouldn’t attack the lodgers!” he protested.

“Then how do you explain this mess? Hyde is the only vampire who could have pulled this off!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Well you certainly wouldn’t, you weren’t around during the attack!”

“Well were you?” Jekyll stared at him in exasperation, desperate for Lanyon to realise he was wrong. Why on earth was he still defending Hyde? Jekyll would have to get over this strange attachment he had to Hyde if anything was going to improve around here.

“I know you don’t like being wrong about things like this, but I think it’s best that the Society cuts ties with Hyde completely. I’ll let Sergeant Brokenshire know about Hyde’s key. This will hopefully be the last police visit for a long time.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he walked ahead, leaving Jekyll behind.

Any hope of redeeming Hyde in the eyes of the Society was completely lost. Lanyon’s intervention had branded Hyde as a bloodthirsty monster, the opportunity to find the other vampire was slipping through his fingers like water.

Brokenshire’s gruff voice chipped away at Jekyll’s hard shell like a chisel with every word he uttered to the crowd of concerned lodgers huddled together in fear. Luckett was particularly frazzled and was being comforted from all sides. The investigations had finally died down and Brokenshire stood on the fifth step of the stairs in the centre of the lobby, overlooking the crowd.

“We’ve come to the conclusion that Dr Jekyll’s former personal assistant, Mr Edward Hyde, previously revealed to be a vampire, made an attack on the Society using a key that was given to him during his time working for Dr Jekyll.” He gave an understanding look to Jekyll from his position behind the crowd. He must have looked quite frazzled to get a look like that. “If anyone has any information on his whereabouts, please report it immediately.” He parted from the crowd. Gossiping murmurs emerged in a swarm from it as Brokenshire reached Jekyll.

Without a word he was led to the door. Before he left, Brokenshire turned to Jekyll and gave him a stern look. Jekyll didn’t like one bit how intimidating he’d been since the fire. He felt like a criminal, or one that was known to be a criminal at least.

“I don’t know what you’ve been up to around here lately, but I hope that this is the last visit I’ll be needing to make in a while.”

“Agreed, good day Sergeant.” Jekyll desperately wanted the exchange to end. He was relieved to see the man turn away. The rest of his compatriots were gathered outside and ready to leave.

Jekyll shut the door behind him before he could turn back and exhaled slowly through his nose and allowed himself to slouch onto the door for a moment. He silently watched the lodgers chatter and strained his ears to pick out what exactly they were saying.

“I don’t wanna see that bastard’s face again!”

“He’s obviously some deranged maniac drainer! I don’t know how nobody noticed!”

“He scared Luckett half to death!”

He saw Rachel arguing with some of them. He couldn’t quite hear her but he could only assume that she was talking about how Hyde couldn’t hurt a fly. Nobody seemed to be having it. She was being opposed by the entire room. Poor Jasper didn’t know what to do with himself and was fiddling with his own hands behind Rachel, not wishing to intervene and antagonise himself.

He had no idea when Lanyon had arrived, but he almost fell over in shock as an unexpected attempt at a friendly hand was placed on his shoulder and the man in question had appeared at his side.

“Next order of - good lord Henry you’re so jittery today - next order of business is we solve this… childish rebellion that’s been going on. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. They already hate me and the last thing we need is them hating you too.”

“While they’re panicking over this mess? They won’t listen to a thing in this state!”

Lanyon’s face darkened, “Well I don’t know about you Henry but I am furious. Much like the lodgers, I won’t listen to a thing in this state! Right now I’m about to go tell a room of overgrown toddlers off for refusing to take part in the event that’s keeping a roof over their heads!”

“Wait, Robert-“ He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Lanyon stormed off to do exactly as he said he would.

When did it all go so wrong?

#vampire au #tgs #fanfiction #galaxywrites #henry jekyll #robert lanyon #sergeant brokenshire #the lodgers #the glass scientists

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arashikitten · 4 years

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The Glass Scientists Avengers au pt 2

So I decided to do a part two for this au, because I have more ideas dammit!

Rachel Pidgley as MJ: Both are formidable opponents in spite of how unassuming they might be, may appear to be aloof on the outside but do have a soft spot, can be off putting to some people due to odd habits, will stare a murderer in the eye with no fear in their heart, awkward with their crushes but will try to hide it, great at deductive logic, has a crush on a soft shy nerd boi with animal like abilities.

Frankenstein’s monster as the winter soldier/Bucky Barnes- This one might seem odd but hear me out. Both are the results of illegal experiments concerning the human body, both were thought to have been dead in the arctic, both have a complicated relationship with the idealistic stubborn paragon, both tend to be quiet, but when they talk you listen, both look dark and terrifying, both are very strong, both stick with the idealistic paragon idiot because they’ve known each other for so long and they’re pretty much all each other have left, used to be a killer and now just wants to be left alone, really smart as well, trying to keep paragon idiot from doing dumb shit.

Sergeant Brokenshire as Everett Ross: Highly suspicious of rich genius philanthropist and their group of odd balls, sees what rich genius is trying to do as something that is a danger to society, tries to butt in on issues that are way out of their understanding, can be underhanded when they want to, refuses to see how their decisions negatively affect people, sees people who are out of the norm as dangerous, tries to arrest those people on numerous occasions, arrests first asks questions later, rigid in their ways, affiliated with some form of government justice.

Edward Hyde as Ultron: This one actually took me awhile, but it does sort of fit. Both were made by rich genius scientists in a misguided attempt to help humanity, both ended up going rouge and becoming criminals, both are very elusive and hard to truly capture, leave wanton destruction wherever they go, can be very petulant and snarky when needed, constantly remind genius billionaire philanthropist of their issues and failures, also serve as the dark reflection of genius billionaire philanthropist, can be very manipulative and cruel, thinks they’re the shit, tend to really fuck up because of that.

Let me know if y’all want more!

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edwarddhyde · 7 years

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MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED

#the glass scientists #arythusa #tgs #tgs memes #henry jekyll #edward hyde #robert lanyon #jasper kaylock #rachel pidgley #enoch brokenshire #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #jekyll and hyde #THANK FUCKING GOD #THEY’RE FREE BUT NOW I’M SCARED BECAUSE HYDE IS SURPRISINGLY CALM ABOUT THIS DEVELOPMENT #AND THEY’RE GONNA HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS LIKE SOON SO 👀#THOUGH I THINK LANYON’S GONNA BE REAL HAPPY WITH HENRY FOR DOING THIS

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jeks-tgs · 4 years

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Keep Quiet - 1: Unfortunate Company

Robert sighed as he stepped out of the coach, pausing a moment to help his wife down, before approaching the Society reluctantly. The crowd was smaller today, and Brokenshire had at least managed to keep a path clear, but the constant yelling wasn't getting any better. Ever since those creatures had been spotted closer and closer to cities and towns, the general public had been scrambling for a scapegoat, and mad science seemed to be the majority vote. Still, he was a Lanyon, and he held his head high even as insults and threats alike were hurled at him.

"Chin up, Robert," His father hissed at him, and he lifted it even higher with a slight glare at the older man. It lacked it's usual venom; ever since the man had started accompanying him to the Society, they had begrudgingly started actually talking to one another. The only good thing brought about by all these accusations and fear-mongering was the lack of fighting during family visits.

"God, the nerve of those people!" Lisa huffed as she took her hat off, hanging it by the doors. "As if a group of scientists in London could have had anything to do with what's going on! It started in Wales, for God's sake!" Robert nodded in agreement, his father merely letting out an equally annoyed sniff.

"I honestly don't understand what the fuss is about," Hastie said as he hung up his coat. "We have bloody werewolves in London, and from what I've heard, those pests from the woods are easy to kill. There haven't been any more reports from Wales since last month. Clearly, they've handled it on their own." A sudden noise caught their attention, and the three Lanyons looked over to spot a familiar terrier rushing towards them, claws clicking on the marble. Lisa grinned, crouching down and allowing the little church grim to clamber into her lap, laughing as he licked at her face.

"What, no kisses for me?" Lisa rolled her eyes as Emma pouted at her, holding her arm out to bring the blonde into a hug, kissing her cheek. Hastie shifted a bit, still a tad confused by his son and his wife's relationship dynamic with the Jekylls, but he wasn't one to turn on his family and get them arrested for something as simple as love. He watched idly as Zosi rushed around Lisa's feet, lifting his little paws as if to say 'down here!!' It was quite adorable, and, ever the sucker for dogs, Hastie knelt down and gave the little scamp some attention.

He stood up, following his son, his daughter-in-law, and one of their lovers to the office of their other partner, biting back a laugh at the sight inside. Henry Jekyll, the founder of the Society, one of the most brilliant minds in London, was currently standing on one foot with a wine glass raised high above his head. Clinging to his lifted leg was a scraggly kitten with only one eye, peeping irritably at being denied the alcoholic beverage.

"Lithium! No! You can't have wine!" The Scot desperately tried to reason with the six ounce ball of black fur, but Lithium was having none of it, and kept trying to climb higher. Finally taking pity on him, Emma strode forward and scooped up the angry little thing, the black cat still meowing squeakily. "Thank you, darling. She's getting to be far more bold in her demands." Emma shook her head with a laugh, holding the irritable kitten to her chest.

"Reminds me of a certain blond urchin," Robert teased playfully, and Henry shot him a grumpy scowl. They all found their places to sit, Lisa and Emma chatting and leaning on one another as their husbands bustled about working on papers and signing things. Hastie busied himself with going through some of the more recent death threats targeted at the Society, chuckling occasionally at the outlandish claims. He paused for a moment, squinting at the paper.

"Robert, this letter says here that your little organization is to blame for.. 'the mist'?" He asked with a huff of amusement. "What, does your lot control the weather now?" Robert made a disgruntled face, letting out a flat, "Ah, 'the mist'. It rolled through Wales a month ago, around the same time they must have figured out their mess. Of course, those bastards out there are all taking it to be some sort of omen, and blaming us for it." The Lanyons shook their heads, exasperated, and Emma rolled her eyes as she started picking through the letters as well.

"Oh, this one's rich!" She giggled, holding up a letter.

"Um.. hey..?" Henry's voice held a note of concern to it, but he was ignored in favour of the gossip.

"They say Henry is a madman and Robert is some demon from hell, and that they've both dragged Lisa and I into a pact with satan!"

"Everyone.. t-there's, um.."

"Ha! Read this one, Ems," Lisa held up another letter, eyes twinkling.

"There's-"

"Ah, now we're succubi dragging two honest men into sin? Goodness, we seem to switch our roles in these tales frequently!" Emma laughed. "Talk about inconsistency."

"J-Jesus!!"

The sound of Henry staggering back into his desk quickly caught their attention, and they all fell into an uneasy silence. Outside the large windows in Henry's office, the world was obscured by a dull cloud, though no water droplets formed on the window.

"S-Something ran past.." Henry whispered into the tense quiet of the room. "Something big..." Lisa grabbed Emma's hand tight, but before she could reassure her, they heard a commotion outside the doors. Henry rushed to poke his head out, letting out an alarmed sound before hurrying into the chaos that was now his entrance hall. "Everyone, please! Calm down!" He fruitlessly tried to enforce peace, but those who had run in from the outside were too busy demanding explanations. Henry stepped back, fearful that the agitated crowd might advance on him.

"Alright, what the hell is going on!?" Robert demanded, moving to stand in front of Henry. "Why are you in our building? I thought a majority of you swore you'd die before stepping foot in here? Well?" There was a brief moment of silence, before a young woman with a baby in her arms called out, "I-I was just passing by, sir, when the mist rolled in.. I.. I h-heard something awful out there.. people screaming.. I saw everyone rushing into the nearest buildings, a-and this one was the closest to me." Robert's expression softened, then furrowed in concern as he began taking note of how many people with children were present. He swore under his breath, then motioned Rachel over.

"Right, those with children, infants, or pregnant, please follow Ms. Rachel to the kitchens. If you need anything, let her know," He watched as people moved to group up with the cook, and Henry couldn't help but marvel at Robert's natural leadership. "Those with ailments, the elderly, and injured, Ms. Lavender will take you to the infirmary." Lavender rushed over, having been watching the chaos from around a corner, and began leading her group to the appropriate rooms, slightly larger than Rachel's. That left a majority in the main hall. "Now, calmly, explain what you know of the situation. And before anyone decides to theow accusations, we here at the Society are not responsible for this. Yes, you sir?"

"There's something in the mist," A middle-aged gentleman explained. "I heard it. Caught a few glimpses, but it's hard to see out there. Could barely see the folks around me." The others murmured their agreements and own confirmations of spotting something in the mist.

"Alright. There's something in the mist," Robert swallowed, voice tinged with worry. "Is it dangerous, or just frightening? Did it harm anyone?"

"I heard screaming," A woman said shakily. "Not normal screaming, it was dreadful. It.. i-it sounded like someone was being torn apart out there." This sent a burst of renewed panic through the crowd until Robert shouted for their attention.

"Okay. So, we know there's something in the mist, and that it is potentially deadly," He began to pace, thinking. "Alright, everyone away from the doors and windows. Henry, fetch the Lodgers, tell them to start covering and blocking all outside doors and windows. Emma, Lisa, help me with getting these people into rooms. Father, you've still got—"

"My revolver, yes," Hastie nodded, lifting his vest enough to show the handle. "I'll start looking for more weapons, I take it?"

"Yes, we need to be able to defend ourselves incase anything gets in."

They all split off to managed their own tasks, and Robert couldn't help but worry as he took in the amount of angry signs and aggravated faces amongst the people they were soon to be locked in with.

#tgs #tgs au #mist au #horror au #this is gonna be a combination of creature-based horror films #it's MY mist and I get to decide what's lurking within it #horror #angst #this will get bloody and sad #just a heads up #Mod Jeks #Jeks do a write

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marycomix · 5 years

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|”Ready as I’ll ever be” X The Glass Scientists|

I don't know how many of you know "Ready as I'll ever be" from Tangled (the serie). Well I know mostly the songs,I tought that this song could fit very well in an animation of The Glass Scientists! @arythusa / @glass-scientists

I imagined:

Jekyll: as Varian at the start of the song Hyde: as Varian at the end of the song rachel: as Rapunzel Jasper (in his werewolf form): as Rapunzel's dad (the king) Frankenstein: as Rapunzel's mom (The queen) Brokenshire: as the captain of the guard Lanyon: as Eugene Lucy: as Cassandra Obviously we’re talking about the places that the characters could take in the song.

#tgs #tumblog #the glass scientists #glass-scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #tgs jasper #tgs rachel #jekyll and hyde #tgs frankenstein #arythusa

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afanoftheglassscientists · 5 years

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The Glass Scientists Art-Style Changes

Hey yeah sorry but I saw someone complain about how the webcomic’s art style is jarring in the later chapters and that the noses are bad because they’re big and I’m back in full salt mode WHO WANTS SOME TEA!?

@glass-scientists your art-style has only gotten more beautiful as the webcomic continues and you work extremely hard on the comic by yourself and I am amazed you kept working on this for more than four years now while in a career and I hope you’ll be able to do so for the foreseeable future. When I comment on how your art changed please know that I’m not doing it to critique you. Okay you don’t have to read more of this I just wanted to be the 156th person to let you know you’re doing great.

ONE - The noses have always been prominent on the characters’ art design and having a big noses does not automatically make it look ugly. Admittedly there are artists out there who draw very ugly noses for very ugly reasons, but Sabrina Cotugno is not and never has been one of those types of artists. Yes, Jekyll’s nose is bigger, but is not the end-all, be-all take from his design changes.

Here’s him from Ch.1 Pg. 15.

And here’s him from Ch.7 Pg. 22

(And no, I do not know why the latter two picture are bigger.)

As you can see, the nose in the earlier chapters looks smaller, but Jekyll’s face is also a lot more...soft? Like think of ceramic pieces. You start out with soft clay and you mold it into the shape you want (but don’t forget to wedge don’t want it to explode in the oven) but then after the clay firms up a little you’re ready to carve it and give it a more pronounced form. That’s what happened in the later chapters: Jekyll’s nose, the shape of his jawline, his sideburns, hair and even his eyebrows has become sharper and more distinct. His nose isn’t just an attachment like a Mister Potato Head, its a part of him. To give him a smaller nose would mean changing his whole character profile.

TWO - Like Clay, Art Changes. Admittedly I was taken aback by the change in the comic’s art-style as well, but that will happen to literally any long-form manga or comic. Unless you’ve been doing comics for literal decades your art is going to change, because you’re going to change, and what you want from your art and the characters you create are going to change. Look at Bluechair by Shen on WEBTOON: while his artstyle has solidified these past few years his earlier comics are unrecognizable, because he’s been working on his Bluechairs comic for five years, often updating two or three times a week, and is currently on Episode 536 of Bluechairs, but technically he currently has 706 of them under the Bluechairs page. His comics are like the Sunday Newspaper kind of comics, so I’m not asking you to read his stuff starting from the beginning (in fact please don’t try to read it all at once: his early stuff is pretty good but let me remind you he has SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIX COMICS OF STUFF) but maybe read a couple of them from the beginning and then read some of his latest ones.

So yeah, its not unexpected from comics to change in style, either slowly due to how the artists gains a more experienced hand or by an intentional shift in art direction. Sabrina was in the latter camp, due to the fact that she felt the earlier character designs was too much like a Disney Princess Line-Up, which she mentioned in a page description that I cannot find but I know was real.

Honestly I really do like the more recent pages. I disagree that they’re less vibrant, because I think removing the high glossy sheen made the characters even more distinct from each other. Before the shift in artstyle I felt like everyone was getting the same brand of hair gel. Hot take coming, but the character who most benefits from this shift is Rachel, who’s been looking gorgeous these last few chapters.

THREE - Sabrina Cotugno has been working this story, these characters and the art of this webcomic mainly by herself, while still working a job as a cartoon director for multiple shows and is currently working on a project for Disney. She does not have a lot of time on her hands to fix mistakes and asking her to change things or give her “Advice” on her art is...I won’t say unwanted because that’s up to her as to whether or not she’d use that language, but I will say she probably doesn’t need your advice on how to draw art when she has already worked in professional spaces as a storyboard artist AND as a director.

Plus I’m going to be upfront here, and this is going to sound harsh: Do not fucking nitpick and tear apart content made independently unless warranted by offensive language or imagery, because not only is it unhelpful it is just plain mean. Yes, Sabrina has worked on shows before, but The Glass Scientists is not made by a group of people working together, with producers and press and editors to back them up. This is entirely her work. She is spending her own free time making this. This webcomic is hours, days, weeks, years in the making, in the wake of hot days, sickness, travelling, other deadlines and dying plants.

And to turn around and say “Oh the way you do the art now isn’t as good?” Fuck off with that. I’m not Sabrina, so I get to be mean here - You are allowed to admit you dislike these changes, but sending the artist messages directly telling them of your dislikes is an absolute garbage thing to do. Especially when you yourself are not an artist.

Like Sergeant Brokenshire has a beard in one panel but loses it in the next few pages. Cue the Cinema Sins ding noise I guess. Okay, that happens sometimes, she doesn’t have an editor to correct. Am I going to directly send her messages letting her know she did her webcomic wrong? Fuck no. She probably has been sent hundreds of “helpful” messages about it already, and guess what? She doesn’t have the time to correct every mistake because she has a job.

Of course if Sabrina or any independent artist does something horrifically offensive or even just something that makes you uncomfortable you are absolutely allowed to air your grievances. But so far Sabrina has been good so I’ve got nothing to complain about, and the asks she gets that do have issues with the webcomic she answers with grace.

So basically this wandered completely off from the nose discussion and into the ethics of fandoms for independently made webcomics, but anyway long story short.

The Glass Scientists is not yours and its not mine. It belongs to Sabrina Cotugno, and its hers to change how she sees fit. Get over that and enjoy the webcomic as it is and you’ll have a much better experience.

Sorry to sound preachy there. I’m not trying to act like the Fandom Police and I’m not trying to fight Sabrina’s battles for her. I just see a lot of bad fucking behavior toward other independent artists and I don’t want to see it here. I have been that anon who “critiques” or gives “helpful” advice to artists who had far more experience than me, so its not like I’m pretending to be above it all here. I’ve buried many a blogs because of my shameful past.

Most of this Fandom has been wonderful. Let’s keep it that way while it lasts.

Anyway that espresso really did a number on me. I’m about to crash and I’m getting the awful sense of deja-vu here. Sorry for being so salty on Fandom lately, I won’t do it again unless I see some real trouble. This has accidentally become a Midnight Post, so go to bed!

...Oh wait one more thing: PLEASE DON’T REPOST FULL PAGES OF THE WEBCOMIC!!! Access to the official page is not hard and despite a few hiccups (which is not Sabrina’s fault but the webpage itself) we have been able to see all of the webcomic. There is no need to repost the whole page and on Sabrina’s FAQ she specifically asked people not do this. If you want to read each new page and don’t want to refresh the website twenty time on Monday morning you can always follow her twitter or her blog “arythusa” where she posts a link to each new page after it uploads. In fact starting tomorrow I’ll be sure to reblog these posts to make sure you have a link available to click.

Okay now good night.

#tgs #the glass scientists

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spirit0flondonatnight · 3 months

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Jekshire is one of those ships where I wouldn't want it to be canon... but I really enjoy the fan content of it like

#the glass scientists #tgs #tgs jekyll #tgs brokenshire #jekshire

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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Do you perhaps have some Jekshire thoughts you could share? I cannot get enough of this unfortunately very niche ship.

Hehe hehehe heheheheehhehe hehehhe heh <3

I... Might have gone a bit off board with this but hehe... Somehow this ended up being mostly about how they got together and the beginning of their relationship but??? eh <3

While Henry hadn't really realized his bisexuality until he met Robert and immediately felt ashamed by it, Enoch had always had a hum about his bisexuality. Except, of course, he chalked it up to him and his pals just being bros. Just pals being dudes. Lads being guys. Nothing unusual with that. Although when he did realize that maybe he thought guys looked... Ahem, better than most other guys would think, he just shrugged it off and didn’t give a single shit about it, though <3

Enoch was one of the first persons that Henry saw when he entered London for the first time; Enoch was an officer-in-training patrolling the London borders with his higher-ups, and Henry was an eager student about to make his way straight to the University campus. They shared a short glance and Enoch couldn't help but feel like Henry was awfully cute, although he didn't even catch those thoughts himself.

It's no secret that Henry-- as a young, successful doctor, bachelor, and just generally a good and attractive person-- has a lot of people that has a crush on him, yet he doesn't notice that himself. He catches people's heart like they are flies flocking to his light, Enoch was no different, although it took a handful of more encounters with him in their latter years for him to realize that. Henry remained blissfully unaware.

Enoch has always been good at hiding his emotions and keeping them away from his workplace, but when he came back from a patrol after just having ran into Dr. Jekyll and shared a brief chat with him, it was not hard for the other officers to notice that something was... Hm, unusual with Brokenshire that day.

It took only a handful of more solo patrols and Enoch coming back like he had just gotten a red-faced spring allergy with soft grumbling for Jenkins and Wipple realize he kept meeting an object of his affections. Cue a lot of teasing. Cue a lot of protests from Brokenshire. Cue a lot of drunkenly getting his feelings out to his friends by simply making it seem like Henry is a married woman that Enoch accidentally had fallen for. Cue a lot of sympathy and even more teasing.

So if he suddenly had a lot of solo patrols by the Society, then he would just say it was his sheer luck.

He ends up accidentally running into Henry a lot. Henry always seems pleasantly delighted and surprised. Enoch can never really help but feel extremely giddy about it.

They never really formally became friends until they both attended an event held by the commissioner. Both being close friends to their mutual associate, the two of them ended up running into each other again quite quickly.

Or more like, Henry saw Brokenshire standing in a corner, dressed in his finest (and only) formal suit while sipping wine. It had taken exactly half a moment for Henry to completely abandon whatever friends he had been chatting up to make his way over to the lonely sergeant. A sergeant who very much tried to hide his blush and fluster while trying to not choke on his wine.

They ended up casually talking for the first time during that event, they both learned a lot about each other-- Henry often spoke of Glasgow with Brokenshire, who’s family had immigrated from Edinburgh to London before he was born.

While they started casually talking during the event, they soon began to spend more time together. Enoch quickly learned that Henry’s reputation of being someone who very much will talk someone’s ears off wasn’t an overstatement, yet he found it quite endearing. Soon Enoch would find himself accompanied by the doctor during his lonely patrols in Westminster, and soon Henry found himself getting escorted to his meetings by a particularly bored sergeant who always seemed to catch him at the right time.

It really did not take long for Enoch to realize why the commissioner was so fond of Henry, and it really did not take long for his sudden crush on the other man to get a bit overwhelming.

Henry, meanwhile, had been too caught up with the actual events of TGS to fully notice his own growing fondness for the sergeant. Or more like, he saw the signs but refused to confront them in fear of repeating what happened to him and Robert... And, well, falling for a police officer who wants another part of him dead.

That plan went straight to hell. Henry soon caught himself following the sergeant like an affectionate puppy, and his little love-sickness was quickly noticed by a handful of Lodgers who desperately wanted to know who had managed to get suck a reaction out of him. The fact that Henry was suddenly spending more and more time with Enoch seemed to go completely unnoticed by everyone.

Neither of them really realized their feelings for each other until Brokenshire found Henry stumbling down the street one night; his body was beaten and bruised, his clothes were torn, and he had just managed to escape a nasty bar-fight that Hyde had gotten him into. It was just his luck that he had managed to escape enough to get some HJ7 into him. Enoch had decided that the Society or the hospital were both too far away, so he took him into the station instead. Yet he merely told the other officers to find the offenders while he patched up Henry.

It was certainly unprofessional of him to place Henry down on his own chair in his office before gently placing the palm of his coarse hand on the other’s cheek as he began to clean the wounds and the dried blood from the nosebleed, and yet neither could say that they minded. Something about having Enoch’s large hand on his sensitive face made Henry melt into the touch, something about seeing Henry’s eyes flutter close at the careful touches got Enoch’s heart beating faster and faster.

Henry had been... Quite out of it, so to speak. Enoch had not known if it was because he was horribly drunk or had suffered a nasty hit to the head, but as he carefully began to question him about what had happened, the way Henry would almost grin and tilt his head upwards (almost as if he was proud of it) got a completely unnecessary blush to reach Enoch’s cheeks.

Enoch helped Henry back to the Society, and yet he could not keep himself from visiting the next morning. “Just to make sure he is fine”, he had told himself. Well, the Lodgers did not believe that, and poor hangover Henry woke up to the sound of a lot of yelling from the foyer. The Lodgers were too busy trying to shoo the sergeant (who was off-duty, mind you) to notice the doctor. Enoch noticed him immediately and yet he hated how his heartbeat began to pick up again.

It all ended up with Henry inviting Enoch into his office for a bit of tea... Which, in itself, ended up with the two of them sitting closer to each other than probably should have been socially acceptable. Neither could deny that it probably wasn’t the steaming tea that warmed them up, neither could deny that their companion was looking too good for their own good in that soft morning light.

Henry was too hungover to really think straight, soon they ended up gazing at each other and neither could look away. Suddenly Henry felt himself coming closer, he heard how Brokenshire’s breath hitched, yet neither pulled away. They noses brushed together, both knew that they should probably pull away, and neither did. In the end, it was Enoch who placed his hand on Henry’s cheek and closed the distance between them.

Enoch and Henry didn’t leave the office for hours. Both could consider themselves lucky that Enoch had a day off and Henry had nothing scheduled.

Ahaha anyways time for some actual hcs about this ship.

Enoch is very protective of Henry. Like, stupidly protective, and yet he always makes sure that he never overwhelm Henry with it. He just worries a lot for his lover and especially since he knows what a cruel world they live in and how terrible Henry is at taking care of and loving himself. Henry thinks it’s quite sweet, especially just because he thinks it’s nice to have a lover who actually cares about him.

Both Enoch and Henry love dogs. Enoch does not bat an eye at church grims. Rachel had to physically restrain both of them from adopting an entire graveyard filled with church grims after many of the smaller churches in London were destroyed to make way for new apartments.

Cuddles. SO much cuddles. Neither are big at PDA or physical affection otherwise but jesus christ so many cuddles. It goes to the point where neither can sleep without the other, so Henry has to constantly sneak out of the Society (or his own house) to get to Enoch’s apartment since he doesn’t want to risk his servants or the Lodgers getting suspicious. Enoch always waits for him with a cup of peppermint tea for him when he comes by during the night.

Henry has a thing for men in uniform. That’s it. That’s the post /hj.

Enoch is the only person that Henry feels comfortable actually slipping into his Scottish accent with. He doesn’t try to stop it when he is incredibly tired or incredibly drunk because in the end, it wasn’t like Enoch didn’t have a thick accent all the time.

Surprisingly, Enoch is the one that has to patch Henry up a lot. For being a doctor, he really has no idea how to take care of himself or how to deem a wound serious enough to treat, or potions dangerous enough to not test on himself. Enoch always patches him up and Henry always melts into his hands like an ice-cube by a candle. By the rare instances that Enoch does get hurt while on duty, he loves watching Henry fretting over him.

(Plus, he can freely demand as many kisses as he wants when he is bedridden because Henry can’t complain about it).

They are the same height-- or Enoch is slightly taller, but Henry wears heeled shoes so they don’t really notice until Henry takes the shoes off and suddenly he feels like Enoch became a goddamn tree. Enoch loves those moments more than he could possibly describe.

Enoch manhandles Henry a lot. He stays up late and refuses to go to bed? Enoch throws him over his shoulder and takes him to bed. Henry is teasing him or they are play fighting? Henry squeals as he suddenly get picked up bridal style. Enoch is incredibly strong and Henry weighs like... Nothing. Plus, his squeals are incredibly endearing.

Sometimes Enoch will wake up in the morning only to see Henry already awake playing with Ralphie and Zosi, and sometimes Enoch will swear that Henry only started dating him to steal his dog.

(Henry will only partially deny that).

Wipple and Jenkins once went on a surprise visit to Enoch’s apartment, having gotten a spare key each “for emergencies” (or more like for whenever they feel like annoying their friend). The first thing they saw was Henry and Enoch cuddled up on the couch. Enoch politely told them to get out of his apartment and not speak of this. For once, Wipple and Jenkins kept to that promise (although they did tease him a lot afterwards but hell, if their friend is just going to around dating a man like that it sure as hell should be someone they like as much as Dr. Jekyll).

Somehow, they managed to keep their relationships quite a well-kept secret for many, many years. People only started to get suspicious when both the doctor and the sergeant conveniently retired at the same time and moved out of London. They took their pick-pack and moved into a manor at the outskirts of Edinburgh, forgetting their past life in London. They still kept in touch with their old friends, however, who often came to their home on vacation during the summers.

Just let me have Enoch becoming a grumpy old gay and Henry the tired old gay and just let me have them be happy pls <3

Oohoohohh. Give me tired old Enoch and Henry-- both with grey hair and wrinkled faces-- finding a young orphan on the streets when they are buying the groceries. Give me 60/70+ year old Enoch and Henry becoming dads <3<3<3

#hehe i spent. My entire morning almost writing this. its 2pm #well to be fair i did have classes inbetween writing this but <3 #ask #aimless--photography #tgs #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs henry jekyll #tgs brokenshire #tgs sergeant brokenshire #the glass scientists jekyll #the glass scientists henry jekyll #the glass scientists brokenshire #the glass scientists sergeant brokenshire #tgs jekshire #the glass scientists jekshire

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an-army-of-nightmares · 3 years

Note

I just realized something- and im sending this to your blog because I'm now crowning you the President of the Jekshire ship bc you are basically the only one talking about it- Remember the edit you made of Brokenshire without his beard? Im the anon who apparently inspired you to do the full shave edit, and now im curious... if Jekyll and brokenshire were together, how would Jekyll react to that? Even better, if they weren't together, how would Jekyll react? Would that be the moment he realizes he is in love with Brokenshire because everyone keeps shit talking the shave and he doesn't really care for it???? yes, this is random, but just... Yes.

(For anyone new, jekshire spawned from 1 (one) fanfic. And I've always headcanoned him as like 37-38 [which is funny because I later learned Lanyon is canonically 38 and I originally has Brokenshire younger then him XD]

-----

I remember it yes, here's a refresher in case anyone forgot <3

Hm I'm not sure, tbh I'm probably the worst person to ask because I always insult family members if they shave their beard XD

I'm willing to think the only reason Brokenshire would ever shave anything would be because he lost a bet, or it got set on fire in a accident or something

So I'm thinking a scene where Jekyll notices a shaved Brokenshire, doesn't immediately insult or laugh and asks him why he shaved it, in which a sulking Brokenshire responds that he didn't want to, and que a cute lil trip to the society where Jekyll grabs him a potion to help it grow back faster

#ask #jekshire #tgs jekshire #my edit #tgs brokenshire #tgs #the glass scientists #yeah like p much all jekshire things ive posted were untagged or in a reblog. so only my dedicated followers have seen it which is fun #tagging it now tho #*adds this to the oneshot requests list* ban'll like this

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authorloremipsum · 7 years

Text

Profoundly Unprofessional

A “The Glass Scientists” fanfiction

Words - 3478

Characters - Sergeant Brokenshire, Dr. Jekyll, Mrs. Cantilupe, Ms. Lavender, mothman

Summary - Sergeant Brokenshire realizes that he and his men have encountered something, curious, and goes to the one place where he knows they might get some help. In the process, he glimpses a side of Doctor Jekyll he didn’t know existed.

Inspired by and written for @zolotaya-orda

Sergeant Brokenshire saw a lot of strange things in his time working in London, monsters rampaging in the streets, houses destroyed by extraordinary circumstances, and murders more horrific than anything that could be dreamed up in the minds of men. Thank goodness all those kinds of events were few and far between, otherwise one would probably lose their mind. However, the fact of the matter was that these things did happen and that made every day a luck of the draw as to what mad event was going to happen.

This week had started with the discovery of a thieves’ den near the outskirts of Soho, and after months of looking for these burglars, they’d finally been lead right to the source. It went well though, plenty of arrests and only a few of the suspects getting away, but there had to be a catch. When they moved to enter the basement, something was waiting, and it scratched a sleeve of of poor Wipple’s coat!

The man was fine of course, if a bit spooked, but the officers assembled had a unanimous agreement. Whatever was down there was not something they could deal with, and it didn’t help that they’d released it into the rest of the house running from the cellar. They’d need someone to catch it.

And, unfortunately, Brokenshire knew precisely where to find such a person.

In truth he had no qualms with the Society of Arcane Sciences, mostly a high level of suspicion for most of their “activities” and a few of their Lodgers. The Sinnett fellow, as shy and polite as he seemed, had caused quite a bit of trouble in the past, same for that man Luckett and his stupid hat. But that didn’t make them bad people necessarily, just incredibly odd.

Of course it started raining as he climbed the few steps to the front door, knocking politely but firmly. When a moment passed and no one answered, he rung the doorbell, impatiently folding his arms against the cold, glad the overhang shielded him from the cold drizzle. There was the sound of a lock sliding and one of the doors was pulled open, revealing a young woman with ash, was it ash? All over her face.

Brokenshire frowned, “Madam, I’m looking-”

“For Doctor Jekyll,” they said, frowning a little. “What’s happened?”

“I, seek his assistance,” the sergeant said, well, admitted really. The woman nodded slowly and pulled open the door, “You’re probably freezing out there, it’s warmer inside.” He stared at them a moment, only then realizing he was being invited inside.

With a bit of apprehension, he stepped through the door and it shut behind him with a click. It smelled a bit like smoke in here, but also like cinnamon and peppermint, and odd combination that wasn’t actually pleasant to smell. Brokenshire fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at it as the woman passed by, hurrying towards a room he could see with the door wide open. A familiar ginger-haired man with only one hand was on the landing outside, fanning his face and coughing.

As the woman neared he called down: “Maybe we should start with a simpler base?”

“I think so!” they answered, climbing the stairs. The man glanced up towards Brokenshire, went pale, and darted back into the smoke-filled room, clearly intimidated by the presence of an officer.

And so Brokenshire had been left there in the lobby, lit with the grey light drifting through the skylights overhead, dripping cold water, only the slightest bit nervous about the strange things that took up the lobby. Ahead, the large double doors were pushed open and the exact scientist Brokenshire had come to find stepped out with a book in hand, reading.

He caught sight of the guest, closed the book, and hurried over. “Why, Sergeant Brokenshire! What brings you to our humble Society? I do hope nothing has happened.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered, shaking with Jekyll upon his approach. “In fact I, and I don’t want to impose, but we found something curious in a thieves’ den that seemed to er, fit some of your Lodgers’... Expertise.”

Jekyll frowned a little, folding his arms and tilting his head curiously, “Your tone implies it is some sort of animal, I do hope no one was injured.”

“Constable Wipple was scratched, but it’s nothing serious, we were lucky no one else got hurt.”

“And it’s entirely possible that scratch could be far worse than we know, some creatures are known to spread diseases in such a manner, it was wise of you to come for our help,” Jekyll said, putting a gloved hand to his chin in thought, the other tucked behind his back. He gasped, “Oh! You must be frozen to the bone! Can I take your coat?”

“As much as I appreciate it, I think we have more pressing matters than my coat,” Brokenshire deadpanned. Jekyll nodded, “Of course, please follow me, I know precisely who can help with your situation.”

“Thank you doctor.” Brokenshire took a moment to shake his cloak free of any clinging raindrops before following Jekyll into the Society. He’d seen the lobby many times before, but never the interior corridors which seemed to branch in many impossible directions as they walked. If he wasn’t with the doctor, he certainly would’ve been lost in no time!

After a minute or so of peaceful walking, Jekyll began to speak again. “We’ve two zoologists on our roster. Mrs. Cantilupe, senior extremofaunic zoologist, and Ms. Lavender, her pupil.”

“Extremofaunic, implying monsters,” the sergeant said, watching Jekyll with a small frown. “You aren’t keeping a lab full of monsters are you Jekyll?”

The doctor chuckled, “Certainly not! And even if we were, I have the utmost trust in those two to keep it under control. They’ve tamed some very ferocious creatures, and I have no doubt you will be at least somewhat impressed by the creatures they’ve got.”

“Then you admit they are out of the ordinary?”

“Of course! What about the Society would you call ordinary Sergeant?” He chuckled again and Brokenshire couldn’t help but frown, furrowing his brow a little bit. Eventually they came to a heavy looking door that Jekyll had to use his whole weight to open and keep open. The sounds of animal cries, which had been quiet before, rose to a crescendo and Brokenshire was hesitant to walk in.

Not that he’d let that show on his face, especially in front of Jekyll who was someone he definitely needed to keep intimidated. If this doctor who clearly knew more than he let on about thought he had an upper hand on the police, he might try to do something more drastic than taking criminals and monsters under his wing. So Brokenshire shelved his anxieties and strode into the lab.

Only for there to be a shriek like a banshee to his left that caused him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Mrs. Cantilupe?” called Jekyll as he shut the door and walked into the lab, sounding only the slightest bit unnerved. Oh, oh he was good, how many other things could he hide behind that porcelain facade? “Ms. Lavender? Are you in? Sergeant Brokenshire is in need of your help with a pest in, oh where did you say you found it?”

“Soho, in a house where a number of Jewel thieves had been hiding,” he answered, suddenly distracted by a snake watching him from a cross hatched cage nearby. Its scales seemed to change colors and he squinted, stepping closer to get a better look. Canvas suddenly dropped over the cage, obscuring his view, and he looked up to see a young woman with dark hair and glasses grinning at him while leaning over the stack of cages and crates.

“Careful Sergeant, Chroma here normally hypnotizes prey with that little trick you just saw,” she said, patting the cage and giggling at the resulting hiss from inside. She climbed down and walked around to meet them, “Soho you said?”

“And you are Mrs. Cantilupe I presume?” Brokenshire asked, gesturing to her. The woman blinked and laughed, “Oh no! I’m Lavender, her student, Mrs. C should be around here somewhere.”

“GANGWAY!!” shouts a voice, accompanied by a rumbling sound. They all looked down the alley of cages to see a very fat lizard with a colorful frill charge around the corner, scrambling towards the door behind them. (thankfully shut)

It didn’t seem to care there were people in the way and ran at them, claws scratching on the wood floor as it barreled past, massive tail swishing side to side and knocking into things as it ran. An older woman skid around the corner barely a second after it, a rope with a loop on the end in hand. She let out a war cry and gave chase, practically shoving Brokenshire aside as she lunged for this massive lizard.

The loop went around its neck and the woman pulled, watching it slip behind the frills and go tight, catching the creature in its tracks. She placed a foot on its back and held it in place, “You hang on now, I’ve business to attend to!” With a firm nod, she looked up at the guests and pulled down her goggles, replacing them with a pair of respectable spectacles. “Now, Doctor I see you’ve brought our good friend the sergeant and I heard something about a creature in Soho? Do tell, did it have teeth?”

“Many,” Brokenshire answered, thinking back to it. “Though, more like a beak. And it had wings and these odd things sticking up from its head. It was covered in fur and feathers, with bright red eyes. Was perfectly silent till we came down the stairs, and then it lunged at Wipple.”

“Did it bite him? Scratch him? Or did it go for the throat?” Cantilupe asked, casually tying the lizard up like a cowboy tying up a calf. Brokenshire blinked, surprised by this, before answering: “It bit him, cut right through his sleeve the poor bloke. But it ran before anyone could catch it, after chasing us out of course. Ferocious little bugger.”

“It’s not that big then?” asked Lavender, walking to help her mentor pick up the wiggling and irritated lizard. It was only then that Brokenshire realized just how bloody long that animal’s tail was.

“It was about the size of a small child, and just as angry,” he explained, earning a polite chuckle from Jekyll. Cantilupe and Lavender shared a look before the senior zoologist said: “Go get our net traps and that unfortunate mouse from a week ago.”

“For bait Missus?”

“Indeed. We’ll also need a rope and a medium cage. Oh! And make sure you grab our defensive jackets.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Defensive jacket?” Brokenshire asked, eyes going wide. Cantilupe chuckled and easily picked up the trussed up lizard, “Of course! Can’t have everyone getting injured now can we?” He stared as she strolled off, waving to them. “Do wait for us dearies, we won’t be ten minutes I promise.”

A beat passed and Brokenshire slowly turned to look at Jekyll, who smiled pleasantly after Mrs. C. When he noticed the Sergeant’s stare he said: “Yes? What’s that look for?”

“You expect them to catch this thing?” he demanded, gesturing with his hands. “They’re-”

“They best suited for this job,” Jekyll interrupted before his friends could be insulted. “Sergeant, would I lie to you? Honestly?”

Brokenshire squinted suspiciously, and did not answer, watching as Jekyll turned with a nod and strolled towards the door. He hesitated to follow, only hurrying after when something barked in a cage nearby and made him jump.

They arrived at the house in Soho a little less than half an hour later, and it was still raining. Though, doctor Jekyll was so kindly sharing an umbrella with the Sergeant as he silently opened the door to the house, allowing the Rogue Scientists entry. He’d already warned them that the creature was loose in the house, and upon arrival they received confirmation that it was still contained within the house. Every so often a horrifying shriek would come from within when one of the officers spotted it through a window and it darted away before they could get close.

Lavender and Cantilupe singlehandedly carried their gear in, and even as Brokenshire insist Doctor Jekyll wait outside, he insisted with equal confidence that it was of utmost importance he was a part of it, to act as a sort of overseer. Lavender whispered behind his back that he was just as eager to see this strange creature as she and Cantilupe were! Brokenshire had to marvel, you wouldn’t have even been able to tell!

In any case, the house was very quiet as Cantilupe and Lavender surveyed the first rooms, setting up a few traps and going to do a search of the house. Their footsteps could be heard along the floor as Jekyll and Brokenshire waited patiently in the meagerly furnished parlor. It smelled of pipe smoke and something else foul, the silence set everything on edge, and it clearly unsettled Brokenshire, for he kept a hand on his nightstick and couldn’t manage to stand still.

Jekyll, on the other hand, appeared wholly calm, writing in a small notebook without a word as he listened to the room around them.

There was a small scratching noise and he shut his book. Brokenshire visibly stiffened at the sound, grip becoming tigher on his weapon as he slowly looked towards a dark hall, the source of the sound. Out of the corner he saw Jekyll stand, placing his tophat aside and unclasping his cloak, holding it out before him like a blanket. Was he going to catch this thing as one tries to catch a stray cat?

Did he not see the wound on Constable Wipple?

The scratching sound came again and Brokenshire watched as Jekyll approached the hallway, silent as the creature he was watching for. If he was afraid, it was impossible to tell.

Well, until a creature lunged from the darkness in a black blur with red eyes and sent him stumbling back with a shout. Brokenshire stepped back in shock, watching it slam first into Jekyll’s cloak and then into the doctor himself, sending them both falling back. Though he tried to wrap it in the blanket and contain it, sharp taloned feet tore through the fancy dark fabric as it flailed and screeched.

The Sergeant stood frozen unsure what to do as it suddenly leaped from Jekyll and darted behind a sofa. The doctor rolled over onto his knees, looking a bit startled with a nasty looking scratch across his cheek, and a tiny grin tugged at his mouth. He pulled off his gloves and coat, throwing them both aside and picking up what remained of his cloak before approaching the sofa.

“Sergeant, the other side, if you would,” he asked politely, voice as charming and polite as ever, as if they weren’t after a creature that had just attacked him. Brokenshire nodded firmly, not quite sure why he was following orders, and stepped around the couch. Whatever it was hissed at him and backed away, its glowing red eyes narrowed, the strange antennae on its head bent back in anger.

Brokenshire knelt, staring at this black, feathered creature with curiosity, not noticing as Jekyll reached behind the sofa and grabbed it. With a sharp pull, he pulled it out by the leg with a horrific shriek, only managing to hold it for a second before a clearly powerful wing smacked him in the face and caused him to drop the creature in surprise.

It scrambled to its stubby, turkey-like legs and ran at Brokenshire, he gasped and raised the nightstick in defense.

Only to lower it in surprise when this small, black, fluffy thing didn’t lunge, instead darting at his feet and trying to hide behind him. It seemed to be cowering like a child behind his rain cloak, still wet from before.

Jekyll sat up and spit a single black, fluffy feather from his mouth. His clothes were covered in dust, normally neat fringe a fluffy mess, and he had multiple scratches on his arms and face. Despite this, he wore a wide grin like nothing Brokenshire had seen before, eyes sparkling. “It’s a chick!”

“This thing is a chick?” the sergeant asked, utterly dumfounded at how the child-sized animal at his feet could possible be a chick. Jekyll stood, dusting himself off, eyes wide with awe, “Look at the feathers, they’re all fluffy and only a few primaries have grown in! The beak is still soft, but sharp enough to-” he paused, as if listening to something, before chuckling and standing up a bit straighter.

And suddenly the mask was back on, or so Brokenshire noticed as Jekyll began to dust off his clothing. He had just had a glimpse of the real Henry Jekyll, and had nearly missed it in his fear of the animal that was very clearly afraid and cowering behind his legs.

“It’s, just scared, is all I meant to say,” Jekyll said coolly, smiling and gesturing slowly with his hand. “Kneel slowly, keep your hands open, and put the nightstick away.”

“I’ve dealt with frightened animals before Doctor Jekyll, I can handle it,” Brokenshire said, lifting his cloak a little and slowly kneeling to be on an equal level with this strange creature. It seemed startled, and shied away from his touch at first, but it didn’t bite or claw when he tried to smooth down its fear-fluffed feathers. In fact, after a few pets, it let out an oddly human sounding chirp noise, head tilting to the side.

It was, bloody adorable.

Of course the sergeant would never admit this, not in front of his men and especially not in front of Jekyll, who was now able to pick up the creature.

The women zoologists came running moments after the sounds of scuffle had died, and Mrs. Cantilupe let out a delighted sound upon seeing the creature in Jekyll’s arms. She and Lavender acquainted themselves with the creature, who seemed much more comfortable now that it wasn’t being chased and knew these strangers weren’t going to attack it. Its bright red eyes looked to Brokenshire though, as if it were curious

It took some coaxing, but eventually Lavender could get it into the cage they’d brought. Her mentor remarked that its feathers seemed similar to some american birds, perhaps it had been smuggled. The whole exchange had Brokenshire staring at her and at the mussed up Jekyll with a look of confusion and subtle fear.

They weren’t afraid of this thing or the prospect that strange American creatures were being smuggled into London, in fact, they seemed thrilled to meet the little devil. (What else could it be?)

Before long though, they’d loaded the boxes into a carriage, gathered their supplies, and the zoologists certified that there was nothing stranger in the house than some large mice. Brokenshire kept silent when his men asked him where the creature was being taken, because he didn’t quite know. He’d overheard the older woman, Cantilupe, remarking how she was going to send a letter to an associate in the states about him coming to take the, oh what had she called it, Noctuidae sapien?

He was going to call it a crow-child.

Jekyll sent his Lodgers on their way, watching with intrigue as the police investigation picked up where it had left off, and only after a few minutes did Brokenshire realize he wanted to speak.

His hair was still mussed from the scuffle, but the cut on his face had stopped bleeding. “Sergeant, thank you for coming to me with this, I do imagine you’ve just assisted my friends in their science quite a bit. Not every day you find a creature from the States in London after all.”

“Yes well, I didn’t want anyone getting hurt unnecessarily,” Brokenshire answered, folding his arms behind him, giving Jekyll a meaningful look. The gentleman laughed, “You mock me for my impulsivity, but I was merely following my, better judgement. Better I put myself in harm’s way than someone getting hurt on accident.”

“You knew you risked injury then?”

“Of course! No action is without risk Sergeant, it merely takes a bit of, prodding, to take that risk,” Jekyll said, nodding. And again, the mask slipped from Jekyll’s face. His smile was a little wide, his eyes held a dangerous twinkle that dared to ask: What if? And just like before, it was only for a second that he could be seen.

He donned his hat, opened his umbrella, and set off into the rain. “Good afternoon Brokenshire, perhaps I will see you again soon under better circumstances yes?”

#my writing #the glass scientists #AO3 hurry your fucking butt

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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#the first pages of tgs like:#tgs #the glass scientists #the glass scientists Brokenshire #tgs henry jekyll #tgs Brokenshire #meme #he looks very polite meme #tgs meme #jekyll and hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #the strange case #fandom meme

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

Text

A Moment Of Glory

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Chapter 7; Parva Sub Ingenti

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Chapter 8 babyyyyyyyyyyy! Oh man, the next chapters to come are not going to be fun for Henry. I also had to rewrite this chapter like... Halfway through finishing the third-to-last chapter bc I realized that this route would be better to go with <3

Also, note, in case I did not make it clear in the actual chapter: it’s a week’s timeskip between this chapter and last chapter!

Also also! Since I have written all chapters now, I would not mind to update more frequently if that would be desired! Either I can hold onto the schedule I have rn (twice a week - Wednesday and Saturday) or I can change it so I update three times a week, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday? I would very much like some opinions on how often to update!

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Wordcount: 4300

Chapter summary: Brokenshire and the Scotland Yard come to a disappointing discovery, but waste no time in following a new lead.

CW [for this chapter]: Mentions of blood, mentions of murder.

[Ao3]

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Chapters:

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [Epilogue]

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Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire, a man who so often took pride in the loyalty and hard work he put into his position in the Scotland Yard, did not like his night duty.

He sat by his lone desk, elbows placed upon the only empty space on his messy workspace that was not already occupied by paperwork. The only source of light that found itself in the dark office was a flickering flame from a tiny, half-melted candle that was placed next to him, so bravely and so obediently bringing light to the documents that had caught his sole attention. For once, it was completely quiet. Not even the normal noises from the world going on and on outside could be heard tonight; no drunkards laughing their way home from the pubs, no footsteps from late-night wanderers exploring the streets, not even the sound of other officers standing guard outside seemed to find its way into the office. Had Brokenshire not long since gotten accustomed to the eerie silence that so specifically seemed to haunt him tonight, he might have found the loneliness and the quietness a bit depressing, a bit bleak. Perhaps it was merely because he had one of the most boring, yet most important jobs tonight. Perhaps it was merely because he was waiting. Perhaps it was merely because he was alone.

Of every late-night duty he could have gotten, Brokenshire got the unfortunate luck of being stuck in his office for the evening. He could have been out wandering the corridors of this very station, maybe checking on one of the few currently held in the cells in the basements, or maybe he could have been patrolling the streets with Wipple and Jenkins like he normally did. Maybe he could have been breaking up gang fights, catching thieves, or inspecting the new shipments and arrivals by the docks and train stations in search of stolen goods, but no, he was stuck waiting for his two colleagues. A soft sigh of boredom escaped his lips, and yet he decided to occupy his time by gazing over the many documents laid upon his so often neat desk, the shiny wooden surface now hidden under dozens of chaotically sprawled papers. His eyes traveled, and yet it did not take long until his gaze was caught by a single photograph that displayed none other than Dr. Henry Jekyll, stapled to a short investigative essay about the doctor’s career in London, written and documented in hopes of getting a bit of insight about the whole case. Through the two weeks that had recently passed since his estimated disappearance, it felt like they hadn’t managed to get a single step closer to figuring out what had happened to him, who did it and where he was currently located. They could find no possible motives; after all, Dr. Jekyll was a beloved man. No one seemed to have any ideas of someone who had actively disliked him, rather than his work and connection to yet-so-stigmatized science, yet they were stuck on the single ‘suspect’ they had gotten from finding branded trinkets on the crime scene. They had interrogated practically every single person that had lived on the streets by the Society, and yet there hadn’t been a single witness, not a single trail to follow-- not even the blood that had so horrifyingly splattered upon almost every surface in the entire study had been found anywhere outside of the room, not in the corridors outside nor by the broken window. It seemed like the doctor had just disappeared in thin air, once he was, assumingly, dragged out of that window. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all and yet this wasn’t even one of the most gruesome or violent cases the Sergeant had gotten his hands on, no, but it was still so very unnerving, maybe because of the specific circumstances, maybe because it was specifically Dr. Jekyll everything was about. No matter, it was unnerving regardless and Brokenshire was going to stand by that fact, and yet he couldn’t help but let out another sigh. Another sigh among the thousands he had made just this night. Another sigh among the thousands to come.

He felt how his eyes began to roam once more, and yet they did not wander for long before they were caught by a second photograph; this one displayed the second subject of the mess of his desk, one Mr. Richard Crawford. Having found his name-engraved jewelry on the crime scene, the opposition, aggression, and hatred that Crawford harbored for the Society for Arcane Sciences had only seemed to confirm their suspicion of him as a suspect, and since there were no more suspects at all, he was currently their main lead as well, yet Brokenshire doubted that Crawford had a vendetta against Dr. Jekyll himself, rather than their two opposing beliefs and opinions. There had been a lot of theories for why Crawford would have wanted Jekyll out of the way, some including the simple fact that Jekyll was probably the only other man in all of London as popular and influential as him, some including their clashing opinions in important political and scientific questions, and yet, through their feud, it had seemed like their rivalry had been quite one-sided. Brokenshire and his team had spent the last two weeks researching both men and their rivalry and at this point, the Sergeant was quite sure that he could give a ten-page essay for each topic respectively. Crawford was about a decade older than Jekyll and had therefore been in the public eye much longer. He was a working aristocrat and a businessman, having funded many of London’s most successful businesses, spanning from medical supply companies to breweries to real estate, and it seemed like he had seen the rise of Dr. Jekyll’s career as a threat to his own. It was not a secret that most of London and the people of power in the city were-- or had been-- against science, so while Crawford had been on top of the food chain for years, the establishment and success of the Society seemed to have struck a nerve of some sort, especially so once Crawford’s allies began to support it. It seemed like Crawford had seen that as a type of betrayal, and had come to the “clever” solution of trying to shut the operation down immediately, and yet he had never managed. It seemed like no matter what Crawford threw at Jekyll, the doctor would catch it with a smile on his face, light it on fire and toss it in the trash. No matter what the aristocrat did, Brokenshire couldn’t find a single instance of Dr. Jekyll doing anything to actively harm Crawford, his image, or his businesses, despite everything the latter did to him.

He guessed it was just another instance of what a goodhearted man that Jekyll was, of course. Ask anyone on the street and they would all tell you what a great man the doctor was, and it always seemed like every single person in London had a story about how the scientist had personally helped them, their family, or their friends. The only ones that Brokenshire and his team had heart talking badly about him had, of course, been the few people still against the Society, and yet it had never really been about his character rather than the entire idea of the Society. Everyone knew the doctor was a kind, helpful man who just wished everyone well. Men of his stock were, sadly, few and far in between, and it saddened the Sergeant to know that people were willing to hurt such a good man like that. He could not figure out why someone would do such a thing-- sure, Jekyll had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He doubted that the doctor could have done anything to anger someone to the point of them thinking the only logical solution was to hurt him, abduct him, murder him. Sure, there were probably people mad at Hyde who decided to take it out on Jekyll, but that made no sense at all. After all, Jekyll had been just as much of a victim of the fire and Hyde’s scheme as everyone else had been. Going after Hyde’s ex-employer after leading the Scotland Yard to the Blackfog Bazaar was absolutely absurd, yet a type of revenge that Brokenshire would not put past the many criminals that lurked in the London Underground.

Really, the reason why the offenders could have done it was completely unimportant. What was important was the fact that Dr. Henry Jekyll was gone, and they had to find both him and his kidnappers as soon as possible. Hell, Jekyll could be dying or very badly injured at this very moment! Who knew what kind of torture, what kind of sadistic treatment he was suffering through? Who knew if he was even alive still? Who knew if he even was in London at all? Who knew what kind of man he would be if he was found? For every day that passed, the probability that he would be found and found alive plummeted heavily, the odds and statistics were against them. They had to be quick, so very quick, and yet...

Brokenshire’s hands found the edge of his desk as he pushed his chair away quite abruptly, grunting as he got on his legs and turned his head away from all these godforsaken documents, feeling the clinically white paper blinding him in the dim light. He made a beeline towards one of the few windows in his office, quietly running a hand through his ginger locks as he peaked between the blinds, observing, watching, praying that his goddamn colleagues would come back soon. It was dark, yet it was brighter out there than it was in his office, giving him just enough light to be able to decipher anything going on outside. The streets were empty, the night was quiet... Goddamnit, where were they?

He sighed and shook his head, mostly to try to get rid of the slight paranoia and weariness that began to grip him. He moved away from the window, feeling how all the energy in his legs only got worse and worse for every second, and he almost could not stop himself as he began to pace around the office, trying to pass time and trying to distract himself as it only seemed like all his energy got worse and worse and worse for every second that passed. Jenkins and Wipple should have been here a long time ago. What could possibly have taken them so long? They didn’t have all night!

Brokenshire was an impatient man as it was, he knew that. He seldom had the patience to wait for something unimportant and he had particularly no patience for things that were important. The fact that Wipple and Jenkins had been sent out to collect documents, proof of possible evidence of Crawford’s involvement in Jekyll’s kidnapping that could either incriminate him or prove him innocent of the whole ordeal... Sure, they had his jewelry, but that was certainly not enough proof to arrest him just yet. They needed more... More proof of Crawford’s suspicious behavior, proof that he was not above kidnapping, proof that he was not a man to be trusted. Two weeks of research, two weeks of potentially wasted and precious time amounted to this. Two weeks of quietly investigating Crawford, sinking so much time and so many resources in a potential dead-end... They were hoping to find the evidence they needed to arrest Crawford, after all, they hoped that he was the criminal in all of this, the orchestrator to the entire kidnapping and especially since they had no other leads, but for that, they needed definite proof, proof that Jenkins and Wipple had been in charge of, and if they never showed up...

The Sergeant rubbed his sore eyes, regretfully feeling how the late-night weariness slowly began to get to him, slowly washing over his body like algae clinging to every surface, only seeming to become worse and worse and more and more in quantity the longer you didn’t pay attention. He had been working on this case non-stop for the last two weeks, having barely gotten any rest at all during that time, and yet it was much less because he couldn’t pawn the case off to someone else while he took his normal days off and got the rest he so desperately needed, it was much less the work piling up and being forced upon him because there was no one else to take the case, no, it was mostly the fact that he wanted to get to the bottom of this as fast as possible, and he wanted to be the one in charge of such an important case. He trusted his colleagues with his life and yet he only trusted himself with the Henry Jekyll case, even if he wasn’t fully sure why. Everyone was worried, of course, so he had no doubt that the other officers would be just as precise and active with the case as he currently was, but... Yeah. Jekyll was a beloved man, a man who was friends with practically everyone-- the commissioner specifically, but Brokenshire could not deny that he had taken a liking to that man, as much as he regretted admitting it. He knew the cautionary tale of scientists who went mad with hubris, narcissism, and... Well, madness all too well. He knew the tale of the bright young men and women who wanted to test the limits of every aspect of the world they lived in, who wanted to understand how things worked and wanted to manipulate it into their own liking, who only got hungry for more and more until they went insane and could find themselves in the Asylums all of them seemed to fear so, or until they found themselves exiled and on the run from the law. After all, Brokenshire had known Moreau once upon an eternity ago; he had been just as respectable of a gentleman as Jekyll was, then Moreau had shown his true colors, got exiled, and now he spent the last of his days stuck in a padded cell under solitary confinement and burnt to a crisp in Bethlam Royal Asylum. He knew that there seldom were scientists who did not go mad in their own way-- everyone knew the story of Frankenstein, even if she did seem... Relatively sane now, she had still caused catastrophic damage to the people around her, innocent people specifically, and Moreau was already mentioned... The odds that Jekyll and his Society, too, were just as mad as the rest of the scientists that had made and snuck their way into the history books were far too high. Respectable facades and silver-tongued speech were all they needed to trick practically everyone, both of which Henry Jekyll undoubtedly had. Impulsive, uncontrollable, testing the limits of reality while claiming that it was for the betterment of society, humanity as a whole. It was a tale Brokenshire knew all too well and yet Jekyll had done a good job of pushing himself away from any and all possibilities that he was like those scientists. They were rogue scientists, he would say, not mad scientists.

Oh, it was a speech that the sergeant had heard a handful of times already, yet it was almost endearing, and quite charming after a while. He guessed that was just the effect the doctor had on the people around him. He was a charming man and no one could deny that. He had all of London wrapped around his pinkie, spun and held together with the silken thread he had woven with his silver-tongue, and that had been quite obvious, and it still was. After all, people had been outraged over his disappearance, and they could still hear the people of London making a ruckus and demanding that they find the doctor they all loved so much. Many of Jekyll’s friends had offered to put up rewards for whoever could come forward with any possible statements or for whoever could find the doctor, and with many, he meant many; Dr. Robert Lanyon, Sr. Lanyon, Sir. Danvers Carew, the commissioner himself, and of course the entire Society, and that was only to name a few, so there was quite a large sum of money at play now. So much money was at stake and yet they still had heard nothing related to the Henry Jekyll case. No one had seen suspicious activity, no one had any clue what possibly could have caused it... You might as well have thought he disappeared in thin air just because someone wished him gone, for no reason whatsoever. You might as well have thought the doctor never existed.

The only real ‘evidence’ and the only real statements they had about the case came from their investigation of Crawford. They had dipped their noses in practically every part of Crawford’s life, investigating and interrogating every servant, worker, acquaintance, business partner, and rival with a connection to the man in question, their statements now placed upon the sergeant’s desk, neatly waiting for when they would be of use. All they needed was Jenkins and Wipple with the rest of the accounts and statements, and hopefully they would bring the long-awaited truth. They all had theories, of course, both personal and more... Hmm, official ones, so to speak, all of which suggested that the kidnapping of Henry Jekyll was not the only crime that Crawford may be involved in, many of which seemed to be about tax evasion, blackmail... The classic stuff that men of his stock often dipped into sooner or later. Now, if Jenkins and Wipple could just come back...

Knockknockknock--

Speaking of the devil, Brokenshire couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath he hadn’t known he had been holding as he finally stopped his pace. His attention immediately shifted towards his door, and it only took a moment before he saw the door handle moving, and then through the darkness, Brokenshire finally-- finally!-- saw his dear colleagues entering, the expected documents in hand.

“Oi, sergeant, why are you cooping up in the darkness?”

As Jenkins moved forward with the documents, Wipple stayed behind to close the door behind them, taking the opportunity to also turn on the light, which, in its turn, successfully blinded the poor sergeant whose eyes had gotten so accustomed to the soft, simple light from the candle on his desk. He did not get a lot of time to adjust to it, however, as Jenkins soon placed the new documents down on the little empty space on the sergeant’s desk that had not been occupied with paperwork and, instead, occupied it with more documents. Brokenshire watched the papers, then his gaze turned to Jenkins, who looked less than proud of the work they presented. His thin lips and mustache curled into a frown, the disappointment in his sigh seemed to echo through the room.

“You are not going to believe this, sir.”

“Well, what is it? Did you find anything?”

“Well... You are not going to like it.”

The three of them surrounded the desk, waddling together so everyone could have a good view of the newly added documents. Brokenshire eyed it up and down with great interest, if not suspicion and caution, yet he was quick to look back up at Jenkins, quietly gesturing for him to continue to explain.

“Crawford has been actively against the Society, as we knew, but his way of sabotaging, as we theorized, is nowhere near illegal.” Jenkins filtered through the documents until he got a specific page, tapping it with his finger against the headlines, and them moving the tip of his finger down to the summary, “According to his bank statements, the only money that has been taken out and put into anything remotely against science as been into perfectly legal campaigns, some of just so happens to affect the Society, would the things they push for actually go through. Other than that... The only proof we have is the jewelry found on the scene. Sure, yeah, it’s clear proof but it’s nothing we can arrest or accuse him with. It’s practically impossible for the jewelry to have found its way into the office...”

Brokenshire might as well have thought he got a door slammed into his face.

Their main suspect turned out to be a dead end. All the work, all the time, and all the funds they had put into investigating Crawford turned into a dead-end, and now they came up empty-handed without a new suspect.

But... That didn’t explain why his jewelry was in Jekyll’s workspace.

“Well... Do either of you have any idea why the ring and necklace were in the office otherwise?”

Wipple and Jenkins stayed silent, glancing at each other for a short second, yet they quickly looked back at Brokenshire and seemed to struggle to come up with a logical answer to such a question. So many things could have made the jewelry appear where they did, yet none of them actually seemed as logical as... Well, the theory that Crawford paid some thugs to get Dr. Jekyll out of the game, although having paid them with jewelry-- specifically name engraved jewelry-- was certainly not the most logical option, either. The thought that Dr. Jekyll might have stolen the trinkets didn’t even cross their minds, the thought that Dr. Jekyll might have planted them there seemed too absurd for any of them to even consider it, the thought of Dr. Jekyll having faked the entire thing would probably be the dumbest thing either of them would have thought in years. Dr. Jekyll was gone, he was kidnapped, there had been blood everywhere in the office and the blood might have dried into the wood at this point. Red crimson that coagulated and stained into the mahogany wood was a reminder of what Jekyll, in this very moment, might be suffering through, a reminder that if they weren’t quick, Jekyll’s blood might not have only stained his office.

But... Hold on...

“What if it wasn’t Crawford who planted them there?” Jenkins suddenly spoke up, you could practically see the lightbulb shining over his head as the idea struck him. Both Wipple and Brokenshire furrowed their eyebrows, looking at their colleague.

“Well... Obviously. It isn’t like someone-- if Crawford did hire criminals, would have put them there intentionally. Crawford would clearly not have done the dirty work himself.” Brokenshire pressed.

“No, no-- What if someone tried to frame him?” Jenkins continued, “Think about it-- Crawford is a high standing man, he has a lot of enemies, someone might have stolen the jewelry and planted it on the scene when they kidnapped Jekyll, to throw us off of their tracks?”

The officers all went silent for a moment, as Jenkin’s words and his theory began to sink in. It only took a moment, and then Wipple gasped, almost with excitement. He grabbed Jenkins’ arm and stared at him in awe, before immediately giving him a quick pat on the back.

“Jenkins! You might actually be onto something!”

Jenkins grinned proudly, preening under the praises before the two constables turned towards the sergeant for his input. Brokenshire continued to stare down at the documents, eyebrows knitted into a deep, deep frown upon his forehead. Jenkins’ and Wipple’s excited grins slowly washed away as they watched their friend, a bit confused, a bit worried, as the sergeant reached up a hand to scratch his beard in thought.

“That... Complicates things.”

Brokenshire straightened himself, placing his arms behind his back as his frown only seemed to deepen by the second, yet his eyes did not leave the documents. If someone had kidnapped Jekyll and tried to frame Crawford for it... This might be a much more complicated situation than they had anticipated. This must be a gang activity, or someone who was very dumb for using two pieces of jewelry and nothing more. He could not deny that the idea seemed plausible-- it actually sounded quite reasonable and logical, But how did the criminals get their hands on the trinkets? Could the Scotland Yard afford to finally go and confront Crawford about it, if he knew that his things had recently gotten stolen?

Well... It wasn’t like they had anything to go on, otherwise.

“Gentlemen... I think it’s time that we go to the source, eh?”

“Source?”

“We have to interrogate Crawford. Perhaps he can point us to the reason for why his stuff was in Jekyll’s office.”

Wipple and Jenkins looked at each other, and yet they both immediately turned back to the sergeant.

“Well... What are we waiting for, then?”

The three of them looked at each other for a short moment, only allowing a second of hesitation before all three of them practically sprinted to the door, tearing it open and practically running down the corridors, immediately jumping into the police carriage that was stationed outside and then they were off, galloping through the city streets, off to an unsuspecting Richard Crawford. They had no time to waste, perhaps that’s why they all decided that they had to rush, perhaps that’s why they decided to be quick, or maybe it was the excitement of finally having another lead-- another lead that actually made sense and could be true. In just a few hours they might have their truth. In just a few hours they might find the culprits. In just a few hours, they could all just hope that they would find out what happened to the beloved Dr. Henry Jekyll.

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This chapter was originally going to be Thomas going home from the... Ahem, “hook up” with Robert and meeting Emma Carew and flirting a bit with her, but that plan was only in the drafts and I never wrote it so it’s not what I originally had planned and mentioned in the notes above, but I’m weak for Emma and also Emma X Henry so I hope I will be able to write something for them when this fic is over <3

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Taglist: @artzycreature @jekkiefan

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#tgs #the glass scientists #tgs fanfic #tgs fanfiction #the glass scientists fanfic #the glass scientists fanfiction #banshees fanfic #banshees writing #tgs brokenshire #tgs sergeant brokenshire #tgs sergeant enoch brokenshire #the glass scientists brokenshire #the glass scientists sergeant brokenshire #the glass scientists sergeant enoch brokenshire

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bansheeoftheforest · 2 years

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Sappy [A Very Fluffy Jekshire Fic]

SO uhm. This is the first thing I've written since October, merely because I've Not Felt The Motivation but today my lovely friend Axol blessed the discord server with a Jekshire fic that singlehandedly got me out of writer's block. Congratulations! Now you guys have to deal with me being sappy <3

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Wordcount: 2567

Summary: Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire was never a sentimental man, but... Perhaps there were moments where he could allow himself to be.

Relationships: Dr. Henry Jekyll/Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire, Jekshire.

CW: None apply.

Support this fic on AO3!

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Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire couldn’t necessarily say that he was experienced when it came to love.

Perhaps a few ladies had caught his eye once or twice in his youth. Perhaps he, too, had shared and enjoyed the stories of his colleagues and classmates of women at bars that spared them more than a few glances. Perhaps he had... Occasionally, enjoyed the view of the delicately and tastefully nude men on paintings that dotted London-- in the houses of the wealthy that he frequently examined and the historic monuments where the human body was sculpted to perfection, perhaps he would even go as far as to say that a few fellows had managed to get him to look twice when he passed them on the street, but he had never indulged. The thought never really crossed his mind, either. When he was out drinking with his friends, off-duty and merry, he kept his gaze at the cards on the table and his focus on his colleagues, he didn’t let his eyes wander to the many ladies and occasional prostitutes that would look for an eager lad to put their attention on. If they tried to go his way he’d merely shake his head or ignore them, directing them to someone else, someone more willing. Sometimes he longed to feel someone beside him, sometimes he longed for the company, but he never indulged. God, no. He never did, he didn’t want to.

“My heart lays within my work,” he’d often joke during the few times someone would question his solitary decision, wanting to avoid an explanation, wanting to give them a somewhat satisfying answer, “my love is within the law.”

Perhaps he wasn’t necessarily lying, but... Sometimes he did yearn. Sometimes, not often.

Well, he had yearned for someone, that someone would come into his life. Now he just longed for said person.

Perhaps it was the charming smiles, perhaps it was the sparkles that seemed to surround him, perhaps... Perhaps it was the frequent meetings where they would put their attention directly on the Sergeant, and almost ignore the people around them. A siren, perhaps. Or maybe an incubus. Perhaps it was even witchcraft. Whatever it was... Whenever the gentle, genial doctor was in the room... Brokenshire’s knees felt weak, his skin would burn up, his body would sweat, and yet it always earned a gentle conversation of concern and an ungloved hand of soft skin upon the Sergeant’s forehead.

Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire had fallen in love with Doctor Henry Jekyll without even noticing, so fast he couldn’t stop it, a fall into a bottomless abyss that didn’t give mercy.

And yet... The doctor had fallen in love with him, too.

Enoch couldn’t say he knew how it all started. At some point they both just knew-- or perhaps Henry knew, and had deemed Enoch worthy. Enoch couldn’t even attempt to understand it, he couldn’t even attempt to understand how he, of all people, was enough for the doctor. There were a million men and a million women that would gladly fall to Henry’s feet, all of them considerably better than Enoch, and yet... Henry had chosen him. They-- they became friends. They met during the dreadfully boring and incredibly fancy banquets that Enoch soon was forced to attend; Henry was in the spotlight of every outing he attended, and yet he had always seemed to light up once he spotted the ginger hair and the soft frown. They would stand by the side and converse late into the night. At some point, the doctor had begun to invite Enoch to his dinner parties. At some point, he invited him alone to his home. Every day, the sergeant fell harder, and harder, and harder. Every day, the doctor toyed with his heart.

One night, Dr. Jekyll had invited him over, alone. It had been late, the gaslamps already lit, the small fires reflecting upon the shadow-cast stone paths and murals. He hadn’t known what to expect, he had been tense the entire evening... They spent it drinking fine wines in Henry’s personal study, sitting on a couch slightly too small to fit both of them, the alcohol took over their bodies like demonic possession. Warm light from a roaring fireplace had illuminated the doctor’s gentle frame, his fragile body, and his exquisite clothing. They were more than just tipsy, the laugh that the doctor had let out at a small joke that Enoch had managed to press out was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard-- more beautiful than any piece of art any man had been able to capture, something only described as lovingly indescribable. Something only shown in dreams, something that captured you and changed you. They had locked eyes, the doctor had quieted, and they had both realized the situation they were in.

They could sit there, next to each other, and enjoy each other’s company; they could bask themselves in the comfort of safety, without the worry of risks or misreadings. They could continue to drink, they could continue to spend time together, and then when it was time for Brokenshire to leave, he would do so without problems. They wouldn’t speak of what they were feeling or the thoughts that swirled in their heads that evening, they’d forget about it. Yet... They could also admit to themselves and each other what they really, truly yearned for. Brokenshire could admit that his heart had been captured by a man he couldn’t have-- not only were they both men, but Dr. Jekyll... Was not like him. Dr. Jekyll was well-loved and well-admired, Brokenshire... Not so much. Everything was so complicated, Enoch couldn’t say that he’d ever felt... Shame for his liking for other men, but... It wasn’t like the doctor would have him, or could have him.

They were staring at each other as if caught in time. They didn’t realize for how long they sat there, inching closer for every moment that passed. Enoch was too caught up in his own thoughts and worries, worries he’d rather not think of. Henry... Seemed to have a pretty empty head, he didn’t seem to worry, he seemed to relax, or perhaps Enoch would have noticed the drunk yearning in those red eyes if he wasn’t so distracted.

They could feel their breaths hit each other’s faces, they were so close that their noses almost brushed together. Enoch did not know how they ended up like this, and yet he had hesitated.

Henry had not.

With a sweep lean forward, the doctor had closed the already small space between them. His soft hand-- cold but slowly heated by the warmth of the fire-- had been placed on the ruffled patch of Enoch’s beard, their lips met, both of them had let out a sound of surprise and yet Henry was so clearly indulging. With the little that the sergeant could see in his drunken state, right before he, too, allowed himself to indulge... The doctor had the same grin preserved for the rich desserts that he so often seemed to enjoy during the many dinners of aristocrats he attended, filled with flavor and longing and greed, wanting for more.

They were both drunk. Deep down, Enoch had wanted to pull back, pull back and go back to his cocoon of familiarity and safety and comfort, but he couldn’t. Once both of Henry’s hands were on his face, the gentle tugging became undeniable. He pulled the sergeant in, soon the delicate doctor was sprawled under the heavier build of the older man. Delicate and gorgeous, on display for no one but Enoch to see. Even then, sooner or later, they both had to pull away. They chased each other, they both pulled back, allowing them a few moments to breathe. The smell of wine on their breaths was evident. Soft, gentle gasps that echoed in the room, echoed into Enoch’s ears and carved his heart. A warm, comforting smile soon appeared upon the doctor’s lips... His eyes were heavily lidded, drunk and tired but happy .

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Henry confessed, tilting his head back as he examined the man on top of him, showing off his elegant neck tinted with pink from a blush. The confession felt sinful, something reserved for the early mornings of church attendance, yet Henry said it so freely. His thumb brushed over Enoch’s thick lips, hidden under his mustache, gently parting them and exploring. “I’ve always wondered how your lips felt like... And now I know.”

And now he knew.

And Enoch knew that he’d never be able to escape. He was fallen, he had fallen right by Henry’s feet, and in this very moment... Enoch felt invincible, yet so very vulnerable.

He wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he wanted to. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth, he couldn’t even bring himself to do any sound at all. But Henry took the silence as an invitation, soon he brought the older man down again, lips meeting once more... And this time, Enoch dared. Soon the older man-- tougher and rougher and yet so inexperienced-- took the lead, and Henry eagerly followed. Their bodies met, their bodies didn’t separate the entire night. The morning after had been nothing but a haze, to wake up entangled with a half-dressed body and another one pressed up against his own, hungover from the many glasses of wine too many. They had been too disorientated and enchanted to think about what they had done, think about the things they had barely remembered. A night so unforgettable slipped their minds, they woke up with dazed expressions and slurred greetings. Something so unusual and sinful felt so... Normal, so welcome. Enoch knew that he would never get used to waking up alone after that night, that morning... And he didn’t. He never got used to it, he didn’t need to. But he did get used to waking up with the delicate, soft body of his newfound lover in his arms, sprawling out like a cat in a sunray but the warmth being that of Enoch himself. Soft fingertips and gentle bites would explore his body, innocently, to lull him out of his sleep in the mornings, and Enoch would always prefer the touch of his love to anything to wake up to.

Dr. Jekyll was a tease, his favorite pastime would always be to get his lover’s face to become as red as his hair, nothing seemed to amuse him more than the days they crossed paths during their workdays and they could share a moment alone, bodies pressed against each other with a wall for support. His favorite teas were a mix of peppermint and berries, his favorite time of day was dusk, just after they had gone to bed and just before they had fallen asleep. His favorite place, as the doctor had stated himself, was in Enoch’s arms. Words could not describe how loved Enoch felt, simply by being in the same room as the other man. He wondered if Henry felt the same. If Henry felt his own heart beating faster at the sight of the sergeant, if Henry longed and yearned for the quiet evenings when they were both off of work and could bask in each other’s presence, no one existing but them. He wondered if thought of him when they had to work nights and couldn’t spend it wrapped in each other’s arms until the late morning. He wondered how Henry felt, he wondered if he knew how much he loved him, he wondered if Henry loved him as much as Enoch loved him. It would not matter, of course, you could not measure love. So precise and longing, so uncertain and carefree, so... So...

“Enoch..?”

Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire had disappeared in his thoughts again. Perhaps it had been the wine they had shared after dinner, perhaps it was the absent mind after a long shift at the station. Either way, he soon heard the soft, tired voice of his lover speak up. They were seated in front of the fireplace in Enoch’s apartment, Enoch himself sat in his favorite armchair, legs rested upon a footstool while his lover’s meek body laid atop of his, in his lap. His head was placed against Enoch’s shoulder, his ruffled hair sprawled and tangled together with the sergeant’s newly trimmed beard. Henry’s fingers had traveled along and explored Enoch’s exposed neck, having unbuttoned one or two buttons of his collar for more access. The exhausted man in his lap had stopped his movement, Enoch nibbled on the end of his pipe as his gaze turned towards his beloved.

“Yes, love?”

The other man didn’t have to say anything, it was not needed. The way his body became limp in Enoch’s embrace was enough for the older man to know that Henry was tired and that it was time for bed. From his seat, Enoch managed to dump the rest-- which was not a lot, mind you-- of his tobacco in the fireplace, placing his pipe on the coffee table to be cleaned later. It was not until then that his arms wrapped around the body of his lover, one around his back and the other under his knees, as he moved them both. Zosi and Ralphie-- their respective pups-- were still fast asleep by their shared bed in the living room, neither seemingly getting disturbed by their masters’ movement. Soft footsteps continued through the apartment, into the bedroom.

Henry was already fast asleep by the time that Enoch managed to move the neatly made blanket and place him down on their bed. Fortunately, he didn’t need to wake Henry up to change him into a pair of nightclothes, as they both already had changed for the night long before the exhaustion had snuck upon them. He watched his lover for just a moment, watching the way he cuddled into the sheets, right before he moved towards the lone window in the room, closing the curtains to allow them a bit of a lazy morning the next day, both having taken tomorrow off to spend time with each other. His gaze traveled back to his beloved doctor soon enough, a soft and loving sigh escaped his lips. He was already curled up and snoozing, his back turned against Enoch, and yet it did not take long for the sergeant to climb into bed and wrap his arms around his lover, cuddling him from behind, pulling the blanket up over the two of them. Another sigh escaped him, just as yearning as the one before, as he nuzzled his nose and his lips against the back of Henry’s neck.

To be loved by a man like Dr. Henry Jekyll was a rare privilege, one that Enoch was thankful for and prayed to have every day. It was a blessing, it really was a blessing to be the one that would wake up to Henry’s morning smiles, the one to watch him dress, the one to share a good breakfast with him, the one to be able to love him.

Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire was not a sentimental man, but as he began to doze off to his lover’s soft breaths... He had to admit that he could get quite sappy, sometimes, but only for his Henry.

——————————————— Between you and me... Please do feel free to send me some Jekshire asks, I’ve been brainrotting for them for weeks now <3 ———————————————

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