A/N: this is for the prompt “dance with me!” which immediately sent my mind to one of my favourite songs, so if you fancy, give it a listen while reading. this is my first blinders fanfic so i hope i’ve done it some justice, and i’ve purposely left it so that i could write a second part if anyone’s interested.
The Garrison was a cacophony of noise, laughter and music, and had been since the late hours of the afternoon, though the thick Birmingham smog made it easy to confuse teatime for evening, and a slight drizzle had begun to lap at the soot-dusted streets to give the city an even darker, sombre, melancholic visage. You’d arrived after the affair had gone into full swing, an old piano stuffed lazily into the corner as its poorly-played tunes riled patrons up to a frenzied, drunken dance, none of them caring when their beers sloshed against rim of their mugs too high, amber liquid splashing against the grubby hardwood floor. Polly had muttered a line that you didn’t catch, but Ada, her gloved arm laced around yours, giggled before shouting for Harry to fetch the three of you a drink.
While Polly quickly vanished into the crowd, most likely to locate her second eldest nephew, you and Ada had remained near the door, leaning against the least stickiest pillar in the pub as you nursed a large glass of Irish whiskey—or in Ada’s case, a flute of champagne and a cigarette—and you both watched the scene before you like the pictures at Penny Crush Cinema.
It wasn’t long before Ada was on her third glass, divulging her love affair with Freddie Thorne to you, a fact (as her best friend) you were already aware of. But the brunette had quite the habit of expelling extreme details about the things she and the communist did in his bed, quietly but confidently, and you merely nodded, pretending you were talking about politics so as to not arise the attention of any of her brothers. But one such brother had already caught yours, and you’d started only half listening to what Ada was saying as you eyed the third eldest Shelby, flat cap tilted over his face and a toothpick set between a grin like always.
John’s laughter penetrated your ears like a knife, sending a wave of heat across your palms as you watched on, the boy happily thumping his older brother, Arthur, on the shoulder in jest before chugging back the remainder of his beer. A dark grey suit jacket clenched at his figure, tight around his upper arms as he raised them, hailing the bartender over to demand a refill, revealing a golden pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat, and you forced a large gulp of whiskey down your throat to quell the oncoming desert that was quickly expanding across your tongue and throat.
You’d become completely fixed on him, so much so that Ada’s voice was a distant memory. Until he noticed you staring and you were ripped from your delight, a heavy shade of red blooming over your nose and cheeks. Another, even larger sip left your glass empty.
This was a real challenge because i didn’t know how to set it like, will they be the same type of person they are in cannon? diferent? So I diceded to just swap the characters with (what I belive to be) the canon personality in different situations. And that is always funny. (Also sorry for being late, shit happened)
Thinks woulb be really
different, both in the ADA and the Mafia because this men are
fundamentally different. Fukuzawa is an idealist, but unlike Kunikida
who shapes the world with his ideals, Fukuzawa acts according to his
values and doesn’t care what the world has to say about it. Mori on
the other hand, like Dazai says is “the embodiment of logic”.
Fukuzawa runs the ADA as a close knit community (a big family really)
and Mori runs the Mafia as a business. When I thought about it things
really change because of the bosses points of view of how to treat their employees.
She hadn’t been terribly active, lately. Nor had she been the most talkative thing, unless someone required help. What was once an infinite abundance of energy and sunshine and love was suddenly stuck.
It wasn’t all bad, though - she was learning. In her own quiet way, she was processing things. Grief. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Loneliness.