1 - 20 of 37 Works by sciure
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When asked, a few years later, Alec will say that everything started going wrong when he pulled a dead child out of a river. It’s not true.
It all starts a few months before that. A few years, actually, if he’s being honest with himself (something he’s starting to find quite difficult), but much like a crack in a boat which is slowly sinking, he manages to ignore the issue until he’s already starting to drown.
or: a little journey into all that happened to alec before the latimer case
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Maybe I wasn’t made for fashion. I’m too normal. I’m the problem. The industry can make or break a designer, and I’ve not gone either way yet, so that’s on me. No roaring successes, no devastating failures to drive my career in a darker, more compelling direction. András Zacher’s designs scream, wail, ache about the thick glass walls keeping him from the world, about how he sees society and yet doesn’t find himself in it.
I, on the other hand, fit in perfectly.
Milan Fashion Week, 2005(ish): Raffaele Scalise finds inspiration. Then he loses himself, loses inspiration, and finds himself. All in the space of a few months.
Oh, and he just about falls in love, too.
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once upon a time, we were something beautiful by sciure for ranichi17, gozenichiji
Fandoms: Broadchurch
09 Jun 2025
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Alec raises his eyebrows, hands the cashier a wad of notes and wanders towards a table. If he wants to smile when Henchard follows him and takes the seat opposite him, well. He’s not about to admit it.
“I’m flattered that you're so concerned for my well-being.”Snippets of Alec and Tess before things started falling apart—or rather, just as things started to pull apart at the seams.
Series
- Part 1 of wisps of hope spun into silken shackles
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His arm twitches, as if he’s about to shake her hand but thinks better of it. “Dr. Hardy. Come in, take a seat.”
He looks as tired as she feels. He's probably no older than she is, mid-forties at most, but his cheekbones are too sharp and his every move too weary and as her eyes wander to the empty pot of low-fat, low-salt instant noodles on his desk, she wonders when the last time he had a home-cooked meal was.
Ellie feels like she's drowning. Her husband is a murderer and a paedophile, her son hates her, she can't return to the only place she's ever called home, she hates her job, she hates Brighton—and now she can't sleep.
She finds relief at a walk-in clinic.
Series
- Part 2 of wisps of hope spun into silken shackles
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The next drag of the cigarette is smooth, sits like a velvet mist in his lungs, and feels dangerously like he’s finding some sort of inner peace. “If I ever catch Daisy smoking, I’ll ground her for a month. No—I’ll tell her I’m disappointed in her, then I’ll ground her. And I’ll take her debit card.”
Hardy and Miller share a cigarette, a bottle of whisky, and some thoughts.
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if I don't close my eyes, you won't be gone by sciure for UnknownWanderer
Fandoms: Broadchurch
16 Jan 2024
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Alec raises an eyebrow. “Right, because no one's ever worn the same outfit to two different events. I’ve been to two funerals with you and I’ve never seen this, so if you’re worryin’ that the fashionistas of Broadchurch are going to be judgin’ you—”
“No, it's not—it's, well, it's for a specific funeral. That hasn't happened yet. And if I don't wear it, it won't happen, so don't make me wear it.”
Ellie has a dress she hopes she'll never have to wear.
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“Morning, sir,” she says warily, looking him up and down. Nothing seems terribly off—yesterday’s suit, Monday’s shirt hastily ironed this morning, spare glasses tucked into his breast pocket after his regular ones were the unfortunate victims of a bored Fred—but something here is wrong.
Hardy is, perhaps for the first time in his life, acting pleasant. Ellie can only assume that something terrible is happening to him.
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Alec is well-acquainted with receiving devastating post, from divorce papers to NHS letters to journalists’ cards slipped menacingly through his letterbox. This, however, is the first time his fate has been delivered on such tasteful stationery.
Eleanor Jane Barrett and Edmond Peter William Spencer joyfully invite you to celebrate their—
Ellie Miller gets (re)married.
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Armed with a pot of jasmine tea and a prized piece of art for good measure and good luck (Daisy Henchard-Hardy (b. 1997), Mug For Dad, 2005, acrylic on ceramic), Ellie taps on Hardy's door and doesn’t wait for him to call her in. Head in his hands, he’s still staring down at that little piece of paper, shoulders slumped and fancy shirt creasing with his poor posture.
It might have been a tea-and-biscuits level situation.
Ellie tries to offer Hardy comfort in a trying time. She might need some, too.
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Raphael Christchurch has been dead for close to a decade and yet, as stubborn in death as he was in life, he won’t pass up a chance to haunt Gabriel.
Gabriel sees a ghost in Ezra Fell's partner.
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Raph is twenty-three and he’s living on the kindness of strangers and the short-lived luck of someone who's thrown everything away and is still riding the high of it.
Raphael celebrates his twenty-fourth birthday.
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when your faith is gone, got me to believe in by sciure for advanced_fanatic
Fandoms: Pandora Hearts
28 Apr 2023
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“Xerxes Break,” Reim says, wincing as he does his best to kneel on the bed and quickly gives up. Xerxes stops speaking and stares at him, squinting at Reim's hands, trying to focus on the little velvet box. “I have enjoyed your company for quite some time now, so much so that I cannot imagine living without you. Would you do me the honour of wedding me?”
Xerxes Break has an incredible talent for overcomplicating even the most beautiful of moments. Reim loves him nonetheless; endlessly, hopelessly and foolishly.
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"Filthy whore," the Duke breathes, strands of hair brushing against Xerxes’ bare, bruised skin. "Do you really think I'd finish this so quickly?"
Of course not. Xerxes hasn't suffered nearly enough yet.Xerxes atones for his sins.
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« le sens du baiser est : vous êtes pour moi une nourriture »
'the meaning of kissing is that... you are mine to eat.'
A convicted murderer attacks Dr. Illumi Zoldyck in court, and everyone seems to think it's an 'ordeal' and 'a reason to see a psychiatrist'. He doesn't agree, but upon meeting said psychiatrist, he begins to change his mind, and finds more of himself in Dr. Morow than he expected. (Pun intended.)(alternatively, illumi, to himself: this is great. i am going to get a good grade in fucking my therapist, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve,)
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“You're—you're homosexual?”
Break looks between himself and Gilbert, at the sheets they share and their tangled limbs and at Gilbert’s own nightshirt that is hanging off his shoulders.
“Don't you think that you might be, too?”
Gilbert is certain he is holding Break back. After all, he's Gilbert Nightray; isn't that what he does? Weigh down the people he loves?
Series
- Part 4 of gilbreak snapshots
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“My dear Gilbert, I don't believe our feelings have any bearing on what we have between us, do you? You’re still using me, just as I’m still using you. Nothing here has changed.”
Affection is dangerous, a fact Gilbert knows all too well.
Series
- Part 3 of gilbreak snapshots
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“So, why—” Gilbert tries so hard to keep his next words from falling off his tongue, but in a closet, pressed up against the wall, with Break’s hand loosely around his waist, it feels somewhat futile to try to censor himself at all. “Why are we doing this?”
Gilbert has second thoughts.
Series
- Part 2 of gilbreak snapshots
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 440
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 15
- Hits:
- 179
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Summary
As Break wins once again, his sword pressed against Gilbert’s neck, Gilbert closes his eyes and whispers filthier words than he knew he was capable of.
Loneliness is a terribly powerful thing, and Gilbert has a moment of weakness.
Series
- Part 1 of gilbreak snapshots
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She's crying, she realises, as she picks the doll up. She half-expects it—her, Emily—to jump to life in her hands, but then again—why would it? The little piece of soul that had animated the cheap cloth is long-gone. It's no more alive than it was the day her grandmother had argued it away from a downtown antique shop.
Sharon finds a box that once belonged to an incredibly special someone.
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“You let your guard down around me, Break. I know you’re not well.”
“I am not. What’s new there, exactly?”
Gilbert gives up on trying to serve him food and sits down at the little kitchen table opposite him. “I think you’re worse,” he says. “And I think you’re trying to pretend you’re not.”Gilbert tries to talk some sense into the most nonsensical man in the world. It goes... not so well.