#douglas pipes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

Do you need help, ma’am?

When your sink presented problems, your handsome and young neighbor volunteered to fix it.

∴pairing: Tom Bennett x Fem!Reader

∴warnings: mild misogyny, sexual innuendo, kissing and flirting, also, english is not my first language.

part two

When your sink had problems a few days ago you thought it would be temporary, however, the insistence of the small leak in the lower siphon was starting to bother you. You were a modern woman, but you had no idea how to analyze, move and repair pipes, so your first solution was to call a plumber, but you didn't want to be a victim of rumors about women who hire this type of service for other purposes — and you also didn't want a complete stranger in your house. While you didn't totally mind what people might whisper, you preferred to keep your life private. So you've decided to go to your next-door neighbor, Mr. Douglas Bennet, for help.

Afternoon light caught you when you opened the door, but to your surprise you weren't the only one on the sidewalk. Turning to the side, you saw a young man dressed as a sailor and holding a birdcage. He was handsome, pale skin and expressive blue eyes that looked you up and down when you approached him.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Bennett's son, I'm your new neighbor”, you said sympathetically, but subdued.

“I see”, he commented with a curious and indiscreet smile as he studied your silhouette. "What's your name, ma'am?"

You introduced yourself before adjusting the skirt of the dress, adding: "And you must be Tom, your father spoke a lot about you, he must be happy and relieved to have you back."

His smile widened, his lips curling into a pout as he watched you. What a beautiful surprise. “He still hasn't died of hear attack seeing me, I arrived a few minutes ago, he's not home,” he said relaxed but clearly purposeful as he drank in your confused reaction. He is difficult, you remembered the words of Mr. Douglas when referring to his youngest son.

“Do you need help, ma'am?”

“No… it’s okay, do you know when your father comes back?” How would he know when he was in the crossfire? “Sorry, that was a stupid question,” you corrected, looking almost nervously at the floor. “I'll be back another time.”

Oh no, you won't get away. Moving away from the wall, Tom leaned dangerously close to you.

“I don't know if you're religious, but they say it's a sin not to help a beautiful woman. So, if it's in my power, I'd love to solve your problem.”

You quickly smoothed down your pearl necklace, an almost nervous habit. You didn't know him, you've never seen him before and he was offering to help and consequently enter your house. No, definitely not.

On the other hand, he was the son of his good neighbors Lois and Tom, known as a rebel and an expert in trouble. A real troublemaker, but not the kind you feared — apparently and initially. You were reluctant before you spoke, a little entranced by the way his beautiful irises were watching you: "It's nothing, just... there's a small leak in the bottom siphon of my sink and I don't know how to fix it."

“Is your husband not at home? Or can he not solve it?”

Jesus. You watched closely the shitty smirk he flashed and nothing pleased you more than your baffled reaction.

“I’m not married, Mr. Bennett.”

An almost fierce glow brightened Tom's face even more. It was no secret that his function was to make fun and tease other people, it was fun to leave them in shock or door face, and with you it was not entirely different. He didn't want to get too heavy with a pretty girl, especially knowing that eventually he might try to get inside your skirts, but knowing that you weren't committed he decided to risk even more.

“A fine thing like you don't have a ring on your finger, were you waiting for me, miss?”, he smirked, although amused, after all what good would such advances be if you ended up scared? "Can't your father fix it either?"

Although you were totally surprised by the behavior of Douglas Bennett's youngest son, an airy smile escaped your lips.

“You are a bit conceited, aren't you? And I don't live with my parents."

And now — with the clean area — he was even more interested in you.

“We must stay positive, sweet. Now, if I may be of assistance, I have no problem getting down on one knee to fix a pretty ladys's leak.”

It’s almost certain that your mouth opened with the double meaning of the phrase, further satisfying the piece of evil in front of you. He was attractive and he knew it, what a scandal! Still, a part of you liked his bold attitude and malicious blue eyes. “Won't it be uncomfortable? You just got back from the war, is that-"

“It's good to be on dry land again, and yes I need to rest, but it won't be a big deal, let me help you.”

How could anyone say no to that face? Oh Lord, you almost instantly regret letting him in. If avoiding rumors was your mission, maybe inviting your neighbor's rebellious son into your house was a bad idea. The ambience dimmed considerably as you closed the door and led the way. Like the good guy he was, Tom kept his hands still the entire time — although he preferred to use them for pleasurable purposes — and waited for you to point out the problem.

It wasn't a big deal actually. A part of the siphon was not fully seated, which caused the leak. He was succinct in explaining and readjusting the barrel into place in no more than a few minutes.

“All set, ma'am,” he said, turning on the faucet to test the concert.

Blowing out a relieved breath, you smiled at him, “Thank you so much, really. Would you like a glass of water or tea?”

“Nah, I'm fine, but I'm a little curious as to how a young lady got here without a husband or family.”

Your posture changed a little.

“It's a complicated story.”

“I have time,” he said.

“And I wouldn't want to share it”, you finished with a firmer voice than you had used previously in the whole conversation. Message given.

“Then it will be left to my imagination”, he informed you softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to push you."

“It’s okay.”

“But… I would appreciate a little different acknowledgment”, he smirked, stopping in front of you — not so bold as not to repel you.

You almost rolled your eyes if you weren't interested in him. He was so handsome it almost hurt to admit.

Deciding to play along lightly with his game, you asked, "What kind of acknowledgment would you like Mr. Bennett?"

His smile widened as he rested his hand on the table behind you, very close to your waist. “One that only a man and a woman could make.”

Your skin was heating up as he found himself wanting to be equal to equal. "I should throw you out for suggesting such indecency, don't you think?"

“Mm, I think you liked me a little too much to do that.” He pouted before leaning in too close to your face.

Oh God. You know you have to make a choice. You didn't know him, but the tingling in your hands to touch his handsome face was growing and irritating. It was wrong, he was your neighbor's son and probably wouldn't want anything to do with you afterwards. Remember, avoid mean whispers circling the neighborhood. But his lips looked so inviting and sweet, so good...

“What do you say?”

"… just a kiss."

He smirk.

"Sure."

Before Tom could reach your lips you nearly jumped into his pink mouth, surprising both of you. A satisfied hum left him as he returned your heat in equal measure, gripping your hips with fervor and desire. Your lips were soft and had the sweet taste of some lipstick. You pulled him closer by his brown trench coat as you kissed him passionately. It was wet and messy, and fuck, how he's missed a beautiful girl these months. Your actions were shocking to you, it had been so long since a body had pressed tightly against you, it was almost a pent-up, primal fire that threatened to burn out if it was a little more stimulated. He was skilled and demanding at moving his lips over yours, tasting you until air was needed.

“That was surprising miss, didn't know you had all that”, he teased with the smirk on the side, hands, which had previously been fixed on your hips now circled patterns on your waist. “But I'd love to know more where that came from,” he whispered close to your lips, returning the grip on your body.

Oh heavens, push him away!

No, don't push him away!

You know you'll regret parts of both options. Enjoying herself with your neighbor's brother was absurd, but letting such a handsome man escape is another. What does it cost to think of you a little?

“Maybe two kisses”, you suggested breathlessly.

“Maybe three”, he added.

"Maybe more." You attacked him with your lips again, removing the brown overcoat that kept him warm. Pulling back from the kiss abruptly to analyze it, you savored the sight of the sailor's uniform on that young devil in front of you.

"Girls usually like the uniform, but I haven't had a chance to try it out before."

“If you think a woman would want to hear that, you are sorely mistaken.”

"Then let me fix it."

He bent down to plant wet kisses and small bites on your neck, delighting in the soft skin and the lovely sighs you left. Your fingers pulled at his dark blonde hair as he leaned against the table and allowed him to bring such good feelings to you. “Mm, you smell so good,” he grunted, cupping your ass.

"Do all men come home from war like this, Mr. Bennett?" you inquired.

"You can not imagine." He kissed you again, just as demanding as the first time, against those supple lips.

You don't know how you'll face Douglas and Lois after this, not when your hands move to remove the first piece of Tom's beautiful uniform. But apparently fate decided to interrupt the moment when a female voice and insistent ringing filled your ears.

Oh no. Lois Bennett herself was standing outside your house.

“Shiii, let her go, don't pick up,” Tom instructed as he rolled down the sleeves of your dress.

"I didn't allow it, actually." You composed yourself, pushing him away.

“I thought we were coming to terms, miss,” he said, amused but with a hint of irritation — upper and lower. “It would be impolite to fail to return a favor.”

What a son of a bitch.

Indeed, Tom Bennett was a big problem you should avoid. And you knew it was going to be hard when you saw him approach and blatantly rub the volume of his pants against his body. Another touch and call.

“Perhaps you should try your uniform on the other girls, Tom”, you retorted with a little twinge of something unknown, turning in your little heels before heading to meet your neighbor.

“Are you jealous, miss? It wasn't my intention”, he asked loudly as you finished getting ready and answered the door with a sweet smile. You didn't know if you would be convincing enough, especially when your body was still burning under the sailor's mesmerizing touch and gaze. Yes, you would have a problem now.

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett #tom bennett x you #world on fire #ewan mitchell #tom bennett one shot

527 notes · View notes

myhouseidea · 7 months

Text

Pipe dream designed by Alison Douglas @alison_douglas_design Photography by Tim Turner

Get Inspired, visit www.myhouseidea.com

#interior design #architecture #myhouseidea #home decor #decor home #kitchen #bedroom #houseidea #house idea #living

141 notes · View notes

fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 year

Photo

From the DVD commentary, episode 1:

Douglas: Those [bottles] really are filling up, that's not CGI, those really are bottles of wine filling up from the bottom - our wonderful effects company, SFX actually put pipes to the bottom of the bottles of wine.

Neil: They did. People keep asking me, if they do it like that, are they allowed to re-drink the wine, once they've...

Douglas: You wouldn't want to, would you?

Neil: Ahh, once you magicked it out of your system...

#good omens #goodomensedit #neil gaiman #douglas mackinnon #commentaries #good omens dvd #fun fact #up1 #1i11 #bottles of wine #visual effects

520 notes · View notes

yearningforunity · 23 days

Text

Woman Smoking Pipe – Douglas Cornhill, c.1890s

The Jamaica they depict is one still under British rule, but sloughing off the spectre of slavery.

#Jamaica #History #1890s #history #Woman #African Descent #African Diaspora #pipe

53 notes · View notes

desert-fern · 8 months

Text

This Love is Fireproof - Robert Floyd X Reader

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd X Fem!Reader

Summary: With an out of control wildfire looming close to your home, you and your fiancé, Bob, do everything you can to keep it together in order to pack up your lives. But it all crashes down around you when you begin to think of what you could lose, but Bob is there, reminding you that your love burns brighter than any fire.

Warnings: angst, fire, loss of homes, evacuation, fear, hurt/comfort, open/ambiguous ending

A/N: So, this one hit hard. As of the day that I am writing this, part of my hometown and a few neighbouring ones are being evacuated due to fires in the area. I haven’t been evacuated, but my family and I had/have had to go through trying to pack up our lives and the fear of losing our house.

===

The waiting. That was always the worst part. Every second that ticked by felt like hours and you could hardly bear it much longer. You kept your eyes peeled out the kitchen window, just waiting for Robby’s truck to pull up. He’d gone down to the grocery for essentials; water bottles, batteries, flashlights, masks, plus a whole assortment of non perishables that would last you both long into this evacuation.

Evacuation.

One word. Five syllables that shot fear through your heart faster and deeper than anything you had experienced before. Hell, even a deployment couldn’t compare to this, because at least you had a home to live in, to miss your fiancé in, to hope that his pilot brought him home to you. But this was something new all together.

The wildfires raged on only a few short miles from your neighborhood, sending up thick plumes of acrid smoke that turned the sky a noxious orange-sepia colour and the sun a scarlet red. Anything caught outside seemed to choke on it, people’s eyes watering like the bursts being used to fight the ever-encroaching flames and headaches that pounded like thunder. Ash fell from the sky like morbid snowflakes, settling in the long dry gutters and river beds, suffocating the world in a cloud of white, grey, the only remnants of long-destroyed brush.

And it was hot. God, it was so hot.

California in the summer was always unbearably hot, but weeks straight with no rain in sight had created a landscape that was a tinderbox just waiting to go up in flames. Hell, you had heard stories of fires starting from dry grass just touching a hot tail pipe on a truck that had pulled over. All this to say, it took next to nothing for a spark to take off, burning a forest down in days.

The Douglas River fire had sparked not three days earlier, the cause unknown, and had ballooned in size so rapidly it surprised you how much damage had been done in only a few days. Campsites, a lakeside resort, cabins, and hundreds - if not thousands - of homes were gone. As far as you knew, the casualties continued to rise as fire swept through the region hell-bent on destroying anything in its path. Thousands had already been ordered to evacuate, leaving their homes with nothing more than a few memories packed up in the backseats of their cars and trucks. For some, they left their whole lives behind, scarcely able to grab a single memento of the years they had spent on this Earth.

You wouldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t.

That was why the second you heard of a spot fire, a loose ember latching onto the dry terrain, erupting some 20 miles away, you started packing. Even as you received the evacuation alert, you threw every precious memory you had with your fiancé in boxes and bags, stashing them near the door. You had to be ready at a moment’s notice and you refused to leave anything behind to be devoured.

The crunching of gravel broke you from your thoughts as you watched Bob’s black truck pull into the driveway, the front door swinging open and letting in the smell of burning that clogged your nostrils along with Bob. “Sunshine?” He called out to you, coughing as he pulled his mask off. His normally crystal-clear blue eyes were red and teary behind his glasses, suffering from the effects of the smoke since it had blown in days ago. Now, he was begging silently for it all to stop, for rain to fall, for something, anything to stop this blaze in its tracks, just so he didn’t have to leave the home the two of you had built.

He would personally fight every single ember that crossed your property line if it meant you both could stay. But you couldn’t. The State of California had declared a state of emergency not two hours before and with resources stretched so thin before Douglas River had ignited, things were looking bleak.

“In the kitchen!” You called back, blinking back the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to overcome you. You were staring at the fridge, catching sight of the pictures that you had missed in your initial flurry of packing.

Footsteps sounded on the wooden floors before a ‘thud’ startled you and you whipped around to see your Robby standing there, his eyes red from smoke exposure. “I got most of what we needed. The only thing they were out of was that one jam you like, so I had to grab a different one,” he told you, placing the shopping bag on the table next to the flat of water he’d dropped.

You nodded, chewing on your lip. “Okay, can you put those things in the cooler? I’ve just started moving boxes into my car, we still have to pack the truck, get the sprinklers going, are we going to attach it to the roof? It shouldn’t matter, as long as the ground and bushes are wet and fuck! I forgot ab-”.

You were abruptly cut off by Bob hugging you from behind. His arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You drew in a sharp breath, wincing as your throat tightened and tears started sprouting in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “This is a shitty time to have a breakdown…”

Behind you, Bob shook his head, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re scared. Tha’s normal. If you weren’t, Sunshine, I’d be scared if you were standing here completely fine. This is fucking terrifying.” His tone was gentle, muffled behind the N95 he had yet to remove.

You swallowed hard, staring around at the nearly empty kitchen, willing your tears away. There was still so much to do, so much to try and save before the evacuation alert became an order. Before you both were forced to flee. “Yeah..” your voice was quiet, even to your ears. “It’s just…”

“I know.”

The two of you stood there in silence, Bob’s strong arms around your middle, grounding you in this moment. He was there, and no matter what, you two would face this together. “How are Nat and her partner? I heard that their area was under alert earlier.” His squad had become your family too and you were worried for them all, especially for Phoenix, Javy, and Bradley, all of whom you had grown close to.

Bob moved away from you to start packing the cooler and you immediately missed his warmth. “She’s okay. They are at Jake’s right now, Sunshine.” He gave you a soft smile before you heard the ‘clunk’ of drinks landing in the cooler.

“Robby… are you just tossing them in there?” You asked, a smile passing fleetingly across your lips. “You know that we still have to fit the rest of the stuff I bought yesterday in there.”

“Sunshine… would I jus’ throw shit in a bag and call it quits?” The faint drawl in his tone surprised you, given that it usually popped out when Bob was teasing.

You turned to face him, your grandma’s cookbook in your hands. “I don’t know mister. Would you?”

He chuckled, caught red-handed as you peered into the cooler and swatted his arm as you walked by, book in hand. “I’ll fix it, Sugar. Don’t worry about it.”

Shaking your head at his antics, you went to place the book in the last box that hadn’t yet been closed up, but found that you couldn’t find any room. The brief moment of optimism rushed out of you in a heartbeat, your mind flooding with ‘what ifs’ that stole your breath.

You wanted to take everything, but there was only so much that could fit in your car and his truck. Your closet was nearly full, having told yourself that clothes were replaceable and only taking essentials in addition to a few special pieces. The green dress you had worn on your second date with Bob, his favourite on you, had been packed, as well as a few other pieces. But the mere thought of losing it all had tears welling in your eyes again.

There would be pictures left behind. Holiday decorations, some of which had belonged to family members that were long gone, books, blankets, jewelry, that you couldn’t take with you. You had to try your best to pack up your life as you knew it and try and take it with you, cutting out pieces of yourself and memories that were imbued in everything you had in this little house.

You had hidden a few stuffed animals away in the bottom of a box, precious childhood keepsakes that you had never and would never be able to part with. But like everything else in this shitty situation, in this moment, some would be left behind. The child you were was screaming at you, begging and pleading to not leave Mr. Panda and Brownie the Bear behind, but you had to. Your house was full of memories and try as you might, it simply wasn’t possible to take it all with you.

The fear of losing them was enough to have you crumpling to the floor, choking on your tears. This house would still be full when you left. Full of inanimate things that each carried parts of your life and Bob’s, things that held pieces of your both. You couldn’t take the calming blue paint of your bedroom, nor the corner of your living room where Bob had proposed on Christmas Eve.

This was the stuff you wanted to take. To box up and carry far, far away from this place, away from the blaze that bore down on you like a storm ready to snuff out your corner of the world, your safe place.

And you were scared. So fucking terrified that it was a miracle you could even breath with the tightness in your chest. Your home was in danger. Bob was in danger.

But he was there.

Bob was right there the second he heard your knees hit the floor. He ran towards you as you buried your head in your hands and sobbed, your cries indecipherable but so visceral that he knew that they were full of fear and pain without hearing the words. You were pulled into his arms and you turned to sob into his shirt, wetting the fabric with the tears you had held back for too long. He had since discarded the N95 and buried his face in your neck, letting his own tears fall as he mourned almost preemptively.

He hadn’t vocalized his fears to you, not wanting to add to your stress, but having heard that Nat had had to evacuate earlier in the day had shattered the wall he’d built to keep his feelings out. He was scared shitless. Everything you had built together was at risk and it was all so overwhelming that the realization had sent him running from your bed the night before. Ever since the alert went out, you both had gone dancing over the eggshells of your own fears, both not wanting to burden the other.

It had been a mistake to do so. Now the two of you had bottled everything up so tightly, that it exploded out of you in premature grief at the mere possibility of losing it all. “I’m here, Sunshine. It can’t take you from me…” Bob murmured into your skin, sniffling a little. “It won’t. I’m not leavin’.”

You closed your eyes, blocking out the sound of the air purifier, the smoke that hung in the air, the dim sunlight that cast the world in a frightening gold glow, trying to focus on your fiancé. Willing yourself to push past this block, this fear, so you could continue packing, but it was like wading through glue. You were caught in the depths of this panic that it was suffocating you, sapping your will to fight back. Distantly, you felt Bob’s tears on your shoulder, alerting you to the fact that he was suffering too.

He was mourning a life that you two had only begun to share.

A shaky breath left you as you lifted a hand to card through Bob’s sweaty hair, your nails gently scraping his scalp in the way you knew always calmed him. You were trying to comfort him, just as he was trying to do the same to you.

You opened your mouth to say something through your tears when your phones went off, the emergency alert messages blasting through the speakers. Your heart sank. This would be the evacuation order. It had to be.

“No. No, no, no, no!” You cried, tears racing down your face. You felt Bob sigh, unfolding himself to grab his phone, but he held out his hand to you, helping you up. “Robby… please tell me that we have more time.”

From where he stood by the kitchen table, you saw sadness fill his blue eyes, defeat sink into his bones as he answered you. “We don’t. We have to go, Sunshine.” His voice was quiet, barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears.

You were frozen, hardly able to comprehend what was happening. “But I haven’t… the photos. Robby…”

“Grab them. We can find room, but we have to get this stuff in the truck, okay?” When had Bob moved to cup your face in his hands? When did your world come crashing down around you? “Sunshine, I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

You nodded, shaking yourself and grabbed a box, following Bob out to the truck and loading it up. Your neighbours were doing the same, all filled with the same numbing urgency that had seeped into your bones as they packed up as quickly as they could.

A baby wailed a few doors down. Car doors slammed. Shouts echoed as you watched the grey smoke billow in the distance, but it was all at the back of your mind as you packed up both cars, the photo albums tossed haphazardly on the passenger seat.

The furnace was shut off, the propane tank from the barbecue placed in the back seat of Bob’s truck. Everything was disconnected, shut off, or locked away. Cars had begun to leave the neighborhood, driving away to the tune of scared, wailing children, distant sirens, and a primal fear that had settled into the block like the ash falling from the sky.

As you got in your car, watching Bob lock the front door behind him, the finality of this hit you hard. But there was no time to dwell on it. You had to leave and so you did, driving out past the barricade the police had set up, watching as a few cars pulled up and were turned away, wincing as you heard the cries of a child learning that their stuffed animals would have to stay behind.

You felt the same way. You wanted to cry, scream, beg for a reprieve from the smoke and the fear that ricocheted around your body like a deranged pinball machine, but it would be no use. Bob had called your phone the minute you pulled out of the driveway, making sure that the two of you could be connected as you drove.

Out of the neighborhood.

Out of the postal code.

You drove as far as you could go but remained close enough to receive updates on whether or not your home still stood. The both of you had wanted to be close enough to the other Daggers and their families in case they needed help in any way. Javy and his wife were close by, sitting on their hands and waiting for the alert to become an order, but they were safe for the moment. Bob had made sure of that, calling them the minute your neighborhood had fallen under evacuation alert.

They were okay, having started their own packing when you had.

You just wanted everyone to be okay. No more homes turned to burned fragments, no more casualties. Your fiancé had been doing his best to try and distract you, and he had, but your mind was the type to fixate on something for so long that it almost became a part of you.

“…shine? Baby, you there?” Bob’s voice crackled through your car’s Bluetooth. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forgetting that he wasn’t able to see you. “Yeah,” your voice cracked on the word, making you cringe. “I will be. What were you saying, Robby?”

Bob’s face softened and his heart hurt for you. You were trying so hard to keep it together, the unshed tears making your voice thick in a way he hated to hear. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that the turn for the motel is coming up.”

An ambulance went screaming past in the opposite direction and you flinched. “Okay, yeah. Thanks babe.”

“Hey Sunshine?”

“Robby?”

“Tell me what you first thought about me. Just talk okay?” Bob knew that he had to distract you in some way and you had always refused to entertain his self-doubt that you could have chosen someone better.

You blinked, caught off guard by the randomness of the question. “Well, Mickey introduced us after I refused Jake’s advances and I remember being so afraid to talk to you. You were the reason I kept coming to the bar as often as I did and I thought you were just the prettiest man I’d ever seen.” There was a wide smile on your face as you recalled that one night that had changed both of your lives. “I don’t know what it was about you, maybe just how you seemed to approach every conversation with a level of strategy that didn’t make sense. Or the way that your face went bright red when I came over.”

Bob chuckled at your words. How he’d been so lucky to keep you in his life, he had no idea. You were such a vibrant person, the warmth of your personality coming out when you were around those who you cared for deeply. He’d been half in love with you when you had challenged his opinion on Marvel, playfully debating with him for hours. You had brought light and warmth into his life that he hadn’t known he was missing, and that was the real reason you were his Sunshine.

“… and then you just came alive. I thought you were pretty before, Robby, but after you seemed genuinely interested in my life, in my job, you became so much more than what I had initially thought of you,” you finished your speech in a rush of breath that had Bob laugh on the other end of the call. “It’s hard for me to separate what I feel for you now and what I felt then because I don’t know when they changed.”

Your admission was hushed, like it was a secret that you loved your fiancé long before you had even discussed your future together. Bob grinned, happy that his attempt to distract you had worked. “What about me? You told me once that you didn’t know when I had caught your eye, only that I did.” A pause, before you added semi-playfully, “You distracted me, now it’s my turn.”

He shook his head at your teasing tone. “Sunshine…”

You retaliated, cooing his name over the phone “Robby…”

A beat then you two both started laughing. It felt odd, especially given all the emotions that had flowed out of you not 30 minutes earlier, but you both knew that the other was fraught with a myriad of emotions and hell, laughing was better than crying.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell ya when we unpack a little at the motel.” You watched Bob’s truck turn onto a side street and you copied the movement, pulling your little red car next to his truck. “Love you baby.”

You shook your head, watching Bob get out of the truck and give you a grin that had you returning the expression. “Love you too!” You had rolled your window down to yell it at him, watching him burst into laughter.

“Come on, let’s go get a room.”

===

An hour later, you were curled up in Bob’s arms as he played with the ends of your hair. “Sunshine?”

“Hmm?”

“It was your laugh.”

You looked up at him in confusion. “What was my laugh?”

“The reason I knew you were my forever. It was real, not fake like I always saw happen to Jake or Bradley. You meant it and I knew that I really couldn’t fuck this up.” Bob’s voice was soft, seemingly afraid to vocalize the words. “When you laughed at my terrible joke, I knew you were genuinely a good person.

“Robby…” You surged up, capturing his lips in a kiss that stole both your breath and his. “I… you are too good to me.”

He shook his head. “I told you when I proposed that I would spend forever trying to earn the love you had given me and if that means showering you in compliments for as long as I have you, then I will.” The sincerity in those blue eyes was almost too much. “And don’t you dare say that I don’t have too. Because you saw me. Quiet, shy, nerdy me.”

“You were never shy, Robby,” you told him, a grin playing on your lips. “I distinctly remember our second anniversary as a couple and nothing about you was shy then.” He rolled his eyes and kissed you again before you continued. “And how could I not see you? The only man I wanted in that bar was you.”

Bob’s head bumped yours and he blew out a sigh. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the same thing I did to deserve you?”

A soft huff of laughter left Bob’s lips. Here, in a motel miles away from your home, wrapped up in the arms of your fiancé, you were safe. Whatever befell your house, if the blaze took it, it was a small conciliation to know that you had Bob with you and that you both were okay.

The fire raged on, yet, you both knew that your love would outlast the blaze, even if all was lost. A wildfire couldn’t take his love of you, nor yours of him. It would glow through the smoke and the haze and be your beacon of hope in this time of uncertainty.

===

A/N: This is a very personal fic; probably the only one like it that I will ever write because of how afraid I am during this time. All the love to @startrekfangirl2233 who slapped me out of the imposter syndrome that hit hard on this one, and yeah. If anyone you know or love is experiencing a wildfire or natural disaster threat, check in with them. It’s such a simple act, but it means so much.

Thank you for reading!

Tagging: @startrekfangirl2233 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @sarahsmi13s @writingshae @bobby-r2d2-floyd @dakotakazansky @beccaanne814 @cherrycola27 @bradleybeachbabe

#this love is fireproof #fern writes #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x female reader #sorta personal #top gun maverick imagine #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd

120 notes · View notes

cerenemuxse · 7 months

Text

"He Squawks!"

7th October 1963

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

Under an agreement between James and the rest of the North Westerners, after every October 6th, James is allowed to spook any of his fellow co-workers. This year has a bit of a surprise for him.

For Traintober 2023: Day 8 - Bird

In Tidmouth Yards, three engines were laughing about as they cleaned up the little mishap one of them caused. Troublesome Trucks had been derailed by accident.

“Thon wis quite a scare, Jim!” piped up Donald with a chuckle. “Ye could’nae even wait a single day noo, could ye?”

James laughed loudly. “Of course not! It’s past my birthday, just like we agreed~!”

“We ken, auld man!” Douglas said cheekily as he pulled a Troublesome Truck back on the line. “At least we won’t be needin’ the cranes.”

“Ye’re gettin’ better at spookin’,” Donald added with the same cheekiness.

“As if I was never good at it!” huffed the red medium-sized tender engine playfully, giving a cross look at the Scottish twins. Within seconds of silence full of steam being bellowed, all three engines burst into laughter once again as they continued pulling the trucks back onto the tracks.

Once they were done, Donald asked. “Sae, who’s yer next victim?”

“Emily, of course! As always.”

“As always?” asked Douglas with a chuckle. “Sae we’re always first? How sweet, Jim.”

With another playful huff, James replied, “Well, you’re the furthest away from my branch line, and I haven’t seen you both in a while, except for the weekends, that is.”

“We saw ye yesterday, auld man,” reminded Douglas.

“But still-!”

“We get it, Jimmy,” interrupted Donald. “Still cannae believe ye’re turning fifty-ane ance this month is over.”

“May I remind you that you’re both fifty-four years old. You’re both not that much older than me, ‘auld man,’” James retorted with a tease, mimicking the twins’ Scottish accent.

“Alricht, get goin’ then if ye want tae catch Emily,” huffed Donald, shooing the larger engine away. “We dinnae want the Big Man findin’ oot aboot this.”

“Right!” puffed James. With two sharp whistles from the polished brass object, James reversed and gathered his goods train that was headed to the docks. Half of the train was from the Ffarquhar Quarry and the other was from the Goram Fell Quarry, so the trucks were full of stone. Thankfully, these trucks weren’t Troublesome Trucks. Otherwise, they would’ve gotten James back for the incident that had occurred moments prior.

The red medium-sized tender engine pulled out of the yard with his goods train and went onto the Main Line, heading towards the Brendam Branch Line.

…

Brendam Docks was busy as usual with Salty bustling about and Cranky loading and unloading cargo. Goods trains were being set up as James approached Cranky.

"Here's James!" he exclaimed, whistling sharply. "Here's my train, Cranky!"

"You're gonna have to move along, James!" exclaimed Cranky with his typical grump. "I need to load another train now. You can put it underneath the dock manager's building for now!"

Without another word, James whistled once more and moved ahead. He made sure the brake van of his goods train sat right outside of the roofline of the building. Once that was done, he collected his brake van and moved along, only to find another engine stalled ahead.

Although James hadn't planned on adding this particular engine to his list, he gave it a second thought. With a soft but mischievous chuckle, he whispered, "I've been a little too nice to Edward."

His driver, Fred, caught wind and immediately spoke up. "Oh, don't you even think about it!" he whispered hastily as he grabbed the handbrake. "Come on, old boy! We're gonna be late!"

"Pft! We'll be fine. I'll only take a moment!" he whispered. Fred and George looked at one another before giving in, with Fred letting go of the handbrake. James snickered as he approached the blue medium-sized tender engine as slowly as he could. Knowing that Edward lacked the ability to open his smokebox door, James moved closer than he typically would. Once he was at the halfway point of Edward's goods train, he stopped, making sure Edward hadn't taken notice. The other engine didn't do anything but hum about, presumably waiting around. With a devious grin, James rushed forward with full force and hollered, "I'm behind you!" as loud as he could.

Edward let out a very loud squawk, startled by the sudden scream and red blur rushing past him.

James immediately pulled on his brakes the moment the sound left the other engine's mouth. The noise had shaken him out of his joy, making it short-lived. Slowly, he reversed until his smokebox aligned with Edward. He popped open his smokebox door, seeing Edward's face.

Edward's eyes were blown open, his lips creased together in a thin straight line, and his cheeks were burning to a near sooty black.

"Did you just-?" began James.

"Naw!" immediately squeaked the smaller engine, trying to be stern. "Naw, I didnae!"

"You squawked like a seagull!" exclaimed James, flustering Edward even further. "I can't believe it! He squawks!"

"James, please-!" he insisted, still trying to be stern.

"I wonder if Duck quacks?" asked James smugly. "Now wouldn't that be a treat?"

"James!"

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, Edward, if that's the problem."

"Well, aye, but-!"

"I've gotta go now! Talk to you later!" exclaimed the red medium-sized tender engine giddily before rushing off, leaving behind a very flustered Edward.

Just a fun short story! Looks like I did get a chance to join Traintober this year just for a bit.

#ttte james #ttte edward #ttte donald #ttte douglas #engines of sudrian rails (shipverse) by muxse #engines of sudrian rails by muxse #traintober 2023 #this idea has been brewing in my mind for a good while #so with the recent changes i made to the storyline #it was perfect timing #my writing #ttte fic

72 notes · View notes

viktuurishipper96 · 1 day

Text

Sicilia the Sorceress

Meet Sicilia katsuki wright.

🎀she’s is a sorceress who is intelligent, preppy, proud, calm minded natured, quick thinker, a charmer and a jokesters.

🌈She is 28 years old, 5’6, weights in at 124lb, has brown hair with heterochromia eyes.

🍩 she’s kind, shy and friendly toward others.

🌕Her power is moon and ice based.

🖤💜🤍 she’s an asexual.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿She summons the Scottish twins Donald and Douglas. Overall, the twins are helpful when needed for offense or defense.

🐱She cares for the animals and is a veterinarian.

⚖️She is married to Phoenix wright.

🎀she is multilingual, plays instruments including the piano and bag pipes, plays sports(primarily for figure skating and swimming), is an excellent artist and a nerd of mythology (Babylonian, Roman, Greek , Japanese etc), mathematics, literature and tech savvy.

For @kenora-pizza hope you’ll like this one and the inspiration behind this is the best artist ever @dilemmaart @asktrio516 thank you for all you do sweetie

#oc #oc character #ttte human au #ttte donald and douglas #ttte donald #ttte douglas #orginal art #sorceress #girl power #asexual artist #ttte humanized #sodor magic #fanasty

19 notes · View notes

holmesillustrations · 4 months

Text

Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations

Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

"Pipes are occasionally of extraordinary interest," said he." W.H. Hyde, Yellow Face (Harper’s Weekly) Characters: Watson, Holmes

[Moriarty meets Holmes at the falls] Harry C. Edwards, Final Problem (McClure’s) Characters: Holmes, Moriarty

"Then how do you account for that?" FD Steele, Black Peter (Collier’s) Characters: John Neligan, Holmes, Hopkins

Collier’s cover FD Steele, Second Stain (Collier’s) Characters: Holmes

"This is where the young man's body lay." FD Steele, Bruce-Partington Plans (Collier’s) Characters: Railway Rep, Watson, Holmes, Lestrade

"Quick, man, quick! It's life or death." FD Steele, Lady Frances Carfax (The American Magazine) Characters: Holmes

"Maybe you are in a humour for a fight, Mr. Boarder?" "That I am," cried McMurdo, springing to his feet "You never said a more welcome word." Frank Wiles, Valley of Fear (The Strand) Characters: Ted Baldwin, Ettie Shafter, Douglas/McMurdo

"Billy advanced and drew away the drapery which screened the window. Dr. Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement. There was a facsimile of his old friend, dressing gown and all." Alfred Gilbert, Mazarin Stone (The Strand) Characters: Holmes Mannequin, Billy, Watson

"Something was moving along the passage, something dark and crouching, then suddenly it emerged into the light and i saw that it was he." FD Steele, Creeping Man (Hearst’s International) Characters: Trevor Bennett, Prof Presbury

"Sherlock Holmes shot his long, thin, nervous arm out of the sheets and drew an envelope from the inside pocket of the coat which hung beside him." HK Elcock, Illustrious Client (The Strand) Characters: Watson, Holmes

"His back was covered with dark red lines, as though he had been terribly flogged." FD Steele, Lion's Mane (Liberty) Characters: Stackhurst, McPherson, Holmes

[Holmes at microscope] FD Steele, Shoscombe Old Place (Liberty) Characters: Holmes

#acd holmes #sherlock holmes #tumblr bracket #sherlock holmes illustrations #elim poll #oa elim

21 notes · View notes

rainydaywhump · 5 months

Text

Whumpcember Day 10: Freezing

From my merman whumpee Zale's story, only this time it's about the diver who tried to warn him away from the oil rig. A prologue, if you will.

@whumpcember @pigeonwhumps @i-eat-worlds . Lmk if you want to be added or removed! I'm always worried that people get too many notifs but don't want to seem rude by mentioning it.

CWs: near-death due to hypothermia; male human whumpee; no whumper just nature; technical descriptions of saturation diving ops gleaned from Wikipedia and a lot of articles that interviewed divers

Douglas was in trouble.

It had been a routine excursion. He and two other saturation divers were on their fifth day at depth; all of them had gone on more jobs than they could remember, so they were all experienced. You had to be, to be a sat diver. Well over 600 feet down, wielding their technical skill to repair pipelines and machinery underwater in low vis, knowing everything there was to know about their equipment, gear, and their limits…and, even with all that, about eight other people on the ship or in the bell making sure they didn’t die in one of the many, many ways that pressure, air supply, or just the simple fact that they were in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico in winter could kill them.

Stereotype had it that saturation divers were headstrong and always wanted to be in charge. After all, they had most dangerous dive jobs they could choose to take; they had to be brave. So yeah, Douglas and the other guys on his team were all pretty intense, but none of them could be the impatient, argumentative type. Living in a hab for over a month with the same four or five guys would drive anyone mad, but you couldn’t let it fuck with you too much. You had to be able to chill, get over the inherent sense of claustrophobia that comes with cramped conditions and no sunlight to speak of, and not let minor annoyances get in the way. Then, after surfacing, you could keep as far away from that one annoying guy as you wanted.

Their equipment kept them alive in compression. In turn, they had the job of keeping themselves cool mentally.

This one time, Douglas had been interviewed by a guy for a documentary on modern maritime mishaps. ‘Mishaps’ was a pretty funny word for incidents that sometimes resulted in divers being obliterated in an instant by pressure change, but Douglas was an affable speaker who wasn’t too worried about that sort of thing. It was rare. To lighten the mood, he told the guy, “Really, I’d be more nervous if I was part of the life support supervisors! Think of the pressure…literally and figuratively.” That joke never got old.

On this day, though, Douglas’ mind was only on his work. Every now and then he’d have the luxury of looking at a cool chunk of coral or fossil or manmade debris, but he usually couldn’t afford to take a break and get distracted. Especially now. Visibility was low and the currents were strong, and Douglas had a job to do. He had one more hour under here before the next guys could take their shift.

Douglas’ team was specifically inspecting and reinforcing an underwater cable that carried power from offshore windmills to the mainland. The cable had to be incredibly thick and durable to withstand the sea floor (and the sea creatures that occasionally liked to nibble on it; once, on another job, Douglas had seen a mako shark take a bite out of a pipeline), and they had to be continuously monitored and repaired. A lot of that could be done remotely, but the dive teams were essential.

Welding underwater, fastening flanges around pipelines, methodically inspecting each length of pipe or cable, of hull or propeller…being underwater for so long and with such tasks was interesting enough, but what often struck Douglas was the sheer size of everything he was working with. Including the ocean itself. In times of higher vis, Douglas could look out on all sides of him and practically get lost in the overwhelmingly beautiful blue. It was almost hypnotic. His human eyes couldn’t even hope to comprehend it all.

…and in low vis like this, Douglas was happy that he only had to comprehend what was visible in the beam of his headlamp: the cable in front of him and the tools on the lift bag beside him. He moved slowly and carefully, making sure his umbilical stayed untangled.

His umbilical was quite literally his lifeline. The several-inches-thick cord tethered him to the diving bell, which was likewise tethered to the ship. Aside from keeping him attached in case of emergency (and to find his way back), the umbilical contained cables for electricity to power his headlamp, voice comms, camera, and locator. It also delivered a steady supply of air and warmth: helium, oxygen, and a tinge of nitrogen, all heated in this case, and a hot water supply that circulated around his dry suit. Temperatures were frigid down here.

So he was quick to notice, while working on a particularly jagged cut in the cable, that his left arm was suddenly freezing.

Douglas’ headlamp swung to the offending arm. It took him a second to locate the problem, but, sure enough, there was a fresh cut in his dry suit’s arm. What was worse, he realized after a beat, was that the hot water supply had stopped circulating: it was now leaking out into the open ocean and leaching Douglas’ heat with it.

He was in trouble, but he kept calm like always. As long as he had his umbilical, he’d be okay. The supervisors and techs in the bell would know by now that there was something wrong; they couldn’t communicate with him, but they’d be able to see on the monitors that something was wrong with the hot water supply. He began swimming back with it. Into his voice comms with the other two divers, Douglas said, “Puncture in my suit. Heading back to the bell.”

To his alarm, the response from Lynns was fractured, unintelligible. Douglas gritted his teeth and continued, hand-over-hand, to struggle against the current and try to get back as fast as possible. It had been less than a minute, but, already, his lower half was so cold that it felt like it was on fire. Wondering why he wasn’t making as much progress as usual, the diver turned back and realized with icy horror that his legs were barely moving. He could barely feel them when he flexed a muscle.

Douglas pulled on the umbilical with renewed vigor, but panic was starting to ebb at the edges of his mind. Why isn’t the team pulling me on their end? It didn’t make sense, and as the seconds ticked by, the current felt stronger as Douglas felt weaker. Thirty-five-odd degrees Fahrenheit was already dangerous on land, but in the water and as encumbered as he was…

…he was choking on heliox. His lungs were rattling his body with cold shock breaths. To his immense relief, the umbilical started to be reeled back in to the bell –

It’s too slow. The umbilical was about 200 feet in length, and Douglas had reached its end for his work on the cable. He noted this fact with increasingly numbed thoughts. I hope the team doesn’t feel guilty when they can’t get me back in time. Fuck! How’d this all happen so quick? How could he have been working steadily one moment, and then the next --

Something tugged at his arm.

Douglas looked blearily up and almost started spasming with cold shock again. A person was pulling him steadily forwards – but this person wore no tanks, had no line, had no headlamp to see him by. When they turned around to check that Douglas was still with them, their eyes shone in his lamplight.

When they smiled, their teeth were sharp and gray.

Douglas wouldn’t have resisted even if he could. In his weakened state, the thing that tripped him up the most was how easily this person (angel? Apparition?) carried him through the water. Even when Douglas went limp and stopped making any effort to swim, the person lugged the weight of him and his gear across the current until, through the murk, the bell’s moon pool loomed overhead.

Douglas’ memories were hazy after that. He could recall several things that were probably not in the right order: Lynns hugging Murphy as Aldaine and Wright cut his suit off; a huddle of warmth that started to sting, to which Lynns hugged all three of the others in relief; voices on the radio to the surface; mentions of how lucky he was. Douglas was too drowsy to care all that much. He knew he would be absolutely horrified by his brush with death once he was more awake, but now, before he passed out into a deeper sleep, the only line of thought that he could grip concerned the creature who had saved him.

He could have sworn, in addition to their strange eyes and teeth and strength, that they had a tail.

....

Definitely using Douglas as a character for Call of Cthulhu rpgs, only this character will encounter something a bit more cosmic horror-y than a mer

#whumpcember #whump #whumpee #merman #merpeople #mer whump #whumpcember2023 #whumpcember2023day10 #whump writing #hypothermia whump #hypothermia #environmental whump #whump rescue

23 notes · View notes

thebunnylord · 6 months

Text

Thomas: I’m so glad you finally came!

The Plummer: glad I could be of some kind of help! So tell me what the situation is again?

Thomas: the pipes in the shower are making funny noises and they’re clogging non stop

Plummer: okay, that should be an easy fix, now let’s what the issue is *pulls back the shower curtain*

Donald: *is standing in the bathtub playing a bagpipe very badly*

Douglas: *is also in the bathtub running in place with clogs on aggressively*

The Plummer: …

Thomas: :D

Percy:

#ttte #thomas and friends #ttte incorrect quote #ttte humanisation #ttte thomas #ttte donald #ttte douglas #ttte percy #well that went down the drain real quickly

27 notes · View notes

assortedseaglass · 1 year

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Five

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, World on Fire spoilers, two idiots not communicating? What’s new?

Word Count: 4.2K

Note: Thank you for the support on the last chapter, it’s been a tough time here and the comments and messages have really cheered me up! Little bit of TV show dialogue in here, but I think the scene with Douglas in the kitchen is an important moment for Tom.

September 1939

Somewhere in the night, a fox screeched. Summer was slowly fading to autumn, and every now and again, Tom Bennett took his hands off the cold metal to warm them with his breath. His back was growing stiff against the cold ground, but he was almost finished. Just a few more nuts and bolts. The fox screeched again. At the start of the night Tom had paused every time it sounded, now it was merely accompaniment to his, what had he told Bess? His “enterprising”.

A shaft of yellow light illuminated the gravel by Tom’s head, and he tucked his legs beneath the car. Someone somewhere had turned on a light. Fingers working faster, Tom at last pulled the pipe free and, shuffling on his back, made his way out from beneath the car. Rows upon rows of them stretched ahead of him. Perhaps just a few more. He looked to the source of the light and ducked. The owner of the scrapyard was drawing his bedroom curtains. Light distinguished, Tom found a smaller motor and made quick work removing the mirrors and bumpers.

“OI!” The white light of a torch shone in his face, and he could just make out the round figure behind it. Tom dodged the light and grabbed his bag of loot, feet kicking up gravel as he sprinted to get away. There’s no way that old bastard can keep up with me. He threw the sack of metal over the high fence and before launching himself at it, hauling his weight over the other side and sprinting down the street with his bag of swag. By the time the scrapyard owner had unbolted the gate, he was out of sight.

Ten minutes later, Tom came to a halt at the end of the ginnel connecting his street to the Off Licence opposite. Inside, he could see the shopkeeper wiping down the windows for the night. Resting the stolen bumpers and bag of scrap against the ginnel wall, Tom opened the offy door.

“Still open?”

“If you’re quick, Tom.”

“Packet of Marlboro please.” As the old man turned around, Tom slipped a bar of Cadburys from the counter into his jacket pocket.

“Sixpence.” Tom slid over the coin and left without a word. He went home the back way, best to avoid Douglas and Lois when carting around a bag of stolen goods. Depositing it under the old dust sheet, Tom silently entered the house. The lights were off. Shutting the door, he moved through the kitchen and towards the front of the house, where he exited onto the street. The Vaughns’ lights were off too. Tom glanced at his watch. 11pm. He had hoped to catch Bess before bed. Autumn might have been on its way, but as Tom glanced up, he saw that the Vaughn girls clearly thought it too warm to shut their bedroom window.

He scrabbled up the drainpipe and pushed the window sash further open before pulling himself inside. Not a one of the girls stirred. Cora, hair in a bonnet, had her back to him. The blanket she slept with had uncovered her feet, and as Tom tiptoed across the room, he tucked them in again. Dot was snoring gently, her mouth open a little and he couldn’t help but smile. She was as worry free in sleep as she was in life. Beside her in the bed they shared, Bess was curled into a ball, one hand beneath her head and the other lolling out of the bed. Unlike her sisters, Bess’ hair was loose and knotted across her pillow. She was so still, Tom watched a moment to see if she was breathing. The blanket rose and fell just a little. Edging forward, Tom reached into his jacket pocket and produced the bar of Cadburys. He placed it on Bess’ bedside table, next to her books. The girls would be cold by dawn so, as he left once more down the drainpipe, he closed the window.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

“Dot!”

Next morning, Bess stood by the stove over the eggs and bacon, occasionally popping a square of chocolate from her apron into her mouth. Albie sat at the kitchen table, darning a pair of socks as Fergal sat in his armchair by the wireless. Cora shouted up the stairs again.

“Dot! Come and help!” There was no reply. Cora huffed and returned to Bess’ side. “She’s going to get a rude awakening when she turns eighteen. If she wants to be treated like an adult, she’ll have to put her shift in. We can’t afford this laziness.” Bess hummed in agreement and flipped the eggs as Cora set the table. She was right, of course. With five adults in the house, money was tight even with each of them working. They couldn’t afford for Dot not to pull her weight around the house.

“Hush your clattering,” Fergal waved his hand at Cora, who had begun placing cutlery at the table.

“Dadda!” she exclaimed, indignant.

“Make your own sodding breakfast,” Bess muttered under her breath.

“Ssh!” Albie joined in as their father moved to turn up the wireless. The crackling voice of Neville Chamberlain filled the kitchen.

“I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.”

Bess turned from the stove. Fergal was wringing his hands and Albie had placed his worn socks on the table. Cora’s eyes were filling with shocked tears.

“I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany. You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed…”

Cora placed a hand atop Albie’s shoulder. Not knowing what else to do, Bess silently plated up the eggs and bacon. How silly, eating seemed now. She stared at the plates of food, placed the pan in the sink and removed her apron. Not one of them moved.

“…And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage.” Fergal switched the wireless off and silence reigned. Beyond the window, Bess watched a few people scurry up and down the street, surely visiting friends to check that what they heard was true.

“Police!” Dot came crashing down the stairs. “The police are back!” The three sisters ran to the window and, when the police entered the Bennett home, Dot and Bess rushed into the street. Fergal and Albie still did not move. Bess worried at the skin of her thumb. She had always known this day would come. Beside her, Dot was jumping on the balls of her feet, hands clasped under her chin, a look akin to excitement in her eyes.

“Dot!” Bess snapped. “It doesn’t do to enjoy other people’s misfortune, especially not our friends.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Hush.” Dot’s face fell in shame, and Bess knew she was trying not to cry. Cora and Bess had had much more responsibility at seventeen than Dot had. Yes, she was young but my God she could be naïve.

It wasn’t long before the Bennett’s front door opened again, and Tom exited in handcuffs flanked either side by a policeman. His steps were heavy, wanting to make it harder for them, and a pleased look was plastered across his face. Lois and Douglas were not far behind and lingered in the doorway.

“Tom!” Dot shouted, now upset. His head snapped up to the girls across the street and his face fell. For the first time in his life, he saw Bess Vaughn look scared. Her eyebrows were knitted together, eyes wide with worry, usually plush lips a line of concern. Tom barely had time to take her in before a hand on his head forced him into the police car. Fergal pushed his way past his daughters and steered Douglas back into his home. Cora followed and scooped Lois into a hug. Bess watched the police car round the corner, staring at the back of Tom’s head, before retreating into the house. She picked up two plates of untouched bacon and eggs. Albie was still sat at the table, staring into nothingness. Dot ran upstairs, trying to hide her sobs.

When Bess entered the Bennett home, she found Douglas and her father at the kitchen table, Cora helping Lois fold some washing. She placed the food on the table.

“Oh,” Douglas looked up at Bess. “Thanks, love.” She went to stand with her sister. Lois took her hand in thanks.

“I was just telling Cora,” Lois began. “Theft and assault. That’s what they got him for.”

“Assault?”

“That bloke at the dance.”

“But that was weeks ago-”

Lois nodded. “I think they wanted to build up a few charges. That way he couldn’t wriggle out the way he always does. They’ve taken him into Manchester central.” At the kitchen table, Fergal and Douglas talked in worried whispers, and Bess knew that while each was worried for their sons, memories of thirty years passed were flooding their minds.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

The world turned upside down, and Bess knew it would take a long time to right itself. Cora and Dot were given a week off from the factory while it was converted for munitions production. War work begins at home, and soon Bess’ sisters would be making bullet casings. Fergal kept working down the dockyard, transporting goods from the factories to navy auxiliaries. As for Bess, fewer clients called and already the haberdasher’s supply of fabric was dwindling. Bored, determined and anxiously awaiting news of Tom, she took a job at the old cotton mill, making uniforms for the influx of the British Army’s new recruits. One such recruit, was Albert Vaughn.

Not two days after Tom’s arrest, Albie took the tram into the city centre. The girls had settled down for dinner when he returned home that night with a set of leaflets, his sign-up papers and a proud aspect to his gait. Fergal, who had barely eaten since the outbreak of war, looked up from his armchair by the fire. Each child watched him. From his dear girls’ faces, his eyes wandered to Albie who stood hesitantly at the table. His only son.

“Dadda?” Albie whispered.

“Just let me take you all in.” Cora smiled sadly at this, and Bess reached for her father’s hand. Dot held back a sob. “Who knows when we five will be together like this again?” They were silent a while, then Fergal stood. He kissed Bess’ hand and let it go, moving round the table to stand in front his son. He stretched out a hand. Albie looked at it and then back to the face of his father. They shook hands and when Albie let go, Fergal wrapped his arms around him. Dot started to sniffle, and Cora cuddled her close. Albie kissed the top of his father’s greying head. “I’ll be alright, dadda.”

A week later, and two since the arrest, Fergal came home with the news that Tom Bennett was to be released from prison.

“What did they charge him with, dadda?” Cora asked as she took his coat.

“I don’t know, passed Douglas and Lois on their way to pick him up.” Bess, knees tucked in the armchair, listened. When they said no more, she spoke softly.

“Have you got plans for this evening, Cora?”

Her sister jumped. “God, Bess, I thought you were sleeping! Well, Lois is singing later so Dot and I thought we’d go down. I would have asked but you said you were tired from the shift.”

Bess nodded. “Dadda, what about you?”

“Going for a drink down The Crown with Douglas and Albie. Don’t know if Tom’s coming, I imagine they’ve got him under house arrest.”

“The police?” chimed in Dot.

“Nah, Lois and Douglas.” Fergal chortled. Bess nodded once more and curled up in the seat, face turned towards the heat emanating from the hearth. She’d wait until they’d all left and sneak over to the Bennett’s. Two weeks remand was a long time for a petty crime, and she was desperate to know why they had let him saunter back to Longsight.

By the time Cora and Dot had left for the dancehall it was 9 o’clock, the men long gone to the pub. Dot had wanted Bess to lower the neckline of her dress and heighten the hem. Cora and Bess bargained with her for just the hem. Bess waited a little while before she hurried across the street and thank goodness she did. Now sooner was she putting on her brogues than was Dot racing through the door having forgotten her lipstick. Bess watched her chase after Cora, who was rounding the street corner, before closing the front door and making her way to the Bennett’s. Just as she stepped onto the pavement, the door opened.

“Hello,” Tom grinned at her.

“Hi,” Bess stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance at the door. She recovered herself. “You off out?”

He shrugged. “Was gonna see where the night took me.” He stepped back into the house and held the door open for her. What Bess didn’t know was the night had been taking him straight to her doorstep. She brushed past him and took a seat in the rocking chair by the fire, one trousered leg braced against the fire grate. “Very ladylike,” Tom pulled up a chair from the table. Bess smiled sadly, not looking at him. The quiet of the kitchen was amiable, and nothing out of the ordinary between she and Tom. How many nights had they spent in each other’s company without saying a word? Hundreds, surely. But Bess’ unasked question blocked the air around her and she felt as though speaking it would be like trying to shout through tar. The rustle of paper caused her to look up.

Tom held up a pamphlet. Pacifist Handbook. Bess raised her eyebrows. “What? You’ve worked out how to read?” Tom smacked her teasingly with the pamphlet.

“No,” his Mancunian accent always sounded so strong when he said it, and Bess laughed. “They said I could avoid prison if I signed up.”

Bess glanced at the pamphlet and her cheeks began to burn, though with fear, anger or disappointment she didn’t know. “So you said told them join up.” Tom nodded.

“I’ve got no intention of getting shot at,” he waved the pamphlet again. “I’m joining the conchie club.” Tom leant back in his seat and placed his feet on the table, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face.

“Oh, Tom-” he could hear the disappointment in her voice so he stopped her.

“Do you want me to go to war?”

“No, of course I don’t!” Bess leant across the table, arm reaching out but not quite touching him. “But surely the police won’t believe you? Someone getting arrested for assault suddenly becoming a pacifist?”

Tom shook his head and looked anywhere but at Bess. He propped a cigarette between his lips, and Bess knew the discussion was finished. Chin pushed forward and shoulders tensed, he became surlier by the minute. Desperate to talk to him, she told him about the factory, Albie signing up, her new job at the British Battledress, and how their fathers had been spending more time together, at the pub or chatting late into the evening. At this, Tom sombred.

“I wish mum was here,” he said.

“Me too.” Bess gripped his hand now, though neither spoke. The front door clicked. Lois. “I’ll go out the back.” She squeezed his hand. This time, Bess was the first to let go. Tom watched her dash through the yard and out the back gate before fumbling for the pamphlet and pretending to look as though he was reading.

“That your pacifist face?” Lois said, entering the kitchen and hanging up her coat. “Might have to try a bit harder.”

“You too if that’s your happy face.” Tom said. He turned back to the pamphlet. “I’ve got a shirt ‘needs ironing, if you need to take your mind off Harry and that.” Lois sighed and, taking her dress in hand, stormed up the stairs.

“Oh come on, Lois, I was joking-” Their bedroom door slammed. Tom sighed and threw the pamphlet on the table. Out of jail all of five minutes and already winding people up, nice one Tom.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Tom kept a low profile over the next few days. The Bennetts were the talk of the street and, while a little gossip added nicely to the upkeep of his reputation, Tom decided it was time to give his family a break. On the fifth day of his release, he walked into central; he’d done enough reading of his dad’s peace papers, it was time to come good on his word. Ambling lazily down the steps of the town hall, Tom joined the shorter of the lines and tapped the man in front of him on the shoulder.

“’Scuse me, mate. Is this the conchie queue?” The man looked around nervously, as did his fellows before him. Tom smiled and patted his shoulder patronisingly. “Alright, mucker, stop shaking. I’m on your side.”

“Coward’s side more like.” A tall man shouted from the other side of the hall. Tom looked at him slowly and sucked in his cheeks. He strolled towards the enlister.

“I’ll fight mate, I just won’t fight for this shit. So, if you do want some, bring your dinner and let’s get to it.” Each man turned to face Tom. Some sized him up. Some looked shocked. Some pacifist, they thought. Others were wary.

“Please, this is hard enough as it is.”

“Yeah, not for me it isn’t.”

He didn’t know why he did it. To spite his father, to get away from Manchester, to finally be somebody? To prove to this dickhead he wasn’t a coward? Whatever the reason, when he arrived home that evening with the news he was going to sea, Douglas stared at him in flabbergasted disbelief before launching into a tirade.

“The navy? The bloody navy?” He knew his dad wouldn’t like it, but he hadn’t expected this. “Can’t even steer a pedalo.” Douglas scoffed.

“Well at least it’s not the army, eh? And I’m not going to prison so,” Tom shrugged as though this answered everything.

“I must be stupid. I thought you’d actually become a pacifist. Really believed in it.”

Once more, Tom had invoked disappointment in someone he loved. “Yeah I don’t really believe in anything full on dad.” He hissed quickly. “And at least I’m fighting on the right side, at least gimme that!”

“Everybody thinks that! Every war they fight-!”

“Yeah, well this one’s different-”

“Every war’s different! Until it’s the same!” They were shouting at each other now. “Lois. Talk some sense into him, will ya?” There was a pause while Tom waited for Lois to chastise him.

“Can’t do that dad,” Tom turned in his chair to watch her. She looked at him briefly before continuing. “I think he’s right to join up. At least he’s getting out in the world,”

“Yeah, to get shot or blown up.” I’ve had enough of this. “Or do the same to other lads no older than him who have no idea why they’re fighting either!” Douglas bellowed after Tom as he stood from the chair without a word, grabbed his jacket and slammed the yard door. Thank God for Lois. She could see. No more wandering for Tom Bennett. He was going to see the world, fight for his country and make them proud. As he turned into the street, he bumped into a squat figure.

“Sorry, Fergal.” He grabbed the man by the shoulders to prevent him from falling over.

“S’right, lad.” He didn’t look into Tom’s face. Rather, stared at a point just below his chin with a glazed expression and stumbled away. Tom watched him go. Shit. He pulled his keys from his pocket and wandered up the street. The gentlest chimes of piano began to sound, a foxtrot he thought. Smiling to himself, Tom approached the Vaughn house and looked through the window. Bess was sat at the piano, though he could tell even in the dim light that her heart wasn’t in playing tonight. He put his key in the door. It was unlocked. She stopped playing when he entered.

“Bess?” He whispered. She span on her piano stool to face him. She wasn’t crying, though from the redness of her eyes and flush of her cheeks, he knew she had been.

“You saw Dadda then?”

“Walked straight into him.”

Bess stood to pour Tom a cup of tea from the pot on the table. She was dressed for bed, nightdress reaching her calves, a thin dressing gown thrown haphazardly over the top. Thick woollen socks were bunching at her ankles, making her look like a child. Just like when he’d snuck in to leave her the chocolate, her hair was unpinned and tumbling in frizzy strands down her back.

“He’s frightened,” she said, passing Tom the cup. “The nightmares have started up again. He’s barely eating! And the worst thing is, he’s terrified of losing Albie. Uncle Colm died in the first war, mam only a few years ago. I think he’ll break if he loses someone else.” A breath shuddered from her chest and she gathered herself and tried to smile. “Well. At least your dad won’t have to worry about losing you, hey?” Bess sipped her own tea and looked brightly at Tom. His cup remained held in his hand as he looked at her. “Tom?”

“I joined up today,” he whispered. The cup almost fell from Bess’ hands.

“I don’t understa-”

“Joined the navy. Come on Bess, you know me. I can’t sit around and watch everyone else have all the fun and glory,” he tried to joke but it fell flat in the quiet of the kitchen.

“When do you go?”

“Off to Liverpool in a few days to start basic training.” Bess nodded at him and her bottom lip quivered. Tom wanted to go to her. To say he’d stay, but before he had the chance to move, Bess placed her cup on the table and came to stand in front of him. Her arms found their way around his shoulders and held him tight. One hand rubbed his hair and the action made Tom’s hands fly to her waist and pull her closer. She smelt of fresh laundry and vanilla. Face buried in her hair, Tom suddenly became aware of how little Bess was wearing. His hands were lingering just above the curve of her bottom, and he could feel her breasts through the thin fabric. He’d be dead before he put on his uniform if Fergal staggered through the door. He pulled away from her a little but she held onto his shoulders, studying his face. In the dark light, she could see the flush of his cheeks and the worry in his blue eyes.

“This could be the making of you, Tom Bennett.”

He swallowed but couldn’t speak. For the first time, he was speechless.

“Can you do something for me, Tom?” He’d do anything for Bess. “Will you get a picture taken?”

He coughed awkwardly. “You what?” It was Bess’ turn to blush but her serious gaze had returned.

“Will you get a picture taken? Albie’s had one done for us, and I-I-” she huffed in annoyance. “I’d like one of you.”

“Ok.”

They stared at each other in the darkness, and when Bess took his hand and kissed it, she meant to.

Note: For those outside the UK, a ginnel is a small alleyway, normally behind a row of terraced houses. It’s a word used a lot in the north of England, growing up my mum used it a lot. Mucker, too, is a northern word that means ‘mate’. Off Licences (offy) are liquor stores.

My paternal grandmother worked in a makeup factory before the war. The women that worked there were known locally as the powder puff girls 😊 When war broke out, it became a munitions factory, which is the inspiration behind that part of the story! Here she is!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @sophielangdonx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire #ewan mitchell x reader

116 notes · View notes