#have a good night lads!! every day we learn something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetravelingtyper · 2 months

Text

On The Same Page pt2 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)

After a recurring nightmare, you and Sam decide to open the shop early...only to have an early arriving customer.

Part 1, part 3

Oh, the boy's a slag, the best you ever had

The best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams

Weren't as daft as they seem, not as daft as they seemed

My love, when you dream them up

You awoke with a jolt at your alarm, the cursed song striking once more before you could silence your phone. As you sit up the irony is not lost on you. Your dreams of late had been haunted by the caricature of your ex, some cartoon evil laugh chasing with the constant ringing of your phone. The dreams always ended the same, except for this last night:

He was upon you in a moment, clawed hand reaching up your leg. You kick and kick but the words never escape your sewn mouth. The words of your ex-coworker swarm you like angry flies, bold and ugly.

“Disgraceful”

“Stepped over for the CEO’s daughter”

“They were shoddy anyway…”

The voices all fade into your ex’s final words to you: “I never loved you anyway.”

That crushed your heart into ash and scattered it into the indifferent winds. But before he could drag you back, a shape formed in your conscience. Heavy boot steps silence the laughter and a large figure passes in your peripheral vision. In the haze of your dream, he passes the shelves, the bookstore emerging from the darkness to surround your ex and the harpies.

Your panic slows in the familiar setting and with a kick you send your ex stumbling backward. Turning your face up from the hardwood floor you look towards the figure as the haze clears. It's a man, tall and in black, just browsing but something draws your eye. And as you feel yourself awaken his eyes, hardwood and honey, meet yours.

You hear shuffling before there is a knock on your door. You call him in and Sam’s head pops in. Green eyes hidden behind black curls meet yours and he pauses upon seeing your slouched shoulders.

“Nightmare again?” He kicks a pair of jeans aside and enters your room.

You stand, make your bed swiftly, and turn to address him in the glory of your Rainbow Fish Pajamas.

“Yeah, except there was a man this-”

“You got Soap on the brain again?” It comes out immediately and you flush before rushing forward to hit your older brother figure. He was and wasn't wrong. In the following weeks after Soap’s initial visit you found yourself developing a steady friendship with the Scot, who insisted on dropping in every other day. It started with recommendations but quickly turned into shared tea over book conversations. You learned a little about him in the meantime, finding out he worked as a bartender literally down the street from your little shop. The convenience of his closeness and his ease of personality found you a fast and steady friend.

“-despite your obvious stupidity, no I do not like him!” You huffed, and it was true! Soap was handsome but in truth, you believed that one he was in a relationship and second he was better as a prospective friend.

Sam grins, dodging your poor attempt to smack him as he spins out of your room,

“He is hot though, poor lad probably gets hit on every shift. Remember we promised to visit on Saturday night! Come on let's open up the store early. I have a good feeling about today!” And with a clap of his hands for you to hurry he closes your door, exiting down the hall towards the kitchen. In a moment you can hear him lighting the stove to make breakfast.

In the resulting silence, you dress yourself, passing a reflection of yourself in the mirror and choosing to ignore it. Your laptop sits beside your current project: A Smith Corona Corsair, one of the few possessions you had brought with you. The typewriter was the start of your writing career and you kept it well-tuned for work.

You run a soft hand over its polished ivory keys. The mint blue of the case had a few scratches but was mostly worn from love. You remember as a child hammering on the keys, which graduated into a curiosity for mechanical machines and writing. The stone kept tumbling after you finished your Master’s in English and first stepped into the editing business. In the topsy-turvy world you found yourself in a comfortable position as an editor for a company, a year in deciding to write your books and the rest was history.

You close the typewriter and quickly change into a manageable but comfy outfit then head out into the hall. Closing your door, you head down the hallway of your small flat, passing photos from back home with Sam. Taking a right you pass into the open concept of the apartment (Sam’s room was straight across the hall from yours). You pad softly on the carpet, stepping onto the rug and into the kitchen where Sam is making breakfast. He flips a pancake as bacon sizzles on the griddle. Running a hand to his shoulder you lean over to see how it was coming, sufficiently satisfied at his improving cooking skills.

“You are learning well”

“I get it from the best” he replies pulling you in for a small hug and a kiss to the side of your head. He releases you at the ding of 8 am on the clock.

“You want breakfast up here?” You hover over the cabinet of plates, proceeding to pull two out for the food with silverware following.

“Nah, let's just open shop, I'll eat in the sitting area before cleaning the book return. Can you take the counter today?”

You nod and shift aside so he can plate the food. The Ghibli style meal looks filling and you sigh, you go to take a swipe at the fresh pancakes but Sam dances aside.

“Wait till we’re downstairs.” He follows it up by gathering the silverware and heading towards the stairs. You pout and go to open the door for him and proceed to follow him down the hardwood stairs.

---

You set up post at the counter by 8:11, a plate of food set aside the stack of holds. Some paperbacks gleam with a glossy finish, while other hardbacks are nice with matte coats. Before your eye moves away you catch the shine of antiqued gold. You gently move the top books aside to grab the fabric-bound hardback: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea by Jules Verne. It looked to be a 50s-60s American release, bound with an inner marbled coat of paper and inlaid with gold foil lettering. The deep aqua of the fabric was barely worn, you wondered if the book had ever been read at all with the great condition it was in. You looked inside the cover for a name but on a a shibu inu shaped sticky note were the initials S.R.

Huh, that's interesting. You ran a hand over the scripting, it wasn't Sam nor your handwriting. You shrug. They must be regular then. You and Sam had a ‘write and set aside’ policy in the store.

It was an unspoken rule amongst the two of you (and the regulars) that if a book turned up on the counter like this, with a name, it was put ‘on hold’. You set the beautiful book aside with a final glance, then turned your attention to breakfast.

After finishing your meal you opened the doors to the bookstore at an early 8:34 am. Turning back to the counter you head over and hook your phone up to the music. You flip through Your Love first then frown, the implications of the song a bit much, next Jessie’s Girl. At Rick Springfield’s voice, you sigh, flashes of the girl your ex dumped, and you turn the song again. Then finally the sweet guitar riff and a beat that puts you on your toes kicks up. From the back of the shelves, Sam's head full of hair pokes out.

“It's been a while since we've had a Bowie day!”

You smile back at him as Modern Love kicks up. You sway from around the corner and flip the sign to open, you turn on the neon sign and turn to go stock the sitting area when there’s an immediate ding of the bell as someone enters. You turn around as Sam calls a Welcome in from the back of the store. The first sight that hits you is a literal wall of a man, then there is the smell of worn leather and pine. You step back with a small oh in surprise.

He wears all black except for a pair of well-fitting jeans and leather boots. As your eyes trace up his tall figure you catch a snug shift with a leather jacket fitted over. Then a black surgical mask and…you freeze. Looking down at you with a slight sense of amusement are eyes the color of darkened honey.

The man from your dream! But in the flesh and oh…

“I am so sorry!” You wave your hand in front of you a little shy to be caught staring.

The man offers no more than a slight nod with amusement dancing in his eyes. He regards you a moment before mentioning in a low voice, rough but soft:

“No worries dove.”

And with that he steps around you, brushing your arm with the slightest touch of leather, and disappears into the books.

You stand for a moment more before a blush runs up your face and a tingle runs down your spine.

Fuck.

END

I love writing this. I am no longer bored in the library thank you to these lovely people (Taglist!)

@ghostlythots

#cod mw2 2022 fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap and reader #simon riley fluff #fanfiction #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #on the same page

111 notes · View notes

canirove · 1 year

Text

The Nanny Diaries | Chapter 2

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"Rough night?" Mrs. McKenzie asks me with her Scottish accent.

"What?"

"You don't seem to have had a good night of sleep. Was it your date?"

"No, no. That was fine"

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing, just... Do you know this guy called Benjamin Chilwell?"

"Oh, now I understand... You met young Ben, didn't ya?" she winks.

"I might have."

"He's a handsome lad, isn't he?"

"He is ok" I shrug.

"Ok? Just ok? If there were men like him back home, trust me, you wouldn't find me here folding Mr. Kloss' underwear. I would be in my own house, with my handsome husband, and surrounded by 5 kids, another one on their way."

"What?" I laugh.

"What you just heard. If I had crossed paths with a man like that, I would have made him just mine, marrying him and not allowing him to leave my bed."

"Mrs. McKenzie!" I say, laughing again but also blushing, the image of Ben in my bed already forming in my head. Again. Because that's why I didn't have a good night. Because every time I closed my eyes, I only saw him. Him and his stupid smile, and that stupid fluffy hair, and those stupid blue eyes.

"I'm human, what can I say" she shrugs. "But tell me, what happened?"

"Nothing. He has stupid friends, at first it looked like he wasn't as stupid as them, but turns out he is."

"Was there one called Jack?"

"Yes. That was the one who tried to flirt with me."

"Poor lad. I think he fell when he was a baby, hit his head, and lost the few proper braincells he had."

"Mrs. McKenzie!"

"I'm not the only one who thinks it. Even young Ben does. But for some odd reason, he is his dearest friend."

"Because he is as stupid as that Jack, that's why" I say, smoothing a t-shirt with more intensity than usual.

"What did he do to make you dislike him so much already?"

"He believes himself to be this Adonis, this man no one can resist to, and thinks that I will be at his feet, begging for his attention."

"I wouldn't mind being at his feet."

"Oh my God, Mrs. McKenzie!"

"Yes, that's my name. If you keep saying it so much, you'll wear it out."

"I'm sorry, but I just didn't expect you to be this... Horny" I say, whispering that last word.

"Oh, there are many things you still don't know about me, lass. But let me tell you something" she says, picking the basket full of clothes we just finished folding. "There is a lot more to Ben than just a pretty face."

"What does that mean?"

"Get to know him, and you'll find out."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Can we have chocolate for lunch?"

"Mrs. McKenzie has been cooking the whole day, we can't do that to her."

"After lunch?" Levi asks.

"Only if you eat everything."

"I will, you'll see!"

"Hello, miss. Mr. Levi" Louis says, opening our building's door. "How was school today?"

"Today we learned a new song, and... Ben!" Levi screams, running through the lobby.

"Hello, little man" Ben says, picking him up. "Neighbour" he says when he sees me.

"Chilwell."

"That's not his name" Levi says, confused. "His name is Ben."

"I know. But Chilwell sounds funnier."

"Oh, do you know what is funny, Ben? I learnt to speak like the whales!"

"You did?" he asks as we walk into the lift.

"She taught me" Levi says, pointing at me.

"Has she also taught you the floor you live in?" Ben asks.

"I already knew it. Three! And yours is five. Can I push the button?"

"Of course you can” he says, putting him down.

“Three and five. See?” Levi says with a big smile.

"Well done, little man!" Ben tells him, lifting his hand to high five him and making me smile like an idiot. Why am I smiling like this? He is the idiot. A hot idiot being super cute with Levi, but an idiot still.

"Are you a “Finding Nemo” fan?" he asks me as the lift starts moving.

"What?"

"Speaking like the whales. That's from the movie, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. I'm more into the classics, but that scene was funny."

"Levi, have you watched “Finding Nemo”?"

"No. Why?"

"Do you want to come watch it at my house? We can even make popcorn. If that's ok with your nanny, of course" Ben says, looking at me with a big smile.

"Oh, say yes, please!" Levi says while doing little jumps of excitement.

"We'll have to ask your mum first."

"She'll say yes, you'll see. She likes Ben a lot."

"Does she?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"She does. But I'm not into milfs" Ben whispers in my ear just as the lift's doors open, the feel of his breath on my skin sending goosebumps all over my body.

"Let's go, Levi" I quickly say, grabbing his hand. I need to be away from Ben. Now. If I stay next to him any longer, I don't know what I would do. Punch him, throw myself at him, or both.

"Mrs. McKenzie has my number. Text me if you are coming" he says with a wink while the lift's doors close again.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

91 notes · View notes

wall-legion · 1 month

Text

The Very True and Not Made Up History of Oskar Garoldsen

"-too bland? Should I go with legacy instead?" The author he had hired rolled her eyes. "Mister Garoldsen-" "Oskar, darling." "Oskar. We should worry about the life story first and then the title." "Doesn't every good story start with a solid hook?" He grinned at the human woman, and since she gave no resistance other than a sigh he began in earnest. "I was born at Twinspur Haven. My mother was a baker there with my grandmother, but she had no idea who my father was. She had a habit of letting handsome adventurers sneak into the house after Grandmother fell asleep and letting them 'warm up by the fire' as she would tell Grandmother. She couldn't possibly remember which of them could possibly have been the father, so she just gave me the name of the most handsome one: Garoldsen." "Have you ever met him? Garold?" Oskar bellowed out a laugh before he adjusted how he was lounging on his couch. "Darling, that's like asking you to find a Jane or a Peter in Divinity's Reach. If his legend was worth telling, it's never reached my ears." "I see." She turned her head as Oskar uncrossed his legs, making no effort to correct his robe falling open slightly. "And your childhood?" "Markedly uninteresting. My mother had me too young so Grandmother did most of the mothering until she died. Mother still didn't know what to do with me, so she reached out to her brother who had moved to Hoelbrak to arrange for me to live with him and learn a trade." Oskar sniffed. "It also conveniently worked out that I would be out of the way for her to get married and start a family without any past baggage." He watched for a reaction from her, but seeing none he went on. "I was 11 or 12 when I went to live with Uncle Skarde. He was more Grandmother's get: stern, hardworking, dull. He bought and sold ore from miners to the smiths, and wanted to teach me the trade." She looked up from her notes, realizing that he'd paused. He was looking out the window with his chin resting on one fist. From what she knew of the man, she would hesitate to call his expression pensive, but it was passing close to it. "And?" Oskar chuckled, looking at a ring on the hand his chin had just sat on. "I was certainly grateful for the opportunity to live in Hoelbrak, but that was about it. I was a lad with awakening appetites, and the last thing my mind was on was inventories and market values. He did his best for a while, but it was to come to an end." "How do you mean?" "I had been dallying with a variety of partners since I turned 14. Skarde had an idea that I was up to something but could never catch me at it." He smiled suddenly, but it looked less than reassuring. "One night when I was 17, I was caught with the wrong person and had to get out of the city quickly. I knew of the asura gate, and I took it. Found myself here naked as the day I was born." "Who was the wrong person?" "Someone I'm not willing to commit to print, love," he said, too quickly, and she knew he meant it as he continued. "I tested my luck here for the next two days, getting what I needed where I could, before I ran into my patron." Oskar smiled again, but this time it was fonder. "He and his dear wife Elisabeth had an understanding that allowed Charles to hire me at his mercantile shop as an assistant. It also permitted me to help Charles with other needs that he had, ones that Elisabeth could not. Although sometimes she did join in on the fun to keep things fresh in their marriage." He chuckled. "You're blushing, pet. Do most humans not keep with threesomes?" "I wouldn't know," she finally stammered. "Let's get back to you, please." He shrugged. "Charles passed in 1326, spirits keep him. Elisabeth gave me a final payment that was bequeathed from him, and that's how I financed the Bayside Boutique." "And your association to the Shark-" "No." He reached over, gently pulling down the journal she was writing in. "I don't know what you've heard or seen, but I have no association with her. Definitely nothing that goes in this book. Do you understand?" "Yes sir," she answered very quietly.

#gw2 writing #oskar garoldsen #(matpat voice) lore #long post

4 notes · View notes

maridotnet · 10 months

Text

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Thank you @coffeebanana, @ck2k18, and @lesbitorte for the tags :)))

1. Are you named after anyone?

I have my grandmother's name as my middle name, but my first name is new to the family tree.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Oh uhhhh I might have teared up watching Across the Spiderverse a couple nights ago? I also think I shed a few modest tears after being left at the airport for an extra hour at 2 am (NOBODY'S fault, just a victim of circumstance), on the tail end of a very stressful day of travel

3. Do you have kids?

No but I'd LOVE to someday

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I'm told I do, especially by people who I'm just meeting :) but it's the vibe in my family, so I don't think of it as "a lot"

5. What sports do you play/have played?

No SPORTS sports, but I did swimming and running for a while, and now I rock climb and hike. Also I love dancing and yoga!

6. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

Gosh it depends on the person - probably if they're nice or not? I interact with a lot of different people every day at work, and so the first thing I usually clock is whether I think they'll be easy to get along with.

7. What’s your eye color?

🔵👄🔵

they were once described as "fanfiction blue" and I think that's my favorite one to date

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I don't feel like the two are exclusive to each other but dude happy endings!!! I don't like my main emotional experience in a piece of media to be fear, and i don't need it to be HAPPY either but at least a sense of catharsis and relief is needed or I get a little messed up about it lol

9. Any special talents?

Ooh well I'm pretty good at languages! If we mean like a party trick kind of talent, I'm coming up blank, but I do have a lot of poetry memorized.

10. Where were you born?

Texas baby 🤠🤠

11. What are your hobbies?

so so many!!!! art of course, I'm learning to swing dance, piano and singing are something I love doing when I have the chance, hiking and rock climbing as I said, plant identification, cooking (I'm big into mediterranean food right now - complicated saucy entrees on fresh bread or rice is like my IDEAL meal I think), crocheting, and reading - probably others lol but that's enough of a list!

12. Do you have pets?

MHM A CALICO NAMED JUKEBOX LOVE HER TO BITS AND PIECES

13. How tall are you?

5'6" and a quarter hehe - 168 cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

It depends so much on the teacher. I've LOVED my linguistics and brain cognitive science classes in college, though.

15. Dream job?

I have a couple! Top choice would be a specific type of interpreter in the language field I'm studying to go into. I want to be a teacher at some point (my parents and grandparents were all teachers for at least a bit, and I've always assumed and hoped I'd end up in a classroom again for a while as the educator), and I would SO SO love to be a children's book illustrator someday. Artists like the Johnstone sisters and whoever else illustrated my books as a kid have had such an influence on the interior decoration of my brain.

I'm sure all the people I want to tag have been tagged already, but let's yell at @heartfulselkie @sandradoodles @asukiess @wackus-bonkus-maximus @shameboree @lad-bug-and-chad-noir @ladybeug @bugaboooooooooo @davey-in-a-minivan

#viv talks #ask game #15 questions #love feeling like i'm being interviewed personally

12 notes · View notes

blujaydoodles · 1 year

Note

What's Aubree's coolest story about how she got one of her scars? (Besides the one she doesn't talk about)

"Although, really it's a bit of a stupid story if I'm being honest, but the scar's cool as hell and that counts for something, yeah?

“It was one of my first jobs with a trade caravan, just as an extra pair of hands-- green as I was, they wouldn’t have hired someone like me as an armed guard even if I’d thought to offer back then, but it’s easy enough to prove I can haul shit around, and not a lot of folks are keen to take the pass north of Stormridge in any case so they were happy for the extra help.

"We were five days into the Wildcrest Mountains-- about halfway through. It was just starting to get into nightfall, and we were trying to push through to a sheltered spot one of the guards knew was a little ways ahead to camp for the night, when we heard the howlin up in the ridges, and comin down toward us.

"Now, we get wolves out in Crickhollow, sometimes; usually just one by itself skulkin round the pastures, and if they can catch em in time it mostly only takes a few dogs to run em off back where they came. We’d spotted some goblin scouts makin eyes at the caravan a few days earlier and spooked em away easy enough with a bit of barkin of our own, so when we heard the wolves I figured I knew what we were in for. But let me tell you: wolves in the mountains are different than the ones you get round halfling country. It’s cold, and hard, and it makes em strong, and it makes em hungry.

"We had six armed guards with us, proper kitted with swords and shields and all, and of course I was out there with Corker, hangin back a bit just not to get underfoot of em. They were spreadin out to circle the wagons, but the wolves had the jump on us and came leapin out the dark before we were ready. Biggest godsdamned things I ever saw! One slipped through and went straight for the horses, but I was ready for him-- hit him midair and sent him reelin away, and I figured that’d be the end of it for that one. Turned around and saw another one was lungin and snappin at one of the guards-- skinny lad called Derek-- and had him in a bad way; it’d got him offbalance, and looked about to take him down. I was to em before I could even think-- well, what else could I have done? The wolf had got its teeth in him, but it didn’t see me coming-- I hauled off-- WHACK-- cracked him square in the face, must have damn near caved his skull in! Just as he was getting his bearings, and I was pulling back for another swing-- the bloody bastard I’d clipped earlier came in from behind and sank every damn one of his teeth into me, and dragged me to the ground.

"Well, Derek managed to get his feet under him in time to stop the other one from jumpin in and tearin my damn guts out, but only just. The one that had me by the shoulder had a death grip on me-- I was swinging Corker round like mad, but I couldn’t get any good blows in like that, on the ground and backwards and with only one arm. Still put in a fair fight, for all that-- I was snarlin like a beast myself, grabbin for its face with my left hand best I could. Then suddenly he dropped me, yowling somethin awful. Another guard, big fella called Radimir, saw him layin into me and ran him straight through. Good thing, too! If I’d been alone out there that would have been it for me. Stupid way to learn not to put your back to a wolf, but it’s always better to have friends to back you up anyway. Especially when you’ve got more muscles than good sense, haha!

"Anyway, the rest of the pack did take off after seeing we could put up more fight than they wanted-- they’re tough, not stupid. No one was hurt except a couple of the fighters and myself, and we made it to the outpost just fine. I hadn’t really imagined I’d be spendin my first couple weeks in Pelora laid up all in bandages with a broken collar, but hey, it gave me a good story for breakin ice at taverns. Bit more impressive to talk about than this-- [she points to one mark among many on her arms, brown with age]-- that I got trying to help with the bakin when I was six…"

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #halfling #fighter #'this will be better if I answer as Aubree telling the story herself rather than me giving a tl;dr'#-- me- a fool- as if I haven't spent the last three years shedding brain cells and forgetting how to write #things she doesn't add when she tells the story: by 'we get wolves in crickhollow' she just means crickhollow in general #her family are vintners; she'd never *personally* had to deal with wolves herself at all before this #once the wolf that had her on the ground let her go she was IMMEDIATELY back up on her feet and still swinging #he probably didn't need the assist at that point but she and Radimir actually killed that wolf together #and she was still on her feet and asking Derek if HE was alright when the blood loss caught up with her and she passed tf out #she made some 'that was stupid-- but goodhearted and brave' friends AND earned some 'what a fucking jackass' scorn that night #she couldn't help with unloading goods at the end of the journey and tried to refuse payment because of it #but they insisted because-- among other things-- she'd protected the horses and they would have been really up a creek if she hadn't #also she tends to handwave the cooking scars but if anyone seems interested she's actually really happy to talk about them!#THANK YOU FOR ASKING sorry it took me so long to answer!!#I already had this sketch! it was more done than I thought actually #my OCs #Aubree #ruins of creation #dungeons and doodles

11 notes · View notes

sunnyrosewritesstuff · 1 year

Note

Hello hello 👋🏻 for the wip title game - how’s about #17 - cheat code? 👀👀👀👀👀👀 thank youuu

Yes, of course! Thank you. So Cheat Code is basically my take on a time loop where Bilbo was in the modern world playing a video game, only to get sucked into Quest for Erebor. I teased it earlier this year as one of my Birthday Plot Bunnies, but here's a new little snippet below:

Bilbo didn’t even get a chance to cry out and warn Ori before finding himself back in Bree…again. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes. Trolls, stupid, stupid trolls. Why did they have to go to the Trollshaws at all? Why couldn’t he just skip this part of the game? Bilbo stomped down the stairs in a bit of a mood as he decided to wait for the Company in the bar.

He drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for the food he ordered. Apparently, his stupid hobbit body that he picked need to eat constantly or he would run out of energy. Not for the first time, Bilbo regretted not picking Wizard. He bet Gandalf surely had some sort of spell that would deal with the trolls, but no. Every time they get to the spot, Thorin does something to drive him away. And nothing Bilbo says gets Gandalf to stay. Another dumb gaming mechanic.

When he had last been in his world though, Frodo said something about distracting the trolls until the sun could come up. Only problem was the dwarves he was traveling with seemed to be in a contest of the ‘most dramatic way to die’. Honestly, the way they came in to fight the trolls…some of them not even having any useful weapons. He knew both Kili and Thorin had a bow, but of course NEITHER of them actually use it against the trolls! Bilbo groaned as he let his head fall into his hands.

“And what’s got you down this morning? Did you also have a few pints too many last night?”

Bilbo snorted as Nori came into the room, taking the seat across from him.

“Of course not. Who would…”

“Bofur.” The dwarf interrupted with a smirk. “Plus the lads and Gloin and Dori, surprisingly enough.”

“Dori?” Bilbo gaped, his smile growing wide.

He never would have guessed the dwarf who had been so worried about his tea selection in Bag End to be the kind to be a part of an all-night binge. Nori answered his grin with one of his own in a way only a younger sibling could.

“So what’s on your mind, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo was temporarily distracted by the barmaid serving his food, and Nori decided to light his pipe. He could just not answer Nori. It never seemed to affect the programming anyways as he learned from his long talk with Thorin that seemed to have been conveniently forgotten the next day. However, maybe that was the perfect reason to ask Nori.

“What would you do if we ran into a small clan of trolls?”

Nori raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Just…like to be prepared. For the worst outcome possible.”

“I don’t think trolls are very plausible even as a ‘worst case scenario’, but I do like the way you think. It’s the mindset of a thief. Planning out your moves ten steps ahead.”

Bilbo thought that would be the end of it, as Nori took another puff from his pipe. It was fine. After all, the NPCs are limited in their responses.

“Trolls are massive and will most likely snuff the life out of you faster than you can blink.” Nori remarked. “But they do have one major weakness.”

Bilbo leaned in, almost as if Nori were telling a secret.

“Trolls are very stupid. Get them to engage with you verbally, and there’s a good chance you can outwit them long enough to get away…or stall til daylight.”

Bilbo took a bite of his eggs, chewing thoughtfully. Outwit the trolls. He certainly hadn’t tried that one yet.

#sunny's wips #the hobbit #bagginshield #nori #video game au #ask me about my wips

14 notes · View notes

waveofahand · 2 years

Text

The Fete: John Recounts Meeting Paul to a Cop

Someday I am going to actually have the strength to get back to writing and finish this book, but because today is “McLennon Day”, and because I have still not got anything new to post, here is an excerpt from Chapter 34, in which John tells an OC (a copper who has become a McLennon friend and confidante) about the day he and Paul met. It’s a rueful, bittersweet retelling because the talk occurs directly after a night when Paul’s PTSD has them all wondering whether Macca will ever be himself again after a brutal assault. I hope you like it, and if you haven’t yet read “Carry that Weight” I hope you’ll check it out.

EXCERPT:

Against every expectation, the previous day – and most especially the nighttime – really had been good. John had awoken to Paul sleeping deeply, and that had developed into an extended lie-in for the lad. Whatever it was that Brian was taking to “relax” himself, a single dose of it had knocked Macca out until the afternoon, and while Paul had slept, John and Dawson had shuffled about the kitchen, making coffee and eating cereal and speaking in low, worried tones about the night before – the strange mania that had gripped Paul for hours after he’d learned about the fruit basket, his mood swinging from defiant, to fearful; angry to childlike; flippant to defiant again. “We will need to get some help for him,” Dawson had said. John, hating the idea, silently nodded over his toast. “Never in a million years ever thought Paul would be the one needed help. Figured it would be me, if anyone; I’ve always had one foot in the loony bin, haven’t I?”

“Well…I’m sure that’s not true,” Dawson said, his face grim. “But I’m equally sure you never in a million years thought he’d be… taken apart as he has been. Need to be put back together.”

“No,” Lennon agreed. “The fuckers. Paul…” John looked up. “He was always right in his head. And so… so freaking strong. Strong willed, strong minded. When he followed me out of that bath last night, and looked so confused…”

His voice trailed off at the unsettling memory. He shook his head, taking a huge breath and closing his eyes, bringing himself under control. “Will I ever get him back?” He looked up, his eyes pleading the question. “Will I? The whole way back?”

Dawson’s eyes were full of sympathy, both for Paul, and all that was yet before him, and for John, to whom he could not possibly give an answer.

“It’s hard to predict. He’s been severely traumatized, so it’s understandable, both his wreckage and your wondering about it. And rape trauma…” he mused. “It’s hard enough for women. They get slandered; they’re tossed aside. They question themselves and whether they were ‘asking’ for it. For a man? There’s all that, plus the rest of it – the ‘is he still a man’ of it. Even if he’s not saying, John, you can be sure our Paul is thinking it, worrying over it. He is very lucky to have you, you know. You’ve not treated him like that…”

“It’s not luck,” John scoffed. “If anyone’s lucky, it’s me. My lucky day was the one when I met him. And every day since, even though I’ve been too stupid to see it.”

“I wish I’d met him before this,” the copper mused. “The little I gleaned of him before he got sick… I could see that in him, the strength, the strong will you mentioned. I’m sure it’s all still there, you know. But trauma…it’s tricky,” he repeated, as though trying to gather a specific thought.

“The day I met him,” John said, getting up to refresh both their coffees. “He was this 15 year-old -- and just fifteen, mind you. A month earlier he’d been fourteen. With a spangled white jacket and a pink carnation on the lapel. And the face.” He laughed as he sat down again. “Bloody fucking angel. He was a beautiful little Irish Elvis, still not full-grown, just getting past the baby fat. And feckin’ brilliant.” John shook his head, thinking back. “Minute I saw him, something in me just… recognized him. I felt like, ‘Well, here you are, Lenny, your whole life’s just shown up. Here comes the rest of your life’.”

“You were as struck as that?” Dawson wondered, “And himself walking the streets of Liverpool dressed so nattily? A bold thing.”

“You have no idea.” John smiled. “All the bleedin’ confidence I put on for show? He had it even back then, for real, and in spades. We had a mutual friend, Ivy, who’d brought him down to see my skiffle band play a church fete. We weren’t very good, but we were a band. Macca came by with his guitar and watched. When we met later, I asked him what thought and he just got this look, like --” John’s whole tone and demeanor grew soft with the affection of memory. “Little rat bastard wasn’t going to give anything away. Just looked me in the eye and said, ‘You’re alright.’ Get that? ‘Alright’, he said.”

Dawson chucked. “You’re painting a picture and I can see it so well…”

“So, I see the guitar he’s carryin’ and ask if he plays. He looks down at it, like he’s never seen it before and shrugs. ‘I’m alright.’”

The cop gave a hoot of appreciation. “That’s attitude.”

“Then he swings it over his shoulder and cranks out ‘Twenty Flight Rock’ like a pro, all the lyrics, all the chords down cold, and with that, that --” John sighed. “That voice. Clear as a bell, sweet and smooth as a custard. Gobsmacked, I was. We all were.”

“And that was that?” Dawson summed it up. “You were together?”

John shrugged. “Musically, that was that. The rest of it came a bit later. He was really young, you know.”

“Glad to hear you’re no cradle-robber, anyway.”

“No, I was a good boy,” John agreed. “I waited for him.” His lips pursed as he considered. “Maybe good practice, since I’m going to have to wait again. I should remember that, when the going gets tough. As I know it will, because I’m a selfish bastard.”

“You’re not so bad,” Dawson’s deep voice had a soothing note. “You’re a better man, I think, than you realize.”

“That shows all you know,” John answered back. “I didn’t say I didn’t lust after him. I just waited until you know… he was a bit older. Less boyish, I guess.” John sighed. “God, he just got more and more beautiful. He still is. I can’t even guess what he’s going to look like when he’s thirty. Here,” he reached into his pocket, hauling out his wallet. “When I took this shot, I thought he’d never look better. I was wrong, as I have realized daily.” He fished a photo from its depths, handing it to Dawson. “Still my favorite shot of him, though. So far.”

John Dawson’s gasp came out before he could stop it borne on a jolt of something instinctive and lusty. “Good Christ!”

Before him was Paul McCartney, his age indeterminate thanks to the grainy photo, but perhaps twenty or twenty-one, wearing dark swim trunks and looking a little bit cold, his broad shoulders narrowing down to trim hips and long, long legs. Legs so shapely any bird would love to have them, but without the fur, for the lad was surprisingly hirsute in the limbs. A swimmer’s limbs. With the dark hair. All so like my Neddy. Except hairy.

John Lennon watched the cop study Paul’s photo with a sharp bite of jealousy gnawing at his stomach. He suppressed it as unworthy. “That’s from a couple of years ago,” he said, reaching to reclaim the snapshot. “Our first trip to Miami in ’64.”

“An utterly gorgeous young man,” Dawson sighed, lingering another moment on the image before handing it back. He had the good sense not to add that Paul was just his type. Paul might have laughed when he said it, but John, Dawson knew, would fail to see the humor. And perhaps understandably, so.

“Aye,” John agreed, taking a second to appreciate the photo again, himself, before slipping it back into his billfold. “And he’s only getting better every year. And I’m getting… fatter, and more blind.”

#Happy McLennon Day #Carry that Weight #PTSD #I will hopefully be able to get back to this story soon #John loves Paul #The copper does too but not like that he is a great character

12 notes · View notes

elilovesu · 2 years

Text

Chapter 01

Gracie’s POV

“Wait, Ames, is it the cake first or the gift”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m waking her up”

“Wait- no hold on, we forgot to light them up”

“Theo! Does it look like i fucking care? No, I don’t. I'm waking her up”

“But-”

“What is going on-” I said with a groggy voice and squinted eyes as I rose from my bed onto my forearms.

“Great, you’ve woken her up, thank you.” Amelie said as he turned around to glare at Theo.

“Hey! She wouldn’t have woken up if you hadn’t been so indecisive” Theo said as he glared back.

“Me? Do you even hear yourself Theo?”

I missed these lunatics.

“Hello, I’m still here” I said with an amused smile, trying to draw back attention to the fact that the two of them were in my bedroom, at 6 in the morning, with no explanation whatsoever.

“Oh right, happy 17th loser,” Amelie said as she nonchalantly threw what appeared to be a gift bag onto my bed. I let out a small laugh and placed it on my bedside table before my face slowly fell.

Oh fuck, it’s my birthday.

“Hey it’ll be fine-” Theo started as I dragged my palms down my face.

“No theo, it’s not going to be fine, he’s coming-” I said as i looked at him.

“Wait, huh? Who’s coming? Did I miss something or-” Amelie said as she glanced back and forth between me and Theo.

“Oh god,” I said as I crept under my cover, waiting for it to swallow me up and never show me the light of day again.

“What the fu- Theo who’s ‘he’?” Amelie asked as she swiveled to face him with a confused expression. Theo let out a sigh that clearly meant ‘you’re so dumb’

“Miles.” He replied. “Miles is coming.”

“Miles- So?” Amelie asked, completely flabbergasted. “We meet him every single day, he’s one of our best friends!” She said with an amused laugh, looking at us like we had gone absolutely mental.

“Ames,” I said as I looked up at her. “It’s my seventeenth birthday”

It took her a second but I saw the realization slowly creep up her face.

“Oh shit.”

Oh shit indeed.

In the Abbot household, there is a multitude of unspoken traditions. And being a part of them since I was a tiny baby meant that I have grown up to love and cherish them.

Like the way my parents always gave our maids a break on Sundays and made breakfast for them with me, or how they always bought my friends their favorite pastries for them on their birthdays, Or the way that they wrote me a letter every Saturday, despite knowing very well how to operate their own laptops when I’m away at Brookfield.

But there is one tradition that I will never, ever grow to understand, well, two of them I guess.

Being friends with the Connors.

Now don’t get me wrong, Mr. and Mrs. Connor are lovely people. A tad bit snobby for my liking, but I’ve definitely seen worse. What really irks me out to my core is their devil spawn of a son; Miles.

Even saying his name makes me want to break a table to stab myself with one of its legs.

This brings me to the second, sick tradition that my family has.

2. Making me constantly hang out with Miles.

You see, I meant it when I said that he was devil spawn. Because I have never met someone who can charm everyone so well that he’s perceived as this gentlemanly, proper, and sweet ‘young lad’. Hell, even I was fooled until I started going to school. But he’s not so bad in group settings, it’s when we’re alone that the insurmountable annoyance starts.

And listen, I’d be fine if I had some sort of upper hand on him. But no, the little bitch HAD to be good at everything.

He is the living example of ‘everything you can do, I can do better.’

I learned a new law about Germany? He comes the next day and recites the whole German constitution.

I write a research paper on a Midsummer night’s dream? He’s composed a musical, written a play, and has shot a documentary about it within two weeks.

Little bitch.

Now, here comes my family’s fascination with him.

He is a Connor. And the Connors are known to have a lot of money and power in this country. He is young, I am young and well, It needs no explanation.

And in our crowd, 17 is a pretty special age. It’s when the parents subtly hint at engagements and proposals and exchange knowing looks when their children blush. And I’d be happy to go through all of that with someone, I’m a romantic, I love love. But God doesn’t love me so he gave me a Miles to go through the whole ordeal with. And I don't love that.

And with the dinner party that’s happening later tonight, I’m pretty sure that I’ll be forced to spend the whole evening with him, making small talk and faking smiles and tucking my hair behind my ear, secretly wishing that someone will serve me poison instead of wine.

Someone kill me now.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Miles’s POV

It’s the day.

It’s the day that I have been dreading this entire week. And it’s actually here.

Fucking hell.

“Mum, Do I really have to go, I meet her every day.” I said, sitting on the foot of my bed as my mother perused through my collection of shirts, looking for something that’ll ‘make me seem interesting’ when Gracie sees me today.

Interesting my ass, I know their intentions for tonight, and in no way do I look forward to it.

“No darling, we’ve talked about this before.” My mum said. Spitting out her reflexive reply to many of the questions I ask her. And back to shirt perusal, she went. I lie on my bed and look at the ceiling.

“Why do you do this to us mum?” I asked her after a while.

She takes a moment before sitting next to me on my bed.

“She’s a nice girl, sweetheart, you should give her a chance. This is a good opportunity for the both of you” my mum said as she raked her hand through my hair.

An Opportunity.

That’s all we are to our parents. At least in our crowd. Just another source of income, another connection, and another level up the social order.

The lack of response made my mum get up and start going through my clothes again.

“The white will do.” She said as she picked a shirt out. As I walk over to her to look at it, I notice that it’s the one with the first two buttons missing. I smile as I remember why. It was a wild night.

“Mum, that’s the one with the-”

Hold on.

An idea flashes through my brain and I feel proud of myself.

Might as well try to have fun.

“Yeah. I think that’s good, it's fine” I say as I smile and take the shirt out of her hands. Hoping she hasn’t noticed the buttons or the lack thereof.

She smiles back at me and walks to my door. “Alright then, we’ll leave at seven”

I nod at her as she closes my door.

…………………………………………………………………………………

A few hours later, I’m folding up the sleeves of my white shirt as I look in the mirror. And I get lost in thought.

Gracie is a sweet girl, she really is, but I find it unbelievably obnoxious that she can just be smiley and happy with this arrangement that they have planned for us. We’re seventeen for god sake, we have an entire life to live before we start thinking of marriages and babies.

We’d have good-looking children.

I almost choke on my own spit. Where the fuck did that come from?

No Miles, No. You hate her. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it’s always going to be.

I wash my face once to get rid of whatever the fuck came over me and leave my room.

Someone kill me now.

#Dear you #romance #rivals #drabble #writeblr #him and her #im excited #their chemistry is >>>#have a nice weekend #love ya!

7 notes · View notes

nodadnochance · 3 months

Text

Stop lying to your damaged kids. You are denying them their future.

When I was around 6, my dad sat me down on the garden bench and explained to me he was leaving. "It's not your fault" and "both me and your mum still love you" (I may be misrememberming, but im sure it was this vibe). He said he was going to live with another women, a women that if I had not already met - i would soon meet. When he told me, I remmber not understanding. I was smiling and said "okay!" and just swung my legs over the bench (again, illustraing how young i was, my feet didnt even touch the ground - a metaphor that could describe how I've felt ever since that moment. AS losing my dad also meant i lost my grounding in life). I knew my dad was worried and upset and wanted me to responde in a "good" way. I was a good lad back then. I just wanted to listen to my dad and anything he said, I accepted. in fact, everything he said, i accepted. My dad never moved too far. He went about 30/40 minutes away and for a few years I would travel (with my brothers) to see him for the weekend or for a evening. And he would also come down to see us. Though i do remember being more interested in playing his playstation which had Frogger. The fact he came with the playstation, I think at that point in time, became more of a nuisance. This guy would now just appear out of nowhere like an out of date pokemon. But hey, i did love Frogger.

My dad moved in with this women. She had a baby probably under 1 years old. So, my dad had that baby to look after - the baby of this other womens. And that baby, who is today in his 20s, still lives with my dad. He has my dad this whole time. Every day. For advice, to share his life with. Everything. anyway, im getting off track.. (im sure i can write about my feelings towards my step brother another time)

After a year or 2 of this, he moved into the same town as me and my brothers and mum. He actually moved just around the corner - about a 5 minute walk. And he lives there today and still lives near me. and I remember the day he moved in because I slept their on the night. It was a sunday and I slept in the room my now Half-sister sleeps in. I remember because the next day I went to school and we had a task to draw something from our lives and i drew my bedroom at my dads house. I remember drawing the beyblades I had bought the day before from the shop - just cheap ones from corner shops that cost like a pound or something. That was year 5. Which must be around 8 years old.

So yes. Before I even hit my 9th birthday... My dad had left me and my mum, he went off with another women and had new children to look after. And I wouldn't know it, but in about 5 years - my dad and step mother would have a baby and that baby would be my half-sister. Who, is the only person who actually has gronw up with parents and the only person in my family that feels loved. I am unsure whether my step brother feels love as she does - it's unlikely. again, i'll have to write about my feelings towards him another time. His is a complex situation - I feel he had my dad all these years and that's why he is able to navigate the world so much better (it's complex) yet still, i see the pain he suffers without his own dad in his life. I feel it. I know the pain and recognise it in him. That being said, I don't know if he'd ever truly understand whats its like to know my dad was looking after him and not me.

Now, I don't want to write all day - so I'm going to get to the point.

I am learning that I have serious abandonment issues and I will at some point go into more detail about this and why this is - but ultimately it's because I was denied my reality in order to protect my dad and my stepmum.

And, here I am - writing about the main point and my emotions are getting the better of me. The fear I feel for daring to even write how I truly feel is palpable. I'm scared to say how I feel. I don't want to get in trouble. I'm almost 30 and I'm scared of expressing my emotions and what's worse is that I am starting to discover memeories and learn that the reason I feel so terrified could be becuse of how I wwas treated as a child. Those ages before I even hit 10 yeras old. The way that anytime I expressed myself (and yes i have stories i may share another time) I would be punished. Yet my step mums emotions were always values by my dad. Her emotions and feelings (and his own) always triumphs over my 6 year old emotions. And I remember it all and think about it all time, usually without even realising it.

So, without telling the stories (just yet) and without going into too much detail. What happened? well, in my words its very simple what happened.... I as lied to and everytime I tried to speak my feelings and how i felt, i as told my feelings were inappropriate and wrong. I was told "Its not right to feel like your stepmom has stolen your dad" and not only was it wrong, it was wrong specfically because it upse tmy step mom and dad. Not because i physically hurt anyone or I was being nasty. But because my feelings were not useful and not raelly "in their best intersts". How could they delude themselves into pretending they have the perfect life and did everything ritght by their kids if in reality his kids felt abandoned? So, i think that's enough for now. I think i have my point across and hopefully Ill write more and really explain this more deeply.

But I want fathers, mothers and anyone who is involved in creating a "broken home" to know that they should not deny their kids their feelings. do not tell them they are wrong. and do not put the adults feelings above the childs. You think you are protecting the present moment from getting too "out of hand" but what your really doing is denying your kids their future. You are creating trauma and abandonment issues.

Stop it. If you wanna leave your kids rather than stick around. At least man up and say that's what your doing. Give the kids the deceny of honesty so that they don't grow up hating themselves and blaming themselves when YOU are to blame.

#mental health

0 notes

petite-ursus · 5 months

Text

I've actually cried watching Pip come back to life this week.

I loved the boys, they were sweet cats to me and so funny and charming-- cats. I will miss them. I hope Cayde and Gryf find someone in that next house who loves them. I mean. Gryf is baby. He has so much love and so much to learn about manners and doesn't deserve to get thrown every time he tries his best. And yeah. Cayde is drooly, but he is a lover. I made sure to give them extra cuddles before they left. Regis too. He is The Lad. The funniest sproingiest man.

But Regis in particular took a lot of joy in tormenting Pip. He would chase her, stalk her, hit her. I don't know if he just really didn't like her (he wasn't a huge fan of just hanging with other cats like the other boys, in general) or if he thought the noises she made were just... funny... but I would come home every day worried he had slashed her across the face again while I wasn't there to protect her and the ex just... didn't pay enough attention. I was so worried he was going to take her eye out. Something the ex promised before even moving in was that she would help make a catio so there would be additional space for cats to go... but of course that never made the priority.

The past week I watched as she has slowly come to understand... they're gone... and they're not coming back. She has gone back to "singing" just... all the time. It sounds like, "hel-LO?" but like over and over with some different inflections. Her eyes are bright. She's gambling around. Running. Chirping. Playing "hide and seek" with me again. (Where I hide behind something and she comes and finds me, then trills and runs in the opposite direction, I come "find" her then trot away and repeat.) Sleeping next to me at night. Coming into the bathroom with me again in the morning. Being sweet and playful and like her little goblin self. I'll cry again right now. I'll do it.

I knew she had gotten crankier, and more defensive this year... We did as much as we could do (cat caps, calming collars and plug-ins, and all sorts of different high points and hidey-holes to give space) but she never got rest with him. He would attack her when she was sleeping. There were times where I'd lay with her in the living room and she would just ZONK on me because it was safe, and in the last few months the ex lived with me those times were further in between because the library didn't feel safe for her (too many cats gathering around me) and the living room didn't feel safe for me (ex.) And just. It's like YEARS have been taken off her. Being able to sleep will do that. I can attest now that no one is intentionally waking me up or keeping me awake every night.

My baby. I am so sorry I let the last year happen. I will never ever tolerate a situation where she is so clearly unhappy ever again. Not for anything.

(And like not just her... Fiona is also clearly thrilled. She's like a bur on me when I'm in the library-- but that's pretty normal for her even this year. The cat is from the streets, and gave as good as she got. Regis was half afraid of her, like if he saw her he made a nervous unhappy noise. Mostly she hides a lot normally except when I'm in the library... But she is able to Leave the library now, which is making her so jaunty. She keeps coming out and scratching the new cat tree, and she's climbing up into the moon which only Gryf used before and I assumed would go unused without him... Nope. She was just afraid to be exposed there before. I know Cayde started doing this thing where if she left the library he would chase her. When I was in the hospital she couldn't get out and she just had to pee in a corner on a dog mat. Very fun to come home to.)

Maybe it's misandry, and yes they were lovely to me... but I return to what I've always believed... Males of any kind have no place in my home.

It just. It makes it worth it. Pip alone. Even if this decision didn't feel like the right choice for me (and god it does it does it does for such similar reasons) ... if I were still unsure and you showed me her today vs her last week... I wouldn't hesitate. My baby. I will make it up to her. The things I let happen to us.

#personal

1 note · View note

prof-peach · 2 years

Note

So I've been living on a farm for a few years now, mostly crops but they have a few Miltank and Wooloo too, and of course there's a ton of plant pokemon just sort of living here and enjoying the fertile soil. One of which is a colony of Oddish, about thirty or forty of them hanging out in one of the potato fields, and every spring a few more pop up. The thing is, this harvesting season when the newbies were cropping up, something odd happened. Now I know Oddish come in all shapes and sizes, we've had some tiny ones and some larger lads, but never in my life have I seen anything quite like Big Boy. When he came out of the ground he uprooted a tree, the guy is only a few months old and bigger than some of the larger Miltank we have, he is enormous. We were using a new fertiliser in that field but nothing that could have caused something as dramatic as this, I can only assume it was some sort of insane genetic mutation.

Now having a giant Oddish around isn't much of an issue to us, but I'm getting worried about the poor guy. When he was a new harvest, like a lot of new oddish finding their feet for the first time, he was sort of clumsy, and as a result ended up stepping on and kicking a lot off he other regular sized ones. Because of this, the rest of the colony seems to have rejected him, at first hey were just avoiding him but now some of them are driving him out of their field with attacks. The poor guy seems so lonely. We thought maybe he'd find friendship in some of the other pokemon on the farm but as time goes on, he's started getting sort of violent. We've had to put the Miltank in the barn every night because otherwise he won't stop getting into fights with them. Big Boy doesn't seem interested in bonding with the humans on the farm either, but the poor guy seems more and more depressed every day, we really want to find some way to cheer him up, and I'm starting to think maybe the farm isn't the best place for him - he seems to want to battle and we don't really have any battling pokemon around here.

I was wondering if there might be a place for him on the island where he might have more luck socialising? And also if you'd ever seen a mutation like this with any of the plant types you've previously worked with? I'm fascinated in finding out just what caused Big Boy to get so insanely large in the first place.

I....Please send him if you've got a lack of other options. We live for big mons here, they're not only genetically wonderful, but we have the facilities to cater to them. Oddish are known to get big, but it's usually just a strange mutation, not often down to fertiliser or chemicals. Could be though? Send a sample of whatever you sprayed your crops with, along side the oddish if you do pop them across, I doubt it was that but its worth looking into. A soil sample would be amazing too, if possible! We have many pokemon who can handle a big dude, he'd fit right in, and we can certainly help him train if he's into his battles. We've seen particularly large Paras, and huge Phantump, the odd Seedot who's hefty in stature, and while oddish can get pretty big, especially if they don't evolve, this one seems unusual in that it sounds quite young. I have a million questions, but I guess proof is in the pudding, if you haven't found him a home, we'll happily take him on. This is right up our alley of speciality, he'd be in very good hands! learning more will require hands on inspections, so if we get the chance to study him a bit more, we might be able to give you some answers about just why he be like that haha. sounds like a delight.

#oddish #love a big boy #not like we dont have the room for it #pokemon #prof.peach

234 notes · View notes

athyathye · 3 years

Note

Hello can i request an angsty Mikey x Reader fic? He broke up with her after the disbandment of Toman and after years of depression and closing off her heart, she learned to love someone again and is now getting married to our pretty boy Inupi. imagine the future Mikey wants but wont ever happen.

What it meant to be you

Author’s note 📝: I will write this in Mikey’s perspective...and also add a little fun twist, hope you don’t mind anon~

Tags : Heartbreak! 2k+ words, hurt w/ no comfort, possessive behavior and more

Warnings ⚠️: $uiside attemps, curse words, psychological torture for Mikey, Angst!

“Can you leave? You’re bothering me.”

“Just stop bothering and go!”

“I don’t need it! God, why are you so stubborn…”

I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.

“M-mikey...what do you mean...this is a joke right? I- i”

Your voice haunted me every single day, interrupted my dreams every single night…

“Mikey please!”

Please… I desperately wanted you as well. I wanted to shout, yell or even just tell you how much you mean to me. But I love you too much to put you through that.

“I f*cking hate you. You’re such a goddamn nuisance.”

The day Toman ended, the night where I saw everything happen right before my eyes. The meeting after, not even lasting a whole 5 minutes.

Trust me when I say it hurt far more for me when I told you those words. It hurt me to see your face etched in pain like that. To see you so broken just because of a no-good man like me…

So, how have you been? I don’t know about you, but it still feels like I'm stuck in time...Do you get what I mean? Of course not, Who am I kidding? Someone like you knows how to get through something like this.

Someone like you who leashed a wild dog like me is strong enough to get past the thorn in the bush that I am.

...But I can’t lie...I want you to only want me, I want to see you hurting like me...It’s selfish...No, it’s the worst possible thought I could have, I don’t even deserve to have such beautiful memories with you…

But, the only thing keeping me going is the fact that I had spent time with a beauty like you. The slight hope that you’ll be looking forward to meeting me again like I had with you. That we could still have the future you had once told me.

“Mikey….”

*crush*

Huh? Oh.

You’re getting married? ...How fun…

Tears slid down continuously down the male’s face. Though he didn’t notice. Sanzu glanced at his leader in worry. Wondering just what he should do. He was about to approach him when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine. Stay here. Don’t follow me.” I tried to speak as nonchalantly as I can, though even I wouldn’t believe myself right now.

I left the room without another word.

“Leave him be, Sanzu!” Koko exclaimed.

“Do you realize just how unstable he is right now? For all we know he might go on a killing spree...that’ll be hell for us to handle” Rindou complained, though when he looked at his older brother he shut up.

“Just let the adult do his thing. Look for him tomorrow, let him have a night to himself.” Ran spoke to the rest, hands in his pocket as he turned to leave.

‘I must be going crazy.’ I looked at nothing in particular but the vast infinite space before my eyes.

'I- I’m happy- damn it. I’m not happy at all.' I don’t want you to get married, I don’t want you to leave me. I want to go back to the time where we were happy, when we were stupid and young kids who were ruining their futures.

“...How could you live so happily without me?..How dare you...pfft- agh...how dare I try to corrupt the memories you left me…” The young lad cried and laughed at the same time. If anyone else had the pleasure of seeing this broken Mikey, they wouldn’t even believe it.

I stood up, savoring the rushing wind that was threatening to make me lose my balance. Jokes on the world though, that was my whole plan.

I jumped.

‘...Did it work? Did I do it right?’

What the…

I saw myself back at least 10 years ago...I remembered this day. This was the day I ruined my life without a single thought.

“I f*cking hate you. You’re such a goddamn nuisance.”

Did I always have such a cruel tone? Is that even me? Why did I look so cold…

‘You can’t be serious, Mikey…’ I heard someone say. I looked behind me in alarm. Only to be met with the dark opaque space that was similar to the night sky.

‘That was y/n right? That was her!’ “Y/n!!!”

‘I love you….I love you….I love you so much’ I heard her voice begging. What the hell? I don’t remember her saying that?

I’m pretty sure If I heard her say that, it would have changed everything. I would’ve come running back to you that second or the day after.

‘You selfish manipulative little- I hate you so much…’ I heard her utter.

I see…

This is hell, I'm paying for my sins aren’t I?

By watching what you had to go through...this was the price.

It’s not like I didn’t see this coming. I smiled to myself, If hell meant I could keep seeing you, then this would be heaven itself.

‘...We planned our future together didn’t we? You told me you’d marry me, have 10 kids where you’d name each one Mikey jr.’

‘Nevermind. This is hell.’

It hurt. Having to see you cry for me so pathetically, having to sleep on the floor from exhaustion….

It hurt seeing you cry for me every single day for a whole month...It hurt me to see you this devastated over me, an *ssh*le who didn’t even treat you right.

It hurt so f*cking bad seeing you end up in a ditch similar to myself.

‘You’re getting thinner and thinner by the day…’ I watched you inspect yourself in the mirror. Grabbing a familiar hoodie in your closet before you sniffled into it. Sobbing directly into it.

‘That was my hoodie right? The one I wrapped around you on the first date? F*ck’ I hid myself into the nearest corner I could find. Not much can be found in this dark room. I had nowhere to go, everyday I could feel myself losing just about what was left of my sanity, if there even was something left.

“You have to go to school at least one of these days, sweetie” Your mother, who was outside of your room knocked.

‘She’s right...you have to get an education if you want to be successful like you always wanted...What a hypocrite, Mikey.’

‘Mikey...manjiro, how long has it been? It’s been a year hasn’t it? I worry about you so much.’

‘How flattering...has it been a year? You do look a little taller… That means you’ve thought about me every single day then didn’t you? I’m glad.’

‘I heard from Draken you made another gang...I hope you won’t be in so much danger...Who am I kidding you love getting into fights anyways.

‘Draken always had a loose mouth at times...I only loved fighting because you were there to patch me up’

‘Did you forget about me? I’ve been waiting for you, you know? If I see you cheating on me with other girls, even the new gang you’ve been leading wouldn’t be able to stop me’

‘I’d never do that to you...’

‘Mikey, Mitsuya just bought an apartment from pah-chin...He’s on his way to live his dream? Are you happy where you are? I hope you are…..I still can’t get over you.

“Mitsuya was always the best in fixing stuff for us… He stood silent, not wanting to reply to the next stream of words that you thought.

“Manjirou! Just come back please…”

‘Shut up...this was for the best..’

“I miss you so much...you d*ckhead! You promised me!”

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, just stop.’ He covered his ears with his hands that were shaking tremendously.

“You promised me we’d live and grow old together! Just come back please!”

“STOP JUST STOP IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Mikey screamed into oblivion, his screams and screeches for help so raw and painful that there was no doubt he had damaged his vocal box in one minute.

“...Inui?” He asked himself, seeing the blonde male comfort you in a way that he knew nobody else could.

‘No...no, no, no.’ He repeated, having no more energy left.

He watched as your relationship with Inui progressed every single day. He wondered if he could have done the things Inui did, he wondered if he could look at you so lovingly every time. He wondered if he could be the man you had desperately wanted him to be.

Laying down in the dark, he watched the future you could have with Inui...your children...your grandchildren..until you both died happily in each other’s arms.

He watched it all…

He had no more energy left to even mumble a few words. But tears had miraculously managed to escape his eyes one last time. He closed his eyes, awaiting for what was next.

“....Huh?” It- it’s white?” The room was white? What kind of psychological torture- Sanzu?

“Oi...OI OI! MIKEY OPENED HIS EYES CALL A DOCTOR!!” He heard someone shout, he weakly opened his eyes, taking a look around before he was faced with Sanzu’s obnoxious gaze. But this time, he was more than happy to see him again.

“Mikey, Mikey are you ok?”

‘I’m better than ok...wait- I’m not dead?’

The room he was currently in was in total chaos.

“Mikey, what the hell happened to you last night? Somebody found you in alleyway...Ran was investigating but there was no f*cking clue?”

‘Last night? What? It’s only been a day? T-then It was still the day before your wedding…’

“....Sanzu…”

“Yeah?”

“Get me out of here.”

The real Takemitchy clapped along with the audience, grinning widely along with the other members as they hollered at the way Inupi held your waist while you danced.

He was so happy for the both of you, that was until he saw a cloaked figure near the entrance. It turned away before he could have a closer look.

Of course, the only person who’d try to have a look was obvious. He couldn’t even make an excuse for himself, let alone say something as he rushed out of the building.

I ruined everything again…

It wasn’t a surprise, after all, I lost the most important thing in my life. The reason why I kept going.

I never really had anything to live for after you, knowing that you've achieved the happiness I couldn't give put me at ease.

But it hurt so damn much to see you not needing me anymore. It hurt so much I have to verbally clutch my chest....it hurt so much that my heart felt like it kept breaking.

If this was what I had to leave with without you...then so be it.

“I will end everything here. EVERYONE!!! LET’S DO THIS!”

He jumped once more. He closed his eyes.

‘Let me relive in your memories again...that would make sure you'll never forget me...I'll live on in your memories right?

Even if it means watching you live the life you wanted with Inupi instead of me. I’d rather deal with that than to not ever see you again…’

“I WILL NOT! LET YOU DIE!” A hand grabbed him from the window.

“Takemitchy....Please, put me in peace.”

“SHUT UP!!! JUST SAY ‘PLEASE HELP ME’ DAMN IT!! ...and I’ll definitely come save you...Manjiro”

"It doesn't matter anymore! Just let me die! I don't have a reason anymore! I don't have a purpose..."

"Agh just stop your pathetic groveling Sano!"

Mikey stopped trying to scratch Takemitchy's hand away. He then looked at the said male with begging and pleading eyes, a whole different look from his usual empty ones.

“Then Takemitchy...can you really change the future?

G-give me y/n back. Please...give her back to me...it- it hurts...so damn bad..."

Potential spoilers for Mikey's end in Twisted? Ha ha ha.....I'm kidding I'm not that cruel. 👀 nah legit I'm just trynna promote that fic here KSKKSSKKSKJSJS

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you

590 notes · View notes

deliriousgeek · 3 years

Text

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: A quiet evening meant for celebration is thrown into chaos. Y/n wills herself to play into the daunting role that comes with being Thomas Shelby’s wife, because it might be the only thing keeping her alive.

Masterlist

Tommy lowkey feels very oc so idk how to feel about that. im not good at writing suspense...its also very long. ha :,)

Warning: blood, guns, knives, fights, usual peaky blinder violence

If anyone knew Y/n Shelby, then they would know that she can’t stand seeing dead bodies. Although in her case, having that reaction would seem ironic, considering her husband was Thomas Shelby.

It was around 9pm when Y/n slipped her night robe off and lay back on her bed. Her night was just winding down and she was waiting for Thomas to get back. He said he would try to be home around midnight, and to not wait up. He and his brothers would be at the Garrison, celebrating Arthur’s return from prison and discussing what was to be done with the Jews and Italians next.

Y/n knew it would be a couple hours for Tommy to be home, so she settled onto their bed and grabbed a book off her night stand.

The room was bathed in a warm, orange and yellow light— the type of light candles can give. When she was home alone, Y/n liked to use candle light. It reminded her of a time before the war and before this gang business, when all she and Tommy had to worry about was getting enough candles to light up the dinner table.

Half an hour had passed and Y/n had gotten through a decent number of pages in her book. She felt her eyes drooping and decided it was time to call it a night. She stretched and cracked her neck before turning to place her book on the nightstand. Just as she was about to place the book down, she heard a creak downstairs.

She froze.

Tommy wasn’t supposed to be back until midnight and none of the Shelby family would come over this late without a call, that was their safety protocol.

She listened for more creaking.

After Tommy had bought their house he had insisted on replacing the creaky floor boards, but decided to keep a few. In certain spots, that could be easily avoided if one knew where to walk, the floor would still creak. It was a safety thing that Tommy and Y/n agreed would be good to have. If the floorboards downstairs still creaked after the first step, it wasn’t one of them.

Creak...creak...creak...

That wasn’t Tommy.

Y/n took in a deep breath as she put herself back into a sitting position on the bed. An intruder was in her house. At the moment, the Peaky Blinders had a lot of enemies. It could be anyone. Mostly, someone with a gun.

She listened as the person made their way upstairs. She could hear them passing Tommy’s office, and the guest bedroom. This person knew where their room was, and she could only deduce from their movement’s that they were coming for her.

Y/n was scared. She knew how to defend herself, but didn’t like doing it if she didn’t have to. Rolling her shoulders, she prepared herself for the inevitable. She’d have to fight tonight.

To be clear, Y/n Shelby wasn’t unable to fight. She was a pro at throwing knives, which she preferred to guns; much to Tommy’s dismay. She knew how to shoot a gun and could decently fare in hand to hand combat, but she was still scared. Her heart beat in her chest quickly and anxiety bubbled to the surface. A normal reaction to knowing someone broke into your house to hurt you, or worse. Y/n assumed it was the latter. However, instead of letting her fear show, she turned on her fake calmness. A trick she forced herself to learn as Thomas Shelby’s wife. The alarm that was spread across her face vanished, instead being replaced with an eerily calm facade.

There was no point in locking the door. The person knew how to get past those if he made it into their living room. She heard their steps stop at the front of her door, she raised her book to her face, pretending like she was reading.

Act calm. She told herself.

Then, the door burst open.

Back at the pub, the Shelby brothers were sitting around the table in the snug. Sharing laughs and taking on their third round of Whiskey.

“Alright boys,” Tommy began, placing his glass down and looking around the table. “We’ve had our fun, business begins now.” His content expression turned serious.

His other brothers, and cousin Michael, cleared their throats and straightened up.

“As you know, taking Arthur out of prison is a direct threat to the Sabini’s. It shows that even in London we have enough influence to get our own men out, if needed.”

The brothers nodded, and shared looks.

Tommy continued, “Getting Arthur out was our first move. Now it’s the Italian’s and the Jew’s turn but we don’t know when their next strike will be. So, from this moment on we have to be aware, alert, and ready for every—”

The door flew open.

Sir!” Out of breath, Isaiah stood with one hand on the door knob, looking at Tommy.

“Oi!” Arthur shouted. “You know better than to interrupt!”

Tommy nodded his head at Arthur, then turned to Isaiah. “What is it, lad.”

“Better be important,” John added.

“Sir, the Italians are here. My dad spotted them making their way down the lane. They got a group with guns and a car. We best hurry.” Isaiah said in a rushed voice.

With that all the Shelby men stood and placed their caps on, rushing out of the snug.

Upon noticing the urgency in which the brothers exited, the rest of the Peaky Blinders in the pub were at full alert, waiting for Tom’s next words. The crowd silenced as the brothers stood at the snug doors, facing the onlookers.

“If you aren’t a Peaky Blinder,” Tom eyed the crowd, “leave.”

Noise filled the bar again as chairs shuffled, cups were placed on tables, and the front doors opened and closed.

Tom didn’t speak again until there were only Peaky Blinders left. He pulled out his revolver and checked it, making sure there were bullets, before looking up again.

“Battle formation, men. The Italians are here.”

Then in a flurry of peaky hats and over coats, the rest of the men got into their positions. Some ran up the stairs to get the extra cases of shotguns and revolvers. Others pulled out their own handguns and checked them as well. The Shelby boys looked at each other, a silent way of saying ‘good luck’.

Once Tommy deemed every one armed, he nodded to Arthur, who shouted to move out.

The Shelbies were at the front, while everyone fell behind them in triangle formation. As they marched outside, they could see the group of Italians rounding the corner.

It was rather intimidating. An outline of men and guns on shoulders, a rather sizable group at that, illuminated by the truck headlights that followed behind. It was a sight to see.

Darby Sabini stood at the front, a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

As the groups marched towards each other and came to a stop, a man behind Thomas called out to the front. “At your command Sergeant Major.”

A hushed tone of agreement spread throughout the group.

Darby stepped forward. “Thought you could come on our turf and get away with it, aye?”

Tommy stepped forward as well, hands in his pockets. “It was meant as a friendly gesture, but I don’t think you have enough friends to know what that means.”

A small smirk made its way onto Tommy’s face as he stared Darby down.

Darby narrowed his eyes, irritated at that remark. “I’ll show you what friendly means. Now!”

A hail of gunfire began and the sound of shots being fired filled the lane. It was chaos. Bullets flew and body’s fell. Punches were thrown and blood was spread. More men jumped out of the covered truck and ran to beat down the men on the other side.

Tommy ducked and punched, kicked and shot. In the middle of punching a man in the gut he yelled, “Leave Darby for me!”

His men did just that.

Thomas fought his way to the center of the fight, where Darby had just knocked out a Peaky Blinder. Tommy aimed his gun and walked forward, aiming at Darby. The fighting on both sides ceased.

“I didn’t bring a battalion to your town.” Tommy spoke clearly, in a raised voice.

Darby aimed his gun as well. The two circled each other as men on both sides stopped to observe the interaction. They watched Tommy and Darby tread carefully, like two tentative predators waiting for their opposer to falter.

“You still showed up. That was enough.”

The two men were breathing heavily, a result from the brawls they just finished.

“What’s your purpose for being here, Sabini?” Thomas stopped pacing, his gun still firmly held up.

Darby stopped as well. An obnoxious laugh left his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Tommy didn’t move. He held a blank face, but his eyes still watched Darby with intensity.

Not waiting for a response Darby continued, “I’m reminding you that I can take away everything you have in an instant. I already put your brother in jail, which it seems wasn’t a good enough warning for you, since you stupidly had him released so quickly.”

Darby took a couple steps toward Thomas, gun raised.

“Killing me won’t do anything. I got people in place to still ruin you.” Thomas stated, his tone flat.

Darby lowered his gun, a sickly calm smile spread across his face. It was an unsettling sight that made Tommy begin to think something was off.

“Oh Tommy boy, I’m just the distraction,” Darby’s eyes noticeably darkened, “How’s your wife these days?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and his finger pulled the trigger.

Darby fell to the ground dead, a bullet was lodged in the center of his forehead.

Then like a wave, the fighting began again.

As soon as the gunshot rang, Tommy saw red. He shot, punched, kicked or swung at anyone in his way as he fought to get out of the crowd. He didn’t bother shouting an explanation to his brothers as he ran to his car.

Tommy shoved his keys into the ignition and started the car. Tommy slammed his foot on the gas as soon as the engine roared to life. The car’s lights illuminated the carnage left from the battle. The Peaky Blinders were the last ones standing, as Tommy expected, but paid no mind to. His thoughts too consumed with conjuring the hundreds of horrible possibilities he might see upon arriving home, all ending with a bloodied image of Y/n.

John and Arthur ran towards the car, causing Thomas to slam on the breaks.

“Where are you going?” John asked urgently.

“They’re going for Y/n.” Thomas hastily replied.

John and Arthur jumped on the side of the car just in time before Tommy could speed up again.

Michael and Finn watched as the older Shelby boys passed them.

“Great. So we’re left to clean up the mess.”

At the house, Y/n held her book to her face as the door burst open. She turned her head and was met with the sight of a man pointing a gun at her. His clothes were clean and he looked very young. Her eyes flitted from the gun to his shoes, then to his eyes, then back to the gun.

“On your feet.” He demanded.

“What?” Y/n feigned innocence, despite her struggle to keep calm.

The man, gun still held towards her, trudged over and ripped the book from her hands, throwing it onto the floor.

“I said on your feet!” He yelled in her face, backing away so he was a few feet from the bed.

She stared into his eyes, an impassive look on her face. Y/n looked back down at the gun.

With a purse of her lips and a shrug she stated, “I’d rather not.”

The man’s soldier esc demeanor nearly slipped at her blatant defiance of his orders. “It’s not an option lady! Get up.”

She chuckled. “Y’see, lad. I’ve been on my feet all day. Have you ever worn heels for over six hours? Rather painful you know.”

Her cocky attitude betrayed her quickly beating heart that was full of adrenaline.

In an effort to scare her, he menacingly stepped forward. “I ain’t afraid to hurt you lady, but the boss wants you alive. If you keep disobeying me, I'm allowed to use force.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh really, and who is your boss? I must thank him for not wanting me dead.”

She knew she was playing with her life, but if this boy was as inexperienced as he looked, she would get the information she needed to warn Tommy. Granted, if she got out of this situation.

“Sabini.” The man bluntly answered.

Y/n swallowed. This wasn’t good. If Sabini’s men were here and not in London, she needed to warn Thomas immediately. Her heart pumped faster than she thought possible and every nerve in her body was on the verge of trembling from fear.

“I see.” Y/n turned her head to the foot of the bed. “Well, like I said, I’d rather not get up. Matter of fact, I’d rather keep reading. So be a dear and hand me my book, would ya?” She was stalling.

“C’mon lady, stop being stubborn. You don't even got a weapon to be making these demands.” The man sneered.

Y/n slowly adjusted herself so that she scooted away from the pillows that propped her up. She straightened her legs on the bed, her left crossed over her right. Then she leaned back on her arms, purposely pushing up her chest to show off her unbinded chest. Hopefully, he’d be dumb enough to look at her distraction, and he was.

“Ah, well. It was worth a shot. I can tell that you're new to this whole— kidnapping thing. If you want to get better at it then you should learn this.” She paused before looking back at the man, “Always do research on your target.”

The young man’s brows furrowed, obviously confused.

“If you did your research, like a good little gangster,” She began as she slid her left leg up off her right, causing her silk nightgown to slowly expose her leg. The man’s eyes roamed her leg once she stopped moving, leaving her left leg in a bent position. She reached for the hem of the dress and raised it further up her left leg, stopping until it got to her mid thigh, “Then you would know, that I’m always armed.”

In a swift and well practiced motion, Y/n grabbed the sharp, throwing knife from her thigh holster, and threw. The knife landed in the man’s chest, in his heart. Looking down at the knife, the man stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling onto his back. Blood quickly formed a growing splotch of red on his shirt. Y/n quickly stood from the bed to remove the gun from the man’s hand, she then crouched over him.

She placed her hand on the knife handle, “It was a shame you didn’t do your research.” Then she pushed the knife forward, until she felt through the blade that it had really punctured his heart.

Y/n stood over the man’s body, gun in her hand, and watched the blood puddle grow. She backed away until her knees hit the bed and gave way. Letting out a shaky breath, she sat with the gun in her lap. In an attempt to avoid looking at the body laid in front of her, Y/n stared at the ceiling.

The adrenaline began to wear off, and the reality of the situation dawned on her. She could have died, quite easily too. If her attacker had not been so inexperienced and if she wasn’t wanted brought back alive, she could have died. Then, she thought of her husband.

Tommy.

Had the man lying dead on her carpet opened the door and shot, Tommy would have had to come home to her dead body instead. The thought of Tommy finding her body, cold and bloody, scared her more than death. She couldn’t imagine the pain of him being alone. He would blame himself for her death. He would say he couldn’t protect her, and he would loathe himself for the rest of his life. Tears began to prick her eyes and her throat tightened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to go away and for her erratic heart beat to calm down.

She killed a man.

That’s the only thought she could process. Her emotions muddled her thinking. Never before had she used her knives to kill. She used guns, from far away. She used punches to knock people out. She used her knives to injure, but never before had she needed them to kill. She was slightly glad for the memory of Tommy coming back home from an errand, returning with the thin knife holster that he insisted she wear when he wasn’t home. She was also glad that she made it a rule for herself to never take it off unless Tommy was home with her.

Then, the silence of the house was broken again. She flinched. This time, the sound came from the front door slamming open and muffled shouts that she could only register as her name.

“Y/n! Y/n where are you?” The voice shouted.

She couldn’t pinpoint who it was, not in her boggled state of mind, but she knew it was safe. So she answered.

“In the bedroom.”

Her eyes were still shut and her head faced the ceiling when Tommy rushed in.

“Y/n.” His voice was slightly breathless as he took in the sight before him.

The room was covered in warm, candle light, giving a complete opposite tone to the tense atmosphere. His wife sat on the bed with a gun in her lap. A man, with his wife’s knife in his chest, laid dead on the ground and a puddle of blood surrounded his wound.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked at her husband. She could see the fear and worry that filled his eyes, his face in slight shock.

Thomas was relieved to see his wife unharmed, but he could see the tears that were threatening to fall. Her slumped shoulders were signs of exhaustion. The way her chest moved up and down with heavy breathes told him she was on the verge of holding herself together.

Arthur and John came bounding up the stairs next, and found their places on either side of Thomas.

Y/n’s voice came out void of emotion, but her teary eyes said it all. “One of Sabini’s men.” She stated before turning her eyes to the ceiling once more, trying to blink away tears. “Please get him out of my sight.” The growing puddle of blood made her want to throw up.

“You heard her,” Thomas said in a low tone, staring at his wife with concerned eyes. “Get rid of ‘em.” His voice was just above a whisper.

Arthur and John stepped forward, grabbing the man by his arms and lugged him out of the room. Only once the man had been removed did Thomas walk towards his wife. Only when he wrapped his arms around her did she let herself cry. She let herself sob and express how truly scared she was when the man burst into her room, and pointed a gun to her head.

Thomas held her close and kissed her head. He whispered in her ear that she was okay, and that she did what she needed to do. Holding her close, he told her he loved her, and promised to never let anything like that happen to her again.

Masterlist

well I tried

Edit: Bro this blew up in less than a day with 41 notes. Thank you♡

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x wife reader #thomas shelby x wife reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby wife imagine #thomas shelby x hurt reader #thomas shelby x reader protect #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby wife imagine

524 notes · View notes

zeb-z · 2 years

Note

For the roommates au, what are the other redstoners up to?

Causing mischief and mayhem, most likely - I mean, really who is sane enough to willingly work with the radioactive dangers? Here’s what they’ve been up to in the city, though

Etho

(Read @voidmenace ‘s post here for Etho!)

Merc for hire, takes most jobs and is known for not turning his nose up at the dangerous or odd ones, though his prices reflect this for sure - the one you go to when you want a guarantee, or when you have no other option. Doesn’t often take hits, but will direct you to those who can. Crippling shopping addiction - what coin that doesn’t go towards his gear and necessities are spent rather frivolously.

Was once roommates with Beef, a civilian who knew enough of his work with the heroes to be more than concerned when he disappeared. Is now roommates with Iskall

Mumbo

(check out @wheeeee-dot-png ‘s post here because we are literally obsessed. once again influencing some design choices <3)

Guy in the chair meets mechanic and inventor. Comes up with brilliant ideas that tend to be terribly inefficient - Impulse and Scar work with him to balance out. His mind is always working one problem or another, he really is brilliant, if a bit silly.

He never consideres consequences before diving on a head with a project - he fucks around and finds out, and then never ever learns from it. He provides all the little contraptions and doohickeys and thingamabobs for Boatem to try out in the field - his words, not anyone else’s.

He’s a redstoner through and through, though he’s always had less of a resistance than his peers. He has to work on his projects in chunks, lest he risk radiation poisoning. Though he has a higher tolerance than the general population, he reaches poisoning a lot earlier than he should for how long he’s worked with redstone. It’s a toss up on how well he listens to his body on that, though he’s careful not to fatally overdo it - he can get into the groove and forget.

He considers a suit to be casual wear, the absolute madman - though on the rare t-shirt days, you’ll see his sleeve of tattoos. One of the mysteries of the man, he never talks about when he got them, nor what they mean to him - though a few glow a slight red when he works on his projects.

He may be the man in the chair, but don’t let that fool you - he is far from defenseless on his own. He was an established vigilante far before he found a place with Boatem.

He has snorted redstone before, to Grian’s delight and horror. It went about as well as you’d expect.

Iskall

He’s a friendly lad who waves to his neighbors every morning, tends to his carrot garden in the afternoon, and goes out by night to complete his contracts. A hitman by trade, and a damn good one at that.

Who were they before they took hits and bounties? You won’t get much of an answer, other than they used to work around redstone, and a cautionary tale about lasting effects. With the way their eye and a decent chunk of their face around it is entirely cybernetic, it isn’t too hard to understand why their past is something of a silent topic.

Though he’s not much of a redstoner anymore, he knows his way around and will use his connections to get access. He and Etho will use the technology to make their life at home a little easier though, brainstorming inventions on occasion to help automate something so they don’t have to worry about it.

Cub

The weapons dealer most people know, he’s usually the go to for his decent prices and sturdy equipment. He works for heroes and villains and anyone in between, so long as you have the coin to pay for what he offers, then he has no qualms in selling it to you. He profits off of the conflicts of the city, and really does not mind - why worry about the morality of your choices when there’s money to be made, and new ideas you can make?

He somehow procures most of his redstone resources legally, and is sometimes even funded personally by the government and hero agency. He creates a lot of technology for them as well, such as experimental redstone powered wrist comms, holographic displays and plasma screens, monitors and parts for their elevators - a lot of random basic equipment that a building for heroes and their office workers would need.

Cub and Scar often work together, whether one contracts the other or they’re just meeting up to catch up and end up pulling some shenanigans. Scar supplies the wild and out there ideas, and Cub makes them happen - sometimes it doesn’t work, often it does, and it’s brilliantly terrifying.

Impulse

Caffeinated, animated, redstone innovator-

Solid, steady, reliable Impulse. Part time worker in the hero’s tower, meant to be more of a paper pusher than anything, though he helps with more than he should on occasion. He’s told more than he really should be told. No ones worried about it, though - it’s Impulse, after all!

His other part time job? A vigilante with the Boatem crew, of course. Currently acts as a source of information, their recon man if you will, and his main resource is the hero agency he works for. He did also design and build everyone’s specialized armor and main weapons. It’s as solid and reliable as he is, with additional redstone features that are far more advanced and safe than anything the government and hero agency have even in drafted plans and ideas.

He works with Mumbo to finalize prototypes into something more finished, as well as Scar to actually finish up everything that isn’t the guts and wires of said prototypes. Then he goes home, where he lives with Tango and Zedaph. Chaotic maybe, living with a hero and a villain, but they make it work.

He has a mischievous streak a mile wide that somehow always surprises everyone.

Xisuma

Disgruntled detective trying to deal with everything, who plays favorites when he really, legally shouldn't. He’s tired, he’s just so tired. Lives off of caffeine and cold showers, and is one slight inconvenience away from filling his mug up with straight tequila instead of earl grey.

He has a random assortment of licenses and codes of access to various places and things. Somehow this man has a fully fledged redstone license, to purchase and utilize any and all hazard levels. He could probably get a license for distribution if he applied.

Works mostly with the heroes, but does what he can for the vigilantes and villains that he knows aren’t real trouble - he’ll do some fancy legal tricks in his paperwork and filing to keep a lot of otherwise chargeable offenses off of them. Tedious work, but doable, and something he really doesn’t mind too much - until Grian and Mumbo blow up another block in the industrial district, and he’s back to debating on lacing his coffee with the redstone he has stored in his office.

Definitely the source of Scott’s redstone kits.

(and psssst, for more Xisuma you should direct your asks towards @voidmenace ! they’re more of an expert on him than I)

Zedaph

A man of science, but in the loosest sense of the term. Do not ask this man about if he thinks what he does is moral. Do not ask what he’s planning next. In fact, do not ask him anything - the answer will be baffling at best, and at worst you will end up involved in his next test as some sort of subject.

He calls himself a doctor, he does not have a PhD nor a license to practice. He definitely does not have a license for all the redstone he uses. Doc may have the mad scientist vibe going on, but while he regularly seems to break the laws of physics, at least his conclusions and ideas are logical if you think about it.

Zedaph likes to create things that have little to no practical use, but they have a lot of complicated bells and whistles, and it’s a toss up on if it’ll help or harm the general public. He doesn’t wish any harm or foul play, of course not! But he is a man of science - and sometimes that means he has to know just what would happen if he connected the power grid to his own redstone power generator, or if he took all the people in a city block and put them in a room together. No one was ever in any danger, really!

While Mumbo doesn’t consider consequences, Zedaph creates them - sometimes on purpose. Creative, but terrifying. Do not trust him with your wallet

Tango

A hero with the hero agency who works pretty high up in the engineering and redstone science departments. He just straight up does not feel the effects of redstone radiation. He still gets it, of course - no one is immune to the radiation poisoning, at least that anyone knows of - but he never feels any of the symptoms or painful repercussions. If he works for too long, he becomes radioactive to those around him, if he works for any longer that radiation will start hurting him.

Like someone with little to no feeling in their hands, they can touch the stove top and not feel a thing, but they’ll still get burned. That’s him with redstone and radioactivity.

His eyes are red because of times he’s spent far too long working on redstone - luckily he didn’t die, but his eyes are a permanent reminder. He can still see, it doesn’t hurt, but it reminds him that enough radiation can still be far too dangerous for him. He has a collection of fun sunglasses to hide his eyes from the general public when he's a civilian, but when in hero mode he likes to show the kids and say he can shoot lasers from his eyes. He can’t.

If you look hard enough if his arms aren’t covered, you can see the glow of his bones through his skin. Shirtless Tango is a sight to see, and he’ll flex and joke about being eye candy when people stare - it’s really because his inner organs glow enough to be slightly visible.

Zed and Impulse have to drag him away from his work sometimes, to make sure he doesn’t overdo it and end up too radioactive to sit with them for dinner that evening.

#SORRY THIS GOT LONG BUT #REDSTONERS MY BELOVED #they’re there they’re doing their best they are all radioactive to some degree #roommate au #hermitcraft au #ethoslab #mumbo jumbo #iskall85 #cubfan135 #impulsesv #xisumavoid #zedaph #tangotek #anon ask #z speaks

50 notes · View notes

istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Catelyn I (Chapter 2)

Mom! :(

"Your sons," Ser Desmond said at last. "Maester Vyman told us. The poor lads. Terrible. Terrible. But . . ."

"We share your grief, my lady," said Utherydes Wayn. "All Riverrun mourns with you, but . . ."

"The news must have driven you mad," Ser Desmond broke in, "a madness of grief, a mother's madness, men will understand. You did not know . . ."

I giggle every time someone accuses Catelyn of being mad.

+.+.+

It was mine own act and mine alone, and I alone must answer for it. Put me in the Kingslayer's empty irons, and I will wear them proudly, if that is how it must be.

Unreliable narrator Catelyn Stark.

The Kingslayer is still wearing his irons.

+.+.+

"Mayhaps," said the steward Utherydes Wayn, "my lady would consent to be confined to her chambers until Ser Edmure returns. A time alone, to pray for her murdered sons?"

"Confined, aye," Ser Desmond said. "Confined to a tower cell, that would serve."

A lady in a tower!

+.+.+

There was a smell of death about that room; a heavy smell, sweet and foul, clinging.

rofl.

+.+.+

Lord Hoster's eyes opened. "Tansy," he husked in a voice thick with pain.

He does not know me. Catelyn had grown accustomed to him taking her for her mother or her sister Lysa, but Tansy was a name strange to her. "It's Catelyn," she said. "It's Cat, Father."

"Forgive me . . . the blood . . . oh, please . . . Tansy . . ."

Could there have been another woman in her father's life? Some village maiden he had wronged when he was young, perhaps? Could he have found comfort in some serving wench's arms after Mother died? It was a queer thought, unsettling. Suddenly she felt as though she had not known her father at all.

Love that George has already provided a clue to this mystery.

I picked you flowers, wild roses and tansy and goldencups, it took me all morning. - Prologue, ASOS

+.+.+

A raven came to the castle in late afternoon, flapping down on great black wings to the rookery. Dark wings, dark words, she thought, remembering the last bird that had come and the horror it had brought.

[...]

"Was it news of Robb?"

He hesitated. "Yes, my lady."

"Something is wrong." She knew it from his manner. He was hiding something from her. "Tell me. Is it Robb? Is he hurt?" Not dead, gods be good, please do not tell me that he is dead.

The wheels are certainly in motion.

Am I supposed to believe Riverrun heard of Robb's broken betrothal this long after Roose did? That can't be.

Oh no, the timeline is breaking my brain again.

+.+.+

"Forgive me," he said, so softly she could scarcely hear the words. "Tansy . . . blood . . . the blood . . . gods be kind . . ."

Babes and blood again.

+.+.+

That night Catelyn slept fitfully, haunted by formless dreams of her children, the lost and the dead. Well before the break of day, she woke with her father's words echoing in her ears. Sweet babes, and trueborn . . . why would he say that, unless . . . could he have fathered a bastard on this woman Tansy? She could not believe it. Her brother Edmure, yes; it would not have surprised her to learn that Edmure had a dozen natural children. But not her father, not Lord Hoster Tully, never.

Speaking of broken brains, Ned really did a number on Catelyn.

+.+.+

She and her sister had been married on the same day, and left in their father's care when their new husbands had ridden off to rejoin Robert's rebellion. Afterward, when their moon blood did not come at the accustomed time, Lysa had gushed happily of the sons she was certain they carried. "Your son will be heir to Winterfell and mine to the Eyrie. Oh, they'll be the best of friends, like your Ned and Lord Robert. They'll be more brothers than cousins, truly, I just know it." She was so happy.

+.+.+

You'll have others, he said. Sweet babes, and trueborn. Lysa had miscarried five times, twice in the Eyrie, thrice at King's Landing . . . but never at Riverrun, where Lord Hoster would have been at hand to comfort her. Never, unless . . . unless she was with child, that first time . . .

[...]

If she had lost a child before, that might explain Father's words, and much else besides . . . Lysa's match with Lord Arryn had been hastily arranged, and Jon was an old man even then, older than their father. An old man without an heir. His first two wives had left him childless, his brother's son had been murdered with Brandon Stark in King's Landing, his gallant cousin had died in the Battle of the Bells. He needed a young wife if House Arryn was to continue . . . a young wife known to be fertile.

[...]

"Father, I know what you did." She was no longer an innocent bride with a head full of dreams. She was a widow, a traitor, a grieving mother, and wise, wise in the ways of the world. "You made him take her," she whispered. "Lysa was the price Jon Arryn had to pay for the swords and spears of House Tully."

Small wonder her sister's marriage had been so loveless. The Arryns were proud, and prickly of their honor. Lord Jon might wed Lysa to bind the Tullys to the cause of the rebellion, and in hopes of a son, but it would have been hard for him to love a woman who came to his bed soiled and unwilling.

Couple of things,

This is impressive. If only she didn't have a blind spot when it comes to Littlefinger.

I am so irritated that Lysa is being painted as a burden the old desperate man with the broken dick had to endure.

I don’t know how anyone can read the above and conclude Catelyn gave her virginity to Littlefinger.

Hoster Tully sucks.

+.+.+

Maester Vyman did not believe Lord Hoster would linger long enough for a raven to reach the Eyrie and return. Though he has said much the same before . . . Tully men did not surrender easily, no matter the odds.

The Blackfish can attest to that.

+.+.+

Catelyn went to the sept and lit a candle to the Father Above for her own father's sake, a second to the Crone, who had let the first raven into the world when she peered through the door of death, and a third to the Mother, for Lysa and all the children they had both lost.

What a bizarre detail.

+.+.+

Catelyn watched them from her father's balcony. She had washed her hair, changed her clothing, and prepared herself for her brother's reproaches . . . but even so, the waiting was hard.

Glad you're finally acknowledging that.

She was no stranger to waiting, after all. Her men had always made her wait. - Catelyn X, AGOT

+.+.+

"Stannis? What of Stannis?"

"He lost the battle at King's Landing," Edmure said unhappily. "His fleet was burned, his army routed."

A Lannister victory was ill tidings, but Catelyn could not share her brother's obvious dismay. She still had nightmares about the shadow she had seen slide across Renly's tent and the way the blood had come flowing out through the steel of his gorget. "Stannis was no more a friend than Lord Tywin."

It's incredibly telling that Catelyn Stark of all people can't decide which one is worse.

+.+.+

"Cersei will never give them up."

"Not Cersei. Tyrion. He swore it, in open court. And the Kingslayer swore it as well."

"Jaime's word is worthless. As for the Imp, it's said he took an axe in the head during the battle. He'll be dead before your Brienne reaches King's Landing, if she ever does."

"Dead?" Could the gods truly be so merciless? She had made Jaime swear a hundred oaths, but it was his brother's promise she had pinned her hopes on.

Catelyn is desperate, and losing it. Tyrion just got through sending false envoys to Riverrun under the disguise of a peace offer. They broke guest right, murdered Tully men, then attempted to free Jaime.

Tyrion has given Catelyn no reason to believe he’d honour that promise.

(He would, but that’s not the point.)

+.+.+

"Ravens to whom? How many?"

"Three," he said, "so the message will be certain to reach Lord Bolton. By river or road, the way from Riverrun to King's Landing must needs take them close by Harrenhal."

"Harrenhal." The very word seemed to darken the room. Horror thickened her voice as she said, "Edmure, do you know what you have done?"

Fantastic! We’ll give Jaime to Roose. Everything is great.

+.+.+

"Have no fear, I left your part out. I wrote that Jaime had escaped, and offered a thousand dragons for his recapture."

Worse and worse, Catelyn thought in despair. My brother is a fool. Unbidden, unwanted, tears filled her eyes. "If this was an escape," she said softly, "and not an exchange of hostages, why should the Lannisters give my daughters to Brienne?"

Catelyn, he’s trying to protect you. :(

+.+.+

"All you have made certain is that I shall never see my daughters again. Brienne might have gotten him to King's Landing safely . . . so long as no one was hunting for them. But now . . ." Catelyn could not go on. "Leave me, Edmure." She had no right to command him, here in the castle that would soon be his, yet her tone would brook no argument. "Leave me to Father and my grief, I have no more to say to you. Go. Go." All she wanted was to lie down, to close her eyes and sleep, and pray no dreams would come.

Oh I’m confident you’ll see one.

Final thoughts:

Everything that could go wrong is going wrong, and I feel like I’m in hell.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #catelyn i

50 notes · View notes