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notyour-valentine · 2 years

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Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 3 ~ Tommy Shelby x OC series

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Summary: Tommy and Charlotte meet again, where they both least expect

Note: Thank you so much for the positive feedback - Tommy has some making up to do, but will he even get to it?

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Physical violence. Expect canon conforming tone and mention of violence. I am of age and so my content is created for that intended audience. If you are a minor, please leave. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Wordcount: 4881 words

Part 3

[Previously]

Before he had even fully passed the threshold, the scent of potatoes, of boiled vegetables and salty broth filled his nose.

Thomas Shelby would never order soup or stew at a restaurant. He had had his fill in his lifetime, thin, more often than not, and stretched with all sorts of things he’d rather not think of now. But it had been better than nothing and even now there was some comfort to be found in it- simple, honest food to keep your belly full and your limbs warm.

More than many could want.

And these men were more than glad for it.

“Our volunteers prepare and serve the food, which is paid for by our patrons.”

“Patrons?”, he asked, as he followed the steps of the woman past the thick old wooden tables, trying to let his eyes linger on the faces and not the stumps.

Mrs. Wollerston was her name a woman of about fifty, who looked like he imagined every headmistress in history had ever looked, not that he had ever seen one, with thin lips, small eyes and a long black dress.

Officially, it was under the patronage of the church, but they only sported the location.

The rest was done, as always, by uncredited women in the shadows.

Apparently the Anglicans in London were no different than the Catholics in Birmingham when it came to that.

“Oh yes.”, she continued, her large keychain clinking with every step. “We are lucky to have the support of an association of charitable Ladies based in London, who have taken the fundraising upon themselves.”

“No government involvement?”, he wanted to know.

It wasn’t a bad place, no. It was clean and large, if a bit cold, but not too bad.

For the summer.

In winter, the real problems would start.

Mrs. Wollerston shook her head. “No, unfortunately not.”

So they let the men fight for them but don’t feed them after.

He wasn't surprised.

They were a sorry lot, sporting lost limbs, blinded eyes, and burned faces, some wearing little more than rags. One man had a large stick instead of a proper crutch.

And Tommy looked at their faces.

The dead were being praised with words like “We shall remember them” but those that came back, had been forgotten.

Poor bastards, he thought, if they had died for their king he would have treated them with more kindness.

Alive, they were useless, a burden.

Dead, they would have been heroes and a credit to the nation.

“I’ll show myself around.”, he told her and turned away without waiting for a response.

Tommy approached the large table at the back, where volunteers were handing out the food. They seemed to have been served some meat stew and sliced bread.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it looked decent enough.

From the other side of the long queue, he could see two women coming from the back, one holding a jug of water, the other a cup of tea.

For a split second he thought his mind was playing a trick on him, especially as she now had her back turned, prohibiting him from seeing her face.

But it was still enough.

Her hair was pulled back by a white hairband to keep it out of the way, not unsimilar to the ones the nurses wore. She was wearing an apron over a simple dark green dress.

But her shoes, brown leather shoes looked to be brand new, polished to a shine, with not a single scratch to be seen. Her stockings were real and not drawn on, with not the slightest nick or scratch.

Tommy knew expensive things when he saw them.

Walking back along the queue, he followed her to where the other men were sitting, watching her do their rounds.

By the time he got to hear her voice, there was no doubt.

She wore no jewellery apart from small studs he only saw occasionally when the light hit it, which wasn't rare but fleeting, as she moved around quickly.

“Good day Mr. Hubert.”, she said to the one armed man who sat in the corner of a table-

“G’day.”, he replied.

“Would you like to have a refill on your tea?”

“Yes please.”

She then moved on to a Mr. Verser apparently, who didn’t want tea but told her that the phantom pains in his leg got worse.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”, she told him, before serving another veteran.

They seemed to like her, or at least liked what they saw.

Perhaps they knew who she was and felt flattered, or perhaps they were relieved that someone actually looked at them, and didn’t shrink away at the sight of their scars.

Her voice, he noted, was just as bright and chirpy as he remembered it, as if she was talking to the handsome Patrick Melbourne and not the scarred Mr Vesper who had lost his cheek and ear to the flames.

Then she saw him and for a split second her eyes widened in alarm, but then the discipline of her class reined in her emotions.

She wouldn’t have made him want to get under her skin more if she tried.

So he did try.

“I don’t have a cup.”, he said, as he approached her, meeting her between two of the wooden tables that sat three men on each side.

“Eva hands them out to the veterans.”, she explained, the essence of chilly politeness and cold professionalism.

“I am a veteran.”, he reminded her, his hands pushed deep in his pockets.

She looked him up and down.

“But I don’t believe you to be a charity case, Mr. Shelby.”

He couldn't argue with that, and very nearly smirked.

When she moved on, he followed.

“What are you doing here?”, he wanted to know, nodding around the room.

It was no place for a lady, at least not the kind of place one would go to look for one.

“Pouring tea, as you can see.", she explained, as she made her way towards the other desk.

“Why?”

She built herself up to her full height and glared at him, her eyes burning in an icy fury.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Shelby. But I’d hate to keep everyone waiting.”

With that, she brushed him off like a piece of dust and walked away, not even bothering to storm off, which irked him more than it should.

He was still watching her when Mrs Wollerston joined him.

“Are you satisfied, Mr. Shelby?”, she wanted to know.

"I am considering a donation to your organisation.", He told her, seeing no need for niceties and games.

Besides, she wanted something from him.

"We feel honoured. A war hero like yourself-"

He inhaled sharply as the hair on the back of his neck stood and his shoulder muscles tensed.

"I'd like to talk to some people first to get a better impression of how things work here."

The old woman's eyes widened.

"O-oh.", She mumbled, clearly not liking the sound of that, but what could she do? It was his money after all. "Well, I would recommend-"

"Charlotte Crawley."

"The Lady C-Charlotte?", She asked, utterly baffled now.

"Yes.", He said. "I know her and I'd like to talk to her."

I know she’s a terrible liar.

She swallowed hard and nodded, already on her way to fetch her.

"Actually no.", He said suddenly, "Let her finish. I'll wait."

He wasn't more important than his companions who had taken more serious wounds than he had. Besides, that would give him the time to talk to them too.

And so Tommy Shelby sat down at one of the tables among them.

All too soon the stories came back, the usual questions.

Where were you? Under whom? How did you get it?

He hated talking about France, even thinking about it, but he could talk with the men here.

It was as if they all spoke a language no one else had ever learned.

They understood the things they said and the things they didn't.

But he made sure he wasn't talking when she was anywhere close, same way he did when Ada, Finn or Polly were around.

And he also watched her, her smiles and her chatter, the way she was so bright around them, so caring and unafraid.

If she was working for him and wasted that amount of time, he’d have fired her, but if she was his waitress, he would have tipped her well.

As time passed, the room cleared bit by bit until only a few people remained and the girls started cleaning up.

"Now would be a good time.", He told Mrs. Wollerston.

The woman looked like sour milk in light of his instructions, but she nodded and strode over to Charlotte, telling her to come.

And she did.

With her shift nearly over, her hair was left a lot more untidy than he had seen before.

During the riding weekend she had been perfectly groomed like the rest of the ladies and the horses, but now a few strands had become loose and the stray hairs had freed themselves.

And she was still wearing that apron.

It made her look more homely, more approachable and somehow more vulnerable. Not like a great lady at all.

"You really have waited.", She said. "I am surprised."

"So am I. To see you here."

Charlotte glanced down at her hands, which she held in front of her chest.

"Well I am."

"Why?"

"To help of course.", She said at once. “We owe these men a great debt of gratitude.”

He huffed and pulled out his cigarette case.

Always these words, these fucking words.

He had heard them more times than he could count, and would give less than the dirt under his shoes for them. He had not believed them, not once.

It was not like he didn’t believe she meant what she said, but she couldn’t understand - how could she? How could anyone?

He brought the cigarette to his lips and let it relax the muscles on his back that had tensed without him knowing, and watched her through the smoke like it was some veil.

But was it a veil that hid the world from her that hadn’t been lifted or one that had been placed over him after France?

She stared at him from a mask of unreadable emotion as if her likeness had already been captured by an artist, ready to hang in a family home for all eternity.

She wouldn’t crack, not until he pushed her.

“How did you find this place?”, he wanted to know, tapping his cigarette.

"My aunt is one of the patrons, Lady Rosamund Painswick."

It was one of the names that had been mentioned by Mrs. Wollerston earlier, as if it had some great meaning, but he didn’t care.

"That's her. What about you?"

Charlotte glared at him.

"Are you always this forward?", she demanded to know.

He stared at her for a second.

"Yeah."

She huffed slightly.

"I don’t want to impose, but it can come across as quite inconsiderate."

Maybe I'm forward but you are not. Not a straight answer if a distraction or a change of topic will do.

Her hands gave her away again, only this time they weren’t tapping. Now she was clutching them together tightly to prevent just that. If she had worn dinner gloves, he wouldn’t have seen the thin white lines under her fingers. But her hands were bare now, and there wasn't even a place to hide them.

Her voice, however, sounded unaffected as he lifted her gaze again, after almost half a minute of silence.

“If this is some sort of display of power to make me apologise for our last encounter,”, she said sharply, “I refuse to. I stand by what I said.”

He had expected nothing less.

“However,”, she continued, wringing her hands before pressing it to her chest, touching something under the fabric.

“I was made aware that you are interested in becoming a donor.”

Tommy huffed in approval.

She inhaled sharply and he could see she wasn’t exactly enjoying this conversation my her hands alone.

“I’d hope you wouldn’t let our past differences stand in the way stand in the way of that.”

She glanced down at her hands and smoothed down the apron.

“It wouldn’t.”, he assured her, before letting the silence take over again, not missing the slight breath of relief that went through her.

So it really was important to her.

It was Charlotte who broke the silence, after she had been avoiding to meet his gaze.

“Might I ask why you wanted to see to me of all people?”, she asked impatiently. “Since you have clearly no intention of talking to me.”

That tugged at his lips once more.

Good question indeed.

And one he didn’t have an answer to.

When she realised he wouldn’t have a response, she sighed.

“Well, I hope your visit was enlightening but I do need to to get on.”

He dismissed her with a nod and got up, and taking another drag of his cigarette, watched her walk off.

She looked almost normal now, with a simple dress and an apron, hair that wasn’t perfect, and hands that weren’t hidden in gloves.

Like an ordinary girl.

Tommy Shelby put the cigarette out forcefully and left without another word.

But before he got back to his office, he stopped by the library.

“Ada?”, he shouted, his voice booming across the arched hall.

“Ada, where are you?”

He ignored all the “Shhs!” and outraged shaking of heads as he passed, his footsteps alone louder than any conversation they might have had.

“Are you mad?”, She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she saw him, standing on some ladder.

“You can’t just come in here like that!”

“Well I just did, eh.”, Tommy said, offering her a hand as she climbed down.

Ada ignored it.

Well enough.

“I need you to find me anything you can about the Crawley family.”

Ada pursed her lips.

“Tommy - I don’t work for you!”, she reminded him sharply.

“Yeah but you work for the library, so get me the stuff, just like you got me the other ones.”

“That was a favour!”, she hissed, before her features softened. “And a thank you for the house.”

A couple of books and a lot of newspapers for a house, eh?

“Just get it for me.”, he tried.

“Will you at least tell me why? Are they to do with-”

“No.”, he said quickly. “At least not more than any other family.”

Since they all married each other there wasn’t much to go around.

“Crawley family,”, he repeated. “Their title is Earl of Grantham and they have a…castle in Yorkshire. I need to know about them.”

He couldn’t exactly ask May. The last time he had relied on her for that kind of information, it had ended poorly for him, although he couldn’t put that on her.

“Earls?”, Ada gasped. “Seriously, Tommy? What kind of business do you have with an Earl now?”

He didn’t respond to that.

After all, he didn’t know himself yet- he just…had to know.

“So get me the books and get me the newspapers. Alright?”

She stared up at him in disapproval and clicked her tongue.

“Please?”, he asked impatiently.

“Fine. But you’re not taking them to Birmingham. You can look at them at my house.”

He could feel her disapproval as he stormed off, but that didn’t change things.

“What are you upto Tommy?”, she called, but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t even sure himself yet.

He returned to the soup kitchen nearly a week after, but that did not mean his thoughts hadn't wandered there earlier.

Once he had arrived, he immediately scanned the room for the now familiar frame.

And Tommy surprised himself when he realised he was glad to see her. This time it was her that helped carry the trays of those that could no longer balance properly.

If he didn’t know, he wouldn’t have thought she was different to the girl cutting the bread, and the woman handing out tea, or the other one who took the dishes away.

Only he knew now and he wouldn’t forget.

… first mention in 1273 of Sir Ralph de Craule in the service of Edward I…

It was like he was staring history in the face.

… 1539 made Viscounts Downton by Henry VIII….

But she was wearing the same apron, the same cloth on her hair, so one could have thought she was, but she wasn't. She was similar but not the same.

…elevated to Earls of Grantham by King George III in 1772…

As he entered, Mrs. Wollerstons rushed towards him.

“Mr. Shelby, I feared we would have heard the last of you.”, she greeted, sweat on her brow.

“No.”, he said, only slowly turning to look at her.

“Then have you decided?”

“Yes.”

The silence made her quiver and smile nervously.

“I think we should sit down somewhere to discuss the details.”, he said.

“Of course, of course, Mr. Shelby. Follow me.”

As he walked along the lines of tables, he felt a pair of eyes on him. When he reached the small door to the back, he turned and saw her looking at him. And he met her gaze for a moment, and a moment more than she seemed to be comfortable with, as she quickly averted her eyes and hurried along.

Only then, did he enter.

It was a small office, but furnished with a lot more money than would have been necessary. The office chair was leather, the carafe looked like crystal.

As she sat down behind the desk, he took his place in front of it, watching her put down her glasses.

Soon she was telling him about other donors and patrons, the influence of the church and more.

“Would your donation be regular?”, she asked. “Monthly perhaps, or weekly?”

“Perhaps.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“I will pay in cash.”, he finally said. “You’ve got the food sorted but these men also need clothes, shoes and other things like - ah - soap and cigarettes.”

“Oh the church won’t like that.”, she argued.

Tommy fished the cigarette case out of his pocket and put one between his lips.

“I am not the church.”, he said, smoke escaping his lips.

Wollerston's nose wrinkled, but kept her lips firmly shut.

If money talks the world listens, eh?

“I think that would be a possibility.”, she finally said.

“Ah will it?”, Tommy asked, feigning surprise.

“You see, we are usually focussed on providing the men with what they need.”

“And they need cigarettes.”

Her jaw clenched so hard, he thought it might snap.

“I presume arrangements can be made for care packages.”

He stared at her as he took another drag.

“Including cigarettes.”

They stared at each other, but it was her that broke first.

Obviously.

So Tommy took the next step.

“Make a list of content for these care packages including prices. Send it to this address.”

He placed a business card on the table. “We will review the list and make changes. Then you will know the extent and frequency of my donation.”

Mrs. Wollerston’s face was so sour, he was prepared for an amusing lecture when she opened her mouth, but then they heard a crash coming from the hall. And screaming- panicked, half mad, animalistic screaming.

It was a sound, Tommy knew all too well.

The cigarette slipped from his fingers and was forgotten before it hit the ground as he rushed out of the office and into the mayhem in the hall.

A table had been toppled, spreading food, cutlery and broken dishes over the floor.

One chair had snapped a leg and was laying shattered against the wall.

The men had done their best to move away and give him space, their faces white with fear and their eyes wide.

They knew what it was, as did he. There was no soldier in the world who didn’t recognise this.

The man, who was in the middle of it wasn’t particularly tall nor strong, more a wiry build with a fallen face. He was hiding behind the toppled table, screaming on the top of his lungs, his eyes staring a thousand yards away into the distance.

One of the men walked up to him.

“You need to stop that!”

When he touched his shoulder, the man lashed out, tackling him and slamming him against the wall.

And Tommy clicked into action.

He knew what needed to be done. He had done it too many times before.

Coming up right behind, he wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders from behind and pulled him up, away from the poor sod who had gotten involved without truly knowing what to do.

The man was thrashing and kicking violently, and he had trouble even holding onto him.

But for now he had to get him away from the other man, as the shrill shrieking rang in his ears.

“Oi,”, Tommy bellowed, his voice cutting through the screams. “What’s his name?”

“Wilkins.”, one responded, sending him in even a madder state.

Trying to control him was like trying to ride a mad horse and Tommy was slowly slipping of the saddle.

“His first name!”, he roared, pushing the man towards the wall, and putting his whole weight into it.

“Harry!”, came from somewhere.

It fucking better be Harry, Tommy thought, trapping him between his body and the wall.

“Harry? Harry, it’s alright!”, he shouted into his ear, his nose brushing against the sweaty, greasy strands of his hair.

“You’re not in France, you’re in England, eh? You’re back.”

He grunted as he caught a kick to his knee and loosened his grip for but a moment. While it wasn’t enough for the man to slip his grip, it was enough for him to bring them both crashing to the ground.

When he landed on top of him, it forced the air from his lungs.

Tommy tried to turn, to get him off of him and to subdue him on the floor, but he was thrashing so violently, it was all he could do not to let go of him. At least this way only he was getting hit and not some other veteran who couldn’t properly defend themselves.

Between his inability to properly breathe from the weight on his chest, his thrashing and the screaming, he didn’t notice until it was too late.

“Stay clear!”, he bellowed at her just as Harry Wilkins caught her with a wild arm to the shoulder, knocking her onto her back. She caught herself with her hands but wasn’t deterred for long.

This time she approached from behind both their heads and not from the side like before.

But it was the same with horses - if one approached them from where they can’t see it always ended badly.

“I said stay clear!”, he roared, but she didn’t listen. Instead she knelt down behind his head and reached forward, taking the man’s face in between her trembling hands.

It was like trying to catch a rabid dog, but she succeeded after a while.

“Hush.”, she told him, clasping the sides of his head. “Hush, Harry.”

Her voice was soft and breathy, and only he and Tommy could hear.

“Hush, Harry. You’re safe. You’re home.”

Harry began to shake his head violently.

“No. No, no, no, no. They’re coming. They’re here. I know it. They’re here soon!”

She has him talking!

That was a good sign if ever there was one. After all mad men couldn’t talk.

“No one’s coming.”, she assured him. “You’re safe. I promise!”

Tommy felt the other man’s thrashing slow down.

“You promise?”, he whispered, shaking violently.

“Of course I promise, Harry. I’m right here and you are safe. We are both safe.”

“We’re safe?”, he asked. “We’re safe?”

“Yes, we are, Harry. You’re safe. I’m safe. And we are home.”

When the sobs came, Tommy let his head fall back onto the cold ground and exhaled, still holding onto the man.

But he too could relax his grip.

Other men came and with her, helped pick him up.

“Come now, it’s alright.”

Another tried to help Tommy up, but he did so himself, walking to the edge of the wall and bracing himself in his knees, one hand resting against the old stone. It was the cold that calmed him.

Fuck, he thought, taking a moment to catch his breath.

It never got easier.

Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he coughed.

Even while he was still facing the wall, he could pinpoint the moment when the realisation of what he did fully hit the man as a flurry of apologies escaped his lips, mixed with hiccups sobs.

“Take him to the back.”, Mrs. Wollerston instructed.

Tommy was surprised to see her get involved, but she put her arm around the man, who left the room sobbing.

The veterans and the volunteers seemed to be in a competition about who was paler, all avoiding eye contact. After all that noise, the silence was deafening.

But then it was Charlotte who spoke up, stepping into the middle of the room with her hands behind her back. Her heels made strange clicking sounds on the floor, echoing through the silent hall.

“Goodness.”, she said, her voice loud and surprisingly confident, even if it was a bit breathless, placing her right hand on her chest. “Why don’t you take a seat again and we will bring you all a cup of tea. I think we'd all fancy a cup.”

With a nod to the other girls they hurried to move the chairs from the toppled table to the others, before helping them sit down.

With the adrenaline still pulsing through his body, rage began to boil in the pit of his stomach.

“You!”, Tommy snarled, storming over to her, his heart still racing.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back, away from the others. She was having problems keeping up, her shoes scraping on the floor as he dragged her away.

She flinched as he pushed her against the wall.

“That,”, he told her, hissing the words as he glared down at her “was fucking foolish!”

Her eyes widened but she didn’t look shocked. She looked angry now.

“I told you to get back and you didn’t!”

I ordered you.

She was only a foolish little girl and no match for a man that size, let alone in that state.

Didn’t she know what could have happened? He could have her on her back in no time, could have strangled her or bashed her head in like a melon and there would have been nothing he or anyone else could have done-

Foolish, stupid, naive- She lifted her chin to meet his eyes but at the same time he felt as if she was looking down at him.

“Indeed, I did not.”, she said, “But I’m very grateful for your assistance, Mr. Shelby.”

With that, she freed her arm and walked back to the others, her hands under her apron.

Tommy leaned his back against the wall and lit another cigarette.

Then he dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the refill packet and the matches.

“Oi.”, he called to get their attention, before tossing them both at a table of veterans.

They needed them too and mumbled their thanks.

The talks from before had vanished completely, as had the appetite.

While the volunteers served the veterans, he glanced over at the wreckage, trying to calm his racing heart.

The chair was firewood now, but the table only toppled. The plates were shattered, the food spread. The glasses were done for too, shattered to a thousand pieces. The food was spilled and spoiled, but it wasn’t like water and a mop couldn’t remove the stains of stew and - fuck

“Thank you very much for intervening.”, Mrs. Wollerston said, coming up behind him.

He nodded without sparing her a second chance.

“He alright?”

“He’s shaken.”

That’s a word for it.

“Is he hurt?”, Tommy wanted to know, his eyes never leaving the floor.

“I-I don’t think so.”, she admitted. “A few bruises perhaps.”

Tommy responded with silence, letting smoke escape his lips.

“Any cuts?”, he asked.

“No.”

Tommy nodded and dropped the cigarette to the floor, finishing it off with his shoes, a mere inches from the evidence.

Then he walked back over to Charlotte, who had her right hand on the back of a veteran.

When she saw him, she turned, glancing at him unsure.

Her other hand was in her apron pocket.

“Lady Charlotte,”, he said, making sure to be polite this once. She had earned it.

“I want to apologise for snapping at you earlier.”, he said, stretching out his hand for a handshake.

His left hand.

She glanced at it, then at him, her own hands still concealed.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby.", She tried, offering him a smile.

He glanced at her and then back at his still outstretched hand, as her eyes widened in the realisation.

“Show me.”

End of Part 3

Part 4

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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fyeah-tmnt · 9 months

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Welcome to my blog

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ABOUT ME

You can call me Max or Mikan. i’m a french-canadian adult. i have a main blog called Libertea-and-Icedcoffee, if you want more details about me, it's on the pinned post of my main blog :) <3

i speak french (natively), english (advanced), my local sign language (intermediate), spanish (basic, still learning), and haitian kreyòl (basic, still learning).

please be aware that i never post/reblog s3x related content (on neither of my blogs). the closest i could get to nsfw would be swearing, violence or depiction of drugs (w33d, t0bacc0 and alc0h0l), mostly from fanarts, fanfictions or headcanons that i have or reblog about.

i refuse to use proper capitalization (especially on “i”) and grammar.

My pronouns page:

Français, English, Espanol.

(Last updated: 2024/04/01) (YYYY/MM/DD)

#tmnt #fandom blog #tmnt ramblings #contribution

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angela-android · 16 days

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Hi there, 💞 Welcome!

I hope to use this blog for sharing MLBB fan art from their original creators (I feel like there's a lot of uncredited and stolen work in this fan base), along with sharing other tumblr users' works and my own!

I'm also going to be using this blog as a hero resource for my own MLBB project I'm working on. Things may be under construction for awhile, but I'm excited to get everything organized! Hope you guys are looking forward to the final product too!

( more about 'Angela-android' here )

Angela-Andriod's Tag list:

My posts / My fan art / Featured art

Archive / Not MLBB posts

🩷tags may change as I organize🩷

More tags below!

Angela-android's Hero Resource (coming soon)

Canon content

Comics

Events

Gameplay

Lore

Magic chess

Official art

AU's

Gender bending

Moonton AU's

Other media (all)

Comics (all)

Fan art

Cosplays

Edits

Fan cams

Fan comics

Fan skins

Fan writing

Illustrations

Models (designs and physical)

Moodboards

Pixel art

Funny things

Gifs

Holiday/Seasonal

Christmas

Halloween

New Years

Summer

Valentine's Day

Icons/profiles

Mobile Legends: Adventure

Series:

515 eParty // ALLSTAR // Aspirants // Atomic Pop // Attack on Titan // Beyond the Clouds // Blazing Bounties // Dawning Stars // Ducati // Forsaken Light // Jujutsu Kaisen // King of Fighters // Kung Fu Panda // Mistbenders // Neobeasts // Saint Seiya // Sanrio Characters // Star Wars // Zodiac

Videos

Wallpapers

🩷This list will be subject to change🩷

Temporary

#tag #my post

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queenclaudiabrown · 9 months

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She'll Be Coming With Us | Cast

Lucy Brown as CLAUDIA BROWN

the mediator

“I suppose I owe it to the taxpayer to do more than sit in my room and suck the minibar dry.”

Douglas Henshall as PROFESSOR NICK CUTTER

the maverick expert

“Some force out there ripped the boundaries of space and time to shreds…. Believe me, it’s very, very far from over.”

Ben Miller as SIR JAMES LESTER

the big boss

“I don’t like anyone to whom the adjective ‘maverick’ might be applied.”

Juliet Aubrey as HELEN CUTTER

the time traveler

“All this urban living has made human beings such a lazy animals.”

Mark Wakeling as CAPTAIN TOM RYAN

the protector

“Shoot to kill. That makes a refreshing change- I was beginning to feel like a social worker.”

Hannah Spearritt as ABIGAIL ‘ABBY’ MAITLAND

the zookeeper

“Look at the way we treat animals now…. Every day, a new species disappears. What would people do to creatures they don't understand?”

James Murray as STEPHEN HART

the mighty hunter

“Pick on someone your own size.”

Andrew-Lee Potts as CONNOR TEMPLE

the brilliant boy

“I don’t suppose you’d consider giving me a cool nickname, would you?”

Alexandra Afryea as LORRAINE WICKES

the sassy assistant

“I got to where I am by shutting my mouth when I had to, but swearing and shouting when the occasion called for it.”

WITH:

Uncredited Actor as LIEUTENANT JOE REYNOLDS

Uncredited Actor as CORPORAL TODD O’DONNELL

Uncredited Actor as LIEUTENANT DANIEL WILLIAMS

Uncredited Actor as CORPORAL CALVIN BURANELLI

Adam G. Goodwin as CORPORAL COLIN GOODWIN

AND:

additional cast to be added as they appear

@witchofthemidlands @whispers-of-gallifrey @chocolatesawfish @thegingergal @whatkindofnameisvolta

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thekatebridgerton · 2 years

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It never ceases to flatter me when I find my own posts reposted by someone else in other Bridgerton social media I follow from my personal accounts.

Don't take me wrong I'm not okay with my stuff being uncredited (don't did that guys, crediting people is basic politeness). But it's also so funny. I usually just show it to my friends and go "Hey! Look, someone put my Tumblr post here!! how cool is that, I've been following this person since forever"

This also happens when I get a follower here that I've been following for ages on my main account. I usually feel so flattered like "Omg I recognize that username!!! That's the one!! The one who wrote the stuff that got me trough my 2016 Sherlock abo phase!! That's a legend"

And it's a very giddy feeling. 🥰🥰🥰

#irl im a dork #i love my followers #repost away but remember to give credit #you guys are incredible

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babyminssii · 4 years

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My Top 10 Jikook Moments

I decided to pick my top 10 jikook moments (up until June 2020) in no particular order to really kick off my blog :). There’s so many lovely interactions between these two it was hard to choose just 10 🥴but I managed to narrow them down. If you want me to elaborate on why I love any of these moments let me know!

1. JM running across the stage to JK when he noticed him crying. Then staying by his side until he was okay. Just this whole moment is 🥺. (LYS London Tour 2018)

2. When an emotional JK broke down further the moment he laid eyes on JM. And just everything before & after this moment. (SYS Tour Final 2019) cr. 2themoon_bts, fate_jimin, freesia_kookmin

3. GCF Tokyo as a whole. From JK’s bday tweet for JM, to us learning they went on a trip together, to their halloween tweet, to JM’s cute mini vlogs, to THE OG GCF itself, to JM’s reply tweet. (Nov 7, 2017)

4. Rosebowl. JK engulfing JM’s body with his own, the ‘I love you’s’, JM getting overwhelmed, the ear thing??? In front of a whole stadium?? Yea that night was something else. (SYS Tour Rosebowl 2019) cr. seost_13, fate_jimin, _slowbutsteady

5. This picture that we all swore was fake but was actually real. Like I still can’t believe we got this on April fools day of all days & then absolutely no footage of how this happened. I’m not over how soft looking at this pic makes me 🥺 (Run Ep. 98, 2020)

6. GCF Saipan. Though it’s an ot7 GCF, the lyrics.. THE LYRICS whenever JM pops up on the screen. Also RM’s tweet of them filming & JK’s tweet giggling to JM’s antics in the water. Priceless. (July 25, 2018) cr. 2themoon_bts

7. The whole 2017 Summer Package legit felt like their honeymoon. Honestly still feels like a fever dream, there was just SO MUCH going on we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. & the rainbow unicorn shoot? Wild. (SP 2017) cr. chimtae

8. 2018 MMA is one for the books! the flirting, the whispering, the constant contact, the comfort. Literally everything about them this night was intimate in a very public way (i mean they were at an award show). (MMA 2018) cr. meltinon_, 2themoon_bts

9. Gimbap Chefs Vlive. I found myself smiling the whole time watching them cause of how at ease and domestic they were with each other. there’s so much I could say about this live but i’ll just leave it at that for now. + the bonus jikook selca we got after ages! (June 21, 2020)

10. When JM was traveling & posted a video of him wishing JK a happy birthday since he couldn’t be with him, only to fly across countries to spend A DAY with JK before resuming his vacation. yea.. & the bday cake/presents in this photo. Literally one of the sweetest things to do for someone so close to you IMO. (september 1, 2020)

This was so hard to choose and I think I might make another list of my top 10 Jikook tweets if anyone’s interested. There’s definitely a few I would have included here if I had the room lol. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this list :) Send an ask or reply and let me know what some of your favorite moments are? Make a top 10 if you’re able to <3

#this took way longer than i thought it would #but i hope you enjoy :)#any uncredited gif is my own #jikook moments #top 10 jikook moments #jikook #kookmin #pjm #jjk #jikook post

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simon-x-billy · 2 years

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Simon x Billy

Chapter 7: Where’s the helipad

Most gifs from @vousnavezrienvu If I have left an image or gif of yours uncredited, please tell me

AN: Enjoy the sweet sweet sounds of helicopter blades slicing through the air. I love the helicopter scene so much. It is happy-making. It just makes me love both of them for each other. (Let's ignore the fact that I wrote it.) And it's been sitting there patiently, completed, waiting for me to write literally every chapter before this one.

We are so close to the sex, guys. So close. This is the last SFW chapter for a while. Bask in the virginal dude-bro atmosphere, and let people know that you read the chapters before they were cool.

TW: Drunkenness. If alcohol is triggering for you, no need to read the last teeny section after we first meet Barry. Rest assured that Simon gets home safely and says cute stuff, then happily goes to bed.

Masterlist | Start: Chapter 1 | Prev: Chapter 6 | Next: Chapter 7.5

Playlist! 1. Me Myself & I by De La Soul || 2. Mirror in the Bathroom by English Beat || 3. Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2

Chapter 7: Where’s the helipad

—--/Simon/—--

I am trying to stop thinking about falling to my death. Give me a minute.

Ok, so this is…..This is a long flight of fucking rickety, wind-blasted wood. Not like that metal set of stairs with all the switchbacks I was complaining about last time I encountered stairs. I take all of my complaints back about that place. That was the height of stair-building technology by comparison. This place is just…..language fails me, like I’m picturing the stairs failing me any second now.

So have I mentioned that the Hotel di Limoni was originally a private home? Pretty big family, I guess. Prolly a summer vacation villa, cuz this coastline has been a summer-getaway spot for centuries. Scratch that. For millenia. Yes, the view from my room is insanity. But what you can’t view from up in my room is the tiny strip of beach wayyyyy down there at the bottom.

Both shots are from the website of the actual Hotel La Tonnarella, which is the hotel I based my fictional hotel on. Yes, it really looks like that. Yes, I did stay there. Best decision I’ve ever made. You can faintly see the stairs, at left. It’s that pale diagonal line down the cliff from the hotel at top left down toward the beach, crossing right in front of that ruin in the middle, halfway down the cliff.

Beaches are a rarity on the Amalfi Coast. Anybody with two inches of it will stick a beach umbrella in it. So imagine owning the only access to an entire beach. There is one stairway, and the hotel owns it. Yeah, its size is probably more aptly described as a mini-beach, but still, it is a goldmine for a hotel. And the public pay handsomely for what the guests get for free: a beach lounger. (These are pebble beaches. Nobody wants to lie on sharp and lumpy rocks.)

The only other access to the beach is from the water. And there are a lot -- I mean a lot of yachts around here. They will never, ever look normal to me. But they’re starting to look like a normal thing around here. And I’m told these aren’t even the big ones. Fuck me.

Anyway, we’ve seen the (only) road and there’s definitely no place to do my morning run. It doesn’t even have a shoulder. I guess if I can’t run without being squashed, I could do the steps when I wake up. Better than nothing. It’s just… we’ve seen that I hate stairs. Steep stairs. Cliff stairs.

Fuck. Besides being terrifying, it was tiring just getting down here. What am I going to do when I have to go back up?

Anyway, Billy’s working down here today. And I really feel like disrupting his job well done.

“Will yeh just look at your man now. Down the beach, explorin,” he calls, as I approach the hotel’s beach cafe. “You didn’t take the stairs, did yeh?”

“Um, yeah? I wanted to see the beach.”

“Why didn’t yeh take the lift?”

I fix the man to his spot with a very frowny, very deep, “Would you mind repeating that, Billy?” Like if Patrick Warburton was playing me in the movie. I can barely see through my eyes that have now narrowed to slits of disbelief and distrust. “There’s an elevator?”

“Well, yeah man. How else are people meant to get down here? The cliff’s a dangerous way down, innit.”

Ok, Lewis. You can incorporate this new information without flipping out. Just be proud of yourself for facing your fears. You descended steep, unsafe stairs. Good job! And you were only vaguely terrified the whole time. Good job!

“Is the cliff so dangerous that they should close it down due to the mounting death toll? Or is it only dangerous in an inoffensive, cute way?”

He huffs out a quick laugh, then returns to slicing up lemons and limes.

“Billy? That was an actual question. Care to provide an answer?”

“Meh, it’s safe enough,” he says. And that, ladies and gentleladies, is all I need to convince me I can indeed use this as my new Italian morning exercise routine. 1. Cliff, 2. Coffee, 3. Cliff, 4. Vomiting coffee. Perfect.

—--/-/—--

I’ve spent the week forging a grudging relationship with the beach stairs.

I’m getting a little more used to it. I have a few specific stones and broken twigs I’ve chosen as landmarks, whenever I require reassurance that I am indeed climbing down the right cliff. And if I’ve survived it the last four mornings, I can survive it a fifth time. Flawless reasoning.

Behind the bar, Billy gives me a wave as he sees me approaching. “You packed, man?”

My insides instantly start fizzing. I am so freaking pumped. I got us an airbnb in Naples for the weekend so we can check out Sabina’s show tomorrow night. Billy could not say yes fast enough. He’s a social guy, and there’s not a lot of nightlife around here. I have no idea how he’s managed it all this time. Oh wait. He’s managed it with women. Lots of women.

Over the last week, I’ve come to the realization that management does not mind a guest hanging out at the bar distracting their employee all day, because while that person is distracting the employee, he is also ordering drink after drink, and healthy fruit-based foods. It’s like they’ve realized that my distraction of Billy might actually be lucrative for them.

“I have come to a decision,” I declare as I take my seat at the bar. “We need a convertible.”

“Sorry?”

“A convertible. We need one.”

“Yeah, mate, heard yeh.”

“What, it’s a convertible!”

Billy remains unmoved. “Why can’t we take the train? It’s simplest-”

“We are not taking the train.”

“But I quite like the train.”

“Because you’re insane and don’t like convertibles.”

“See now, I never said I don’t like convertibles. I-”

“I need to do something.” Because my brain just exploded with potential.

“What?”

“Be an Ugly American.”

“Em, that sounds terrible,” he says.

“If you’re gonna be American, you might as well own it. Watch me own it, Billy, just watch me.”

He still looks wary. “That sounds-”

“Awesome.”

“-terrible. You’re not going to wear one of them caps with straws into beer cans, are yeh? Actually, I might pay yeh to do that.” He snorts at whatever he’s picturing.

“Ok, not that ugly.”

I’ve got the phone out and I’m already dialing before I’ve even reached the stairs. And then I remember I can also take the elevator.

—--/-/—--

You ever notice there’s an ugh in ugly?

Billy has finally met up with me at the fountain by the hotel entrance. Thank god, cuz I really don’t want him to miss the arrival of that Ugly American thing that required a phone call.

“There you are, Delaney. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh! Prepare to hear the sweet sweet sound of helicopter blades pulsing through the air. It’s done, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Simon-”

“So where’s the helipad?” I inquire.

“The what now? Mate, it’s not that kind of hotel. Why are we taking a helicopter to the city?”

“The appropriate response would normally be ‘because we can’-”

“That is not a normal response.”

“-but not this time,” I finish. “That’s not the real idea.”

“Oh, so you’re tellin me this is a superfluous helicopter. That is ugly.”

“No! It is most definitely not superfluous.”

“Your carbon footprint’ll be spendin all eternity in hell, man.”

“Billy.”

“Simon.”

“Stop talking. And just enjoy the mounting anticipation. The mellow sense of terror. Or at the very least a nasty case of creeping dread. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhh!”

“Stop it, mate. You’re gettin evil genius all over my uniform. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

“Just a little bicarbonate of soda. Gets out even the most organic of stains. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh.”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Stop talkin. Like an evil genius. Stop evil cackling all the time. We’re gettin complaints.”

“Are not.”

“From me. I’m complainin.”

“What am I going to wear?”

“Simon. Oh my god.”

“I’m serious! I packed for Italy in ten minutes. It’s all socks and shorts.”

He’s shaking his head at me. For some reason, this makes me happy. In my tummy. How novel. And then…

“Is that the fire alarm?” he asks.

“Huh? I mean, MWAH hah ha ha haaaah, oh no. It is the sweet sweet purring of a helicopter bearing my booty.”

Billy jumps on it swiftly. “You didn’t think that one through, mate.”

“Oh, but yes, yes I did. The booty is worth baring. Can you feel it? The heady excitement of anticipation? The mellow terror?”

“Yes. I feel the terror,” he says blandly.

“That would be the best cologne flavor ever. Mellow Terror, by Simon Lewis. Pour homme.”

“Are you manic right now?”

—--/Billy/—--

I was joking, but Simon just went very still. I’ve put my foot in, haven’t I?

“I am a bit manic, am’nt I?” he offers, with a fake little laugh.

“Somethin wrong with your shoes, mate? Simon, man, my eyes are up here.”

“Just wait til you see what I’ve done,” he says, sheepishly, eyeing me from under his caterpillars.

“Simon. Should I be worried?”

“Oops?”

Oops? I haven’t a clue what to do with oops.

He grabs me excitedly by the forearm and starts dragging me toward the hotel gates.

That’s…Wait, is that-

“Simon. Did you buy a Mini Cooper?”

“A convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But why ?” I ask the reasonable question.

“Because I can!” He’s practically vibrating. I can tell he wants to do his jumping-clapping thing by the way he’s currently bouncing on his toes.

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“You bought a Mini Cooper. Convertible, ” I swiftly add. “You’re in the land that built the Maserati, the Lamborghini, the Ferrari, and every other sports car that ends in i-”

“Not Audi.”

I huff in annoyance, “-and you bought a convertible Mini Cooper. And had it airlifted here. Because you could.”

“I’ve always wanted a convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But not a convertible Ferrari,” I clarify.

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m awesome,” he answers, because he’s Simon.

I decide not to mention that we could have skipped the car altogether and taken the helicopter to Naples.

This is so childish, and impetuous, and reckless, and I refuse to find the actions of a grown man adorable. Jaysus.

“Oh my god!” he squeaks. “They were driving Minis in The Italian Job!!!”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head.

“Did you have them airlift in some clothes, too?”

“Shit! I totally should have!” He appears to actually mean that.

“You should see your face,” he hoots. Feckin hoots, all half bent over from laughin.

And now he’s ignoring me. It’s like I’m not even there. He only has eyes for his Mini. “Oh my god it’s so kawaii.”

His smile is kawaii.

“Go away,” he flaps a hand at me. “I want to fangirl freely and without judgment from a judgy Irishman.”

“Fine. I need to pack anyway.”

And off behind me I hear him call, “Wait! What am I gonna wear?”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head.

—--/-/—--

I’ve gathered my gear, and I can see Simon out by the car park. I’m hitching up my pack, so it isn’t really until I’ve cleared all the foliage, that I realize Simon is humping his Mini Cooper convertible. “All right?” I ask, tryin to keep a straight face.

“Oh, yes. All is definitely right,” he purrs.

“Have you turned her on yet, or is it just you who’s turned on?”

He slides off the car til his Converse hit the pavement with a slap.

Now he’s draping himself over the boot. I can’t help it that I’m laughing. Sometimes he just hits me at exactly the right moment to set me to belly laughin. Doesn’t happen often with Simon, but when it does, he wears the greatest surprised happy face I’ve ever seen. This time there’s giggling. Off to a good start, which is good. Yes. Good.

I hesitate. “Look, mate. Will this thing actually fit us? Have you tried?” I eyeball the car. “I am quite seriously concerned that we might actually need the top down to ride in this thing. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six feet. Why? How tall are you?”

“Just a bit taller. But not enough for you to get intimidated, mate. I’m sure the ladies won’t notice when I introduce my small friend.”

“You’re short shaming me. No, that’s ok. I don’t take offense. You just seem to need a lot of reassurance about your size, Billy. I mean, sure, it’s ok to want to be bigger. I assume. I wouldn’t know.”

“Mate, get off the boot so I can shove this in there, and we can go.” He does, and I do. “Thanks for not getting the red, white, and blue one.” There is a god. Thank you, Poseidon.

“They were out of orange, white, and green, too.”

“You asked about the tricolor, did yeh?” Alright fine, he’s got me laughin again.

“Fuck out of the driver’s seat!” he roars.

Wow. He looks proper angry. I admit I may have even flinched.

“Don’t you want a car and a driver? No, serious, don’t yeh want me to drive, since I know the way?”

“ Get the fuck out of the driver’s seat, Billy. Now!”

“Alright! Fine, fine. You’ll be usin GPS then, will yeh?”

“Si si si, certo.”

I groan. “This is all about to go so very-”

“Awesome,” he declares. “This is all about to continue to be awesome. Be the change, Billy. Be the change!”

“Oh my god Simon.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes from here,” he says from behind the boot, which he slams shut a little too hard. I feel it in every moving piece of this tiny automobile. Bigger than a SMART car, so I suppose I shouldn’t be complainin. Well, here’s hoping he’s still so enthused about it at the other end.

“Gotta say, mate. I’m surprised you’d want to drive at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because mate, it’s Italy, innit. Famous for frightenin foreign drivers.” He has to remember what the drivin was like his other three trips down this road. “Well,” I sigh. “At least you get to drive on the wrong side of the road in Italy.”

—--/-/—--

“See? I told you you’d fit.”

“Alright man, you did.”

“Come on, give it up…

“What?” I’m not laughing, I promise. “Is she a smooth ride? I don’t know, man, why don’t yeh start her up ‘n find out?”

“Well there is that. So yeah,” he says as he pulls out of the car park and up to the mouth of the hotel driveway. “It’s to the left, right?”

“Em, yeah. Yes, the city of Naples is still in the general direction of left. Like the other three times we’ve done this road together.”

He rolls his eyes, and all is right and well in the world. Until the moment he pulls out onto the road. Then I’m brought up quick by the realization that between us we know fuck all about the convertible Mini Cooper. “Wait, where’s the GPS on her, for the flat’s address?”

“I dunno, check the screen thing.” So helpful, my man Simon is.

“Do you even have an Italian driver’s license? Or insurance? I love this guy. How’ve yeh managed to live this long being the way you are?” I pause for an answer, but none is forthcoming. “I mean, fucksake, Simon. You called someone to buy you a car and suddenly you’re on the highway to Naples. Do you even know where the directionals are? Or like, the wipers? D’you know what I mean? Should I be concerned for my safety, Mr. Clever Clogs?”

“Shoosh. Don’t jinx us. Do you need to have registration in Italy? Or insurance? I don’t know. Italy doesn’t really strike me as a big insurance-y type of country.”

“Not a bad point, actually. But I take it you have….whatever, I dunno, papers and all that?”

“Don’t know. What’s in the glove box?” He makes a flappy gesture in the general direction of my knees.

“How are you like this? Were you actually born like this, or did it come with fame and wealth?”

“You mean, was I actually born a flaming asshole, or just become one?”

“Meh. Yeah,” I shrug. “We’ll go with that. So, what’ll it be?”

“Ow. Straight for the throat, Delaney.” His tone is recriminating. “Uncool, man. Uncool.”

I’m flipping through the owner’s manual. Before long, I’ve got the time plugged in, programmed everything for his phone, located the GPS, cued up some tunes, and even found the button to pop the bonnet. “There you go. It’s workin now.”

“What’s working?” he asks.

I shrug. “Everything, man. Everything.”

He barks out a laugh, and I realize I’m smiling to myself. Grumpy fuck.

I plug in the address for the flat and immediately the voice pumping out the radio is a woman speaking Italian. Now I’m fumbling with it again, while Simon’s stuck in a fit of laughter.

“Aw, come on! Let’s see how we do in Italian,” he gasps out.

“Fucksake. See how we do in Italian.” Shaking my head.

“No, seriously. Let’s hear what she has to say, this ummmmm, what should we call her - Maria! Because obviously, Maria.”

“Certo.” That gets me another laugh.

“Santa Maria, show us the way, in Italiano,” he pleads in a truly horrendous accent. “I am so happy right now.”

He says it with a laugh. Such a thing to so easily roll off the tongue. Fella I met a few months ago, I never would have pictured bein happy, let alone noticing it, naming it, declaring it. Nice to see. Unexpected, know what I mean.

“I don’t trust you when you’re quiet that long, Delaney.”

“Hm?”

“Exactly.”

Am I missing something?

“Ok, so.” He clears his throat. “We know who I am. Who are you? Let’s hear it. Who is Billy Delaney?”

Aw, man. Serious? “How long we got?” Please don’t make me.

“How would I know? Maria’s speaking your language, not mine.” He shrugs.

“Fair enough.” I hit play on my playlist, hoping the conversatin will trail off from there. But of course it doesn’t, because this is Simon. Si. Certo.

“What. Do you have some horrible second identity thing going on? Are you really even Irish? Truth time, Delaney.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Oh.” Uh, erm…..”So, what mate? What do you want to know?” I ask, though truthfully I wish he’d just let it go.

“Is your name really Billy Delaney, and are you actually even from Ireland at all?”

“Yes.”

“Boring.”

“Brief.”

“Obtuse.”

“Si.”

“Oh my god, Billy. So where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

He looks around us rapidly. “Is she going to start speaking Italian? Cuz we just passed Ercolano.”

“Already?”

“Yeah! I know, right? Time flies when you’re torturing someone for information. So should I panic?”

“Nah, we've a bit more road before we turn aside. Maria can sleep on.”

“Alright. I swear to God, Billy. If you don’t start coughing up some details, I'm serious, I will pull this car over. Do I have to pull this car over, kid?”

“Wow, that’s forceful.” Cos it is. “Ow!” I flinch when he swats my shoulder with a backhand.

“Fine, ye bastard. My name is actually Lola, but I go by Billy Delaney. And I’m only mostly joking. One of the summer cousins I used to play soccer with couldn’t say William, when we were little. So for a few months every year, I was Lola. There. Was that not juicy enough for yeh?”

“Charming. But from that I got these few details: 1. You have cousins. Conceivably fertile ground. We could continue that way. 2. You play soccer, and you call it soccer. Isn’t that illegal outside the US? No- don’t answer that. I’m not finished. 3. You go someplace where there are cousins to play soccer with in summer. Are we even still in Ireland?”

Em. I just sort of sit there and wait.

“And you really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

“You are so easily distracted,” I tease him. “No, but seriously, here’s some details for yeh. I’m 27. I left Ireland at 18, after gettin out of culinary school, and was sent out to do my apprenticeship. That was at a manor house near Galway.”

“And…..”

“That’s not enough?” I thought that was a fair bit of information, if I’m honest.

“Do I have to turn this car around, young man?”

“I feel like I’m missin some essential cultural reference, here.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. Feed me.”

And that’s when Maria tells us to turn left.

—--/Simon/—--

I can’t fuckin believe that there are Irish pubs in Italy. Nor can I believe I’m in one. I mean, where do Italians go to watch soccer? This can’t be right.

“All right?” Billy asks the bartender.

“Howeyeh,” says the man back to him, and Billy’s eyes go comically wide.

Next thing I know, I’m bored stiff, pretending to find the intricacies of European football interesting with a Welsh guy named Barry.

And whoa, turns out Billy’s day-to-day accent is pretty washed out in comparison to the thickness of his accent when he’s speaking to his new BFF. They’re speaking so fast that I can’t understand a word through their accents. Welsh is so much easier.

That is, until I hear a voice disturbingly similar to Billy’s, requesting a Bud.

I swing back around in time to see Billy’s new BFF nod at him and begin turning toward the draft beers.

“No! Wait,” I wave. “He’s only joking,” I say, emphatically shaking my head no.

“Oh,” the Irish bartender looks back to Billy in surprise. “Were you?”

“Course he was! Certo.” Ok, fine. It might not have been Billy’s best-executed joke, but what , does the guy think I’m just making it up?

“Why ‘ of course ’?!” Billy turns on his barstool to face me. “What the fuck, Simon?”

“Sorry if I fucked up your joke, dude, but don’t drag it out, ok?” I say under my breath.

Disparaging other people’s beer of choice is like a national pastime in Brooklyn, because it frequently employs irony, and we are naturally good at it from birth. Don’t blame him, he’s new.

“I’ll take that Bud,” Billy reiterates. “Ta, mate.” The barkeep returns his nod and goes about the business of it.

“Billy? We’ve talked about this. You swore you’re Irish. Were you lying to me? Are you a lying liar who lies?”

“Why do yeh say that?”

“Because you can’t – you’re not – you’re not, like, allowed to drink bad beer when you’re Irish. Isn’t that illegal? Or fatal, or something?”

The big ape is just lazing back against the bar, sipping his pint of piss beer, looking at me in amusement.

“You’re like a caricature of yourself sometimes, Simon, d’yeh know what I mean?”

“Fuckin- What?! That’s not very nice! I’m outraged.”

“You should see yerself, mate. Yeh look like your face is about ready to split down the middle and outrage’ll start pourin out like lava from the fissures.”

I stop and cock my head at him. “That was both specific and descriptive. Nice one. But that said, how dare you! I demand an apology.” I’m trying really hard to keep a straight face. He has no intention of making it easy for me.

“Apologize? For what?” He gives me a cock-eyed grin. Oh look, his cock eyes are doing that twinkly thing again.

“You have offended my good taste and have let down your countrymen and native soil. Or water or whatever it is that makes all beer taste better in Ireland. The least you could do is the decent thing and apologize to your countrymen, and me , and then hide it in your jacket where no one can see you sneaking sips!”

He laughs because he thinks I’m joking.

“Do you just not like beer at all? And that’s why you don’t order the good stuff?”

“Simon, you are such a snob,” he says, and goes right on twinkling.

“Correct. And if you’re going to drink cheap beer, for god’s sake, order PBR and salvage at least some of your self respect.”

“Do you know this man?” the bartender asks Billy. “Is he harassin yeh?”

Billy is now laughing so hard that he’s almost fallen off his stool.

“We know each other,” I reassure the barkeep. “Don’t know how long that’ll last, all considered, though. Check back for updates.” I raise my pint of Guinness in respect.

“It’s czech. Budvar,” the man informs me.

“Ah, no! Why’d yeh tell him, mate!” Billy raises his hands theatrically. I’m telling you, theatre school. “Yeh just had to put him out of my misery, yeah?”

“And my misery,” says the man.

—--/-/—--

Ok, so what is it with the whole pub drunkenly singing “oh-ay-oh-ay” at the top of their drunken lungs, sloshin beer out of their pint glasses, whenever Europeans play soccer. Mebbe they sing it in Southmerica, too. Butwhatevercuz I don’ really care.

If you can’t – beat em then join em. Thassmymott, um, -o. Thassmy motto. Motto.

Where’s Billy? I can’t see him. If thissperson would get out of the frickin way. He’s all backed up against my face’n I can’t see. Anything. Nothin to see here, folks. Move along, people, move along.

Where’s Billy? Oyeah, right right right. Right here in my face.

I figure it’ll be easier to keep track of him if I hold onto his belt loop. Or a pocket or something. Yeah, I’m just gonna hang on to his pocket.

Pocket.

I like the word pocket. Lossa hard consnits that pop. Pop.

Pop.

I like the word pop. It sounz like it pops. And it’s the same backwards and forwards an’itsall about the lips. Pop ’ing.

What? Where’s he going. I’m trailing after him with my hand in his pocket. He keeps pullin it out and I keep puttin it back in. Oth’wise I’m gonna get lost and then where would I be? Huh? I wouldn’t even know !

“Oh! Now I know where we are! We’re on the block where we’re were where gonna sleep.” If make it up th’stairs. But Billy’s helping. He’s nice like that.

“You’re nice like that,” I say with a big smile. “And you‘re funny lookin.”

Wait.

“Oops! I mean yerlookin funny at me right now. Whass funny? ‘m’I funny? Or juss funny lookin?”

I crack myself up. Like in real life, cuz I’m laughing. Right now. Sometimes iss hard to stop laughin but I’ll be ok.

“Billy. Billy! Hey, Billy. What’re you doing? Tryin to get in my pants? That tickles! Oh, hey! Did we win? I mean, I don’really care - just wonren.”

Hey! Tickles! “Stop that! How’dyou know I don’t wanna wear those? I’ll take ‘em off when I feel like it. Prollymaybe take ‘em off tomorrow. Hey! I was wearing that! And that!”

He’s very pushy. “You’re very pushy. Stop pushing.”

I land on the bed and it’s like fluffy clouds of teddybears. “K, fine. I’ll go to bed, jeez .” Alls I wanna do is bury my face in pillow, but can’t breathe when I do that.

“Don’t close the door all the way, Ma. And leave the hall light on, K? g’Night, love you too.”

Masterlist | Start: Chapter 1 | Prev: Chapter 6 | Next: Chapter 7.5

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cestcirque · 2 years

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🎉 12.12.21! 🎉

In honor of one year since starting Aperture (and this lil ol’ blog 🥺) I’ve compiled some of the countless behind-the-scenes stuff I never revealed about my SMAUs

This serves no other purpose but to be a nice walk down memory lane for me and the nostalgia is sO real—LET’S GOOOO!!!

I’ll probably make another post for The Cardinal Set and link it here!

I was adamant about using my own work as visuals bc I constantly see fanart go uncredited on SMAUs (and other works of writing). 🙄 All the art in Aperture is either mine, Furudate-sensei’s, or categorized as free-use imagery

1. This is the wallpaper on Y/N’s lockscreen:

By Burnt Toast Creative, one of my favorite illustrators, who makes a ton of great wallpapers free to use (check him out!!!!)

2. All of Y/N’s studio shots are my studio shots, edited to look like the characters. Her superpower to make people comfortable in the studio is a real skill! Based on how nonplussed I was at the results of working with models who didn’t know me very well

I distinctly remember being up at 4am just for Bokuto’s hair, no regrets

3. I put in Semi’s cross necklace wherever it would be visible

4. The billboard shot. Just. The billboard shot.

The Kanji character shown is the character for light (光, “hikari”). Alisa’s logo, along w the logos for Tokyo Cosmique and Massugu! gossip tabloid were also designed by me (obvi)

5. Y/N’s argument w Akaashi in Step 23 is based on actual interactions w actual editors, and Akaashi himself has a specific IRL editor from whom I drew reference (yes, he cute but his micro-movements not so cute 🙄). The amount of Akaashi stans outraged by this was kind of hilarious 😅

6. Neither of the jars or their contents exist in my possession. Nor do the places where the photos were taken, for that matter

The flowers on the shelf were also me saying Shirabu went and got purple flowers anyway, even though he said he wouldn’t 😭💕

7. The jars sequence was (kind of) based on a true story. In college my roommates and I kept accumulating jars and used them for everything (Y/N’s vodka cran mason jar was a regular occurrence for us). About a month before the Aperture challenge, I was on the phone w one of them and we talked about how our jars were like our mental state in the pandemic—sometimes they hold iced coffee, or tiny succulents, or those homemade pickles that went a bit too sour; if you put anything in, remember you’re still in control (i.e. pursue your interests and don’t watch too much news). Of course I kept it in my head bc I’m a wRiTeR

8. The story is structured so that each setter has a “turnaround” chapter and two “love and love” chapters (which is just what I call the sweet one-on-one chapters). The turnarounds (Steps 14, 23, 24, and 25) are where Y/N sees the opposite side of each setter’s first impression, whether that be good or bad

9. Surprisingly, a lot of important details were added on the fly. Aone’s translations, specific conversations w setters… I didn’t write Step 29 until the day before I had to post it, bc I was 100% clueless as to how to resolve Kogane. The whole conversation about aperture almost never existed! In a similar vein, Akaashi’s Natsume Sōseki analogy in Step 30 was added about 3 days before it was posted, simply bc I happened to stumble upon the book

10. Y/N’s phone interface changing from dark mode to light mode in the last chapter is to this day the most poignant visual storytelling I’ve ever pulled off. And I didn’t get a single message about it. 😝 She has spent the entire story, all 31 steps, intentionally developing herself like film—it was important to me that the first and last steps indicated choice; that this was voluntary (creating an absence of light and stepping out of the dark). All the setters (whose phones are on light mode) are trying to pull her out into the light, towards them, often times before she’s ready. What’s more, realizing she’s in love w Shirabu isn’t even when she steps out of the dark—it is when she chooses to use his given name

Can you believe I posted a chapter every day for a month? I sure as hell can’t

#aperture smau #aperture extras #haikyuu smau

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haee-elia · 3 years

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one shot; one episode

dr. spencer reid edition

what is it?

criminal minds has a total of 324 episodes (not adding the ten for the last and final 16th season) and my goal is to write a one shot for every single episode. i will be using y/n for any name mentioned. i do not know if anyone else has started something like this, this is just something i thought of because i love criminal minds. if someone does have something like this, please tell me who so i can credit them

a one shot is a single standing piece of writing. this means each episode will have a different y/n character despite all of them being called y/n. for example, one episode y/n might be a victim survivor and the next might be hotch’s niece but each are separated and have nothing to do with each other. think of it as being each in their own universe.

notes:

- anyone is free to do this as well and you don’t also have to do spencer reid (you can do hotch, morgan, or luke in their corresponding episodes of arrivals and departures)

- i will have masterlists by seasons linked on this page

- some one shots will be connected, for example: eps with pt 1 & 2; i will premise this at the beginning

- i will not be writing a full series

- i will put corresponding trigger warnings at the beginning

- i will not be writing any nsfw/smut in my writing, i might allude to it

- i might change a few storylines around

- you can send in requests around a certain episode, but i cannot guarantee i will write it, especially if i’ve already written that ep or already have a certain idea for the episode to go

- i will not update based on a schedule

- NO REPOSTING OR REUPLOADING ON ANOTHER SITE OR PLAGIARIZING; i have a wattpad, but that does not mean i want all my work on it

- if you see my work uncredited or reuploaded on tumblr or another site, please tell me

- if you want to send in an ask about a certain one shot and ask about what happened forward with that particular character (like an au); feel free to do so

- please learn to separate actor from character and character from actor; i will not be changing face claims for anyone ever

season masterlists:

season one masterlist

season two masterlist

season three masterlist

season four masterlist

season five masterlist

season six masterlist

season seven masterlist

season eight masterlist

season nine masterlist

season ten masterlist

season eleven masterlist

season twelve masterlist

season thirteen masterlist

season fourteen masterlist

season fifteen masterlist

season sixteen masterlist

#spencer reid x you #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid #one shot #challenge

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pietropatrol · 3 years

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WandaVision Ep. 5...

Keep reading at your own risk of spoilers... seriously.

A lot of swearing ahead as well... I am.... no words.

MOTHER FUCKER!

(Thanks to my hubby for helping create this gif.)

“She recast Pietro?” - Dr. Darcy Lewis

Uggghhhh.

I fucking knew as soon as I saw they casted Evan Peters uncredited this was going to happen.

Fuck fuck fuck. Like hell, I love Evan. But dammit, I wanted Aaron back in his role.

Going to keep my #PietroDeservedBetter

Can we start a support group?

I need another drink.

#Pietro Maximoff #quicksilver #mcu #wandavision #wandaviz #marvel #wanda maximoff #pietro deserved better #scarlett witch #aaron taylor johnson

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eirenical · 3 years

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So, last night @mejomonster (D: WHO I CAN’T @ FOR SOME REASON?? WHYYYYY.) put out a call to “rank your favorite DMBJ dramas” and tagged me in it, and then @jockvillagersonly tagged me in their rankings because @foxofninetales and I were talking about how squishy TLT1 Wu Xie is and I think that’s a sign that I should do it, too?

...though this is going to be a very, VERY short list because I’ve literally only seen... AHAHAHA NOT EVEN ONE WHOLE ADAPTATION, OMG I’M A FRAUD. OTZ

Before I say anything else, though, let me preface this by saying that no other version of TLT is ever going to replace Reboot for me. I imprint HARD on the first versions of characters I see in a visual medium and it almost NEVER happens that a secondary version will ever supersede them. Possibly the ONLY time I can think of that a secondary version came even CLOSE to replacing (or at least equaling) my first version love was when Paris and Steel took over from Gavin and Will playing Claude and Berger in Hair... and that is LITERALLY the only example I can think of. XD So, Reboot was my introduction to DMBJ and they will forever and always be my favorite, because 43 years worth of track record has taught me that about myself, so I’ve just learned to run with it. ;D

My Rankings:

The Lost Tomb Reboot | DMBJ Chongqi | Reunion: Sound of the Providence

The Lost Tomb 1 | DMBJ

The fan translation of DMBJ Chongqi by merebear

The official translations of the novels

...I warned you it was a short list? XD

Details behind the cut...

(And at this point, I think everyone I know in this fandom has already been tagged to do this? So, if you haven’t done it and want to, please feel free!)

(Note: Any “uncredited“ gifs are my own. ^_~ Please don’t repost.)

1. The Lost Tomb Reboot | DMBJ Chongqi | Reunion: Sound of the Providence

I’m not ashamed to admit that the reason I got into this franchise in the first place was because of this no-longer-so-tiny Zhu Yilong obsession I’ve been nursing since watching Guardian just a smidge more than exactly a year ago. I fell for his Wu Xie HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER. I love that he’s older and more experienced and more knowledgeable and still super ornery when someone gets up in his face but how, at the same time, he’s a bit existentially weary. Maybe he misses Xiao-ge. Maybe his experiences have worn him down. Maybe it’s just the late 30s (according to the show canon)/early 40s (according to the actual canon timeline) ennui settling in. Maybe it’s because of **spoiler** that he finds out within the first two episodes of the series. I don’t know. But being in my early 40s myself, I imprinted on him HARD and never looked back. XD

And then I met Chen Minghao’s Pangzi and fell JUST AS MUCH IN LOVE, OMG, I LOVE HIS PANGZI SO FUCKING MUCH. But MORE than that (and I mentioned this on the tags of another post and I have an entire meta post brewing on this that I WILL post eventually @foxofninetales, I promise), I LOVE the depth of his relationship with Wu Xie. Like, that IS the definition of a queerplatonic relationship RIGHT THERE. I love how close they are. I love that they share living space and move around each other in that space like a pair of long-partnered dancers. I love how much they care about each other and how it isn’t sexual or romantic in the SLIGHTEST, but that the same exact depth of feeling is there that there would be in a married couple celebrating a 30th wedding anniversary. Perhaps even more. And that means SO fucking much to me, I can’t even express it properly. And omg, he’s just SUCH A GOOD, and he loves his friends SO MUCH, and all he wants to do is take care of them and cook for them and BE THERE FOR THEM and MAKE THEM SMILE AND I HAVE A LOT OF FEELS ABOUT CHEN MINGHAO’S PANGZI OK? OK.

And then there’s Huang Junjie’s Xiao-ge. I LOVE HIM. I love that while he’s very self-contained, at the same time there’s a softening about the edges of him that long exposure to Wu Xie and Pangzi has given him. I love that you can see his sense of humor peaking in around the edges sometimes and how his expressions reflect that. Like that soft, wry smile he gives Pangzi after he’s been convinced to take off his shirt and let tattoo lady (who’s name I forget D: OOPS) see his tattoo. And I LOVE how tender he is with Wu Xie and how careful Wu Xie is with him in return, and how he lets Pangzi run roughshod all the hell over his physical boundaries because he knows that’s just how Pangzi IS and he trusts him completely and I just have A LOT OF FEELS ABOUT THIS IRON TRIANGLE OK? A LOT OF THEM. TT^TT

And then there’s Ershu.

What can I POSSIBLY say about Ershu? Other than that I love this version of him so much I ACHE with it. Maybe it’s because I have no distinguished elder gays in my life and I wish I had one like him. Maybe it’s because I’m so glad that Wu Xie DOES have him because so many people our age DON’T. Maybe it’s because he’s the mold that Wu Xie is going to grow into and you do NOT fuck with him because he will WRECK YOU. Maybe it’s because as good and as brilliant and as dangerous as Wu Xie can be, Ershu can still pin him down with a proverbial paw to the back of the neck like an unruly kitten and put him in his place without breaking a sweat, and I LOVE THAT. Whatever it is, I just... I adore Ershu? I did not expect him to be one of my favorite character takeaways from this show, but he VERY much is and there we are. ^_^

Xiao Bai and the ducklings!! Xiao Bai and the ducklings!!

WHO ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. AND XIAO BAI GETS A GIRLFRIEND. AND JIA KEZI AND LI JIALE MOVE IN TOGETHER AND ALSO LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. THEY’RE ADORABLE AND I LOVE THEM.

AND AAAAAAAAAAH. HUO DAOFU HUO DAOFU HUO DAOFU.

I REALLY HAVE TO STOP, BECAUSE THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO LONG ALREADY, BUT I HAVE A CHARACTER TYPE AND HE AND WU XIE ARE AT EITHER ENDS OF ITS SPECTRUM AND HE IS SUCH A PRICKLY LITTLE BITCH AND I LOVE HIM. *coughs* I’m... I’m going to stop now. XD

(Except to say that I actually haven’t watched the last 10 or so episodes because I’m hovering in this weird place where like... “if I don’t finish watching it, then it’s never over,” but I’m currently doing rewatches with a couple of friends, so at SOME POINT, I’ll get to those last episodes. But... I’m letting myself take my time. XD)

2. The Lost Tomb 1 | Dao Mu Bi Ji

So... this is the only other drama adaptation I’ve seen any of other than Reboot. And I literally just starting watching it a few days ago. XD I almost didn’t get past the first episode, though, because I just couldn’t deal with Xiao-ge’s emo phase. I CAN’T TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY, I JUST CAN’T. OTZ But after some encouragement, I did keep watching and HORRIBLY OVERDRAMATIC SLO-MO EFFECTS WITH SCARY MUSIC ON THINGS THAT END UP NOT-IN-FACT-DANGEROUS ASIDE (seriously though, what the FUCK is that even about? XD), I do have to say I’m enjoying it. I’ve read the first couple of novels, and I’m having fun playing “spot the plot line/scene/character I recognize,” which is not an experience I’ve had with a c-drama before, so that’s a lot of fun. ;D

And as has been said before, including by me, TLT 1′s Wu Xie is VERY BABY. He’s an earnest kid who just wants to Do The Right Thing which is... kind of in line with who he is in the early novels, but without the arrogant, obnoxious brat tendencies that drive me so nuts in the books. So, I kind of adore him. And I adore how he has such a BIG, GIANT CRUSH on Xiao-ge from minute fucking ONE and how Xiao-ge falls for him just as quickly and just kind of shrugs like “Whelp. ¯\_(��)_/¯ Guess this is my life now,” and accepts “Chief Caretaker and Snuggler of One (1) Precious Wu BB” as his new most important life aspiration and gets the fuck on with it. XD

I also kind of love this Pangzi, but I can’t quite figure out what his deal is yet. And... not his fault, it’s the writing, but I could have done without the blatant misogyny and rape jokes. You, uh... have a ways to go to recoup from that one Pangzi. OTZ

I DID enjoy finally getting to properly meet Pan Zi and A-Ning, though, and look forward to meeting them again in other series until we lose them. ^_^

3. The fan translation of DMBJ Chongqi by merebear

If you have not heard about this yet, Merebear has taken on the TREMENDOUS undertaking of translating all the novels and sequels and prequels and side stories of DMBJ. They have a lot of it done, too! And I started reading my way through the Chongqi translation (all... 961 pages of it), and I’m really enjoying it so far. The translation is really well done, and I can already see how parts of the plot were changed from what we got on screen, and how this Wu Xie is clearly the Reboot version that the arrogant and obnoxious bb!Wu Xie from the novels would grow up into, as opposed to the one the earnest and soft bb!Wu Xie from the dramas grew up into. But, like I said, I’m really enjoying it and enjoying playing spot the differences, and the translation, dare I say, is actually... much better than the official translations of the first few novels? FANS GET THE JOB DONE. ;D

So, yeah, I highly recommend their translations if you’re interested in reading the novels, but also, you know... support the official translations if you can, because maybe that will encourage American publishers to bring over more official translations of c-novels. ^_^

4. The official translations of the novels

I... will admit that these are a bit of a slog. *sigh* I don’t know if it’s the translation or if it’s the fact that I constantly want to drop-kick this Wu Xie out the window because he is such an arrogant little shit who constantly makes himself out to be more knowledgeable and capable than he actually is and then gets himself (...and often other people) in trouble as a result, but if this had been my introduction to the franchise, I never would have gotten through Book 1. One of these days I’m going to hop over to merebear’s translations of the first few books and see if they read any better, but atm, I’m more interested in reading Chongqi, so. *shrug* But yeah, I’m pushing through and reading them mostly so I can say that I did. Which isn’t the best reason to read anything, but eh. They’re an easy read, at least. And honestly? When my nephew gets a little older, I might try to get him into them, because i think they’d be right up his alley, and he has a bit of that “I know everything, even when I don’t” attitude in him, too, and maybe this can serve double-duty as a cautionary tale. XD

AND THAT’S ALL I’VE GOT GUYS, SORRY. I WARNED YOU IT WAS A SHORT LIST. XD To everyone asking me what I think of the Ultimate Note Pingxie or the Sha Hai versions of characters or anyone else... I have no doubt I will get there eventually. Now that I’ve caved and started watching non-Reboot versions, it probably won’t even take that long. ;D

#eirenical babble #mejomonster #ask meme answers #...sort of #YOU WANT MY OPINION?#YOU HAVE IT #XD #the lost tomb reboot #the lost tomb 1 #dmbj #this is strictly my opinion everyone #i do not claim objectivity in any way #^_^#eirenical.gifs

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