#Sir Thomas Browne

[white-fang-22]

"Albergamos en nuestro interior las maravillas que buscamos a nuestro alrededor"

---------- Sir Thomas Browne

[sivavakkiyar]

Sir Thomas Brown, Urn Burial

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Sir Thomas Lawrence PRA FRS (English, 1769-1830) Mary Anne, Lady Beaumont, n.d.

Lady Beaumont was the eldest daughter of Dr. William Howley, Archbishop of Canterbury, and married in 1825 Sir George Howland Willoughby Beaumont, eight baronet.

[foursaints]

PETER LOCKDOWN PETER LOCKDOWN LETSGOOOO (peter character study when?)

🐀 character study here and here and here (!!)

oh he's getting the saints treatment. to me the popular interpretation of peter as “funny fat friend” sometimes comes close to just another flavor of stereotyping... and it diminishes (forgive me) the sheer nymphet cunt coquetry of building an entire identity around seeming rosy & harmless & innocent. 

he's a mousy schoolboy with bandaids on his knees, smiling placidly. he's a teenage boy with that specifically gryffindorish flavor of smugness, content to play the bumbling sidekick to his friends because he's quietly keeping a list of those who wronged him. he knows that he's extremely fucking socially clever.

peter is such an observer. he's the master of a guilt trip: he would never SAY he's upset, but he'll make a perfectly sympathetic passive-aggressive little comment about everything he DOES for his friends, and the marauders suddenly feel like villains.

because that's our darling peter petrovich! he's perhaps manipulative, but those flashes are fleeting. he's supposed to be the sympathetic marauder! the friendly, relatable one! the hapless soviet sweetheart bundled in a woolen overcoat and cheerily looping his arm through james's like a girl might :) cracking mean jokes and lending him cigarettes :) the marauders like him specifically because he is slightly antisocial, because he sticks out from the hogwarts population as different. they love him for it.

^ except peter is doing this internally at all times 

[missanthropicprinciple]

Leg day, apparently.

[pathetichimbos]

Thomas cries a lot.

He's always been sensitive, every since he was a kid. The names other kids and hell, even adults called him cut deep every time he heard them.

Idiot.

Monster.

Freak.

Tears pluck at his brown eyes harshly as the majority of the schoolyard torments him, the teachers turning blind eyes to the mistreatment, too busy making their own comments about his mother and family to intervene.

"S-Stop--!" He hiccups, hands desperately covering his face as he shakes against the metal fence, "G-Give it back!"

"Come get it, Freak!" The little boy taunts him, holding the mask Thomas' mother made for him high in the air, the group of children around him erupting in laughter.

"HEY! What the hell's goin' on over here!?" Hoyt hollers as he yanks the bully up by his wrist, the kids mocking laughter interrupted as they scatter, "What the hell's wrong with you, boy!? Did your Daddy raise you to take shit that ain't yours!?"

Hoyt plucks the mask from the kid's hand as he shakes his head, wide eyed and scared at being caught red handed.

"That's what I thought, so why don't you scatter before I give him a call and tell him what the hell you've been doin'."

"Yes, sir!" The kid darts as soon as Hoyt lets him go.

"Little shit." Hoyt mutters, kneeling down to help Thomas put his mask back on, "Now, I done told you, Tommy, you can't cry everytime one of those little bastards says some shit to you. Man up, you're too damn old for all that whinin'..."

Thomas nods, wiping the tears from his red eyes as Hoyt takes him back to the truck.

Man up...

Man up...

That's what Hoyt and Monty always told him, their words not much kinder and cutting even deeper as they picked at him everytime he cried.

Over the years the tears eventually turned to anger, and isolation. Hiding himself away from everyone and everything around him, protecting himself from from harsh world around him.

...And then there was you.

Sweet, excitable, gentle you.

"...Tommy...!" Your voice is tired and sweet, clearly having just woken up when Thomas came in the room.

He watches as you stretch, waking up a bit more as you look up at him, a small smile on your face.

He's tired. It's written on his face, eyes droopy and shoulders slumping, standing over the bed, looking down at you.

"C'mere." You reach for him, hands grasping as you gesture for him to climb in bed.

He does as he's told, climbing under the covers and into your arms, melting into your warmth as he lays on top of you.

"Mmm..." You hum, relaxing as your arms wrap around him, your hands running up and down his back, sending shivers up his spine, "...My Thomas..."

He sighs at your words, melting even further against you as your hands gain rhythm and begin rubbing his aching muscles, working up and down his shoulders and back as he buries his face in your neck.

You lean your head against his, the smell of the shampoo you bought for him filling your nose as you continue rubbing his back, "...I love you..."

The arms around your waist tighten as he presses further into you, completely engulfing you in his presence.

How?

How is it possible for you to love him so incredibly, and so deeply that he doesn't even need to hear those words to know their truth? How could you possibly break down every piece of him, every broken part and hideous truth and still make him feel like the only thing that matters in the world?

You can feel him start to shake. He's been working so hard, for so long. He's exhausted, and worn down. His body is scarred and calloused. His mind is weary and weak.

And every insult, every hit, every bad thing that he's ever gone through was worth it, if it means he can feel this loved for the rest of his life.

You feel his tears before you see them, the quiver in his shoulders, the hiccups in your ear as he tries to hold it back.

"Oh, Tommy..." You mutter, kissing his hair as you rub his back, "It's okay, sweetheart, you can cry, I've got you..."

And for the first time in a long time, he does.

He cries into your shoulder, a shaking and sobbing mess as you patiently hold him through it, running your hands through his hair and rubbing his back as you coax him.

"There we go..." You coo as he pulls back, holding his face in your hands while you kiss his tear stained cheeks, his mask long forgotten before he climbed into bed, "Do you feel better, love?"

He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he relaxes against you again, feeling more relief than he has in years.

"Good..."

...Thomas cries a lot. After years of believing he was never good enough to be loved, of believing his place was being locked away in the basement, forever shielding himself from the world that hated him, he was proven wrong by a single person who loves him more than every good thing put together.

And that thought alone brings tears to his eyes.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Devastating - A Tommy Shelby/Reader Smut Short.

Bit of oral smutty goodness with Tommy, besties? Have at it!

Words - 526

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Swallowing hard, you grasp the pen before you tightly, forcing a smile upon your face. This is taking more concentration than you ever thought you’d need, and from the first moment, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Mr. Shelby is, uh, otherwise engaged, Mr. Brown,” you manage, squirming slightly.  

The tall, slender man inclines his head, looking at you with mild incredulity. “Girl, I have a meeting with him. I am prompt in my arrival, and you mean to tell me he isn’t even here?"  

“Oh, he is here, sir. It’s...” Oh god, oh god, oh god... Is your face still straight, even? Can he see that you’re sweating? Swallowing hard again, you force the moan that wells in your throat like water against the feeblest of dams down again, coughing. “It’s just that his last, ah, appointment ran over. If, ah... if y-you'd like to erm... take a seat back out front, I shall call you once h-he's free.”  

He turns, shaking his head. “Seats his secretary at his desk to greet me, and the girl can barely even string a bloody sentence together.” Slamming the door shut behind him, you’re free to let it out, the long, breathless sigh, your hands reaching past where your skirt has been rucked, fisting in Tommy’s hair.  

“You are such a fucking deviant, Thomas!”  

He looks up at you, grinning against the soft wet of your cunt. “Thought that was why you like me?” 

“It is, but... oh, ohhhh!” The repetitive, firm beat of his tongue lashing over your clit sends you mindless, his fingers dug into your thighs, lips sucking firmly with a hungry moan.  

“Don’t think your but is valid, sweetheart.” 

“It is when you’re sucking on my bits right in front of your bloody client!” 

He snorts with laughter, turning to kiss your thigh. “What have I told you about making me laugh when I’m trying to be devastating?”  

“That I... oh, fuck! Had to not do it?” 

“Yes,” he hums, kissing your folds, “so bloody stop it, alright?”  

Pushing his tongue against you again, long licks send glimmers rushing through you, your clit swelling hard against the heat of it, the blade of his tongue firm, unrelenting. He has you so mindless, you can only offer soft moans, yanking at his hair as he drives your undoing so savagely, you nearly tremble yourself out of the chair as satisfaction slips over your bones and you come hard against his mouth.  

“Go on then,” he speaks once you’ve arranged yourself again, smacking your bum. “Go show my client in.”  

Sauntering away on orgasm-shaky legs, you head around the corridor’s twists and turns until you reach the waiting area, lifting your chin when you arrive. “Mr. Brown, Mr. Shelby will see you now.” Turning, you walk back the way you came, removing your shoes quickly and running back to Tommy’s office, out of the way before Mr. Brown can see where you’ve gone.  

“And you’re back again because?” Tommy asks, eyebrows then raising as you duck and conceal yourself beneath his desk, reaching for his trousers.  

“Because it’s your turn for me to be devastating.”  

[thy-valhallen]

Batfam by How Likely They Are to Break the No-Killing Rule

Jason Todd. obviously, this is his bit, the man is okay with murder so long as he perceives due cause, pew pew babygirl, rubber bullets still can kill you but now, Bruce can't yell at him if they die later

Barbara Gordon. you cannot tell me this woman isn't bloodthirsty. she follows the rules because she plays nice and respects the justice system (mostly), but i fully believe she can and will fly a drone with a mounted gun and snipe someone from six blocks away one day if the other Bats are busy, and she might not feel inclined to call an ambulance

Stephanie Brown. a Narrows girl, she knows how shit can happen, and if someone's after one of the Batfam, you better believe she's got a knife at the ready. Steph follows the rule well! for now. but look, if she's in mortal peril, she's not about to put her attacker's life above her own

Tim Drake. Tim is the true neutral here to me-- he follows the Code because of the effect it would have on Bruce and the rest of the family. he fully understands this and avoids it. ... there are no less than six different timelines in which he has pretty freely murdered people, and the jokes about him being the Most Likely to be a Supervillain jokes are based in something, guys. i feel like it would be more of a problem if he weren't so exhausted and busy 24/7-- so let's keep him very busy so he doesn't catch a charge

Damian al Ghul-Wayne. he's had a lot of growth from his days of being a child assassin and puts a lot of value on following their Code now-- but look me dead in the eyes and say he wouldn't kill for most of his family in a heartbeat. lie to me.

Dick Grayson. he and Damian are tied for me in how it's fairly situational and both would suffer tremendous emotional backlash for the action-- but Dick has a lot of rage and a lot of people who have hurt him and his loved ones. there's a tipping point, and he's reached it before. he blames himself for so much, if he ever got caught up in his own wrath and actually game-ended someone, I think the man would never wear a mask again

Duke Thomas. Duke may be under-credited for his absolutely feral behavior, but murder is definitively not on that list. he is so down to throw down, but Duke has never (to my knowledge) had a close call with murdering someone like many of the others in this family. putting this mostly on his powers giving him a leg-up there, but powers or not, no body count and never expect that to change for him

Bruce Wayne. the epitome of the No-Killing Code except for all those times he's nearly killed someone in intensely stressful situations. is strict about it because he knows how easy a line it is to cross and how it would devastate him emotionally and holds that standard. no killing is probably a kitschy poster in the Batcave at this point, Jason got it lovingly printed on a metal sign next to the Batcomputer

Cassandra Cain. has killed and will never kill again-- Bruce has close calls and has to be stopped, Cass has close calls and reins herself in. the blood on her hands is red enough without more-- she's an obsidian blade, sharp enough to cut molecules but so very fragile. one bad move would break her, and being the strongest in the family, it would be so very easy to make that move and it would be easy to live in fear of herself. but she doesn't-- there's shit to do and crime to be carefully nerve-pinched, after all

Bonus:

Alfred Pennyworth. i couldn't rank him with the others, do you know how this would look if I started the list with Alfred??? this is an ex-MI6 agent. this is a man who responds to home invasions of any threat level from "Burglar" to "Darkseid" with a sawed-off shotgun and fresh pair of gloves in his pocket for after he's disposed of the body. he's killed and will kill again, just step within range, kind sir, and you'll find out

[sodaabaa]

to flee or not to flee, part three

anthony bridgerton x OC what happens when a charming and determined viscount courts someone whose worst fear is to marry a man like him?

tropes: damsel in distress, innocent and shy mc, slow burn,

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, angst, anxiety, slight misogyny/patriarchal concepts

masterlist

“Mr. Carrington, Miss Carrington, you have a visitor.” 

Annalise looked up from her book to her brother. 

“Who is it?” He asked.

“Lord Bridgerton, sir. Shall I send him in?”

Her brother only nodded. 

Annalise cleared her throat, sitting up straighter suddenly acutely aware of her appearance. She pulled at the scarf around her collar, ensuring it was properly secured before the viscount arrived. Her brother had confronted her rather harshly about Lord Bridgerton’s abrupt proposal, believing it was her who had exposed Thomas to the viscount. She swore on her life she did not. He refused to believe her. He stormed out of the house to relieve his stress, no doubt with drinks and women. It wasn’t until he came back home from the gentleman’s club where he overheard a few men talking about Lord Bridgerton’s inquiries about Thomas, that he believed it was not Annalise who revealed his treatment of her. Thomas admittedly did believe it was a fine bargain – no dowry and a hefty payment to rid himself of Annalise. He told her he would accept the proposal, should the viscount show a continued interest in Annalise. She was not sure if she should be relieved of her brother’s approval of the proposal. She still did not know what to make of Anthony Bridgerton.

As if on cue, there he was. His presence filled up the room instantly. Her skin prickled and her stomach twisted. No rational woman could deny his beauty, like that of a greek statue with his chiseled jaw, deep brown eyes with his brow always set in a furrow and his lips…She cleared her throat, snapping herself out of improper thoughts. She did not want to think of him as anything but another man, another cage – rationality be damned. 

“Good day, to the both of you.” He spoke, his voice booming through the rather small drawing room. 

“Good day. What brings you here, Lord Bridgerton?” Her brother said.

“I would like to extend an invitation to the two of you to join my family and I on our trip to Aubrey Hall, our country estate.” He glanced at Annalise, noticing her silence since he arrived. 

“That is generous of you, what has spurred such a decision?” Thomas asked.

“I thought it may be a welcome respite from the ton. And, of course, you and Miss Carrington would get the chance to see the grounds that she may become viscountess of.” He replied diplomatically. 

Thomas smiled, pleased that Anthony wanted to continue his courtship of Annalise. 

“Well,” Thomas clapped, “in that case, I believe it would be a welcome respite. Annalise, go prepare your bags for the trip.” 

Annalise stood, curtsied to the viscount and her brother, avoiding any and all eye contact with the former.

“I am pleased you will be accompanying us.” Lord Bridgerton said, his eyes trained on Annalise. 

She looked at him through her lashes, “thank you for thinking of us, my lord.” And with that, she slipped out of the room which grew hotter with every passing moment. 

A trip to his estate? Annalise did not know what would result from this trip but she hardly thought it could be anything good. 

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The town of Mayfair passed by in a blur as Annalise looked out the carriage. Brick townhouses, giggling groups of ladies, the booming laughter of men all sped by. Annalise felt as though she were being shipped off to a butcher. Thomas sat across from her, muttering to himself and checking off items on one of his many lists that helped him keep track of the estate's affairs and finances.

There’d be no fighting it now she thought to herself. She had been invited by the Bridgerton family to spend a week at Aubrey Hall. The looks of envy and wonder could barely be held back when she stepped out of her home this morning. She was now all but betrothed to the viscount. She supposed the week couldn’t be all that bad, after all, there’d be a plethora of people to keep her company. The viscount’s seven siblings would be accompanying them and nearly half of them were girls. Anthony had made them seem charming and mischievous in their own right. Perhaps she may have a pleasant time if she could spend most of it with the Bridgerton siblings as opposed to the viscount himself. 

The sun had now reached its peak and their journey nearly halved since they left early this morning after her viscount’s visit. Her leg began bouncing, her hands growing restless. No amount of fiddling with lace or threads could calm her nerves. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to steady herself. 

“Annalise! Calm yourself. You mustn’t let the Bridgertons see you in such a state of disarray. Have I taught you nothing, girl?” He barked.

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Apologies, brother.” 

Annalise would simply have to wait until she had a moment alone to indulge her emotions.

As she stepped out of the carriage, assisted by her brother, she took in the massive home before her. The building itself was made of gray brick, with four large roman columns at the center, bookended with large domed roofs on either side. A breath caught in Annalise’s throat as she marveled at the stately building. Should she choose to accept Lord Bridgerton’s proposal – which seemed imminent – this would be her home. Miles away from her brother and assuming the viscount’s duties would keep him busy much of the day, she’d have this home all to herself. With no one to fear. She had to admit, perhaps this could be a suitable arrangement for her. 

“You are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Carrington” the viscount appeared before her suddenly, before she had the chance to collect her thoughts and steady herself. She curtsied, stumbling on the way up, still off balance from his sudden appearance. He had quite the presence, always abrupt, sudden. Leaving just as fast as he appeared and leaving her dumbfounded quite often. He reached out an arm, placing it on her elbow gently to steady her.

“Thank you, my lord. I admit, I am not well acquainted with lengthy carriage rides.” 

“No matter, I am sure you will grow accustomed as you journey more frequently” he said brows raised, alluding to his assumption of her acceptance.

“Ah! You must be Annalise, I am so delighted to finally meet you, my dear” a sweet, round faced woman pushed herself past Anthony and towards Annalise, immediately grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. Annalise’s eyes widened and her lips parted but before she could say anything, another woman with chestnut brown hair matching the viscount’s sauntered up to the group.

“The Miss Carrington! I must know all the details on your first dance with Anthony. Did you abandon him because he is a bore? Or did he pester you with his list of interview questions he believes will find him the perfect wife?” 

“Eloise! That is hardly an appropriate way to introduce Miss Carrington to this family. Have you no decorum?” Anthony huffed, grabbing the girl’s arm and moving her out of the way.

“Please excuse my sister, she can be quite… spirited, at times.” 

As if the crowd could not get bigger, two men, one with the same chestnut brown hair while the other had unruly curls in a much darker shade, approached them.

The darker haired one spoke first, his eyebrows raised in amusement, “well isn’t this quite the party. If you are to marry into this family, shall I suggest drinking a few lemonades before arriving at a function in which the entire family will be in attendance?” 

“Benedict!” The other said, to which the dark haired one – Benedict – simply shrugged.

Annalise could do nothing but stare at the commotion, a plethora of emotions overwhelming her all at once. Before anyone else could join in, Anthony cleared his throat and motioned for his family to give Annalise space.

“I think, the Carringtons would appreciate some quiet and the chance to settle in before you lot begin your chatter. Please, excuse their excitement” Anthony said pointedly. He offered a hand to Annalise and pulled her away from the bustling family, her brother following closely behind. Annalise sighed, secretly relieved at his intervention. 

“Your family is quite the unruly bunch, Lord Bridgerton. A bit of discipline would not hurt” Thomas said, looking back at the family in judgment. 

Annalise fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Discipline” was what Thomas called his fits of rage, hiding behind pretenses of doing what he thought was best for Annalise. “Shaping” her into a woman of manners and decorum. Instead, it made her flighty, anxious, and quiet when she had once been a curious and talkative young girl. Like a bird meant for flight having its wings cut, leaving nothing more but a decoration.

Annalise felt Anthony’s arm stiffen in response to her brother’s suggestion. 

“I do not agree, Mr. Carrington. My family is one of the ton’s most respected and it was not discipline that made it so, but my parents’ upbringing of their children.”

“I only mean to say that a man’s duty-”

“A man’s duty is to protect those under his care.” 

Thomas went quiet behind them.

As they made their way inside, Annalise looked up and once again, marveled at the sight of the grand home. 

“You have a beautiful home, Lord Bridgerton” she spoke softly, hoping to change the topic of conversation before things became heated between the two men.

“Thank you, I do hope you find your stay enjoyable despite the introduction you just had” he smiled.

“Your family is charming, my lord. I do think they were simply excited at the prospect of having a guest” she said graciously. Although overwhelmed by the boisterous family, the fondness they had with one another was not lost on her. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Anthony smiled. 

Behind them, Thomas cleared his throat to signal his presence.

“Right. Mr. Carrington, your room will be up the stairs, down the hall to the left and Miss Carrington, yours will be next to Eloise’s on the right side of the hall upstairs. I have sent for your luggage and it will be brought over as soon as everyone makes their way in” the viscount explained. With that, he took off, leaving Annalise and her brother to find their rooms no doubt to reel in his family and perhaps give them a scolding or two. 

After Annalise found her room, she shut the door with an exhale. She took in the room, various shades of blue and gray decorated the room. In the center was a bed with dozens of plush pillows. Annalise all but threw herself at the welcoming sight, landing in the middle of the carefully arranged pillows. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She was not used to this much attention, she wished she could simply disappear into the wall. This week would require all of her strength. 

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“Brother, is Miss Carrington to be our new sister?” The youngest of the Bridgerton clan, Hyacinth, wondered aloud. 

“Hyacinth!” Their mother called out, reprimanding the young girl’s forward question. 

“Sister in law, Hyacinth. That depends entirely on Miss Carrington herself. Perhaps you might convince her.” Anthony replied, the corners of his mouth twist upwards, giving his youngest sister a wink. He spoke to his sister with such fondness, it made Annalise’s chest tighten. 

Annalise took a moment to survey the dining hall to distract herself from her melancholy. The candles placed throughout the table gently lit the room, making the hall feel smaller than it was, more intimate. Porcelain china with delicate floral patterns was placed perfectly in front of each setting. As her eyes made their way around the room, her eyes landed on the viscount. Annalise had not given herself a chance to properly look at the viscount this evening. He sat at the head of the table while his mother sat opposite of him. Was he used to this? Being the head of his household? Or did he find it troublesome? He took the mantle on quite early in life, did he ever get used to it? To her, it seemed he made a perfect viscount. His siblings adored him, his mother trusted him to make wise decisions. Would his wife do the same? Could Annalise find herself trusting the viscount, loving him?

“Of course, Annalise would be honored to join your family, Lord Bridgerton. What more could a young woman ask for?” Thomas said, looking to Annalise for confirmation.

“Yes, of course. It has been a privilege to be courted by Lord Bridgerton, he is too kind” she said, trying her best to remain as vague as she could for as long as she could. Anthony only nodded, his lips set in a tight smile. Not the answer he was hoping for, she assumed.

“Do you read, Miss Carrington?” One of the Bridgerton sisters asked, Eloise, she recalled.

“I do, in fact. Reading takes up a great deal of my time – there’s always some topic that plagues my mind for weeks at a time until I grow tired of it and find the next.” 

Eloise smiled at her response, she opened her mouth to say something but before she could she was interrupted by Anthony.

“Is your mind still occupied with the Renaissance, or have you found your latest obsession, Miss Carrington?” 

She turned back to the viscount, “I am still very much occupied, I have yet to find a chance to discover any new books, my lord.” 

“We have a very big – and very unused library, Miss Carrington, I am certain you may be able to find something of interest there” he replied.

“I’d be more than happy to escort you after dinner.”

Annalise hesitated. She did not want to spend any time alone with the viscount.

“Perhaps another day, I’m sure you are tired from your travels, my lord. Thank you.”

Before he could reply, Annalise turned to the viscount’s mother and his siblings, “enough about me, tell me about yourselves. What is it you all do in your spare time? It must be a great deal of fun to have such a large family.” 

“Fun is one way to put it, I suppose,” Benedict said dryly.

The eldest of the Bridgerton sisters was the only one to provide a proper answer, “well let’s see, Benedict here is a budding artist. Collin has been traveling lately. Eloise is…well, Eloise. Francesca plays the pianoforte– 

“Rather exceptionally, I might add” Anthony cut in.

“Yes, she is quite good. Hyacinth and Gregory are typically occupied with their studies.”  

“And you, your Grace?” Annalise asked.

“Oh, please call me Daphne and nothing more. I suppose much of my days are filled with being a wife and mother” she looked fondly at her husband, the Duke of Hastings, sitting across from her. He returned her affection, the entire night it seems he could barely keep his eyes off her. 

“Of course,” Annalise smiled at the couple. She marveled at the siblings. They each had the freedom to pursue their pleasures and what their hearts desired. They were quite the family, Annalise had to admit. Was this the viscount’s doing? He undoubtedly bore the brunt of the labor to allow his siblings such pursuits. Every passing moment that she spent with the Bridgertons chipped at her determination to not marry. Would she be capable of holding to her beliefs by the end of this week?

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After dinner, they all retired to their rooms – a break Annalise was much grateful for. She could not fathom how she could make it through this week if she could hardly get through one dinner. Perhaps a distraction is what she needed to pull through. The library she thought to herself. There was bound to be a book in there that could keep her grounded. The sun had set and everyone had gone to bed, she doubted there’d be anyone roaming the halls – and even so, she knew how to keep quiet and hide. 

Annalise slipped from her room, down the grand stairs in search of the library. The darkness blanketing the entirety of Aubrey Hall posed a challenge to her search but she persevered regardless until she was confronted with two large doors, one slightly ajar – inviting her in.

She creeped inside, peaking in to ensure no one else was present. Once she was satisfied that she was alone, she walked over to the nearest bookcase which held at least a dozen rows of books. Each row had been meticulously labeled with a category. History of the Americas, History of Great Britain, History of… this bookcase seemed to be dedicated to histories, Annalise skipped down to the next. 

“Miss Carrington?”

“Oh!” Annalise startled, dropping the book she had picked out.

Anthony came forward, quickly retrieving the book that had fallen from her hands. He was not wearing his usual formal attire, instead donning a simple white shirt and trousers, his sleeves rolled to his elbow. The shirt was untied, leaving much of his chest exposed. Annalise felt her cheeks warm, looking away from the viscount.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you” he said.

“No, my lord. I apologize, I should not be here at this hour” she replied, gaze trained on the patterned wood floor below her.

“Actually I expected you’d be here. I did not think you capable of keeping yourself from the library. A most tempting place, is it not?” A teasing smile on his lips. When Annalise failed to respond, Anthony scanned the book she had picked out – which he still had not returned to her.

“Medicinal Plants of the Orient? Was this meant to be a sleep aid?” He laughed.

She tried to hold back her smile. This only furthered the viscount’s own smile.

“You needn’t hold back on my account,” he said.

“Is this how you’ve managed to procure the reputation that follows you?” She asked, deflecting the subject of conversation from her to the viscount.

“I do not know what you mean, Miss Carrington. I am simply conversing” he said, refusing to let up that damned smile.

“Every girl I have met at the ton would do horrendous things for the opportunity to simply dance with you, nevermind courting them entirely. Not to mention your wellknown status of being a…” she trailed off. She did not think it appropriate to call him a rake to his face. 

“A what, Miss Carrington?” He teased.

She only looked up through her lashes, refusing to indulge him.

“I promise you, Miss Carrington, my days of rake-hood are far behind me. I have but one woman I intend to be with for the rest of my days” his tone no longer one of teasing.

Annalise held his gaze, unsure of what to say. 

“Annalise. I know you are afraid but trust that no harm would come to you from me. My father raised me to be a man with honor, a gentleman. Believe me, I have tolerated raising those hooligans you met this evening and I never, not once, raised my hand at them. Though they test me, I could never dream of harming someone under my care be it my siblings, my children, or my wife. Please, can you find it in your heart to trust me?” He had taken his hands in hers, his eyes in anticipation of her answer. 

“I do not wish to make decisions with my heart, my lord” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And that is most sensible indeed” he said, his eyes trained on her face. 

He stepped forward. His breath tickled her face when he spoke, gentle as a feather,  “However, the heart is akin to a light, is it not Miss Carrington? It provides the guidance one needs in order to make your way out of the darkness.” 

Her chest rose, holding her breath.

“What if, Lord Bridgerton, one’s light were shattered and unable to provide guidance through the dark? 

“Then I would travel the night skies and snatch the stars to replace your shattered lights if that's what it takes. Annalise, I swear to you,” his gently lifted her chin to meet his eyes, “your heart is safe with me, shattered pieces and all.”

She could not breathe. Frozen in place and unsure of how to respond. She stared into his eyes, how could they be insincere with such pleading? Tears welled in her own eyes – she was at a crossroads, overwhelmed by the storm of questions in her mind. 

“Annalise, I will not hurt you” each word punctuated with intention as if he thought the more emphasis he put, the more convincing it would be to her. Was there anything she could do at this point? Any amount of delaying or refusing that would save her from her fate? Perhaps there was…

“Lord Bridgerton, may I give you the answer to your question by the week’s end?” She whispered.

That night once she had been escorted back to her chambers, Annalise conjured up a plan. The viscount had seven siblings and she would spend the remainder of the week with his family here at Aubrey Hall. She could use the week to get to know the viscount through his siblings. Perhaps, there would be a flaw, secret addiction, a bad habit – something that might give Annalise reason to deny the viscount’s proposal. Annalise would spend a day with each sibling and by the week’s end, there had to be something that might save her.

[kitixie]

The Sapphire Ring

request: Hi! If your requests are open, I’d like to ask for a Thomas Shelby x Reader. Tommy gets injured in WW1 at some point and is taken care of the same nurse (reader) at the battlefield medic hospital. She has something distinct about her (I was thinking maybe some unique piece of jewelry so it could apply to anyone). He always remembered the nurse for helping him and the reader always remembered him as a patient she saved after losing a lot of her patients. And then years later they reconnect in Birmingham (he recognizes her jewelry first). Just helping eachother through hardship and fluff and reconnection leading to romance. You’re the best, can’t wait to see what you do with it! Thanks!

word count: 2.5k

warnings/info: no warnings for this, just sweetness and a happy ending :) also, i promise i am working on the next part of “Little Girl Gone”, so be on the lookout for that this weekend!! i had so much fun doing this request, i’d love to do more so if you have any requests, please let me know! enjoy!!

1916, in the midst of World War 1.

“Y/N, there’s a patient down the hall, he’s just out of surgery. Would you check on him, Love?”

You turned to face MaryAnn, the lead nurse tonight. Her curly brown hair framed her face a shoulders, her soft smile aimed at you.

“Of course, MaryAnn,” you said, returning her small smile.

Making your way down the hall, you ducked your head in. Most of these patients you’d already seen, so spotting a new face shouldn’t be hard. Especially if he was fresh from surgery, his moaning and grumbling would probably be heard before he was seen.

You had been working at the hospital for two years, you had only started working here because of the war. Your brother had gone off to fight, leaving you and your father home alone together. Your mother had passed away two years before that, leaving you only her cherished sapphire ring. The piece of jewelry was the only luxury your mother had ever had, growing up in a small town on the banks of Dundalk. It was a large sapphire in the center, flanked on four sides by sparking, clear diamonds. You wore the ring at all times, not much worrying if it would get messed up, as the hospital had paid you nicely, and you’d saved up a small pile just in case something happened to it. You loved the ring almost as much as your mother did, feeling as if it was your only connection left to her. You peered at the ring on your finger, continuing on your search for the mystery patient.

A few doors farther down, a loud bang came from one of the patient rooms. You rushed to the door, only to see a man standing up, and a rolling metal tray lying on the floor. You watched him for a moment, just to see what his next moves were. You observed his pale skin, almost blue tinged; then his dark hair. His head was shaved around the bottom, leaving a messy patch on the top half of his head. He looked to the tray, then to the bed, then to the window on the other side of the room. He leant over to retrieve something off the floor, when he cursed.

“Sir, are you okay?” You called, stepping into the room slowly so as not to frighten him.

He slowly turned towards you, and only when he was fully facing you did you see the bloody bandage dangling from his shoulder.

“I could use a bit of help, I suppose,” he grumbled, staring at you.

You slowly approached him, letting him see that your hands were clear. He was young, a few years visibly older than you, but young enough to justify that the only reason he was in here was because of the war.

“I’m not delusional, I know where I am. So you can stop easing towards me like I’m shell-shocked, aye?” He said, an accent coming out from somewhere.

“You can never be too cautious, ya know,” you stated, straightening your posture back up to full height, and walking normally paced towards him.

You removed his own hand from his bloodied shoulder, and nodded towards the bed. He followed orders, and sat down, rolling his head to the side so you could get a better look.

“I’m Tommy,” he offered, blowing out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” you said, focusing your attention on his now leaking stitches.

You could feel as he watched you, those blue eyes tracking your every movement precisely. He had indeed pulled out his stitches, but it was nothing you couldn’t fix.

“Ya pulled your stitches, so I hope whatever you were trying to do was worth it,” You laughed, casting him a gentle glance so he’d see the joke in your eyes.

“I was trying to get a smoke, so I’d say it was worth it.”

“You want a smoke? I’m about to restitch your shoulder, so ‘ats the least I could let ya do,” you smiled, picking up his discarded pack of cigarettes from the floor, also handing him his pack of matches.

He returned the smile, immediately struck up a match, sending the smell of smoke and tobacco throughout the room. You gently closed the door, not wanting to disturb the other patients with the smell. Walking back over to Tommy, you held a small suture kit in your hands.

“This is gonna hurt, so be ready,” you breathed, not wanting him to lash out at the pain.

“I’ll be fine, Love. But talk to me, will you? Helps distract me,” he said, exhaling a long stream of smoke from his mouth and nostrils.

“Okay,” you agreed. Readying the needle and thread you began speaking right before running the small metal piece through his skin.

“I’m from Ireland, born and raised. Although I used to live in Dundalk, now here we are in Dublin. My brother is fighting in the war, at least I assume he’s still fighting, hasn’t come home alive or in a box yet,” you joked, but feeling a slight twinge of pain in your heart. You continued, “I work ‘ere every night, I like nightshift best because it’s when the least amount of people actually come into the hospital. I don’t really handle losing patients well, but that’s another story,” you sighed, nearly done with the first few stitches.

Tommy nodded his head, releasing another puff of smoke before speaking.

“I’m from Birmingham, it’s not really a place worth talking about though. I fought in the war, ‘ts how I ended up here, but you’ve gathered that much. I’ve got a couple siblings, some still at war, some not, but they’re my only family.” he said, going back to his cigarette.

“I have the one brother, and my father. My mother died a few years ago, but it’s part of my past life now.” You spoke, finishing up the last few stitches. He hasn’t flinched the entire time.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Love. But every sorrier to say I can relate.” Tommy said, gently turing his shoulders towards you now that you were done putting him back together.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry for your loss too, it never really gets better, just more dull,” you remarked, cleaning up the kit from the small rolling tray you had placed it on.

You took notice of Tommy’s staring, following his eyes as the flicked over you, assessing every detail. His eyes caught on your ring, and he cocked his head.

“That’s a lovely ring, Mrs. Y/N,” he said, drawing out the Missus.

“It’s just Miss, and thank you,” you laughed, “it was my mothers.” You gave him a soft smile, looking toward the ring on your middle finger.

You helped Tommy settle back into his small bed, then bid him goodnight with the promise to check on him tomorrow.

-

The next evening, you barely had time to check in before MaryAnn was hounding you about Tommy. He had been refusing care all day, saying that you were the only person he’d allow to check his stitching. The other nurses had tried to reason with, tried to explain that you wouldn’t be here until 10 pm, but he would not listen. He wanted your care, and only your care. You promised MaryAnn you would handle it, and went off on your way to his room. You rapped your hand against the door, slightly cracking it open.

“Tommy?” You called out, not wanting to startle him.

“Oi, finally. I’ve been asking for you all day, where have you been, Y/N?” He said, slowly sitting himself up in the cot.

“I told you Tommy, I work nightshift. It doesn’t switch over until 10,” you laughed, “although I am flattered that you refused all care other than mine.”

“Of course I would, you have the best bedside manner of all the nurses.” taking a drag from the cigarette you hadn’t noticed earlier, “Plus you’re beautiful,” he added.

Your cheeks flushed, and you brought a hand to chest, resting it over your heart.

“Flattery rarely works on nurses, Tommy. Now let’s get those stitches checked.” You smiled, your cheeks hurting from how genuine it was.

After checking his stitches, you gave him the all clear and told him he should be released in a few days, and you swore a frown flashed across his face before straightening back out. You bid him goodnight, with the promise to see him tomorrow night.

For a week straight, this little routine carried on. You’d come see him as soon as you arrived at work, check his stitches, then the two of you would just talk. You talked with him about varying subjects, both of your families, home life (although Tommy didn’t give much away here), and your hopes for the future. You told him of your plans to travel after the war ended, and he told you how he never wanted to travel again. You would compare families, your brother palling in comparison to the array of Shelby boys that Tommy had described to you. Every night, the two of you would talk, some conversations were short, some lasted so long that MaryAnn had to come pull you from his room so that you would round on your other patients. You developed a sense of kinship with Tommy, although the two of you were admittedly very different. You got excited to go to work, marking events in your day that you were excited to tell Tommy about. You thought of him outside of the hospital, more than you should. But how could anyone resist the charms of Tommy Shelby?

On Friday night, you arrived to the hospital. You checked in, and began rounding on your patients, saving Tommy for when you had a bit of free time; you had a lot you wanted to tell him. You eventually found your way to his room, softly knocking on the door.

“Tommy?” You called, easing through the doorway.

Tommy was sitting up in his cot, stitches almost healed enough to go home. You had come to dread the day he would leave, he felt like a friend, maybe more.

“Y/N, Love, I thought you had forgotten me.” He said, adding his signature Tommy Shelby smirk to the end.

“I could never forget you, Tommy,” you blushed, “Now, let me check up on those stitches.”

He nodded his head, tipping it to the side so that you could access his shoulder better.

“How’s Georgia?” He asked. Georgia was an elderly lady who lived in your apartments, you had told Tommy about how she loved to bake for you.

“She’s good, she brought me meat pies earlier today,” you said, giving a soft smile, “These stitches look healed Tommy, I think you can go home soon.”

Tommy grew a distant look in his eye, gazing to the floor.

“I don’t really want to go, if I’m honest.” He said, pulling you from similar thoughts.

“I know Tommy, but your family probably misses you, I know I would be.” You replied, trying to coax him with a soft rub of his shoulder.

He placed his hand gently over yours, his massive hand covering the ring.

“You would be or you will be?” He said, cheekily flashing you a smile.

“I will miss you, Tommy. You have been a joy to take care of, and a good friend to talk to.” You could feel tears wanting to come from your eyes, but ever the professional, you held them back.

He gave a soft smile, placing a gentle kiss to your hand.

“If you ever find yourself in Birmingham, come find me. I’ll be at The Garrison, waiting for you.”

Tommy had mentioned The Garrison a few times, noting how it was his family’s favorite bar and pub, and how they spent most evenings there. You gave him a soft nod, and retracted your hand.

“Goodnight, and, goodbye, Thomas.” You smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before you exited his room.

-

1921, five years later

You found yourself staring, craning your neck up to the sign in front of you. A hundred questionable decisions had led you here, to Birmingham.

The first decision, was getting married. The second, was getting divorced. Your husband had been a prick, and you knew it when you married him but he was handsome, and certainly you could have done worse.

The third decision was traveling. You had been all over the world, but you had avoided Birmingham like it had the plague. After Tommy was discharged, you quit the hospital. Every time you would walk by his former room, tears would well in your eyes and breath would catch in your throat. You hadn’t realized how accustomed to Him you had become, not until he’d left.

But now, five years after last seeing each other, you stood in front of the doors to The Garrison.

Pushing into the pub, holding the leash on your fear and anxiety, you approached the bar. An unpleasant bar keep took your order, appearing surprised at the order of Irish Whiskey for a young lady. You got your drink, and waited. Waited to see if what Tommy had said still rang true. Had he been waiting for you?

You heard a knock, coming from the window that peered into the back room of the pub. The bar keep opened it, and you nearly fainted. There, ten feet away, stood Mr. Thomas Shelby.

You stared at him, mouth hanging open like a fool. He had only gotten more handsome, a peaky cap now sitting atop his head, which looked much better now that he had some color and a fresh haircut. He was dressed in a fine suit, looking polished and refined, like a real man, not just a patient in the hospital. His eyes caught yours for a single second, and a look of recognition flashed across his face before vanishing. The window closed, and your heart sank. He didn’t remember you, or worse, he didn’t want you here.

You stood from your barstool, slapping a bill on the bar. Your ring, that same ring Tommy had stared at and asked a hundred questions about, still sat on your middle finger. The metal slapped against the bar, and you could only look towards the floor on your way out.

A warm, pale hand snatched your arm from your side, cradling that soft hand that held the ring.

“Y/N?”

You whirled around, face to face with Tommy. He had remembered you! You wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him in a tight hug. He returned the gesture, wrapping his long arms around you and lifting you from the floor. Your head tucked into the crook of his neck, inhaling the tobacco scent you had always associated with Tommy. He gently placed your feet back on the floor before speaking.

“I never thought you’d come,” he breathed, a grin on his face, “but I am so glad that you did, Love.” He said, just before leaning in and placing a hard, passionate kiss to your mouth.

[steam-beasts]

Something Scary

(Part 3 to Something Splendid)

Meanwhile at Knapford, Percy pulled into the station hauling the mail train, blissfully unaware of what was happening with Thomas and James.

He whistled to the workers as they all went to get the bags of packaged mail from his trucks. He then felt his fireman pat his side "We'll be back, Percy. We must give these fellas a hand with the mail"

"Ok, Mr Fireman" Percy replied happily as his crew departed from his cab.

As Percy's crew left to assist the other workers with the mail, he let out a yawn, unaware of the strange transformation about to befall him. However, as a tingling sensation spread throughout his frame, he couldn't ignore the growing ache that accompanied it. It felt odd and uncomfortable, like nails were digging into him.

Percy winced and let out a dog-like whimper as the discomfort intensified into an ache "Ow...ow...owww" He muttered. The weird ache was getting sharper and stronger, his firebox fizzling in response to the strange sensation.

Suddenly, the quietatmosphere at Knapford was shattered by a very loud wheeshing noise anyone had ever heard, causing everyone to gasp and point in shock.

Sir Topham Hatt rushed out of his office, his expression a mix of confusion and concern as he heard the noise. "What the bloody hell?!" he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the air as he sought to make sense of the sudden commotion.

As the steam and smoke gradually cleared, revealing the spot where Percy once stood, the onlookers were met with a sight that defied all logic and expectation. Instead of the familiar green saddle-tank engine, sprawled out on the rails before them was a towering 16-foot-tall humanoid figure.

With a pudgy yet muscular build, the grey-skinned man possessed digigrade legs adorned with small green locomotive wheels on his ankles. His face was obscured by a thick mane of curly brown hair that cascaded down his back, while a stumpy little funnel protruded from the top of his head. Adding to the surreal spectacle, the humanoid sported cat-like ears on the sides of his head, completing the baffling transformation.

The workers and passengers stood frozen in disbelief, struggling to comprehend the incomprehensible sight before them.

As Percy's driver and fireman exchanged bewildered glances, reeling from the sight before them, the possibility that the giant figure lying on the rails could indeed be their beloved engine was high. But only the fireman could see that.

"I- what?!" the driver spluttered, his disbelief evident as he scratched his neck in confusion. Could it be Percy? Why the hell is there suddenly a giant 16-foot-tall man laying on the rails unconscious?

The fireman stared on wide-eyed, his mind racing to make sense of the inexplicable transformation. "Jesus... do you think that's Percy?" he whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Percy? You think that giant MAN is Percy?!" the driver exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head "It's probably just a coincidence. There's no way that's... that just can't be him."

The fireman shrugged, his expression still filled with uncertainty. "Dude, Percy disappeared in a huge puff of smoke. LITERALLY. Then that thing appeared," he pointed at the giant man on the tracks. "That's a pretty huge coincidence."

"Percy's a steam engine. That thing is... well, I haven't got the foggiest idea! There's just no way," the driver argued vehemently, his disbelief becoming borderline stubbornness.

Sir Topham Hatt soon approached the two, his expression shifting from sternness to shock and confusion as he surveyed the scene before him. "What on earth...?" he murmured, trailing off as he struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation that had unfolded.

"What happened?!" Sir Topham Hatt demanded, his tone stern as he focused his attention on Percy's bewildered crew.

The fireman raised his hands in defense, looking uncertaint. "We don't know, Sir! Percy just... turned into that!" he explained, gesturing towards the giant humanoid figure lying on the rails.

The driver quickly interjected, his voice tinged with doubt. "But we don't know for SURE if it's Percy!" he added, earning an unimpressed look from the fireman.

Sir Topham Hatt stared at the scene before him, his expression a mix of frustration and bewilderment. "Oh dear, oh dear... out of all the strangest things that happen on this damn island, this certainly takes the cake," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Having his engines become beasts was already stressful enough, but humans??

"Can one of you at least go down and check if it IS Percy? If it isn't, I don't have a bloody clue on what else to do..." he sighed, his exasperation palpable.

The fireman put his hand up "Not it"

The driver grunted and rolled his eyes in annoyance before reluctantly and carefully hopping off the platform, landing on the ballast covered ground below (good thing he had strong legs).

When he looked back up at the creature that was supposedly Percy, he gulped. The size of the creature was much more daunting and intimidating than on the platform. Taking a deep breath, Percy's driver carefully tiptoed up to the beast.

The humanoid's ear twitched a little, and steam puffed out of its nostrils, albeit covered by its puffy hair.

The driver delicately brushed his fingers along the strands of hair before slowly pushing a good amount of its hair. As he took in the details of the colossal man's face, he gasped in even more disbelief;

It is Percy.

"Oh god! It IS Percy!!" He exclaimed. Sir Topham Hatt gasped "Wait, it is?!" He asked in disbelief, his voice now tinged with worry for his engine. He along with a few other workers quickly made their way down the platform to see for themselves. All the while, they desperately tried to avoid looking at Percy's...ahem...jewels

The driver continued staring at Percy's face in shock until Percy started to stir; he was waking up.

Suddenly, a soft growl could be heard from Percy as he began to stir more and more, making everyone back up in fear. The humanoid saddle-tank's nose twitched and his nails dug into the ground as he came around. He yawned and opened his eyes tiredly.

Once he saw where he was, Percy frowned in confusion "Huh..?" He mumbled as he noticed everyone's faces. A strand of curly hair fell on his face. Thinking he was in his monster form, Percy sat up and simply reached up and pulled it away, only to yelp in pain as it felt like something was pulling at his skin as he tugged on it.

More brown curls then fell over his face, and his tried pulling those away, only for more sharp pain "Ow!" Percy grunted, pulling his paw away.

But when he looked at his paw, he noticed something very off; his paw was more slender looking and his fingers weren't as stubby.

The workers watched in hushed silence, not knowing what to do as they watched Percy flex his fingers, his expression becoming more and more horrified.

Percy saw his driver and whimpered "D-Driver? What's happened?"

The driver reached up, trying to sound calm and reassuring "Okay...uh, Percy. Everything's ok...just don't look dooowwnnn..." Percy did the exact opposite and looked down at the rest of his body "....and he look down" the driver sighed to himself, mentally face-palming.

Percy let out a mighty scream that echoed through the station as he took in the details of his body. He cried and continued to scream as adrenaline began rushing through him, making him instantly stand up, only to fall down due to the unfamiliar feeling of his new legs.

The workers and Sir Topham Hatt quickly cleared away as Percy whimpered and cried, tears of fear streaming down his cheeks as he clutched on to the mail truck for support. The wheels on his ankles spun frantically, his claws digging into the wood of the trucks as he began hyperventilating.

"What– What's happened to me?!" He sobbed.

Sir Topham Hatt, albeit quite stressed out himself, tried to calm him down "Percy! I understand this is very distressing, but please calm down!" He called out. Percy looked down at his controller through teary eyes, choking on a sob, he replied "S-Sir...? I–"

"Percy?!"

Percy's ears pricked up as he looked ahead of the tracks to see two other humanoid creatures like himself. One was the same size as him and the other was very tall. Both of them also had very familiar faces...

"T-Thomas...James...?" He hiccuped, letting go of the truck. He then made a weak attempt to crawl towards the two "H-Help...me" He whimpered, reaching his hand out to grab either Thomas or James's.

Thomas himself wasted no time and quickly crawled towards Percy, grabbing his hand and helping him on to his knees. Everyone watched as the two smaller humanoids then hugged each other for comfort, James slipping in to join. Thomas let out a shaky sigh and whispered;

"I-It's ok, Percy...everything's gonna be...ok..."

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

DUNCOMBE PARK

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Duncombe Park. This is the 8th building for my English Manors Collection, and I will add many more!

House History: Duncombe Park is the seat of the Duncombe family who previously held the title Earls of Feversham. The title became extinct on the death of the 3rd Earl in 1963, since when the family have continued to hold the title Baron Feversham.

The house was completed in 1713 for Thomas Duncombe (born Thomas Brown) to designs by the Yorkshire gentleman-architect William Wakefield. It was remodelled in 1843 by Sir Charles Barry. In 1879 the main block was gutted by fire and remained a ruin until 1895 when rebuilding was carried out by William Young. The reconstruction was based on the original design, though there were changes made, especially in the interior layout to meet contemporary needs. It is of two storeys with a basement and attic.

In 1694 Charles Duncombe, one of the richest commoners in England, bought the 40,000-acre (16,000 ha) Helmsley estate, occasionally staying at the castle. After his death in 1711 it passed to his sister Ursula and from her to her son Thomas Brown, who changed his name to Thomas Duncombe and commissioned the building of the present house. On his death in 1746 it passed to his son, Thomas Duncombe II, who extended the grounds to include the Rievaulx Terrace. In 1774, Anne Duncombe, daughter of Thomas Duncombe of Duncombe Park was married to Robert Shafto, of Whitworth Hall, near Spennymoor, County Durham, the famous "Bonny Bobby Shaftoe" of the folk song.

In the late 1700s the estate was owned by Thomas' son, Charles Slingsby Duncombe, who was succeeded in 1803 by his eldest son and heir Charles Duncombe, 1st Baron Feversham. Charles was MP for Shaftesbury, Aldborough, Heytesbury and Newport IoW and High Sheriff of Yorkshire for 1790–91. He built up a considerable art collection at the house and was made 1st Baron Feversham in 1826. His son William succeeded him and was MP for Yorkshire and after 1832 for the new North Riding constituency. William's son William Ernest was created the 1st Earl of Feversham. The second Earl was killed in the First World War and the earldom became extinct on the death of the third earl in 1963.

More history: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duncombe_Park

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This house fits a 64x64 lot and features a great room, a formal dining room and a daily breakfast room, a great library, his and hers bedrooms, a great staris, a ballroom, and many others!.

This time I decorated most of the rooms for picture purposes, but as allways, you can make it your own!

The groung floor is suposed to be for service, and it is not finished. Nor are the side structures, that are actually for decorative purpose as I could not fit the real structure in the lot.

The main house could fit a 50x50 and a 50x40 lot aswell, but you will lose the decorative sides.

Hope you like it.

Be warned: I did not have the floor plan for the 2nd floor nor pictures of most of the inside and worked on an old proposed floorplan for the residence.

You will need the usual CC I use: all of Felixandre, The Jim, SYB, Anachrosims, Regal Sims, TGS, The Golden Sanctuary, Cliffou, Dndr recolors, etc.

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

Early access: August 15.

DOWNLOAD: https://www.patreon.com/posts/104087764

[hydrobarb]

☆ genshin men pp head canons but i slowly get more unhinged

first post lmfaoo, i’m not the best at writing, keep that in mind

—

gn-ish reader, they have a hole and it is used.

warnings: shower/bath sex, rut (gorou, tighnari, zhongli), face sitting, size kink..? some r inexperienced, cockwarming, sir kink, slight voyeurism? roleplay, knifeplay n blood (childe), shibari, praise, degrading, temperature play?blowjobs, some r also touched starved, some sensitive. spelling & grammatical errors

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

includes: kaveh, itto, thoma, gorou, aether, baizhu, alhaitham, ayato, tartaglia, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, scaramouche/wanderer, heizou, tighnari, xiao, zhongli, dottore, pantalone, capitano, dainsleif

kaveh

not too large, not too small (14.99 cm/5.9 in) nothing will convince me that he’s not submissive. his tip is probably a pretty brownish pink (#c27c89) pretty sensitive as well, could cum (#faf8ed) from just the slightest touch of your fingers. luvs being overstimmed, sometimes he has you over just to spite al haitham.. he knows al haitham can hear him, so.. let’s consider this revenge.

itto

mans huge. 20 cm (7.8 in) AT LEAST. i mean he’s a fucking oni.. tip is like a beige-pink type color (#ffa899) uhhh he probably has a prety vein going up the side of his cock (#c1b2eb) he also probably has a fucking prince albert piercing, one that vibrates maybe.. def has a size kink, he just loves seeing ur face twinge in pain when he thrusts into you, by the time he’s spilling his cum into you you’re in tears, head thrown back and scratching his back in pain.

idk abt him tho

thoma

either a soft dom or plain submissive, loves pleasing you but also loves being spoiled if he had a long day,,, idk maybe a switch tbh… around 6.8 inches, pink!! he’s pink i love pink and i love him #ff87a1 probably,,, well trimmed, i mean i can see him having an entire skincare routine, my little princess frrrr….. sensitive nipples, probably just touch starved in general. secretly likes being degraded

gorou

bark bark. 14 cm (5.5inches) he def whimpers. i want to say its pink but it’s probably more on the beige side (#e6aea3) i dont rlly have much to say abt him, he likes biting……. begs, whines and more whimpers when he’s ina rut, a cutie indeed

aether

pent up 100%, been in teyvat for god knows how many years and bro has not felt the touch of a woman since beidou’s hangout event. 7 inches exactly, pretty pink #f5a9a9, he probably whines and groans cause he’s a cutie patootie probably likes being praised

baizhu

physically cannot be rough with you he will most likely collapse. likes being beneath you, can sub but prefers being dominant (he’s the doctor, he should be caring for you.) he’s a nice size, 7.2 inches. probably has messy handwriting bc he’s lettin u suck him off under his desk/j.. anyways he’s like a pink but like?? idk #b57f83. slutty moans, he’s super loud i bet. when he’s subbing he loves geting his hair pulled

ALHAITHAMMMMMM

my man fr. i love the idea of him being submissive but i’d heavily doubt he would ever sub… anyway he’s probably into being called sir. trims when he feels like it. i want to say he’s a virgin so badly. 7.4 inches at most, i hc him as more tan than he actually is but anyways tip is brown#947e76 pretty brown tho (brown is one of my fave colors) can be rlly rough or rlly gentle, it depends. would be opposed to the idea of letting u suck him off while he’s reading but eventually lets you (he had to bookmark where he began reading so he could reread it, he was too distracted) IF HE DID SUB HE WOULD WHIE,PR AND DEFINTIELY BE LOUD ENOUGH TO BE HEARD EVEN IF YOU WORE HIS HEADPHONES (poor kaveh) sensitive nipples, whines and furrows his eyebrows when you lick them.

ayato

tease. 17.9 cm (7inches exact) now he’s definitely pink and nothing can convince me otherwise, probably a light pink too like #947e76,, like alhaitham,he can be rlly rough or rlly gentle. he breathes heavily and groans, probably into shibari and degrading…. quickies in his office, maybe cockwarming if he feels up to it

ajax

……. he’s probably into some werid shit (no offense) like knifeplay n blood,, i mean he loves sparring so much, so why not incorporate it into sexy time in some way? yk his skill? yea he holds that thing up to ur throat when hes fuckin u (if ur not into that he wont do it ofc bc he actually cares abt u) rough if he had a long day n is super impatient, but slow if he just wants to break you. he loves blowjobs most of the time he’s near fully clothed and yourcompletely naked but if u beg him enough he’ll undres,, he has scars on his chest, and freckles bc cutie… i forgot to put this but he’s probably 7-7.2 inches, #de97a7.

cyno

he’s pretty. probably into roleplay (predator/prey type thing.. personally i’m not but i feel like he is) he’s a nice size.. (6.9 inches) (funny number on purpose.) browm tip #9c7868, really pretty when he fucks u, eyebrows furrowed n biting his lip hard enough he might draw blood. also loves teasing you when he gets the chance, loves hearing you beg, you’re adorable to him.

diluc

human heater!!! hngh i need him. HE loves being called sir…. won’t admit it. he’s big but doesn’t know, bet he’s inexperienced. his tip is literally almost red, #9c7868. either a rough dom, gentle dom, or whiney sub. if u do top him, tease him whenever you get the chance and he’ll go almost as red as his hair n deny everything despite it being true. adelinde always gets a lil suspicious when u come over… but off the topic of that, he rlly enjoys doing it in the shower/bath. it’s warm (orcold), it’s wet, and he’s with you. what more could he want? you have fucked in the tavern after it closed, and you probably will not do it again. (you got a few splinters.)

kaaaaeeeya!!!

he’s like,, really cold. it’s surprising. feels good tho, for the both of you. he’s really loud as well, and despite him being louder than you he shoves his fingers in your mouth to shut you up,, maybe you’ll have to give him something to gag on. anyways he’s like around 7.1 inches, tip is a nice deep pink #ad6d78. looooves cockwarming, like literally you’re warming hiim up because his body temperature is…… quite freezy! tease, praise, degrading, all of it. dom but will sub if you edge him enough (grinding on his thigh, palming him, or just denying him of his orgasm plenty)

kazuha

he’s gentle, look me in the eyes and tell me this man could be rough with you. 5.9 inches, always making sure you’re okay before continuing. he loves hearing you moan his name, he manages to say yours as well between whimpers. you rarely have anywhere to do it other than the storage room in the crux, so sometimes you just gotta stay at the wangshu inn and pray nobody heard. no edging because he’s not mean but he does prepare you good, overstims you with permission. loves when you praise him, and he knows you love it when he praises you.

ok. scaramouche.

he is definitely a bratty sub. no words you speak can change my mind, he’s a slut. he’s so bratty until he’s in your mouth, whining, whimpering, gripping the sheets and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. he’s crying at how good it feels, how he wants to feel more of you, he’s barely able to form proper sentences after you just sucking him off, so now you wonder what he’d be like with him being deep inside you. he’s 7 inches, prety pink-beige tip as well (#f0b2a3). hairpulling is a yes. he just loves you so much, play with him some more and he bets his little puppet brain will turn into mush.

heizou!

pretty! i love the moles under his eyes aaaa…. he’s a nice size like kazuha, just a tad bit bigger (6.8), deeper pink, #d9626f. he loves teasing you so much, but he also loves being teased by you. when he’s not the dominant one he breathes heavily, some soft moans escape him. but when he is the dominant one, he’ll ensure he’s fucking you good. he’ll ask ‘does this feel nice?’ knowing it does by the way you’re almost crying on him.

tighnari!

submissive. 5.8 inches will probably bite his lip in attempt to shut himself up, but to no avail. loves when you bite his ears, they will twitch and it’s adorable. he’s just so cute. when he’s in a rut he’s so much louder. more whimpering and more of not knowing where the hell to put his hands. on your hips? your chest? your ass? fuck, he’s confused but he wants more, he wants to feel more of you. pretty light pink! #ff919e!

xiaoo

he’s inexperienced but he tries his best to be the dominant one, shaky breaths and moans escape his mouth. he tries to be gentle with you because, well, you’re a mortal and he’s an adeptus, you would be surprised how rough he can get. will make out with you while fucking you, and will happily let you sit on his face. he’s 7 inches, #e09e96. he cums super quick, 100% making sure to pull out (unless instructed to do otherwise)

ZHONGLI.

okay. he’s big. he’s a fucking archon, he’s 8 inches at LEASTT. yknow that pattern on his arm? yeah i like to think that’s on his dick too. tip is #d9b750, cause yk his arms.. he loves you, he wouldn’t want to hurt you but when you’re just begging him to be rough with you, to do whatever the hell he wants to you.. how could he resist? you’re the one asking him.. so.. he’ll let it slip this once. you don’t regret your words when the lower half of your body is hanging off of the bed, him manhandling you while the only thing you can do is bury your head into that pillow and let those pretty tears escape your eyes. he lets out literal feral moans and grunts, you think this is what he’s like when he goes into a rut, but.. ppfft, you underestimate him.

dottore my bbg

he’s probably like,, 7.4 inches? idk he looks big and i want him in me. doesn’t care for trimming himself, but does it anyway. the mask stays on. it only stays on because he doesn’t want you to see that blush on his face, he looks so vulnerable.. has you bent over on his desk to make sure you don’t see him bite his lip, he wants to be so much more vocal with you.. but he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment of letting you see that side of him. he doesn’t wanna give you something to tease him for; he’d rather be the one degrading and teasing you. oh, but trust me, when he’s submissive he can’t do shit. he tries to degrade you but that only leads to you slowing your hand down, moving your face away from his neck to stop kissing him. he chants the words ‘i’m sorry’ like a madman, so you decide to be nice and go a little faster, giving him a quick peck on the lips before he makes a mess of your hand.

pantalone

he’s pretty big as well, and he spoils you. buys you expensive toys just to make you cry. if you help him out in some way, he’ll be sure to reward you. lets you ride him, prefers you be in control. but once you’ve done it enough and he knows what you like, he’ll help you out. who would he be to deny? some sort of monster, that’s for sure. you’re perfect to him, following him around because you don’t know where you’re going. maybe if you tease him a little during a meeting with the other harbingers he’ll get rough with you afterward. that normal smile replaced by a smug look at how easily he can put you in your place.. he’ll never get enough of you.

capitano

he’s giant. like, in height and his cock. you were intimidated the first time you fucked, but with enough lube it ended up working out and you did not regret it. he was rough, your brain was dumbed down to putty, and the only thing running through it was just capitano.. the mask did stay on, yes.. but, he was still hot. maybe the next time you’d make him take it off. and you did. you saw his pretty eyes, his soft looking lips and the whole of his straight, black hair. he was a pretty guy.. he and you were both louder because you could actually see each other. (he could see you but not all that well.)

dainsleif

he’s always so unsure, tense, nervous, stuttering and just hot (temperature wise.) oh, but once you grind against him he immediately cums. he was embarrassed at how he just came in his pants because of you. he tries hiding his face but that didn’t work, you just grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye. his face was red.. he’s just too cute! all flustered, all messy and embarrassed.. all because of you. 6.8 inches, it’s def pink and i give up on hex codes.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

5k is so deserved! I constantly go back and reread your works and am always looking forward to what’s next ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve been having thoughts about a Hesh x femreader reunion request thats similar to your latest Keegan piece. Except reader was childhood friends with the Walker boys, but despite there being feelings between Hesh and reader they’re scared of confessing because of their friendship. they get separated when Odin happens, and both join the military and reunite during a joint Op with the Ghosts and readers team, and even after 10 years their feelings resurface and finally get together.

Can’t wait to see what you’ll write for all the requests!!

—To The Boy of My Childhood

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

You remembered his kindness, above all. His big, pure, heart. Hesh wasn’t just someone you grew to know and then threw out like a pair of old socks, no, he was too good for that—a mix of playful boyishness and the makes of a fine man. You wished you could have told him how much he meant to you before it all just fell apart. 

Growing up near the Walker boys was a treat and a curse, not for yourselves, but for the adults—no one got in the way of you three. Late nights in the backyard, laughter keeping everyone up into the small hours. The fights and the near-instantaneous make-ups. 

The older years of deep-rooted attraction to the green-eyed boy of your youth.

David Hesh Walker had been everything you had ever wanted, and even when the ground shook and the word split, you still couldn’t tell him how you felt. But fate had plans for the two of you—it was only a matter of time. 

Ten years, to be exact.

You jump down from the helo, your knees taking the brunt of the weight from your gear as your team follows. Fort Santa Monica was a bustling stronghold right on the door of Federation occupation—enemies stalking like animals beyond the wall for a glimpse of weakness. The men and women here were anything but.

“On me!” You call out behind you, and the resounding rush of booted feet follows as you all move out along the helicopter pad swiftly. The unit you were assigned was given a simple task—assist the commanding Captain here and his men with wall defense to reduce the amount of casualties. 

Over the ten years of war, you’d honed yourself into something akin to a walking weapon. Found deliriously surviving in the remnants of the USA, your rage and anger gave you the skills you needed to still be alive when the soldiers found you; brought you back to civilization. It hadn’t taken much for you to sign up after that, thinking Hesh and his brother were dead. 

Hesh. God, you had loved him so much that the feeling hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even now. Being so close to home once more made you feel…strange. 

“Lieutenant!” One of the soldiers comes up to greet you all, shouting above the whir of blades—he was an older man with a shaved head and a large beard. “Welcome to Santa Monica!”

“Good to be here!” You call, a rifle hanging heavy on your chest. “Where do you need us, Sir?”

“Fall in, I’m bringin’ you to Scarecrow!” So you follow, leaving the sandy beach of the port and heading into the dense streets. There were civilians in this Fort, you knew, just beyond the checkpoint of fences. You have to wonder how they felt about this—trapped in a rat cage with the water and the war clamping to them tightly. 

“Heard your unit was well-known.” You’d learned the man’s name was Thomas Merrick—a Captain here. You blink at him, head tilting. “Scarecrow was eager to get you here, can’t say why.” 

“I was told you needed support at the wall, Captain,” you explain, brows furrowing. “Were my superiors mistaken?”

Merrick's brown eyes stare at you as you walk beside him, your men all speaking to one another from behind. 

“No,” is all you’re told. 

This ‘Scarecrow’ was known as only that, and your lips thin at the comment leveled at you. Strange. 

Your other men are shown their barracks, and you send them off to get rid of their packs and belongings while you continue on with Merrick to the control room—eager to meet this Captain and get real answers. 

When you get there, the second you push open the door and Merrick takes his leave, you’re greeted by one of the old faces that you could recognize anywhere. 

You freeze just three feet into the room, locking eyes with this mythical ‘Scarecrow’ but it wasn’t some great war strategist, at least, not as you know him.

“Mr. Walker?” You pause, blinking in confusion. Elias Walker—Hesh and Logan’s dad. Your heart constricts in your chest. 

He looks at you, a small smile on his stern face as his arms crossed, nodding his head. 

“Thought I recognized that name in my request for transfers.” 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, a grin breaking out over your face for the first time in ages. Part of you wanted to race and hug him—bathe in the comfort that his rare soft looks would bring you when you were younger…but you weren’t that kid anymore. Being alive was enough, and with the things you’d seen, it meant far more than anything else. Elias seemed to share that sentiment, as he walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. 

“How did…how are…” Your head shakes quickly, memories flooding back along with the pain. But there, in your chest, a flicker of hope—something more blooming back to life. “Logan?” Your voice is tiny, pleading as you pause, gazing into Elias’s eyes. “...Hesh?”

“I already called ‘em back in. They’ll be here soon.” He gives you a proud nod. “I’m glad you’re still here, Sweetheart.” 

You laugh, smile wobbling. 

Alive. Hesh was alive. 

Every wall you’d built falls the second boyish laughter echoes out from the halls. You turn, hearing feet move down the floor, closer and closer as your body stills like a statue. 

Alive. 

When a shoulder pushes open the door, you stop breathing as a far older David enters the room, Logan, as always, not far behind. 

He’s mature now, with a beanie over his short brown hair and the presence of a grown man holding down responsibilities—he was smirking back and his brother, saying in a voice that haunts your dreams, “Think we should tell him what Riley found today, Logan?” 

The younger brother stops short, locks eyes with you, and his body goes as tight as a fishing line. 

Hesh’s brows furrow. “Logan?” He turns to you and those green eyes go confused for a moment, lips going thin. It’s a flash of recognition that re-ignites them—a flicker of something long past before they snap wide with fierce realization.

Blinking quickly, the man watches you, hands at his sides jerking forward by a millimeter as if to grab for you at even a single glance. No one speaks for a long, long time, and maybe you don’t want them to. Hesh and you are locked in a look of pure pain and elation—a dance of life and death. 

There aren’t any words for it beyond the sudden mad scramble for the other’s hold. 

You collide in a sharp breath and a hand to the back of your head—keeping you to him as you both grasp for purchase; for a glimpse of your childhood back.

“Jesus Christ,” Hesh breathes, anchoring you to him as his chest sputters. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Hesh,” you whimper through a sobbing laugh. “You son of a bitch, I should throttle you.”

He scoffs wetly into your ear, hands quivering and voice cracking. 

“Me? If I remember, Doll, you were the one to take that tumble down the hill—I…I tried to find you, y’know that? I swear, I didn’t want to leave but I—”

You pull back and slam your lips to his. 

It was far better than an ‘I love you’ when he melted and grappled you closer.

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

Behold, a bracket!

Text form below the cut because trying to copy all the 256 into the alt text sounded.... horrifying. Warning for 128 matchups, seriously, this list is long, and so I've avoided adding the artists until the polls.

a note: the pinned post has started misbehaving, so only open polls will be directly linked. closed polls instead have the results page linked in the set header, all the polls are linked from there

Set 1

The Lament for Icarus (Miao He) vs The Lament for Icarus (Herbert Draper)

The angel came to me in a fever hallucination, perched upon my bed as I returned from the bathroom. vs Sweet Brown Snail

Figures vs A Philosopher Lecturing on the Orrery

Happy Shoppers vs Hubble Deep Field

Lovers Painting vs Bath Curtain

Dr. Helen Taussig vs Une Martyre

Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage) vs Can’t Help Myself

Rape vs Technicolor Hiroshima

Set 2

A Walk at Dusk vs Based on “Autoportrait with the Model” by Maria-Rayevska Ivanova

Diary Page vs Les Jours Gigantesques (The Titanic Days)

Dead of Night vs You Won't

Christina's World vs Bobby

Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You) vs Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Sharecropper vs Lustmord

The Parca and the Angel of Death vs Untitled (Zdzisław Beksiński)

Stress vs The Fallen Angel

Set 3

Device to Root Out Evil vs Travelling Light

Diana vs Fifty Days at Iliam: The Fire that Consumes All before It

The Plains, from Memory vs Exotic Bodies

Doubting Thomas vs Self-Portrait in the Bathroom Mirror

Empty Nest vs Somebody Fell From Aloft

Anguish vs If I Died

Cat in Obsolete Bath vs You're Not Boring Anymore

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World) vs Untitled (billboard of an empty unmade bed)

Set 4

There Will Be No Miracles Here vs Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace

Fox Hunt vs Tarpaulin

Khajuraho Group of Monuments vs Ranakpur Jain Temple

ปราสาทสัจธรรม (The Sanctuary of Truth) vs Grande Panorama de Lisboa

Heroic Head of Pierre de Wissant, One of the Burghers of Calais vs The Weather

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit vs If this is art

Statue of Vincent and Theo van Gogh vs Jeanne d’Arc écoutant les voix (Joan of Arc listening to the Voices)

Fountain vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

Set 5

Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Cave of El Castillo

Chauvet Cave Bear vs Uffington White Horse

Laocoön and His Sons vs Winged Victory of Samothrace

Crouching Aphrodite vs Statue of Taweret

Guardian Figure vs Kūya-Shonin (Saint Kuya)

Ancient Greek doll vs Arena #7 (Bears)

Enbu (炎舞) (Dancing in the Flames) vs Yearning Shadows

Belfast to Byzantium vs Freedom

Set 6

The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayan vs Portraits

The Blood Mirror vs Nighthawks

Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw vs Forgotten Dreams

Saint Bride vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

War Pieta vs The Sunset

The Handmaidens of Sivawara Preparing the Sacred Bull at Tanjore for a Festival vs Ajax and Cassandra

Nāve (Death) vs Abstraction

Set 7

Yes vs Meeting on the Turret Stair

Hacked to Death II vs Stańczyk

Closeness Lines Over Time vs Voice of Fire

The Maple Trees at Mama, the Tekona Shrine and Tsugihashi Bridge vs Portrait of Sir Thomas More

Survival Series: In a Dream You Saw a Way vs Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre

Death blowing bubbles vs The Kitchen Table Series

Painting 1946 vs In the Grip of Winter

Untitled (Black and Gray) vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

Set 8

Blue Plate Special vs Red Cedar

Palace of Fine Arts vs Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba

Le Château des Pyrénées (The Castle of the Pyrenees) vs Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray

Moby Dick vs Viva la Vida, Watermelons

Venus Envy Chapter One (Of the First Holy Communion Moments Before the End) vs how to look at art

St. Sebastian vs Untitled #12

Carroña vs The invincible one

Untitled (Two Dogs) vs The Dog

SECOND HALF

Set 9

David (Donatello) vs David (Michelangelo)

The Other Side vs The Temptation of St. Jerome

Seated Woman with Bent Knees vs Starry Night

Headdress - Shadae vs Untitled for the Image Flow's Queer Conscience exhibit

Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind) vs Les Amants (The Lovers)

Siroče na majčinom grobu (Orphan on Mother's Grave) vs You Make My World a Better Place to Find

Fighting Against SARS Memorial Architectural Scene (弘揚抗疫精神建築景觀) vs Fallingwater

Resting vs The Hull

Set 10

Olive Trees vs Worship

Glow vs Wheatfield with Crows

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X vs Untitled (He Plays Very Badly)

D.I.Y. by John Wiswell vs The Tragedy

Judith and the Head of Holofernes vs Beethovenfries (Beethoven Frieze)

The Memory of Me (How Could I Forget) vs oh god i had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but i’m too drunk for words

I am happy because everyone loves me vs 瀕危形態 (Endangered Forms)

Three Scaffolders vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

Set 11

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk vs Water-Lilies, Reflection of a Weeping Willow

The Grief of the Pasha vs Monolith in Vigeland Sculpture Park

Passion vs Space Diner

Hamlet and Ophelia vs Two Earthlings

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth vs Seer Bonnets

Photograph from "SNAP OSAKA" Collection vs Clytemnestra after the Murder

“Untitled” (Perfect Lovers) vs The Lovers (TIE)

Kedai Ubat Jenun vs Orange Store Front

Set 12

The Apotheosis of War vs Portrait of the Dancer Aleksandr Sakharov

Julie Manet vs Mouth

The Icebergs vs Kaleidoscope Cats III

Maman vs Caza Nocturna (Night Hunt)

The Book of Kells Folio 188r: Luke carpet page vs Ardagh Chalice

Yusuf and Zulaikha vs Dome of the Rock mosaics

Rowan Leaves and Hole vs Untitled (prisonhannibal)

Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man) vs The Dedication

Set 13

Deimos vs Dog and Bridge

The Mocking of Christ vs Prudence

The Broken Column vs Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo

Transi de René de Chalon (Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon) vs Head of Christ

The Day vs Spirit of Haida Gwaii

Eleanor Boathouse at Park 571 vs Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban জাতীয় সংসদ ভবন (National Parliament House)

Juventud de Baco (Bacchus Youth) vs Barges on the Seine

Oath of the Horattii closeup vs Visit hos Excentrisk Dam (Visit to an eccentric lady)

Set 14

Christ Crucified (With Donor) vs St. Francis

Thunder Raining Poison vs Piazza d'Italia

The Grove vs Among the Waves

Pintura Mural de Alarcón vs Sagrada Família stained-glass windows

Noonday Heat vs La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and The Unicorn)

Matroser i Gröna Lund (Sailors in Gröna Lund) vs Gielda Plakatu

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks vs The Garden of Earthly Delights

Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death) vs Haavoittunut enkeli (The Wounded Angel)

Set 15

i've wasted a lifetime pretending to be me vs da oracle

minus #37 vs Panel from Fun Home

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)

The Veil vs Düsseldorf 4 (Museum Kunst Palast)

Capriccio vs Zodiac calendar for La Plume

The official imperial portrait of empress dowager Cixi vs José y Maria

Blooming Lilacs vs Lágrimas De Sangre (Tears of Blood)

An Interlude vs Boy Staring at an Apparition

Set 16

Mermer Waiskeder: Stories of the Moving Tide vs The Gran Hotel Ciudad de México Art Nouveau interior

Unfinished Painting vs To Arms!

Memorial to a Marriage vs The Island

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn vs A Few Small Nips

Saturn Devouring His Son vs Guernica

Fairy Princesses vs Lamentation over the Dead Christ

Mummy with An Inserted Panel Portrait of a Youth vs Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party

Agnus vs The Cup Of His Murders Is Flowing Over And In His Coat Shall Be Many Curses

[lupineaerosol]

traveler pt. 3 | thomas shelby x f!reader

not my gifs! dm for credit

parts one and two

pairing : thomas shelby x time traveled!reader

word count : 2431 (shorter chap but i love it sm)

summary : it's been a few days of a quickly forming schedule, and while running errands find yourself attempting to calm Danny Whizz-bang down from a panicked state. later on in the day you return to the Garrison to find a second woman attending the bar, and she was singing. a moment with thomas and a flashback!

warnings : alcohol mentioned, PTSD and panic attack, knives, blood, cigarettes(?), jumpscare(??), mention of guns

notes : this chapter came together super fast and im honestly really proud!! was a total headache trying to get the timeline all correct n shit but this came out perfect n i think yall are going to loveee it

It had been a few days of work, breaks, a quick shopping trip when you could spare the time with the money you earned from individuals at the bar, and sleep. Last night’s sleep had been filled with half remembered dreams, and the morning as foggy as your icy dawn in Inverness. You swung your feet out of bed to softly touch the floor, and you start your day. Warming water downstairs in the bar for a quick wash back up in your apartment. Brushing your hair with your fingers, and marking down a growing list of items you would need to purchase, more major things crossed out at the top. Blouses, skirts, undergarments, socks, bedsheets, lamps etc. 

With the leftover clean water you were able to wash your dirty shirts and hang them to dry near the window. You tugged your sneakers onto your feet and laid your skirt over them neatly when you stood from your bed. A yellowed and previously white shirt a tad too small tucked into the green skirt, and a brown shaul you found, forgotten in the dresser of your bedroom. 

Venturing out with your list in hand, you first stopped at an Italian cafe purchasing a small pastry and a tea you enjoyed sitting at a table outside. You took a long sip followed by a sigh, and a familiar face came into view: Danny Whizz-bang, and he looked distraught.

He was muttering to himself, gripping his hat from off his head and holding it to his chest as he sunk into a seat near you. A chair fell loudly next to him after he had bumped it with his hip. Rocking back and forth, nearly shivering. You had to help in some way, with the distant booms of the factories and clattering noise of the street he was only getting more wound up.

“Excuse me,” You looked over at him with gentle eyes. “Do you have the time?” A gentle distraction, one simple task to take his mind off of whatever was happening behind his eyes.

Danny slightly jumped in his seat at the sound of your voice, but he began to pat his chest for a watch. His fingers fumbled and the chain to the watch shook subtly. “It’s a quarter past eight, ma’am.” His voice trembled, but he looked slightly less wild.

“Thank you,” You paused, looking back down to your pastry briefly. “Would you like to share this? I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it.” You tried to incorporate a small smile into your words, it didn’t quite have the comfort you intended. 

“That's quite alright ma’am, lovely wife at home makes all the meals I need.” His eyes darted around the street, still disturbed. A loud boom and he jumped, only to then put his face down and yell loudly at his feet. An Italian gentleman in an apron stepped out of the cafe, talking and gesturing angrily in half broken English about how Danny was scaring you. Danny muttered into his hat and stood suddenly, the stress of the situation rising once again.

“Sir, sir I am fine, please don’t worry.” You tried interjecting, but the man raised his voice and began to yell for Danny to leave, finally pulling a knife from his pocket and threatening him. Danny’s eyes glazed over with rage and fear, lunging at the smaller man and redirecting the knife into the cafe owner. You stumbled back, seeing red pour from the Italian’s stomach. Danny was pulled away from the other man, remorse and regret smearing his face like a painting. Tears welled up in both of your eyes, and you didn’t attempt to get near him again. People chattered busily from around the street, and after a pause, Danny was off and running down the street.

-

You returned home after your errands helped calm you down, a basket full of new clothes that finally fit you hanging on your arm as you push through the doors of the Garrison to see Harry behind the bar and a blonde woman standing on a chair singing. The Garrison was silent under the melancholic song floating from her mouth. Harry never mentioned a new hire, and there was no way this could be his wife, she stayed away from the tavern like it was cursed. The blonde was pretty, and Irish from the sound of her singing. You claimed a spot at a golden support beam near the doors, not wanting to take attention away from the community enjoying music. 

The men had started to sing along, a lovely chorus rumbling through the building. It warmed the space, and you could almost hear the bricks echoing in harmony. The doors swung open and closed, and Mr. Shelby appeared to your right, his group following closely behind him. Men shuffled away and stopped singing along as the intimidating group claimed their spot to listen to the woman sing, an air of disapproval emanating from Thomas. 

Thomas was so near to you the heat radiating off his jacket made its way to your skin through your shirt and it felt like he diffused pure electricity. Had your hand been at your side, his knuckles would have bumped yours. You held your breath without consideration as to why. You didn’t even notice he had taken your breath away just by standing next to you. 

The blonde finished her song, and Harry approached Thomas with a smile. “We haven’t had singing in here since the war.” A long stare, cold and captivating from Thomas.

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” Thomas’ voice was crystal clear, and as he stepped away from you and into the corner room. You were immediately aware of the cold that replaced Thomas. An as he went to close the double doors, his eyes glanced back to catch yours, and for a split second you were captivated entirely by just how entrancing and menacing the man could be.

-

Earlier in the day

Thomas walked into the Shelby house with a bottle, his hat tossed carelessly to the side on a table. “Let me see him.” A short glance at Arthur’s face and it was obvious he was hurting. Blood spackled across his face and the first few buttons of his shirt. “Well here, have this.” Thomas handed his older brother the bottle and he took a drink.

“Give me that.” Thomas took back the bottle and doused a bit of cloth in the brown liquid, taking Arthur’s chin and pressing the alcohol into a gash in his cheek. Arthur hissed, “You’re all right.” Thomas tried comforting him, and Arthur’s right hand came to grip the younger man’s forearm. 

“He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham.” A long pause between the group. “National interest he said. Something about a robbery.” Arthur’s voice had a hint of rage. Thomas stepped back, lit cigarette hanging from his lips lazily.

“He says he wants us to help him.” Arthur continued.

“”We don’t help coppers.” John piped up from his place in the doorway.

“He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots, like him. Wants us to be his eyes and ears.” A cold emotion gripped the room, the feeling of breaking a lamp as a child and needing to hide any other evidence of misbehavior.

“And I’ve heard rumors he’s already keeping ears on us with the new women at the Garrison.” Arthur’s voice was flat, and Thomas’ mind went to the two women he had recently met. The American (Y/H/C) with the glass of water for Danny and the Irish blonde. “People say that she was on the train with him, saw the files he was carrying.” Suspicion heightened the tension in the room. 

“Fucking copper couldn’t put anyone in the Garrison to listen in on us, Harry keeps his staff straight.” John defended the familiar old establishment.

“Regardless, I told the copper we’d have a family meeting and take a vote.” Arthur guided the conversation back to the Inspector, and it almost seemed like he was suggesting they become spies for the police. Silence gripped at the throats of the family, and Thomas hesitated with an answer.

“Why not? Hmm?” Arthur turned on the offensive. “We have no truck with the Fenians or communists.” Thomas simply stared at the table. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur turned to face Pol. “What the fuck is wrong with him lately?”

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists.” Aunt Pol responded, lighting a cigarette. 

-

After the crowd had settled back into their seats in the Garrison, you ventured up to your apartment and unlocked the door, placing your things inside and turning to leave again to start helping downstairs. As you again pulled the key from the door a shadow appeared from behind you.

“Why did you visit the police station?” An unfamiliar voice rang through the empty hall, chatter from the bar filling the silence. You turned around slowly, adrenaline at the surface of your skin. You were unfamiliar with the man’s name, but you recognized his face. He was in the group of men Harry had talked to about you a few nights ago. “Now is not the time to lie, madam, and I would appreciate it if we could speak quickly, I have a beer downstairs waiting for me.”

Your stomach sunk, knowing that there was no lying your way out of the situation. “I had been traveling from Inverness to London when I met a man on the train. I didn’t know he was a policeman when I explained to him I had lost my passport, and he offered to help get me a visa. I only visited him to explain I didn’t need it anymore.” Your hands twisted the fabric of your shirt anxiously while you spoke quickly.

“Did you see what files he was carrying?” His gruff voice commanded your attention.

“Uhm..” You paused, trying desperately to recall what the hideous green folders had typed on the front of them. “Uhh, Oh! Something about a munitions robbery, and the suspects that they have.” 

“Did you see any of the names?” He pressured again, leaning slightly closer.

“No, none at all.” You had backed up flush against your door, the wood creaking quietly.

The man leaned back and nodded, thin dirty-blonde hair poking out like straw from under his hat. Your words seemed to appease him to whatever capacity. He straightened his cap and muttered a quiet ‘thank you for your time’, before turning to leave.

“How did you know I visited the police station?” You asked, still shaken from the question. 

“There are eyes in this town madam, you’d be wise to make your intentions clear to them.” Was all the answer you got from over his shoulder.

-

Boxes and crates with their lids slammed down on top of and hammered into place. Two men loading a riverboat in the dead of night, a third walking from the road with a cigarette floating lazily from his hand to his mouth. 

“Uncle Charlie, a word.” His flat cap reflected the quarter moon on a razor’s edge.

“They are aboard. There’s no moon.” Charlie Strong stepped down the wooden gangway. “We can take them out to the turning point beyond Gas Street and leave them on the bank. They’ll be found by railway men first thing.”

The nephew put his cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag, smoke trailing from his nose and mouth as the dragon exhaled.

The pause was too long for Charlie Strong’s liking. “Is that an agreement?”

The young man’s face scrunched for a second and then fell. “I changed my mind.” 

“You what?”

“I have an alternative strategy.” The plot unraveled in his mind, yet another calculated step navigated with ease. Everything came easy to the Shelby boys when they put their minds to it, and that was why Thomas was in charge. “Tell Curly to take her out to the old tobacco wharf. There’s a lockup mooring we used to keep cigarettes. He knows it. When the boat leaves your yard, it’s no longer your concern.” He shared his cigarette with his uncle.

He took a fast drag. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Have you not seen the streets? They’ve sent a fucking army to find these things.”

“That’s right. They’ve shown their hand.” Thomas said casually.

Charlie scoffed. “Their hand?”

“If they want them back this bad, they’ll have to pay. That’s the way of the world.” Thomas’ eyes moved to his uncle’s. “Fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don’t just dump it on the bank of the Cut.” He pointed his chin to the river with a lift of his head. 

“You’re blood Tommy, I’ve always looked out for you like a dad.” Charlie paused. “You’re going to bring holy hell down on your head. This copper takes no prisoners.”

The young man nearly scoffed out loud. “I’m told he didn’t serve.” His eyebrows raised for a split second. “Reserved occupation.”

“Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?” 

His voice turned stern. “What did you find out from (Y/N)?” 

“She’s not working with the copper, but she wasn’t telling the entire truth.” Charlie spoke of the young woman Thomas requested he talk to. “But whatever you heard was correct, she was at the police station a few days back. She'd traveled down from Inverness, met the copper on the train. All she saw was a munitions robbery suspect list.” He took another short hit from the tobacco.

“Harry said that she was honest, she talked about how she couldn’t afford the trip to London. He said he hired her because he needed to. He couldn’t turn her away. But most importantly, he trusts her.” Charlie continued.

“You have to bring her into the business. If word gets out she knows about the guns, that copper will torture her. She’s an American, she’ll stay loyal to whoever gets to her heartstrings first, Tommy.” Charlie’s voice held genuine concern for your wellbeing. It seemed the only men you met in Small Heath wanted to protect you. “Don’t let an innocent person be hurt in the crossfire, Thomas.”

“I’ll talk to her, get the full story.” Thomas sighed, frustrated, he had far better things to do than sniff out a possible rat at the Garrison. He turned to fully face his uncle emphatically. “The tobacco wharf.” He tucked a set of keys into the older gentleman’s pocket. “By order of the Peaky Blinders.” 

And walked off into the night.

a.n. : TEEHEE i love this chapter sorry if its confusing as all hell at time but i tried me best,,,, im also still completely unaware as to how to make a taglist but im gonna figure it out (maybe) !!!