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lesmisletters-daily · 12 days ago

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The Evening Of A Day Of Walking

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.2.1

Early in the month of October, 1815, about an hour before sunset, a man who was travelling on foot entered the little town of D—— The few inhabitants who were at their windows or on their thresholds at the moment stared at this traveller with a sort of uneasiness. It was difficult to encounter a wayfarer of more wretched appearance. He was a man of medium stature, thickset and robust, in the prime of life. He might have been forty-six or forty-eight years old. A cap with a drooping leather visor partly concealed his face, burned and tanned by sun and wind, and dripping with perspiration. His shirt of coarse yellow linen, fastened at the neck by a small silver anchor, permitted a view of his hairy breast: he had a cravat twisted into a string; trousers of blue drilling, worn and threadbare, white on one knee and torn on the other; an old gray, tattered blouse, patched on one of the elbows with a bit of green cloth sewed on with twine; a tightly packed soldier knapsack, well buckled and perfectly new, on his back; an enormous, knotty stick in his hand; iron-shod shoes on his stockingless feet; a shaved head and a long beard.

The sweat, the heat, the journey on foot, the dust, added I know not what sordid quality to this dilapidated whole. His hair was closely cut, yet bristling, for it had begun to grow a little, and did not seem to have been cut for some time.

No one knew him. He was evidently only a chance passer-by. Whence came he? From the south; from the seashore, perhaps, for he made his entrance into D—— by the same street which, seven months previously, had witnessed the passage of the Emperor Napoleon on his way from Cannes to Paris. This man must have been walking all day. He seemed very much fatigued. Some women of the ancient market town which is situated below the city had seen him pause beneath the trees of the boulevard Gassendi, and drink at the fountain which stands at the end of the promenade. He must have been very thirsty: for the children who followed him saw him stop again for a drink, two hundred paces further on, at the fountain in the market-place.

On arriving at the corner of the Rue Poichevert, he turned to the left, and directed his steps toward the town-hall. He entered, then came out a quarter of an hour later. A gendarme was seated near the door, on the stone bench which General Drouot had mounted on the 4th of March to read to the frightened throng of the inhabitants of D—— the proclamation of the Gulf Juan. The man pulled off his cap and humbly saluted the gendarme.

The gendarme, without replying to his salute, stared attentively at him, followed him for a while with his eyes, and then entered the town-hall.

There then existed at D—— a fine inn at the sign of the Cross of Colbas. This inn had for a landlord a certain Jacquin Labarre, a man of consideration in the town on account of his relationship to another Labarre, who kept the inn of the Three Dauphins in Grenoble, and had served in the Guides. At the time of the Emperor’s landing, many rumors had circulated throughout the country with regard to this inn of the Three Dauphins. It was said that General Bertrand, disguised as a carter, had made frequent trips thither in the month of January, and that he had distributed crosses of honor to the soldiers and handfuls of gold to the citizens. The truth is, that when the Emperor entered Grenoble he had refused to install himself at the hotel of the prefecture; he had thanked the mayor, saying, “I am going to the house of a brave man of my acquaintance”; and he had betaken himself to the Three Dauphins. This glory of the Labarre of the Three Dauphins was reflected upon the Labarre of the Cross of Colbas, at a distance of five and twenty leagues. It was said of him in the town, “That is the cousin of the man of Grenoble.”

The man bent his steps towards this inn, which was the best in the country-side. He entered the kitchen, which opened on a level with the street. All the stoves were lighted; a huge fire blazed gayly in the fireplace. The host, who was also the chief cook, was going from one stew-pan to another, very busily superintending an excellent dinner designed for the wagoners, whose loud talking, conversation, and laughter were audible from an adjoining apartment. Any one who has travelled knows that there is no one who indulges in better cheer than wagoners. A fat marmot, flanked by white partridges and heather-cocks, was turning on a long spit before the fire; on the stove, two huge carps from Lake Lauzet and a trout from Lake Alloz were cooking.

The host, hearing the door open and seeing a newcomer enter, said, without raising his eyes from his stoves:—

“What do you wish, sir?”

“Food and lodging,” said the man.

“Nothing easier,” replied the host. At that moment he turned his head, took in the traveller’s appearance with a single glance, and added, “By paying for it.”

The man drew a large leather purse from the pocket of his blouse, and answered, “I have money.”

“In that case, we are at your service,” said the host.

The man put his purse back in his pocket, removed his knapsack from his back, put it on the ground near the door, retained his stick in his hand, and seated himself on a low stool close to the fire. D—— is in the mountains. The evenings are cold there in October.

But as the host went back and forth, he scrutinized the traveller.

“Will dinner be ready soon?” said the man.

“Immediately,” replied the landlord.

While the newcomer was warming himself before the fire, with his back turned, the worthy host, Jacquin Labarre, drew a pencil from his pocket, then tore off the corner of an old newspaper which was lying on a small table near the window. On the white margin he wrote a line or two, folded it without sealing, and then intrusted this scrap of paper to a child who seemed to serve him in the capacity both of scullion and lackey. The landlord whispered a word in the scullion’s ear, and the child set off on a run in the direction of the town-hall.

The traveller saw nothing of all this.

Once more he inquired, “Will dinner be ready soon?”

“Immediately,” responded the host.

The child returned. He brought back the paper. The host unfolded it eagerly, like a person who is expecting a reply. He seemed to read it attentively, then tossed his head, and remained thoughtful for a moment. Then he took a step in the direction of the traveller, who appeared to be immersed in reflections which were not very serene.

“I cannot receive you, sir,” said he.

The man half rose.

“What! Are you afraid that I will not pay you? Do you want me to pay you in advance? I have money, I tell you.”

“It is not that.”

“What then?”

“You have money—”

“Yes,” said the man.

“And I,” said the host, “have no room.”

The man resumed tranquilly, “Put me in the stable.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“The horses take up all the space.”

“Very well!” retorted the man; “a corner of the loft then, a truss of straw. We will see about that after dinner.”

“I cannot give you any dinner.”

This declaration, made in a measured but firm tone, struck the stranger as grave. He rose.

“Ah! bah! But I am dying of hunger. I have been walking since sunrise. I have travelled twelve leagues. I pay. I wish to eat.”

“I have nothing,” said the landlord.

The man burst out laughing, and turned towards the fireplace and the stoves: “Nothing! and all that?”

“All that is engaged.”

“By whom?”

“By messieurs the wagoners.”

“How many are there of them?”

“Twelve.”

“There is enough food there for twenty.”

“They have engaged the whole of it and paid for it in advance.”

The man seated himself again, and said, without raising his voice, “I am at an inn; I am hungry, and I shall remain.”

Then the host bent down to his ear, and said in a tone which made him start, “Go away!”

At that moment the traveller was bending forward and thrusting some brands into the fire with the iron-shod tip of his staff; he turned quickly round, and as he opened his mouth to reply, the host gazed steadily at him and added, still in a low voice: “Stop! there’s enough of that sort of talk. Do you want me to tell you your name? Your name is Jean Valjean. Now do you want me to tell you who you are? When I saw you come in I suspected something; I sent to the town-hall, and this was the reply that was sent to me. Can you read?”

So saying, he held out to the stranger, fully unfolded, the paper which had just travelled from the inn to the town-hall, and from the town-hall to the inn. The man cast a glance upon it. The landlord resumed after a pause.

“I am in the habit of being polite to every one. Go away!”

The man dropped his head, picked up the knapsack which he had deposited on the ground, and took his departure.

He chose the principal street. He walked straight on at a venture, keeping close to the houses like a sad and humiliated man. He did not turn round a single time. Had he done so, he would have seen the host of the Cross of Colbas standing on his threshold, surrounded by all the guests of his inn, and all the passers-by in the street, talking vivaciously, and pointing him out with his finger; and, from the glances of terror and distrust cast by the group, he might have divined that his arrival would speedily become an event for the whole town.

He saw nothing of all this. People who are crushed do not look behind them. They know but too well the evil fate which follows them.

Thus he proceeded for some time, walking on without ceasing, traversing at random streets of which he knew nothing, forgetful of his fatigue, as is often the case when a man is sad. All at once he felt the pangs of hunger sharply. Night was drawing near. He glanced about him, to see whether he could not discover some shelter.

The fine hostelry was closed to him; he was seeking some very humble public house, some hovel, however lowly.

Just then a light flashed up at the end of the streets; a pine branch suspended from a cross-beam of iron was outlined against the white sky of the twilight. He proceeded thither.

It proved to be, in fact, a public house. The public house which is in the Rue de Chaffaut.

The wayfarer halted for a moment, and peeped through the window into the interior of the low-studded room of the public house, illuminated by a small lamp on a table and by a large fire on the hearth. Some men were engaged in drinking there. The landlord was warming himself. An iron pot, suspended from a crane, bubbled over the flame.

The entrance to this public house, which is also a sort of an inn, is by two doors. One opens on the street, the other upon a small yard filled with manure. The traveller dare not enter by the street door. He slipped into the yard, halted again, then raised the latch timidly and opened the door.

“Who goes there?” said the master.

“Some one who wants supper and bed.”

“Good. We furnish supper and bed here.”

He entered. All the men who were drinking turned round. The lamp illuminated him on one side, the firelight on the other. They examined him for some time while he was taking off his knapsack.

The host said to him, “There is the fire. The supper is cooking in the pot. Come and warm yourself, comrade.”

He approached and seated himself near the hearth. He stretched out his feet, which were exhausted with fatigue, to the fire; a fine odor was emitted by the pot. All that could be distinguished of his face, beneath his cap, which was well pulled down, assumed a vague appearance of comfort, mingled with that other poignant aspect which habitual suffering bestows.

It was, moreover, a firm, energetic, and melancholy profile. This physiognomy was strangely composed; it began by seeming humble, and ended by seeming severe. The eye shone beneath its lashes like a fire beneath brushwood.

One of the men seated at the table, however, was a fishmonger who, before entering the public house of the Rue de Chaffaut, had been to stable his horse at Labarre’s. It chanced that he had that very morning encountered this unprepossessing stranger on the road between Bras d’Asse and—I have forgotten the name. I think it was Escoublon. Now, when he met him, the man, who then seemed already extremely weary, had requested him to take him on his crupper; to which the fishmonger had made no reply except by redoubling his gait. This fishmonger had been a member half an hour previously of the group which surrounded Jacquin Labarre, and had himself related his disagreeable encounter of the morning to the people at the Cross of Colbas. From where he sat he made an imperceptible sign to the tavern-keeper. The tavern-keeper went to him. They exchanged a few words in a low tone. The man had again become absorbed in his reflections.

The tavern-keeper returned to the fireplace, laid his hand abruptly on the shoulder of the man, and said to him:—

“You are going to get out of here.”

The stranger turned round and replied gently, “Ah! You know?—”

“Yes.”

“I was sent away from the other inn.”

“And you are to be turned out of this one.”

“Where would you have me go?”

“Elsewhere.”

The man took his stick and his knapsack and departed.

As he went out, some children who had followed him from the Cross of Colbas, and who seemed to be lying in wait for him, threw stones at him. He retraced his steps in anger, and threatened them with his stick: the children dispersed like a flock of birds.

He passed before the prison. At the door hung an iron chain attached to a bell. He rang.

The wicket opened.

“Turnkey,” said he, removing his cap politely, “will you have the kindness to admit me, and give me a lodging for the night?”

A voice replied:—

“The prison is not an inn. Get yourself arrested, and you will be admitted.”

The wicket closed again.

He entered a little street in which there were many gardens. Some of them are enclosed only by hedges, which lends a cheerful aspect to the street. In the midst of these gardens and hedges he caught sight of a small house of a single story, the window of which was lighted up. He peered through the pane as he had done at the public house. Within was a large whitewashed room, with a bed draped in printed cotton stuff, and a cradle in one corner, a few wooden chairs, and a double-barrelled gun hanging on the wall. A table was spread in the centre of the room. A copper lamp illuminated the tablecloth of coarse white linen, the pewter jug shining like silver, and filled with wine, and the brown, smoking soup-tureen. At this table sat a man of about forty, with a merry and open countenance, who was dandling a little child on his knees. Close by a very young woman was nursing another child. The father was laughing, the child was laughing, the mother was smiling.

The stranger paused a moment in reverie before this tender and calming spectacle. What was taking place within him? He alone could have told. It is probable that he thought that this joyous house would be hospitable, and that, in a place where he beheld so much happiness, he would find perhaps a little pity.

He tapped on the pane with a very small and feeble knock.

They did not hear him.

He tapped again.

He heard the woman say, “It seems to me, husband, that some one is knocking.”

“No,” replied the husband.

He tapped a third time.

The husband rose, took the lamp, and went to the door, which he opened.

He was a man of lofty stature, half peasant, half artisan. He wore a huge leather apron, which reached to his left shoulder, and which a hammer, a red handkerchief, a powder-horn, and all sorts of objects which were upheld by the girdle, as in a pocket, caused to bulge out. He carried his head thrown backwards; his shirt, widely opened and turned back, displayed his bull neck, white and bare. He had thick eyelashes, enormous black whiskers, prominent eyes, the lower part of his face like a snout; and besides all this, that air of being on his own ground, which is indescribable.

“Pardon me, sir,” said the wayfarer, “Could you, in consideration of payment, give me a plate of soup and a corner of that shed yonder in the garden, in which to sleep? Tell me; can you? For money?”

“Who are you?” demanded the master of the house.

The man replied: “I have just come from Puy-Moisson. I have walked all day long. I have travelled twelve leagues. Can you?—if I pay?”

“I would not refuse,” said the peasant, “to lodge any respectable man who would pay me. But why do you not go to the inn?”

“There is no room.”

“Bah! Impossible. This is neither a fair nor a market day. Have you been to Labarre?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

The traveller replied with embarrassment: “I do not know. He did not receive me.”

“Have you been to What’s-his-name’s, in the Rue Chaffaut?”

The stranger’s embarrassment increased; he stammered, “He did not receive me either.”

The peasant’s countenance assumed an expression of distrust; he surveyed the newcomer from head to feet, and suddenly exclaimed, with a sort of shudder:—

“Are you the man?—”

He cast a fresh glance upon the stranger, took three steps backwards, placed the lamp on the table, and took his gun down from the wall.

Meanwhile, at the words, Are you the man? the woman had risen, had clasped her two children in her arms, and had taken refuge precipitately behind her husband, staring in terror at the stranger, with her bosom uncovered, and with frightened eyes, as she murmured in a low tone, “Tso-maraude.”

All this took place in less time than it requires to picture it to one’s self. After having scrutinized the man for several moments, as one scrutinizes a viper, the master of the house returned to the door and said:—

“Clear out!”

“For pity’s sake, a glass of water,” said the man.

“A shot from my gun!” said the peasant.

Then he closed the door violently, and the man heard him shoot two large bolts. A moment later, the window-shutter was closed, and the sound of a bar of iron which was placed against it was audible outside.

Night continued to fall. A cold wind from the Alps was blowing. By the light of the expiring day the stranger perceived, in one of the gardens which bordered the street, a sort of hut, which seemed to him to be built of sods. He climbed over the wooden fence resolutely, and found himself in the garden. He approached the hut; its door consisted of a very low and narrow aperture, and it resembled those buildings which road-laborers construct for themselves along the roads. He thought without doubt, that it was, in fact, the dwelling of a road-laborer; he was suffering from cold and hunger, but this was, at least, a shelter from the cold. This sort of dwelling is not usually occupied at night. He threw himself flat on his face, and crawled into the hut. It was warm there, and he found a tolerably good bed of straw. He lay, for a moment, stretched out on this bed, without the power to make a movement, so fatigued was he. Then, as the knapsack on his back was in his way, and as it furnished, moreover, a pillow ready to his hand, he set about unbuckling one of the straps. At that moment, a ferocious growl became audible. He raised his eyes. The head of an enormous dog was outlined in the darkness at the entrance of the hut.

It was a dog’s kennel.

He was himself vigorous and formidable; he armed himself with his staff, made a shield of his knapsack, and made his way out of the kennel in the best way he could, not without enlarging the rents in his rags.

He left the garden in the same manner, but backwards, being obliged, in order to keep the dog respectful, to have recourse to that manœuvre with his stick which masters in that sort of fencing designate as la rose couverte.

When he had, not without difficulty, repassed the fence, and found himself once more in the street, alone, without refuge, without shelter, without a roof over his head, chased even from that bed of straw and from that miserable kennel, he dropped rather than seated himself on a stone, and it appears that a passer-by heard him exclaim, “I am not even a dog!”

He soon rose again and resumed his march. He went out of the town, hoping to find some tree or haystack in the fields which would afford him shelter.

He walked thus for some time, with his head still drooping. When he felt himself far from every human habitation, he raised his eyes and gazed searchingly about him. He was in a field. Before him was one of those low hills covered with close-cut stubble, which, after the harvest, resemble shaved heads.

The horizon was perfectly black. This was not alone the obscurity of night; it was caused by very low-hanging clouds which seemed to rest upon the hill itself, and which were mounting and filling the whole sky. Meanwhile, as the moon was about to rise, and as there was still floating in the zenith a remnant of the brightness of twilight, these clouds formed at the summit of the sky a sort of whitish arch, whence a gleam of light fell upon the earth.

The earth was thus better lighted than the sky, which produces a particularly sinister effect, and the hill, whose contour was poor and mean, was outlined vague and wan against the gloomy horizon. The whole effect was hideous, petty, lugubrious, and narrow.

There was nothing in the field or on the hill except a deformed tree, which writhed and shivered a few paces distant from the wayfarer.

This man was evidently very far from having those delicate habits of intelligence and spirit which render one sensible to the mysterious aspects of things; nevertheless, there was something in that sky, in that hill, in that plain, in that tree, which was so profoundly desolate, that after a moment of immobility and reverie he turned back abruptly. There are instants when nature seems hostile.

He retraced his steps; the gates of D—— were closed. D——, which had sustained sieges during the wars of religion, was still surrounded in 1815 by ancient walls flanked by square towers which have been demolished since. He passed through a breach and entered the town again.

It might have been eight o’clock in the evening. As he was not acquainted with the streets, he recommenced his walk at random.

In this way he came to the prefecture, then to the seminary. As he passed through the Cathedral Square, he shook his fist at the church.

At the corner of this square there is a printing establishment. It is there that the proclamations of the Emperor and of the Imperial Guard to the army, brought from the Island of Elba and dictated by Napoleon himself, were printed for the first time.

Worn out with fatigue, and no longer entertaining any hope, he lay down on a stone bench which stands at the doorway of this printing office.

At that moment an old woman came out of the church. She saw the man stretched out in the shadow. “What are you doing there, my friend?” said she.

He answered harshly and angrily: “As you see, my good woman, I am sleeping.” The good woman, who was well worthy the name, in fact, was the Marquise de R——

“On this bench?” she went on.

“I have had a mattress of wood for nineteen years,” said the man; “to-day I have a mattress of stone.”

“You have been a soldier?”

“Yes, my good woman, a soldier.”

“Why do you not go to the inn?”

“Because I have no money.”

“Alas!” said Madame de R——, “I have only four sous in my purse.”

“Give it to me all the same.”

The man took the four sous. Madame de R—— continued: “You cannot obtain lodgings in an inn for so small a sum. But have you tried? It is impossible for you to pass the night thus. You are cold and hungry, no doubt. Some one might have given you a lodging out of charity.”

“I have knocked at all doors.”

“Well?”

“I have been driven away everywhere.”

The “good woman” touched the man’s arm, and pointed out to him on the other side of the street a small, low house, which stood beside the Bishop’s palace.

“You have knocked at all doors?”

“Yes.”

“Have you knocked at that one?”

“No.”

“Knock there.”

#lm 1.2.1

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simfinityccfinds · 6 months ago

Text

My Sims 4 Mods Folder in text form.

By SimfintyPlays.

"Ever wonder who meticulously documents every mod in their game? Well, guess what? It's none other than me, Sara – the ultimate perfectionist with no room for glitchy mods. Consider this your go-to mod-slaying guide, not just another mundane list. Below, you'll discover the mod's status (When I mention Mods, I'm referring to gameplay, not cc or custom content) and a direct link to it. I genuinely hope this proves helpful to everyone, and I'll keep updating this document with each patch as best I can"

If you like what I do consider supporting me by subscribing to my YouTube which you can find below:

Important Links:

Let's start by exploring all my mods below 🙂:

KEY:

✓ - New Update Available

X- Broken / Hasn’t Been Updated

✓ (Does not affect the game ) - Pretty simple, no need to update

X / ✓ (unconfirmed) - Again Pretty Simple, The Creator is unsure if it causes issues so use at own risk/ Hasn’t spoken or made a post about their mods.

(The empty Ones are cc! So not mods lol and can be updated with sims4studio using batch fixes. Find the tutorial Here)

Update to Defaults:

Lamatisse Tapicoeyes Default

Lamatisse Tinsel Default Skin

Luumia Skin Vanilla Merged

VP Lush Bra, Boxers, and Panties

CAS MODS:

More CAS Columns ( Weerbesu) ✓

NSW CAS Tuning-Controlled Position MOD (Northern Siberian Winds) ✓

More Traits in CAS (The Pancake 1) ✓

Stand Still In Cas MizoreYukui (Shooksims) ✓

JS Gradual Aging ✓

100 Base Game Trait Pack X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

Kiara’s Traits + Mods X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

CAS HONORABLE MENTIONS:

No EA Eyelashes ✓

CAS Background #6 Oyster by Biancml

Sims 4 Elegant Font Override ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Minimalist Cas Organizer’s ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Ea Teeth Begone (Pyxis) ✓ (Does not affect the game )

BUILD AND BUY MODS:

T.O.O.L MOD (Twisted Mexi) X

BetterBuildBuy (Twisted Mexi) X

ESSENTIAL MODS:

MC Command (Deaderpool) ✓

UI Cheats (Weerbesu) ✓

Gshade - How to Install It Here ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Milk Thistle Lighting Mod (Softerhaze)- How to Install It Here ✓ (Does not affect the game )

No Glo and No Blu (Luumina) ✓ (Does not affect the game )

XML Injector X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

Chalkd UI ✓

FOOD MODS:

Grannie Cookbook and Addons (LBB) ✓ (No Update Needed)

Bulk Download (a bunch of recipes in one file) (LBB)

ROMANCE AND RELATIONSHIP MODS:

Relationship & Pregnancy Overhaul (Lumpinou) X

Realistic Childbirth Mod (PandaSama) ✓ (No Update Needed)

Expanded Pregnancy Options ✓ (No Update Needed)

GAMEPLAY MODS:

First Impression Mod (Lumnipou) ✓ (No Update Needed)

Mood Mod Pack ✓ (No Update Needed)

Talents and Weaknesses ✓ (No Update Needed)

Andirz Smart Sim Randomiser + Smart Shared Core (Required). ✓

DanitySimmer’s Fashion Designer Mod ✓

DISL_Residetal Lots NPC + Brain-blasted injection tools ✓

MapleDaFlap Come Celebrate Mod ✓ (No Update Needed)

Utopya Billard Mod X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

AJJ Cold Drinks ✓ (No Update Needed)

Cry Mod c

Danity Simmer NFL, WNBA, Sports Pie Menu. ✓

LTT’s Gift Override ✓ (No Update Needed)

Midnitetech’s Generic Lot’s Empty No more. ✓ (No Update Needed)

Scumbumbo’s Teleport Any Sim ✓ (No Update Needed)

Tiasha No Random Hair, A New Names For CAS ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Everyday Clutter Kit Becomes Functional ✓ (No Update Needed)

MISSHISSY:

Note;

The following mods will be updated for Lovestruck on Friday but are perfectly okay to use right now, The Creator has listed here their updated mods!

MissyHissy’s Personality Mod

The Custom Wants Mod

The Hobby Mod ✓

Basemental :

Language Barrier Mod:

SIMSREALIST:

Private Practice ✓ (No Update Needed)

Mortem ✓ (No Update Needed)

Flow Fit ✓ (No Update Needed)

Home and Land Company ✓ (No Update Needed)

All In One Download Here

LMS MODS:✓

*This one is so big that I’m just going to link her curse forge and you can copy and paste the names in the search bar* ↘

Find That Here

Auto Employee

Babysitter

Better Homework

Chores

Dogwalker

Entrance Lot Fees

Go for a Walk

Improve Kids Night Light

Improved Yoga Mat

Kids go for a Walk with Dogs

No Work Traditions

School Holiday

Better Nanny

Call to Meal

Live in Business

No Auto Food Grab After Cooking

Personal Objects

Quick Shower, Quick Bath

Sui Sui Weather AppWorking Pet Waterbowl

CARL:

Dineout Reloaded X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

Retail Reloaded X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

LOT51:

BirdLife ✓ (No Update Needed)

Doorbell ✓

Sunrise Alarm Clock ✓ (No Update Needed)

ZERBU;

:Go to School ✓

Custom Venue Changes ✓

Staff Icons ✓

All Worlds Residental ✓

Spawn Refresh ✓

QUALITY OF LIFE MODS:

Map Replacements:

20th Centuary ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Dershayan (Fanart Maps) ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Missing Plumbob (Mint Valintine ) ✓ (Does not affect the game )

Selectable Pets Always X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

Control Any Sim X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

AMELLCE:

Steady Sit Mod X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

Clean House X / ✓ (unconfirmed)

IN-GAME OVERRIDES:

✓ (Does not affect the game )

Kitchen Sponge

Spray Bottle

Folded Shirt

Laundry Pile

Mop Default Replacement

Adoption Carrier

Leash

*most of these can be found in an all-in-one download*

You can Find Them Here

RAVASHEEN MODS:

Easy Peasy Lumen Squeezy Lights (RSVN) X

These Mods Work in my Game and Have Been Updated to the newest patch:

As of 7/27/2024 at 10:23 pm this is the Updated List For working with the current

(Lovestruck Pack) PC: 1.108.335.1020 / Mac: 1.108.335.1220

Find Patch Notes Below:

#spccfinds #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #s4cc #sims 4 #sims 4 cc #sims4 #sims #sims 4 custom content

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jjungkookislife · 3 months ago

Note

you're doing drabble night again! can i ask for "urgh definitely not?" with lm!jikook

Nope!

pairing: jikook x f. reader

warnings: weed, implied sex under the influence

"Are you going to share your good shit or not?" Jungkook huffs as he plays with his lighter.

"Urgh, definitely not," Jimin giggles, higher than a kite.

You pout. "Jimin."

"Don't start," Jimin huffs as he packs his pipe, lighting his shit before passing it to you. "You're so annoying."

"That's not what you said when you balls deep inside me," You cackle. Jimin flips you off.

Jungkook smirks as he tugs you onto his lap. You take a hit, holding it for a moment before exhaling.

Jungkook inhales profoundly. "Fuck."

"I stole Namjoon's stash," Jimin admits as he rolls a joint for him and Kook to share. You keep his blue pipe.

"He's not gonna be happy," Jungkook sings as he takes a hit.

"Who gives a fuck," Jimin giggles as he lies beside Jungkook. You stare at the stars on his ceiling.

"What were we talking about?" You ask as you lay between them.

"Having a threesome," Jimin giggles.

"Another one?" You asked with a grin.

"I'm down," Jungkook giggles as he takes a hit from the pipe.

"Fuck, don't tempt me," Jimin groans as he sits up. You follow his lead. He hits the joint, holding it for a moment. You kiss him, breathing him in. You climb into his lap as Jungkook watches the two of you with the pipe at his lips.

He palms himself over his pants. "What a good girl."

#jikook x reader #jjungkookislife drabble game

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l832 · 9 months ago

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javert + 2, 8, 12?

ooh nice >:)

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Good lord. Dog motifs, cannibal instinct, obsessive-compulsive sadomasochistic tendencies, priest complex. Delusions of grandeur stemming from a fundamental feeling of inadequacy. Trauma so deeply-rooted it has replaced his sense of humanity like a parasite.

8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

The instinct to just brush him off with things like “cop = bastard” or “hates reading = stupid” or “lol furry.” Memes are fun but I see this sort of thing often with Javert in a way that feels a bit trite. It plays into a tendency in LM fandom to sort of morally broad brush characters as “wholesome and good” or “problematic and bad” in a way that refuses to engage with their more nuanced and interesting traits.

12. What’s a headcanon you have for this character?

Patrick Bateman style morning routine. “I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and rigorous exercise routine. In the morning if my face is a little puffy I’ll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do 1000 now.” There is an idea of a Javert, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me; only an entity, something illusory…. et cetera. >:)

Also, not really headcanon but I personally think a lot about the fact that to me he is so Hamlet-like only to drown himself in a river in the end. Hm.

#thanks for the ask!#les misérables #javert

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cyberrgirlsblog · 1 year ago

Text

Candle ligth Pt4

trigger warning: cussing, smoking, not proof read, erm idk. kinda rushed revolation erm yea i hope this is ok, lm if i should change anything, some inacurate use of drugs and names for them like more modern names for stuff. spelling

Your pov

—--------------

I woke up in the morning to the semblance of sunlight shining in my eyes. I groaned and turned over trying to fall back asleep but soon started to cough after I inhaled smoke in my lungs. I sat up and looked around the room only to see ash sitting on his bed smoking a cig.

“Ash what the fuck, its like 9:00am or some shit why the fuck are you smoking” i groaned in irritation, looked at me and rolled his eyes. I was surprised since he rarely ever did smoke anything that wasn't weed

“Yea well too bad, pol said it was ok too before you ask.” he said rather bluntly but i could swear i saw a slight smirk at the edge of his lips.

“Yea well good for you, also when did you even start smoking anything but weed .” I said confused, he inhaled the smoke from his cigarette and blew it out. Before he could respond i herd a nock on the door.

“Hello?” i said not knowing if it was pol or one of her maids who was knocking on the door.

“It's me” I heard pol's distinct voice say, she opened the door and saw me and ash looking at her with curious eyes. She breathed in before speaking “Tommy is having a ballet and he wants you two to come to supply stuff we don't have. You need to leave by the time the ballet starts. Please while there do not say anything you would usually say.” Me and ash shared a look before looking back at Pol

“What type of drugs do you need and what do you mean don't say what we usually say are there gonna be some high class shits there or something.” Ash said, I nodded as I continued to stare at pol. I was suspicious about why she seemed somewhat uneasy.

“That's what I mean, don't talk like that when you're there, there will be some important people there try not to talk to them. If they talk to you first, that's different.” she said with a serious tone. She took a puff of her own cigarette. The room slowly started to smell more and more of smoke making me cough slightly.

“What should we wear there and do you have a notepad so i can write down what we need to bring pol.” I said while getting up from my bed and going over to the desk.

“If they are in the 2nd there should be a pen in there as well, we need some cannabis and morphine. The money will be there when you arrive one of the maids will show you where it is” she said, i wrote down what and how much that was needed.

“Also it's formal so I expect you two to look nice and not like you just walked out of a pub. It's this friday” she said, i chuckled a little bit.

“We will make sure to look presentable for those rich fucks dont worry.”i said and looked over at Ash to make sure he heard me. I turned around as I stood up from the chair and folded the note.

“And if anyone asks why you're here say you make art and that's why you're here so (y/n) i need you to paint a picture of anything really just to cover you two. How far along are you with the painting of Tommy and lizzy” she said, I looked at her and nodded. The way we often covered up drug sails was by smuggling it in through art.

“I'm almost done with just some touch ups I need to do to the background but it should be done. But if i want it to be done by this friday i need to get back home know” i said with urgency in my voice.

Pol looks at me and nods her head “ok well i'll get the car started don't take too long to pack up anything you brought.” she said as she left the room

“Thank you Mrs. Gray "I yelled out, I started to pack the few things I brought and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and make myself look presentable. I stuck my head out the bathroom and looked at ash

“Yo are you gonna come with me or stay here?” I asked him as I walked back into the room while grabbing my bag. Ash looked at me and shook his head.

“Nah i think ima stay here for a bit try to get in contact with fez.” he said looking at me and smiling slightly.

‘’Ok well stay safe ash and don't get yourself into anything stupid okay i got people that will tell me if you do.” i said while lightly punching him in his shoulder

“Aye what? (Y/n) the fuck do you mean you got people?” he said confused, as i walked out the door i turned and sent a playful grin towards him before leaving the room and closing the door behind me. As I walked down stares I could hear people talking. When I got down I saw it was Aberham Gold and Polly.

“Toms got a fucking trues with them Pol-” he stopped once he saw me. The thing was he didnt know who I was but I knew of him. I knew his son had been killed by the billy boys and that he was a good shooter.

“Sorry if i'm interrupting anything.” I said to them I shifted my eyes to the floor to put up a nervous front. “Pol, ash said he's gonna stay here for a bit. I thought I should let you know.” I heard footsteps come over to me. I looked up from the ground and saw Pol looking at me.

“That's fine but are you fine being by yourself at home?” she asked like a concerned mother or maybe she was just asking to be kind either way it confused me somehow.

“Well at home there are weapons so if anyone tries anything I'll shoot them.” i said a bit quieter compared to my normal tone. Pol looked at me and nodded her head. I noticed Aberham looking at me with an unreadable look on his face. I felt a smirk appeared on my face, i shifted my eyes between the two of them

“ This is your boyfriend Pol?” I asked with a giggle. I could see both of them roll their eyes and pol pushed me to the front door.

“Get in the car (Y/n) I'll meet you there in a minute.” she said with a playfully annoyed voice. I laughed and waved to Abraham and walked out to the car. I opened the door and set my things down next to me in the other seat. I took out a cigarette and lit it, but not before opening the door of the car and getting out. I observed the neighborhood, it was a higher class neighborhood compared to the others in Birmingham, the skys were clearer and it was more quiet. I noticed a car parked outside of a house with someone in it. It appeared to be a man but it was hard to tell. But what I could tell is that they were looking at Pol's house. I blew out some smoke from my cigarette and threw it on the ground and snuffed it out. I looked back up at the car and noticed they were looking at me now. I stared back squinting my eyes for some hope to see through the tinted glass of the car windows but before I could get a good look I heard the door open.

“Well let's go (Y/n), Oh and this is Abraham gold, Abraham this is (Y/n).” she said as she got in the car Abraham followed and sat next to her. I got into the seat behind them. As the driver got in the car I took note of abraham. He was wearing working class clothes. He had gray hair that looked like it was just cut.

It seemed that he sensed my eyes on him as he turned his head to look back at me, i smiled “Nice to meet you Mr. Gold sorry for intruding on your conversation with Ms.Gray”

“Nice to meet you (y/n), you have a last name don't you?” he asked, smiling back at me.

“If I did , you would know it. I was adopted and given my name by my grandmother.” i said looking at him, it wasn't a lie necessarily i was given a name by my grandma but i changed it to (Y/n) after a while i mean Ash might of kept his but no one calls him ashtray. I changed my name to (y/n) after we moved out of the states, there's no document of it though. There's no documents of my old name either, But I like it that way because it makes it easier for me to keep a low profile and harder for people to research me beyond what I do on a daily basis.

I turned and looked at the window and watched as the houses passed by, my eyes looking around anytime we made a stop. To try to find anything that would interest me, I could hear the voices of pol and abraham but i didn't listen to what they were saying. I didn't care, I just wanted to get home.

Time jump

The car stopped outside of my house, it was a small house but bigger than the ones in small heath, it was an old farmhouse but not like tommys it was more of a mansion. We didn't grow anything, though maybe some flowers or corn but that was all.

“Thank you for taking me here Ms. Gray, I do appreciate it a lot” I said before getting out of the car and grabbing my things. I closed the door behind me and waved before walking up to the house.

Silently, I turned the doorknob and entered the room. Gently, I slipped off my shoes and ascended the staircase. Crossing the hallway, I peered into my grandmother's room through the slightly ajar door. A serene sight met my eyes – she slumbered peacefully, the weight of her worries visibly lifted. A smile crept across my lips, reassured by her newfound tranquility.

I went down to living room and there I carefully unfolded the drape that veiled my work-in-progress, a depiction of Tommy and Lizzie. With deliberate steps, I placed the cloth on the floor, clearing a space for me to start painting.

Fetching my watercolor brushes and selecting the appropriate hues, and started to paint. The canvas came alive under the caress of my brushstrokes, I blended the colors, giving life to the background. The trees that graced my window became the cornerstone of this painting, their forms and shades guiding my vision.

While engrossed in my painting, a knock at the door jolted me from my concentration. Puzzled by the unexpected interruption, I put down my brushes and retrieved my gun from the side table. With the weapon discreetly concealed on my person, my senses heightened.

"Hello," I greeted, cracking the door open just enough to peer out. The persons identity remained hidden, and I wasn't gonna take any risks.

"Is this (y/n)'s house?" the voice inquired. Though familiar, I struggled to place it.

"Who's asking?" I responded skeptically, slightly widening the door's opening.

"Duke," came the reply. The moment that name escaped his lips, the door swung fully open, and a rush of emotions flooded me as I looked at the figure infront of me. He looked every bit of the Duke I remembered, and a genuine smile graced my lips. Although part of me wanted to hug him and share how much I'd missed him, I held back, mindful of our past boundaries.

"Hey. How did you…. find me?" I asked, a blend of happiness and confusion evident in my tone.

"I remembered where your house was from our 1st encounter, to be honest." he explained, his gaze steady and direct.

"Want to come in then, or is this just a brief visit?" I asked, maintaining our eye contact.

"Um... sure," he agreed. I widened the doorway, and he entered. Barely a few steps inside, I intervened by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"yo, hold on. take off your shoes. I dont want to have any mud or dirt tracked in," I said. Once he complied, I withdrew my hand and he turned to the wall and took off his shoes. The phone rang.

As Duke stepped inside and I discreetly answered the phone, a sense of unease settled over me. The voice on the other end sounded unfamiliar, and the mention of Fezco, me, and Ashtray raised an internal alarm.

"Hello?" I responded cautiously, trying to maintain a composed demeanor.

"Is this the residence of Fezco, (y/n), and Ashtray?" The calm mellow voice of an American female was heard on the other end held a calculated tone, sending a chill down my spine.

"Who's asking?" I repeated, my voice tinged with a mix of wariness and curosity.

The voice on the phone grew slightly colder, a hint of menace lacing its words. "we're concerned about the company they've been keeping. Working with the Peaky Blinders."

My heart raced, realizing that this was no ordinary call. The implications of this conversation began to sink in – our connections, our allegiances were being scrutinized, and our safety was hanging in the balance.

"Look, whoever you are, I don't know what your talking about." I retorted, my voice firm, a shield of defiance against the mounting threat.

The voice remained unfazed, its threat now more explicit. "Fezco, (y/n), and Ashtray might want to reconsider their loyalties if they value their well-being. The Peaky Blinders' enemies have a long reach, and are not afraid to take drastic measures."

My mind raced, assessing the situation. It was clear that the caller was well-informed, aware of our affiliations, and determined to exploit our vulnerability.

"I don't take kindly to threats, also why threaten them?" I responded, my voice now in a whisper and edged with a steely resolve. "If you think we'll be intimidated, you're mistaken."

The line went silent for a moment before the voice spoke again, its tone measured. "Remember, (y/n), everyone has weaknesses, even those who walk in the shadow of the Peaky Blinders. Make your choice wisely."

With that chilling finality, the call ended. I stood there, phone in hand, the weight of the threat sinking in. As I turned back to rejoin Duke, the gravity of our situation became all too clear – the world we were entangled in was more rife with danger than I knew, and the safety of Fezco, Ashtray, and myself. I huffed in frustration, before turning back to a confused duke.

"Make yourself comfortable," I offered while trying to make it seem like it was a normal phone call that had just happened. leading the way into the cozy space filled with the gentle glow of natural light filtering through the windows. The unfinished painting of Tommy and Lizzie stood prompt up.

Duke's eyes wandered around the room, his gaze eventually settling on the painting. "You paint?" he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. It seemed like he has not paid to much mind to the call

"Yea i do, Thanks," I replied, i felt my face heat up. "It's a work in progress."

“"Who are those people in the painting?" Duke's voice carried a note of genuine curiosity as his gaze remained fixed on the canvas.

I turned to face the artwork, my own smile reflecting the fondness I held for the depicted characters. "That's Tommy Shelby and his wife, Lizzie Shelby, or formerly Lizzie Stark," I explained. My attention lingered on the painting as I recalled the intricate details I had carefully woven into the canvas.

"Shelby?" Duke's reaction was unmistakable – a mix of surprise and disbelief.

I met his astonished gaze with a subtle smile. "I've been creating art for the Shelbys for a while now. This isn't the first time I've 'painted' for them. I suppose they appreciate my work, do you know them?" I responded. Before Duke could ask further, I cut him off.

"Would you like something to drink?" I offered, listing the available options – whisky, rum, wine, and water. His prompt choice of water made it clear he wasn't in the mood for alcohol.

As I fetched the water and poured two glasses, “you don't drink?” the duke asked, "I drink whatever my guests prefer," I clarified, the corners of my lips curling into a knowing smile. Sipping from my own glass, I maintained a relaxed posture, ready to address his deeper concerns.

His next inquiry, laden with curiosity and a touch of worry, cut to the core of the matter. "is it true what people sayabout them (Y/n)?"

I sighed softly, the sound of my foot bouncing nervously on the ground filled the room "Duke, I dont know how much i can share but to answer your question, yes. In fact, they've reached out to me and my brothers before. When we first came to England, they extended an offer to… collaborate."

Duke's reaction was a dance of surprise and restraint, his attempts to speak yielding to a quiet contemplation. in a impulsive moment i decide to reveal a half truth. Retrieving my concealed gun and placing it on the table, I leaned in slightly, locking eyes with him.

"Duke, I'm sharing this with you because in some weird way I trust you. My brothers and I, well, our hands are dirty. We deal…. things. the shelbys have helped us out. I need you to understand the trust I'm putting in you. That call i had was a threat to me and my brothers and it's not the first either.``

Leaning back, I continued, a mischievous glint in my eye. "If you were to betray this trust, the consequences would be shitty. But I believe you won't. For some odd reason I trust you with this, and I don't know why."

Duke's expression was a blend of confusion and composed acceptance, his gaze steady as he processed my revelations. As the last drop of water quenched my thirst, I held his gaze, waiting for his response, aware that connection had just been tested and solidified in a single moment.

Duke's contemplative silence hung in the air, showing the weight of the information he had just been entrusted with. His eyes held a mixture of uncertainty and understanding of the complexities that lay beneath the surface of our interaction.

Duke finally spoke, he reached and put a hand on my sholder sligthly pulling me closer to him, leaving me to stare into his sligthly wide hazel eyes. his voice carrying a sense of respect. "I won't betray your trust (Y/n)”

I acknowledged his words with a nod, my demeanor calm and collected. Duke let go of my shoulder removing any warmth i had felt, he leaned back, his gaze shifting from the gun to my eyes. "why do you trust me? you dont know anything about me so why tell me this."

I leaned forward, a thoughtful smile playing on my lips. "im still tryna figure that out Duke. i just do thought, i dont trust easly but for you i will."

Duke's brow furrowed as he contemplated my words, in some odd way he liked that you trusted him so easily, he like how his name rolled off your tung . "So, you trust me, just like that?"

"yea, Duke," I replied rather bluntly.

He took a moment to absorb my response before speaking again. "Um well i wont betray your trust (Y/n)”

I leaned back, mirroring his posture. "So know that you know that about me why don't you tell me about yourself."

Duke's gaze was thoughtful, and I could tell he was processing the layers of meaning behind my words. "Alright, (Y/n)."

As the evening unfolded, Duke and I got deeper into conversation, discussing our aspirations, dreams, and the intricacies of life that had shaped us. The unfinished painting of Tommy and Lizzie stood as a silent witness to our burgeoning connection, a symbol of the artistry and authenticity that had revealed so much in such a short amount of time. I only told duke the top of the iceberg when it came to me and my family but so far thats all he would need to know.

—------------------ 3hrs laters

"Man, some people just do weird ass shit," I remarked with a laugh.

Duke nodded, a grin forming on his face. " You wouldn't believe the things I've seen and heard working at those fairgrounds. Once, I was walking towards one of the tents, and I heard these two folks figthing" I chuckled, intrigued. "why?"

Duke's smile widened as he clarified, "dont know, 'parently they both after the same girl, she had been with both of em" He gestured with his hands, leaving the rest to imagination.

I took a bite of the food I had brought along and smirked. "good on her i guess, not many men would figth for a girl like that.”

Duke let out a laugh. "well i dont know (y/n) more men would figth for a woman's love thani think you realize.”

I couldn't help but shake my head in amusement. "thats hard for me to beileve, from what ive seen with men in small heath. they'll fight over things like a glass of beer."

Duke leaned back, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I guess some people figth over shit as stupid as that, others though have more respect than to figth over beer."

“thats true,anyways speaking of small heith. one time i was there and i went into a betting shop to delivery some goods and well i shouldve knocked cause i walked in on some random guy and girl just on one of the tables fucking. I don't think they saw me so I just left.” I said while chuckling and cringing at the memory.

As I was laughing I heard the phone ring, I had no idea who it could be. A pit of anxiety built up in my stomach as I looked at duke.

As I picked up the phone, a mixture of relief and curiosity filled me. It was Tommy Shelby on the other end.

"Hello Mr. Shelby, can I help you with anything?" I inquired, my tone respectful but tinged with curiosity.

"Good evening," his voice carried its usual air of authority. "I thought I should give you a heads-up about something. You're delivering the painting and the merchandise to my party tomorrow, correct?"

A sense of intrigue settled over me as I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yea, that's correct."

"Good. Now, I'm aware that certain... elements will be present at the party. Oswald Mosley, for one," he continued, his voice measured.

My curiosity deepened as he mentioned Mosley's name. Oswald Mosley – a man with a reputation and connections that sent shivers down the spines of many. "Yes, I've heard of him." my tone grim

Tommy's tone turned more serious. "I suggest you keep your distance from him, (Y/n). Mosley's got a way of getting into people's heads, and I wouldn't want you caught up in any of his schemes."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "I appreciate the warning, Mr. Shelby. I'll be sure to be cautious."

"Good," he replied. "Remember, we've got business to attend to, and Mosley's not someone you want to involve yourself with."

His words held a weight that wasn't lost on me. "I understand, Mr. Shelby. I'll keep my focus on the task at hand."

"Very well. See you at there" he said, his tone returning to its usual directness.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. Looking forward to it," I replied before hanging up.

As I walked back to where Duke was sitting, he looked at me expectantly. "Everything alright?"

I nodded, a mixture of thoughts and emotions swirling within me. "Yeah, just a call related to the party tomorrow."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Party? Anything exciting?"

I chuckled softly, aware of the secrecy that often surrounded the Shelby family's affairs. "You could say that. But it seems like it might be more eventful than I expected."

Duke's gaze was curious. "In a good way or a bad way?"

I met his eyes, a mixture of determination and curiosity in my expression. "Only one way to find out."

I looked at my watch to check the time, 12:00 am shit.

“Damn its late you gotta be anywhere early tomorrow?” i asked duke

“Yea but they won't notice if I'm late, they'll probably be late because a lot of fair workers went to the pub, one of them invited me but I said no.” i smirked at what Duke just said

“Aw you decided to give up the pub to come visit me how sweet.” I said with a giggle, duke rolled his eyes, his cheeks brightening slightly with blush. I went and sat down this time next to him not to close though.

“Shut up” duke said, i just looked over at him, my eyes roaming over his face. They lingered on his lips a bit longer than they should have, I hit him on the shoulder slightly.

“Calm down man, was just joking.” i said, I giggled a bit looking ahead at the painting, my smile dimmed a bit, the eyes of Thomas Shelby were all I could see in that moment. His cold unmoving eyes that I depicted so perfectly in the painting. Lizzies eyes were light and while they had a closed off look they weren't as threatening as tommys.

“Hey duke.” i said finally turning away from the painting

“Thanks for coming to visit. I appreciate it a lot.” I said to him with a smile.

“Really? He asked if his face was hard to read but he seemed almost confused, so I smiled at him.

“Yea I missed you. I mean it duke, i know its corny as fuck but like i dont know i cant explain it.” i said my voice lowered a bit from shynes. Maybe it was because I was tired but I swear I could see him smile, not a smug smile or a mean one but a genuine smile.

“Are you always so… honest about how you feel about people (y/n)?” he asked me.

“Only with people I'm comfortable with. Anyways, do you want to stay the night or do you have somewhere to stay? "I asked him. I made sure my tone only had hospitality in it and nothing else. Duke thinks for a little,

“I have a place to stay dont worry” he said, i nodded my head and got up and went to the kitchen to grab him some extra food, i came back and gave him it.

“Um well ill see you when i see you i guess?” i said awkwardly while he got up. We walked to the front door. I opened it and he walked outside.

“Oh also Duke, I got a place in small heath. Here's the address, i can't promise that ill always be there thought.'' I said as I handed him a note with the address. He took it and pretended to read it before placing it in his coat pocket, not wanting to revile he couldnt read.

“Thanks (Y/n), ill uh see you later and remember you can always stop by the fair its gonna be here in the area for a little.” he said, he looked away and coughed after he said that.

“Ill try it depend on how things pan out for me thought, thanks for stopping by again duke, bye.” i said before i closed the door. I slid down the door until I hit the floor, I listened till I couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

“Shit” I said before getting up and walking upstairs. I went to bed knowing tomorrow will be something i don't think I'm prepared for.

#duke shelby x reader #peaky blinder headcanon #tommy shelby #dukeshelby #polly gray #john shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #ashtray #euphoria #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader

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