#warrioroflondonbelow

[ericbrandonrp]

By Eric's door was a red, generic looking, Valentines Day card. The inside, however, was far from generic.-- Inside the words 'I can't wait to take you out for Valentines Day' was printed on, except, the final words (for Valentines Day) were scribbled out and instead replaced with the crudely written message from a certain Scottish hitman:

'....with my sniper rifle. I can't wait to take you out with my sniper rifle. Not on Valentines Day specifically, per se, but in general. Just thought I'd let you know.'

(I am really so sorry about him 😔)

@richardxoliverxmayhew

[dontcxckitup]

closed “starter” (lmao) for @richardxoliverxmayhew​

   “Bond. James Bond.”

[thecreaturesofglen]

@warrioroflondonbelow | From HERE

For a few moments - perhaps longer than she should have - Lilith stood in the doorway, watching him fight his tie with a soft smile. It was a reminder, sometimes, how young he was. Compared to her, at least.

"Who do you think does my brother's ties?" Admittedly, he did most of them himself now, but she was always nearby to lend a hand. To him and to Richard, apparently.

Pale fingers moved quickly, practiced as they formed a perfectly centered and neat double Windsor, gently tightening it up to his collar before smoothing it down against his chest with a cold hand.

"There, now you look ever so smart." She tiptoed up to the very edge of her feet, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before dropping back down.

[quietresistance]

continued from here for beta editor ╲ ( @richardxoliverxmayhew )

                    pressing a chocolate wool sleeve over her mouth, she disguised a very nervous giggle into a cough of her own.   the description had been disgustingly vivid, the writer in her proud as much as it made her almost gag.     ❝  yes, let’s avoid that.   black tea it is.  ❞     fingers tucking her tie away between the buttons of her shirt almost on reflex, she crossed her arms across her chest with a soft roll of her eyes in response.

                    his chatter brought a smile to her painted lips, the relative normalcy of the conversation lulling her as much as the warmth pouring from the radiator.   it’s almost absent minded, her reaching for one of the shortbreads, though the sweet butteriness, for all the nip of staleness certainly couldn’t be simply left behind at the back of her mind.    ❝  i’m not surprised,  ❞    a note of admiration pouring into her voice, another small nibble savored,   ❝  these are genuinely delicious, richard.  ❞     a baker, amongst other things apparently…  he seemed full of pleasant surprises, this one.   she can only imagine how difficult the country’s strict rationing made it to scrounge up enough butter and sugar to spare on cookies such as this.     ❝  i find i cook far more often than i bake, though i’ve not done either recently.  ❞

[dogtccth]

" Well , I don't strike deals for maybe's . I need guarantees . Or I'll just leave you here , and we'll see how that plays out for you while I find someone else that's more willing to tell me what I need to fucking know . " Offered back with his own patronizing wink and smile . " How's that sound ? "

Open Starter: Shaken Not Stirred!AU

"Tell ye' wha', if ye' really wanna talk how 'bout we strike up a deal? Ye' get me outta' here, bring me some place safe, buy me a hot plate and a drink, and maybe then I'll tell ye' wha' ye' wanna know.-- Hell, I may even give ye' a nigh' to remember if yer' lucky," winked Richard. "First thing is first though. Get me out of this hell hole."

[sincerexsiren]

@warrioroflondonbelow​ wants an angel witch!

Light footsteps hit the polished floor boards of the house as Trinity walked around, turning all of the lights off in the big farm house that she had lived in for the past 150 years; since she was born actually.  Now it was just her- obviously.  But she knew it wouldn’t be for long.  Grace House was a sanctuary, people came when they needed it- a witches form of church. Really anything with any sort of abilities church.  Though sometimes it felt more like a candle flame, drawing them here along with the rare human.  Not her though.  She had been here since the day she was born and would live until she completed the transition from a maiden to a crone and then back to dirt again.  

Right now though she was still a maiden and this was still her church to watch over.  Opening the door she picked up a book and moved out the front door onto the large wrap around porch. Sitting in the porch swing as she looked out at the tree lined street that ran 3 miles before it came to the dirt road that would not connect to the county.  Way back when they had settled here it had been nothing but swamp land, now she could see lights coming down the dirt road, peeking through the cypress.  A little smile touched her lips.  She opened her book as she waited, reading a page as they got closer and closer.  

“I was expecting you sooner,”  She admitted.

[unhxngxd]

@warrioroflondonbelow | From HERE

"Fuck!" Mary's heels twisted as she stumbled back against the cobblestones, one hand grabbing the wall beside her for balance as she looked at the man bleeding out in front of her. Thoughts swirled through her head, three plans of action forming before she even moved.

She could call the police. But then she would have to explain what SHE was doing, out alone at night with a few thousand dollars and several knives in her purse, wandering away from a shady club. No, she that wouldn't do. She couldn't risk it.

She could leave him for dead. A tempting thought, and one she lent towards for a moment - but then the small amount of GOOD in her won out, a rare moment of humanity cracking through.

And so that left the third option.

Two hours later and Richard was laying across a booth in the empty strip club, Mary sat opposite in her fur coat and sipping on her milkshake, a medical textbook open and a spiralling scrawl of notes coming from her sleek black pen.

As he stirred she looked up from her work.

"If you're going to sit up do it carefully, or you'll pull your stitches." A page was flicked in the book casually. "And I didn't waste my time doing them for you to rip them out."

[brokenthimbles]

@warrioroflondonbelow​

It was rare that G was gone for more than a few nights since ascending to head of MI6 but there were still those times. What wasn’t rare was Wendy taking shifts in the ICU or children’s wards to avoid the empty flat. Though she was caught off guard with the familiar face laying in bed 6. Nine. The man who had broken into her home, but still there was a sense of sorrow for the man. He hadn’t truly meant her any harm. Just wanted to know his boss, granted he should have known everything about him already. Pulling the tablet with his chart she read. Richard Oliver Mayhew....... and so she read. 

Going into his room she started double checking the monitors, vitals, and medications. Everything seemed fine, but curiosity still perked. Just what was a special agent doing in her  icu?

[bondsgotnothingonme]

@warrioroflondonbelow​ | From HERE

James’ hand remained on the door as he moved, pressing his back to worn wood to block Richard’s exit.

“Now, darling - I don’t relish in this at all. Scaring people is far from my favourite thing to do.” And despite the defensive stance, the way he was stopping Richard form just walking away, there was clear truth in it. He didn’t WANT to scare anyone, let alone Richard.  The poor man had had enough trauma for one day. 

“But you also know a lot of things you shouldn’t, so I need to know you won’t tell a soul.” And he might not have cared as much if his partner’s identity wasn’t at risk too, but it was, so James was taking NO risks.

[pupil-of-law]

(x) @warrioroflondonbelow

Glad that Richard was onboard with Sebastian’s effort to deliver him from his peril, he gestured for his guest to go first up the rickety staircase. ‘Towards the light,’ he put in about half way up, noting the irony only a second afterwards as he threw on an old overcoat he’d found in the rubble at the bottom to cover his wings from Richard’s constantly very worried-looking eyes. He’d prefer to keep his identity to himself until Richard was in a more settled state of mind. Soon enough the light from the cracks in the trapdoor above illuminated them both like ragged sailors beneath the hatch of a ship, and a small thrill at the feel of daylight - or in this case moonlight - went through Sebastian. He had not seen the sky in months. Hadn’t flown anywhere in hundreds of years…

They came out in a huge, high-ceilinged archive filled with shrouded paintings, doors and statues under dust covers, with a large stained glass window at one end. The half uncovered eye of a sphinx stared down at them from across the room. Sebastian turned to dust down Richard’s shoulders with a bittersweet smile. ‘Too long,’ he answered Richard’s question. But if Richard was who the whole of London Below thought he was, then that would soon change… no matter whether Richard won or lost against the Angel Islington, Sebastian would soon be free. Looking into Richard’s face now, the latter did seem more likely. But time is an unpredictable opponent. Sebastian had every faith that the Richard Mayhew of today would not be the Richard Mayhew that fought the Angel when they arrived at the bower which he was one of many cherubim left to guard. The way Richard’s eyes glittered was so human. Sebastian observed him quietly for a long moment, only coming back to himself when a patter of footsteps echoed from behind a door. ‘Don’t worry. They can’t see us,’ he told Richard. ‘Now help me find the boxes of First Century Roman weaponry. There’s a sword someone told me to give you. It belonged to one of the greatest enemies of Christianity in history, a Centurion whose name I forget. Now it’s yours.’

[the-wonderland-jinx]

@warrioroflondonbelow​ ---> s.c.

“I need to tell you something.” 

She hadn’t slept a wink, waiting, as the sun came up, for Richard to be coherent enough to have an actual conversation with her. This was important,  too significant to try to keep a secret. She needed his help, now more then ever. She couldn’t do it all alone, but that didn’t make telling him any easier. He knew a lot of things about her past, but this--- no, she couldn’t bring herself to think about it. Right now she just needed to focus; the goal was to keep her safe.

[ericbrandonrp]

@richardxoliverxmayhew cont. from (X)

Even after Eric had let go, Richard kept his arm wrapped tightly around the other, his hand occasionally offering an assuring pat or two against the side of Eric’s arm, as if he were giving him a physical reminder. ‘I’m here… I’m not leavin’ ye’. I’m righ’ here…’ As much as he wanted to tell Eric his plan, he bit his tongue and said nothing. Instead, he just let Eric cry. He could only begin to imagine how long the likes of somebody like Eric F. Brandon had been holding back those tears. Still, it didn’t matter how brave you were. Sometimes, that was all you could do. Cry. Eventually, Eric spoke. He was on board, or at least he would be willing to hear the Scotsman out. Thank god.– At the mention of him lying, however, Richard tilted his head in confusion. “Wha’ do ye’ mean?” he rasped. As the truth tumbled out, Richard gave Eric’s arm a gentle squeeze before he could even dare to finish that sentence. “–Absolutely not. I a’ready told ye’, Eric, I’m gonna make sure ye’ get outta’ this hell hole alive. I promised ye’, didn’t I?” And Richard Oliver Mayhew always kept his promise. “At least tha’ way ye’ can tell yer’ Da’ yer’self. Besides, I can a’ready tell ye’ tha’ yer’ Da’ would be more than proud of ye’. Why wouldn’t he be? At this point, ye’ have the makin’s of comin’ back a war-hero, like we always talked ‘bout. And if for some reason he’s not then talkin’ some sense into him will be the first thing I’m gonna do when we get outta’ here,” he offered a small but warm smile.

“And, for wha’ it’s worth, I can tell ye’ righ’ now tha’ I’m proud,” Richard added, his voice something of a squeak now, his blue gaze unflinching. Honest. Sincere. “Proud of everythin’ you’ve done,” he continued slowly. “Proud tha’ yer’ my friend. Proud of us.”

It had all just been an act. Boasting about his own bravery, about how he didn’t have a single care in the world – and the story about him enlisting just for fun because he had been drunk out of his mind had been made up completely, too. Truth is, Eric was just a boy. A boy who wanted his cold-hearted father’s attention and approval, if only for a short, fleeting moment. He didn’t care about others’ opinions, what the neighbors were thinking about him; about being a war hero, as Richard said. He just wanted his father to be proud of him for once.

He sniffed and wiped the tears away with his sleeve, then his gaze shifted over to meet Richard’s. Even with the difficulties in the beginning – he had quickly become hjis best friend. Nodding his head, he wrapped his arms around him once more, then finally let off him. “So wh—wha’s yer plan?”

[dontcxckitup]

This is probably going to be unhelpful (sorry about that 😅) but personally for me u don’t just do enough when writing for Gareth, you go above and beyond. I know I said this before but I mean, you just have this really incredible way of making him your own! (I sometimes think you’ve been ghost writing his character all this time hehe). But srsly, from the hcs you make, the little quirks you add to him in threads, the cadency and style of his dialogue, to even his slightest facial expression? You just manage to give him so much life! It’s above and beyond and I love every second of it! And I mean really you do that for all of the muses you write 💛💛💛- warrioroflondonbelow

@richardxoliverxmayhew

// I have no idea what this meme was, but thank you so much! You just know how to make me blush haha I'm so glad I manage to do him justice with what little background stuff I have and I'm so happy you and everyone else I'm writing with actually put up with this blog. Thank you!!!!! 💙💙💙

[thecreaturesofglen]

❛  do i have any choice?  ❜ (Again, for any muse you would like! <3)

@warrioroflondonbelow | Aurora

"We ALWAYS have the choice." Aurora's hands stilled, fingertips covered in ash slowly moving away from his face to fall back in her lap.

Between them, the candle burned brightly, a few half-burned herbs and ingredients laying on the ground. A sigil already drawn in the dry dirt and dust.

"If you do not want to be part of el hechizo? Walk away." Aurora's tone wasn't intended as rude, even if it came across a little short - a warning that he would need to leave the room if he wanted OUT.

"I do not make you do la magia if you do not want, but I still do it."

[quietresistance]

continued from here for beta editor ╲ ( @richardxoliverxmayhew )

                     hardly taken aback, the journalist remained silent as her umbrella dripped onto the mat, her dark brows easing upwards the only reaction to the detective’s dry, relatively even keeled, tirade.   this was a song and dance she found herself minueting through more often than she could count, as often a burst of bluster as it held real objections on the part of the one standing in her path.   and so, she merely listened, waiting for when a crack might present itself and then…

                     her lips spread into a sweet smile as the older man stepped into view, a chance burgeoning from his expression at the younger man’s explanation.   it took years of practice for the triumph of correctly clocking the situation to not bleed onto her expression.   perhaps the head detective wouldn’t be so courteous if mayhew hadn’t so royally messed up, clearly within earshot of the man no less.

                     she almost felt bad for the younger… constable as it turned out.   now that earned the man a singularly raised brow for a heartbeat before turning a very warm smile on the detective.     ❝  of course not, sir, but thank you nevertheless.   i had hoped to not come at too bothersome a time, rain or not.  ❞

                     closing her umbrella and stepping inside the door as the older man left, she turned to the constable with knitted brows.     ❝  i don’t know whether i should be offended or not at the blatancy of your lies, but i shall choose to not be.  ❞     neither would she note them in her report, however, katherine felt quite put out.   it was one thing to conceal the facts of the situation - that she nearly expected - but to lie about who he was on the case.     ❝  if you’d be so kind as to tell me what you’re allowed to, i’ll be out of your hair.  ❞

[ericbrandonrp]

warrioroflondonbelow​:

His blue gaze noticed the flower in Eric’s hand. Richard couldn’t help but think of how pretty it would look behind Millie’s ear, or, perhaps, tangled in her gorgeous hair. The Scotsman couldn’t but be slightly taken aback by Eric’s answer. Was that tension due to fear, he heard in Eric’s voice? Or was it something else? Had he seen how comfortable he and Millie had gotten last night? Surely, Eric wouldn’t hold it again him? As far as Richard was concerned the two were merely being polite. That’s all it was…. Surely. “I’m not gettin’ too close to her. Who said anythin’ ‘bout me gettin’ too close?–And besides, when have ye’ ever had an issue with Millie’s ‘profession’. I mean, ye’ ne’er had any complaints ‘bout it in the past. Why bring it up now?” he inquired, arching a brow up at the other. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is, wha’ with everythin’ goin’ on, if ye’ or she feels like she needs extra protection… Just-… I don’t mind standin’ guard. After all, we don’t know wha’ this killer is truly capable of. He could have his eyes and ears everywhere and we wouldn’t know.”

Little did the likes of Richard Oliver Mayhew know, he was completely right, for there, just a short distance off, was a man hidden in plain sight, purchasing a new copy of the paper from one of the street boys. The type of man who blended perfectly into mundane. The type of man one wouldn’t ideally spare a sideways glance of. The type of man who had his eyes set on the curious Irishman and Scotsman who seemed oddly interested in his recent, nightly deeds.  ‘Ripper Strikes Again’, the paper read.  Ripper? Is that what they were calling Him? Ripper. Had something of a ring to it, didn’t it?

.

If looks could kill, Eric’s glare at the other would have murdered him on the spot. Of course he would let Richard stand guard in front of his home where Millie could see him the entire time…what kind of delusions did that man have? Eric wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid – he had seen their flirting the night before, and heard Millie’s constant praising him. She was shameless and didn’t give a damn about her husband’s feelings. Granted, they were married on the paper, to make things easier for each other, but he still loved her; something she either didn’t see, or simply chose to ignore.

“Don’t make a fool outta yerself,” Eric hissed. He let the flower drop to the ground and turned his back on Richard to glance down the street. Where the hell were those little urchins?

“I been wantin’ her ta quit tha’ bloo’y job for a whoile,” Eric explained. “It’s too dangerous.” And he didn’t like the thought of other men touching her – much less doing it in their home.