#daisy x heath

[wandacallsbucky-james]

tns when I catch you!!!! the withdrawals I'm having are something serious😭

[aliferousdreamer]

here is my heath x daisy playlist 🌼💕

thanks to anyone who listens!! ♡♡♡

[suedesongs]

These Are The Suede Songs 001: Early Recordings

Suede’s early trajectory is often described, especially by the band themselves, as “the world’s longest overnight success”. Four years of slogging the toilets of London, from playing humiliating gigs to, on one occasion, nobody at all, to appearing on the front page of Melody Maker, may sound quick, but in musical terms can feel like a lifetime. This was during the era of musical trends coming and going in rapid succession, a little like fashion microtrends today. Within those four years, Baggy and the Second Summer of Love, The Stone Roses and Spike Island, raves and ecstasy,  made way for American grunge - precisely the opposite, and amongst this cultural shift, quietly grafting their way, were Suede. 

Whilst there aren’t a great deal of surviving bootlegs or demos from this era, I still felt incredibly compelled to cover what I could find in a dedicated post. Research was rather fruitless at times, and I found much of the writing on this period of the band’s career to be marred (cough) by the insistence of male writers to throw all of their energy into a somewhat troubling obsession with what is perceived as the infamous Anderson-Frischmann-Albarn “love triangle”. I took to Twitter (or, blegh, X) to vent my frustrations, and received a reply from my friend Tasha who, much more eloquently than I, expressed how Justine Frischmann is viewed as merely an object in an interpersonal drama, rather than a fleshed out musician in her own right. Are women doomed to simply be accessories to their male counterparts? I find this disheartening when Frischmann is so integral to not only the Suede “story”, but, in my opinion, to what would go on to become the sound we all know, and love.

My analysis will frequently include my personal opinions, and should not be taken as definitive. Where necessary to the discussion of the songs, tidbits of info may be provided in order to “set the scene”. This series should not be used as a biography, but instead an exploration of a body of work. It will be by no means objective. I’m a massive Suede fan. I’ve travelled up and down the country for gigs, queued from as early as 6am for a coveted barrier spot, my cat is (in a roundabout way) named after an obscure Bloodsports-era B Side. I’m a self-professed fangirl. Having said this, I’ll do my best to not let this get in the way. And with all of the preliminaries seen to, we begin with,

Just A Girl (Anderson/Frischmann)

Though credited to Anderson-Butler, this light, airy folk ballad is reportedly the oldest surviving Suede tune, dating far before Bernard Butler joined. The version that appears online, and on the deluxe edition of the debut, is likely a home demo recorded by Brett Anderson and Justine Frischmann. 

Anderson, in his memoir Coal Black Mornings, explains the titular girl, “north of England way”, is a Middlesborough-born Chemistry student called Emily, with whom he shared a flat on Daisy Bank road in Longsight, Manchester, in the year after he moved from Haywards Heath to the rainy industrial Northern city. ‘Just A Girl’ really couldn’t be set in any city other than Manchester. It describes the beginnings of a fond friendship, perhaps more, distinctly against the backdrop of a harsh, wet winter, overlooked by grey skies and red-bricked former warehouses. It’s the first, blushing, awkward flushes of young love. It’s leaving your University lectures at half past three when it’s already pitch dark. It’s when you say something you shouldn’t to the person you fancy after a few drinks. It’s huddling under the covers to stay warm, the excitement of closeness and companionship. 

I typically have a complete, and near visceral, aversion to anything, musically or otherwise, that can be described as “twee”. Just A Girl, I feel, does undeniably dangle its harmonies and lyrical depictions of turning the page of one’s favourite book perilously close to the jaws of this accusation.Yet, I simply cannot bring myself to dislike it. Whilst musically competent, if a little naive, it’s sweet and genuine, and for that, it’s rather lovely. 

There are already some allusions to Anderson’s later lyrical themes; the combination of love and tragedy as he laments how “it could have been so different if we’d only had more time”. Anderson, as we’ll explore, is rarely one to write a straight love song. No matter how they may seem, there is always a thread of tragedy, or drama, which underpins the affair and protects against it veering into saccharine territory. 

For a few years now, I’ve cited the “ashtray eyes and bootlace ties” line to be a direct harbinger of some of Anderson’s later lyrics, most likely thinking of 2011's ‘Brittle Heart’,from his solo album Black Rainbows. However, this is in fact, lifted from Ian Drury’s ‘Sweet Gene Vincent’, more directly alluded to with Anderson and Frischmann lamenting how “Sweet Gene Vincent was never that good”.

According to Anderson, on regular rotation on the turntables of himself, Frischmann and Mat Osman around this time, were a band called The Lilac Time. Quoted in David Barnett’s comprehensive biography, Love And Poison, he describes them as “quite light, leftfield pop sort of thing (...) lots of major seventh chords”, and this influence is abundantly clear on ‘Just A Girl’, and would have possibly done even more had it made it to the studio around this time. 

Frischmann’s, when she and Anderson met, record collection was largely comprised of folk music. In an irritating display of arrogance, Anderson insisted that these records would “no longer be listened to '' with him now in the equation. This decision would, of course, prove seminal in the trajectory of Frischmann’s music career in Elastica, as Anderson introduced her to spiky post-punk, however I find this to be rather ironic considering the undeniable folky nature of this particular song.

‘Just A Girl’ would later be re-recorded by Anderson and Richard Oakes, possibly around 1994, though reports of this vary, but not released to the public until a B-side was required for the single ‘Attitude’ in 2003. More on that (much) later, of course. 

Natural Born Servant (Anderson-Butler) 

‘Natural Born Servant’ is the actual first song in our timeline to be written by Anderson-Butler, and sees Suede as close to flirting with Baggy as they ever would. 

As a result, this one comes across as rather trite, not to mention overlong, clocking in at six minutes and twenty seconds. 

During my initial re-listen in my research for this project, I found myself incredibly puzzled as the chugging, Madchester intro spluttered into a half-hearted groove, before realising I’d gotten it entirely confused with a later track, ‘Be My God’. Frischmann shows herself a competent backing vocalist, possibly more so than Anderson. One YouTube commenter, possibly humorously, alludes to him “doing a Phil Oakey”, and there is indeed a resemblance. Anderson’s, however, is more naive, though he can certainly carry a tune and his voice is pleasant and sweet, possibly to the song’s detriment, when one considers the subject matter. 

Much like a large proportion of Suede’s work, ‘...Servant’ sees Anderson dallying with sexual imagery, and more specifically, BDSM imagery. This attempt, however, whilst enjoyable enough, is surprisingly sexless. It’s almost a feat in itself to write about sex in such a decidedly virginal manner, but I’m glad this was a theme he stuck with throughout his lyrics and it hints at greatness yet to come. More interestingly, however, is the use of sexual imagery as a commentary on class struggle. “You’re a natural born servant/this is the time to open your eyes”, can be viewed as a submissive accepting their place, or a working class individual gaining class consciousness and becoming aware of their oppression in society. 

I must say, I’m glad that this was as far as Suede’s relationship with Baggy really went, at least in the recordings I could find and actively listen to. It’s common to speculate of a song like ‘...Servant’ being indicative of a type of “alternate universe” Suede, but I couldn’t disagree more with this. Suede and Baggy just doesn’t work, and they would have always found their sound one way or another. 

Justice (Unknown, possibly Anderson-Frischmann-Butler) 

Surprisingly, this is the only song of this lot that I find myself drawn to the YouTube search bar to listen to out of choice. It’s almost certainly my personal favourite of all of the pieces we’ve covered here.I even found myself lip syncing to the chorus as I wrote this very paragraph! Oddly, I can’t find too much to say about it. It’s a sweet little, possibly even catchy, slice of Jangle pop. One of the thousands of happy-sad breakup songs of the late 1980s and very early 1990s. Anderson likens it to Aztec Camera’s ‘Oblivious’, which is a far, far better citation than the endless Smiths comparisons I once myself fell privy to, which have since become a cliche.  

We again hear Anderson’s vocals not quite having come into themselves yet, there’s a hint of insecurity and hesitancy. They’re so far removed from what we understand as his vocal styling, that one YouTube commenter on the version I found asks if Butler sings vocals. There is present, however, a deep understanding of melody and an undeniable hookiness. I can see myself going back to this one for the odd listen. 

Wonderful Sometimes (Unknown, possibly Anderson-Butler) 

Gary Crowley, the geezer-ish presenter of the Sunday Afternoon show Greater London Radio, was the host of Demo Clash; a competition held each Sunday on the aforementioned radio station. As the title suggests, this was a show where London bands would send in demos, that would go head-to-head in a public vote. As pointed out in Love and Poison, however, this would largely amount to a game of “who has the most mates”. Anderson would later show dismissal, if not outright disdain for ‘Wonderful Sometimes’. In Dave Thompson’s Suede The Next Life, First Time Around, he describes the song as “shit (...) nothing to get interested in. (...) [GLR] was a little local station, and we’re talking about London where everyone’s in a band.” Still, it would end up on a compilation cassette called What The World Is Waiting For compiled by Adrian Gibson, programmer at Powerhaus on Liverpool Road, N1. 

According to the Discogs listing, the idea was to showcase ten up-and-coming bands who were performing at the venue during this time (from a title like that, go figure). There was additionally a launch night at The Powerhaus, and Gibson was interviewed by Crowley to promote the gig. 

As for the song itself? ‘Wonderful Sometimes’ contains a few witty one-liners, “you couldn’t liven us up with a cattle prod” and “i’ve heard of happy ever after / it was just a joke but you could die laughing” particularly stick out. Personally, I quite enjoy “Do I just love you ‘cause you look quite good”, but that’s because, as a young-ish woman and a passionate fan, this is an accusation I’ve had levelled at me in the past, and I know I’m not the only one! 

‘...Sometimes’ is viewed by many as the holy grail of early Suede recordings, but for something so revered, it’s a decent enough piece of music, but it’s nothing special, even in the context of the other songs we’ve covered. Musically, I try to avoid Smiths comparisons, but here it’s unavoidable as the whiff of William, It Was Really Nothing and even some base notes of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now, is enough to give you a migraine. Butler’s playing really is more Marr-ish than Marr, but drenched and sadistically drowned in a wah-wah pedal at times, eliciting a comparison to Fool’s Gold, though, mercifully, this is over much sooner. 

More excitingly is a noticeable shift in Anderson’s vocal styling, now carrying slightly more confidence and having something of a personality. Here, he’s sounding almost like Robert Smith of The Cure, minus the “Robert Smith-isms”. A deliberately but self-consciously Sussex drawl (The Cure, and Smith, were from up the road from Haywards Heath in Crawley), and a slight nasal intonation. 

Ultimately, I don’t so much understand the hype around this one - the reviews on RateYourMusic are unanimously positive, but it’s a jolly tune and, likely because of that, decidedly un-Suede.

[namesarelikeshinythings]

Plant names

Don't come at me for the descriptions, I know nothing of biology

tw : mentions of death and sa

Neutral :

Ash (big tree with compoud leaves)

Aspen (thin white tree)

Aster (purple "star shaped" flower)

Briar (plant that makes pink fuzzy flowers)

Cedar (conifer tree that doesn't die in winter (like a christmas tree))

Fern (plant with a bunch of "featherly" leaves)

Holly (a winter plant with prickly dark green leaves red berry)

Hyacinth/Jacynthe (purple flower that's like a bunch of small flowers bundled up together, in greek mythology he's a young lover of Apollo who was accidentaly killed by a jealous god and turned into a flower)

Laurel (aromatic plant that was used to make crowns as rewards in roman times)

Moss (small green plant that grows on rocks and trees)

Rue (aromatic herb that "is used in herbal medicine")

Rowan (tall narrow tree, red berries)

Sage (culinary herb with greyish green leaves)

Oak (big strong tree that makes acorns)

Willow (tree with longs pliant branches that go towards the ground)

Masculine :

Basil (culinary herb with a sweet scent)

Cosmos (masc leaning) (flower with broad petals, greek word for order)

Narcissius (yellow flowers with outer petals and cup petals in the middle, daffodils are narcissius, Narcissius is a greek mythology man who rejected Echo, was so self obsessed he drowned while looking at his reflection in water, and was made into a flower)

(that's it there's so little I'm sorry)

Feminine :

Belladonna (nightshades, poisonous bell shaped flower)

Clover (small plant with three leaves, four leaves symbolises luck)

Daphne (greek for laurel, tw : name of a nymph that was about to be assaulted by Apollo and asked her father (a god) to turn her into a tree instead)

Daisy (small flowers with white petals and a yellow center)

Dhalia (a brightly colored flower that's ball shaped)

Hazel (small tree that makes hazel nuts)

Heather (a purple flowered heath)

Iris (long stemmed plant with big flower, also the name of the greek goddess of rainbows)

Ivy (dark green, climbing plant with five pointing leaves)

Jasmine (shrub of small white flowers)

Lavender (small aromatic stems with tiny purple flowers)

Lily (six petaled flower, petals curve outwards)

Myosotis (a small pastel blue flower)

Phyllis (a princess who died and was turned into an almond tree)

Poppy (round red flowers with large petals)

Rose (red, pink or white flower with petals that wrap around from the center)

Violet (small purple flowers)x

[persephonyed]

[ X ] for heath/daisy and bridget/maude hehe

📸 a peek into maude morgan's phone ft. bridget wexley.

send me a [ X ] to see my muses favorite picture(s) of your muse.

[starwarshub]

It’s too dangerous. I need to go alone.

[peakyswift]

daisy

tommy x fem!reader

SUMMARY y/n’s timid daughter daisy, becomes fond of tommy shelby

REQUEST here

WARNINGS none that i think of except my horrible writing

WORD COUNT 2,275

A/N first of all i’m sorry this took FOREVER to finish !! also i changed some small things, i hope that’s okay and you’ll still like it 🥺

‘’Come on Daisy, love. We have to go’’

Y/N stood in the doorway of her flat, impatiently tapping her foot. To say she was stressed was an understatement.

Ms. Bleeker, who usually watched Daisy while Y/N was at work, was sick with the flu. Leaving no other option for her than to bring Daisy with her to work.

Y/N worked as a secretary at Shelby Company LTD. She knew what kind of things they did but there weren’t many options for an unmarried woman in Small Heath and the Shelby’s had been nothing but kind to her. They made sure to keep her out of the illegal business and they paid good.

Daisy appeared from the living room and Y/N was quick to get her dressed in her coat and shoes. She took a gentle but firm grip on Daisy’s hand and walked out of the flat. They were already a little late, so they had to hurry in order to make it to the betting shop in time.

When they arrived Y/N took deep breath before opening the door. She hadn’t warned Mr. Shelby about bringing her child with her to work. She hadn’t had the time, and she couldn’t just leave a four-year-old home alone.

Y/N and Daisy stepped into the betting shop, and Y/N hurriedly took off Daisy’s coat, before taking her own off as well.

‘’Y/N is that you? Could you come in me office for a moment?’’ Tommy called out. Y/N took ahold of Daisy’s hand and made her way towards Tommy’s office. She knocked faintly on the half-shut door before entering.

‘’Morning Mr. Shelby’’ Y/N spoke, taking a moment to catch her breath, the walk to the betting shop had been rather stressful.

Tommy had his head deep in some papers. ‘’Morning Y/N, could you please take a look at these-‘’ he looked up from his desk, eyes widening as he discovered the little girl standing beside Y/N.

‘’Who is that?’’ Tommy spurted out, voice harsher than intended.

Y/N felt her cheeks turn crimson with embarrassment. ‘’I am terribly sorry Mr. Shelby’’.

‘’It’s just that I couldn’t find anyone to watch Daisy here and I didn’t know what else to do, god I really am sorry’’ Y/N rambled and placed her shaking hand on Daisy’s head.

Tommy frowned slightly at Y/N’s nervousness, was she really that scared of him?

‘’No, no it’s fine. I didn’t mean to sound so upset I apologize. It doesn’t bother me’’ he said and sent her a small smile.

He got out from his chair and stepped towards Y/N and Daisy.

‘’Hello Daisy’’ he greeted the four-year-old, voice soft. Daisy tightened her grip of Y/N’s skirt and hid her head behind it.

‘’I’m sorry Mr. Shelby, she’s a very shy kid’’ Y/N petted Daisy’s hair to soothe her. Tommy chuckled and took a step back. ‘’Stop with the apologies, and please call me Tommy’’. Y/N smiled unsurely and nodded.

‘’Of course Mr- Tommy sorry’’ her eyes widened ‘’oh I did it again sor-‘’ She quickly bit her lip to stop anymore words come out. Y/N’s face flushed once again, and she dropped her head in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Tommy’s heart couldn’t help but flutter at the sight.

‘’I’ll call Polly and ask to come look after Daisy so you can get some work done. If that’s okay with you of course?’’ Tommy said, hoping it would calm Y/N’s nerves a bit.

‘’You really don’t have to Tommy, I don’t want to bother Ms. Gray on her day off’’

Tommy shook his head, already making his way to the phone. ‘’I insist. Besides Polly loves kids, I promise you she won’t mind’’ he reassured.

Y/N sighed with relief, already feeling as though some of the stress had been lifted of her shoulders. Tommy came back after five short minutes. ‘’Polly would love to watch Daisy for a few hours, but she can’t be here for another half-hour’’ Tommy explained and gave Y/N an apologetic look.

‘’But we’ll just have to watch her until Polly gets here and then we can start working’’.

‘’I really don’t want to bother you more than I already have’’ Y/N smiled half-hearted at Tommy, who shook his head and lit a cigarette. ‘’It’s fine Y/N, seriously. I could do with a break anyway’’ he said, huffing a cloud of grey smoke out.

‘’Thank you’’ Y/N gave Tommy an appreciative smile.

‘’Do you want a cup of tea?’’ she asked, earning a nod from Tommy. ‘’That’d be nice, thank you Y/N’’.

‘’That’s the least I can do, and I’m still your secretary so it’s sort of my job’’ she chuckled.

Tommy gave her sad smile, there was something in him that couldn’t help but wish she was more. But a woman like her would gain nothing of being with a man like him.

Y/N began walking towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway when she couldn’t hear Daisy’s small steps behind her.

Normally Daisy would be right behind Y/N, no matter what. Daisy was the most timid and shy kid Y/N had ever met and always preferred to be within at least a three feet’s radius of her mum. It even took ages for her to get comfortable with the Ms. Bleeker.

So her not being right by Y/N’s side was surprising. From Tommy’s office Y/N could hear a faint giggle. She smiled to herself and continued her way to the kitchen.

Back in the office Tommy had lit himself another cigarette and sat down in one of the brown leather chairs. He was reading a newspaper and every few minutes he would peek over at Daisy who was sitting in the chair opposite of him.

Suddenly he felt a slight tug on the bottom of his trousers, with furrowed brows he folded the newspaper and looked down. His face softened when he saw that Daisy was standing by his feet.

‘’Hi love’’ he whispered and put his cigarette out.

‘’Can I sit?’’ Daisy mumbled, keeping her head down, not daring to look up.

‘’Of course you can’’ he said, picking her up and sitting her in his lap.

Y/N gasped as she entered Tommy’s office again, two cups of tea in her hands.

‘’How did you…? oh my god Tommy’’.

Tommy furrowed his brows, confused by Y/N’s reaction. ‘’What?’’ he asked.

‘’She’s never wanted to sit with anyone else but me. This is… you have no idea’’ Y/N stammered. She hurried over to them, placing the tea on the small table between the two chairs.

‘’Well it seems that she likes me’’ Tommy let out a nervous chuckle. Y/N’s eyes widened a little and she laughed. ‘’Like you? Tommy this is… god this is amazing’’. Tommy’s heart squeezed in his chest.

Y/N was stunned, she truly couldn’t believe Daisy felt so comfortable with Tommy. They looked like father and daughter, which made Y/N frown. She did feel bad about Daisy not having a father in her life.

Daisy’s father was Y/N’s first boyfriend who got scared and left after finding out about the pregnancy. They had both been young, only twenty-one to be exact, and they weren’t married. Apparently, he ‘wasn’t ready to settle down yet’, and thought the best solution was to leave Y/N, alone with almost no money and a child on the way.

So even though Y/N felt bad about Daisy not having a father, she was also sure it was better than Daisy having a father who couldn’t care less about her.

Y/N admired them with a smile, and Tommy shifted his focus from Daisy to Y/N. They locked eyes for a moment, and it felt as though time stood still.

‘’I’m here’’

Polly’s voice shook Y/N and Tommy back to reality. They shared a small laugh, both of them feeling rather flustered over the moment.

Tommy lifted Daisy off his lap and stood up to greet Polly who had just come into his office.

Y/N crouched down to Daisy and took her little hand in her own.

‘’Daisy, you’re going to go and spend some time with the nice woman over there,’’ she pointed to Polly who was standing in the doorway, smiling at them.

‘’And she then I’ll come and get you later alright? Because mummy needs to work hm?’’. Daisy eyes were already beginning to well up with tears.

‘’Love it’s okay, it’ll only be a few hours and mummy will be right next door, okay?’’ Y/N shushed. Tommy crouched down beside them and opened his arms for Daisy, who without hesitation walked into his embrace, allowing him to pick her up.

‘’Come on love, you’ll be back with mummy before you know it’’ he whispered to her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Daisy buried her face in Tommy’s chest, as he began walking over to Polly. When he was standing with Polly, he took a gentle hold on Daisy’s wrist and made a waving motion towards Y/N.

‘’Now be a big girl and say goodbye to mummy’’.  

‘’Bye bye mummy’’ Daisy sniffled. Y/N smiled and waved back. Tommy handed Daisy over to Polly, who, as Tommy, also was quick to comfort the girl.

It must be in the blood Y/N thought to herself.

‘’You know’’ Tommy cleared his throat and lit a cigarette. Y/N turned her head to him.

‘’You’re welcome to bring her with you tomorrow… I mean if that woman is still sick’’ he stammered a little and Y/N smirked at him.

‘’Thank you, Tommy, I’ll let you know if she’s still sick tomorrow. Now I really have to get started with work’’.

‘’Yeah of course Y/N’’ Tommy nodded.

Tommy lifted his head at a creaking sound. He smiled when he saw Daisy standing in the way doorway. ‘’Hi love’’ he muttered. With careful steps Daisy made her way over to Tommy. ‘’Can I play in here?’’ she fiddled with the hem of her dress. Tommy lifted his eyebrows, still surprised at how comfortable the girl was with him.

‘’Of course you can, but you need to be quiet, okay?’’ he petted her hair. Daisy nodded and placed herself on the soft carpet beside Tommy’s desk. Tommy chuckled to himself and let his focus go back to the papers in front of him.

Ten quiet minutes passed, and a sudden giggle made Tommy look down at Daisy. He laughed a little as well. ‘’I told you to be quiet Daisy, can you do that for me, eh?’’ he said with a gentle voice. Daisy nodded and stopped giggling. For the next five minutes not a sound came from her.

Then the giggling began again.

‘’Daisy I just told you. If want to be in here you have to be quiet’’ Tommy tried his best to keep his voice down, not wanting to seem mad. Not that he was mad, it was impossible to be mad at her. Daisy nodded again but this time she didn’t stop laughing. Tommy couldn’t help but laugh with her.

Y/N looked down and noticed that Daisy was no longer playing on the floor beneath her, her heart skipped a beat. She had been so focused on her work, that she hadn’t noticed Daisy had wandered off.

She instantly got up from her chair and ran to Tommy’s office to apologize but when she stood outside the door, she heard a faint sound of laughter. Her shoulders dropped and she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, and she knocked on the door.

‘’Come in’’ Tommy’s voice hummed, and Y/N stepped into the office.

She looked at Tommy who was sitting with Daisy in his lap. ‘’I’m sorry if she’s bothering you’’ Y/N said with a nervous chuckle.

‘’You don’t have to apologize Y/N’’ Tommy assured her and smiled.

Daisy yawned and babbled something about being sleepy. ‘’I think she needs a nap’’ Tommy said and looked around the room. ‘’I’m afraid I don’t have that many good napping spots’’ he joked and scratched the back of his head.

‘’Uhm… the chair is big enough for her I think’’ Y/N pointed to the brown leather chairs. ‘’I mean if its okay with you’’ she added quickly after. Daisy was already on the verge of sleep.

‘’Of course, she can use my jacket as a blanket’’ .

Tommy carried Daisy over, carefully placing her in one of the chairs. He pulled his jacket off and laid it over her.

‘’Thank you again’’ Y/N placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, the removal of his jacket leaving only his thin button up between his warm skin and Y/N’s hand.

‘’’I’ll leave you to it then’’ she gave his arm a squeeze and began walking towards the door.

‘’Oh Y/N by the way. I asked Polly if she could watch Daisy tonight’’.

Y/N let go of the doorknob and turned around to face Tommy. ‘’For what? I don’t work in the evenings’’ she furrowed her brows and a smug smile crept on Tommy’s lips.

‘’Well, you can’t watch her while having dinner, can you?’’ he questioned, leaving Y/N even more confused.

‘’Dinner? what on earth are you talking about Tommy?’’.

‘’I’m picking you up at seven’’ he winked and began shifting through some papers. Y/N bit a smile back and felt her cheeks flush.

‘’Tommy Shelby, you sly bastard’’ she whispered and shook her head. She looked down at Daisy who was fast asleep in the leather chair and back up at Tommy who was hiding his smirk behind the papers in his hand.

Maybe the dream of Daisy having a father in her life, wasn’t that crazy after all.

[toms-cherry-trees]

What Could Have Been || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Love is not enough. Not even for soulmates.

Word Count: 4270

Warnings: Angst, no proof reading

Author’s note: Nothing to see here, move foward to the reading. Enjoy!

Let me know if you wanna be in my taglist

Ever since you were ten years old, everyone around you commented on the same thing. 

You would marry the boy next door. Tommy Shelby. 

He had been your playmate since the most tender infancy, being born one day after the other, you being the oldest of the pair, which you would use against him every time you had the chance. 

He had treated you like another mate, despite being the only girl of the Watery Lane’s rascals gang. He taught you to climb trees, shoot rats with a slingshot and whistle different tunes to attract birds. You taught him how to feed said birds from his hand and to steal sweets and fruits from the market’s stands while you distracted the owners.

Everyone down Watery Lane noticed the special connection you two seemed to share. While some neighbours advised your mother that boys and girls should not mix up, for fear of spoiling your upbringing and reputation, others smirked for themselves and augured a future where you two shared a house down the road and half a dozen children swarming around you.

You were 13 when Thomas taught you to ride your first horse, your knees trembling as you tried to hold onto the shiny chestnut colt he had borrowed from a Lee boy during the fair. Sensing your uneasiness, and fearing you might fall and injure yourself, Tommy hopped onto the animal’s back behind you, circling your frame with his arms as he held the reins and led the beast into a peaceful trot down the bank of the river. When you let the horse rest, you two sat together under the leafy branches of an oak, in a tattered blanket you had brought from home, and snacked on blackberries from some nearby bushes and clear water from the spring. He gave you a makeshift bouquet of wild poppies and daisies; you had never felt your heart leap so strongly in your chest.

He was your Tommy and you were his Poppet.

Often you two would sneak out in the middle of the night and let your hearts run free. From climbing onto rooftops to bathing in the cut, or sneaking to his Uncle Charlie’s yard to help Curly deliver a foal, the night was yours to own and do as you pleased, away from judging comments and criticising eyes. Even if it lasted for just a few short hours,they were just for the two of you, the King and Queen of town. 

The years passed, the two of you grew, so did everyone around you. As everyone expected, you became his sweetheart, and he became the envy of the block, having the sweetest piece of woman Small Heath could offer on his arm. The days flew by, the months became years, and people began to murmur. Why weren’t you two getting married? Why hadn’t Tommy proposed? The nagging gave way to the gossip. Maybe one of them lacked commitment? Maybe Tommy had found a fault with the lady? Or maybe she had found flaw in perfection?

Truth be told, none of you were in a rush. Tommy wanted to build a career and business before focusing on a family, and you had no desire to dedicate your young years to become a housewife. None of you had much money to spare anyway, and you wished for something a bit better than borrowed clothes and an appointment in the registry office. You may not be engaged yet but you had dreams. You wanted a nice party and a pretty dress, and he wanted a celebration that would be remembered for years. And in order to achieve the stars, you had to be patient.

But life had other plans.

You knew about the unrest in the continent. You heard the news of the assasination of the archduke and his wife. But you and everyone around you carried on as usual, too preoccupied with daily life to worry about those living thousands of miles away. Sure, a member of a royal family had been murdered, so what? How could it affect you, in a small town on an island not even remotely close to them?

You had held onto those hopeful thoughts all the way down to that day. You were in your parents' kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner when a young boy ran down Watery Lane, tightly clutching a piece of paper, and hollering at the top of his lungs that the Kingdom had declared war on Germany. People rushed towards their homes in such a haste you would have believed they had the troops on their tails. You tried to keep up with dinner, but your hands trembled so violently you sliced off the top of your index. 

You didn’t see any of the Shelby brothers for three days.

And when Tommy showed up, he knocked on your door like he would do any other day, leaning into the doorframe, with his hand stuffed in his pocket like he had been away for just half a day. You would have smacked him with his cap if you hadn’t been so happy to see him. Truth be told, you had already experienced nightmares of the war generals sneaking into town in the middle of the night and dragging him out of his bed and straight into Germany. 

You two sat in the small kitchen, your hands laced around a cup of tea and his hands over yours. 

“Where did you go?” Your voice trembled at the end

“Tried to run away”

That answer took you aback. You hadn’t expected something like that from him, and by the expression he bore, neither did he. 

“After the declaration, Polly told us to leave. Pack our bags, get on the road with the Lees or the Boswells, lay low until things have calmed down, no matter how long it takes. And we considered it, honestly. She wouldn’t let us go out the house, in case the recruiters came. I actually thought about running away, but that's not who I am. That’s not who I want to be. I don’t want to go down in history as one of the cowards. I want to be one of the heroes. So I will be enlisting”

That’s all it took for you to break down crying. You knew Tommy had a knack for hopeless causes, and he always seeked for the greater good. You had dreaded he would want to enlist before the war office came to drag him. But you had hoped you’d have a bit more time. 

“Hey hey, no need for tears, I am not dead yet, am I?” His dark humour didn’t help, making you in fact cry harder. He placed his index under your chin, gently lifting your face so you’d met his gaze “I will go. I will fight. And then I will return and we will get married with all the pomp and pageantry you deserve” 

And so he went off for his training alongside his brothers. Two weeks before he was due to depart, he asked for your picture to carry with him, close to his heart. You agreed, only with the condition that he’d take a photo with you, so you too would have something to carry close to your heart. He protested, but agreed nonetheless. Anything to help ease your pain. You got four pictures, two of you wearing your best Sunday dress, and two of you together, him standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders.

The last day you had, you decided to ditch everyone around you, packed a basket and went to the river, for the sake of the old times. With a bottle of beer, a bunch of fruit and the same blanket you used ten years prior, you dedicated the last hours for yourselves. There was a lot of kissing, and also a lot of tears. Tommy promised over and over he would return, and entertained you with stories of the future that awaited you, with a nice house, a dog, and no less than three children playing in the garden.

As the sun began its descent, tinting the waters and the sky of a deep red hue, you pulled from your pocket a small box, neatly tied with white ribbon, and presented it to him. Tommy raised his eyebrow, but without asking, undid the bow to reveal the present.

Inside, nested in white cotton balls, laid a locket. Oval shaped, with a smooth, silvery surface. Tommy popped it open, only to find inside a picture of yourself on one side, and on the other, a lock of your hair shielded behind glass. 

“I know you have my picture” You explained, meeting his puzzled gaze “But pictures can get wet or be lost or destroyed. I want you to have me close, as will I” You pulled out from your neckline your own locket, heart shaped, containing his picture and an empty space. Tommy got the hint. He grabbed his pocket knife and snipped the strand which usually fell over his forehead, just a small curl, enough to fill in the space. Now he had as much of you as you had of him. 

“This is a promise locket. Because that locket and that hair is mine. I am lending it to you, so you have to promise to come home to give it back” Despite the painful tightening in your chest, you managed to crack a smile. Tommy leaned in for a kiss, his hand resting on the curve of your hip, slowly descending as the kiss deepened.

Five minutes later, the heart locket was the only thing you had on.

~

4 years of waiting. Four years of anxiety, sending letters every month, and getting replies every 3 to 4 months. Opening the front door every time the mailman walked down the lane, hoping that this time he’d stop at your door, while at the same time drearing receiving a very different kind of letter. The first two years, his letters were filled with sweet nonsense, pouring his love in the paper and adding small anecdotes of the trenches. But over time the letters became shorter, colder. You tried to blame it on the stress, the lack of time, any excuse at all, while you eased your worry by keeping busy helping Polly with the business and looking after Finn and Ada.

It wasn’t until the first days of 1916 that he was granted leave, and you saw him for the first time. You were the only one waiting in the station, since the kids were at school and Polly didn’t want to close the shop. The train came to a halt with a screech, and soldiers poured from the doors like an avalanche, onto the open arms of weeping wives and mothers. You scanned the crowd for him, panic bubbling in your stomach when you couldn’t find him. Perhaps he had missed the train? Or his leave had been cancelled? The station had almost emptied completely when you saw him, but you had to look twice to recognize him. Could that be Tommy? Your Tommy? His sunken face and gaunt complexion resembled more a man on his deathbed than a twenty something year old. He sported a thin cut alongside his left cheekbone, and walked with a limp. He had seen you too, but made no effort to approach you, waiting for you to run to him. When you clashed into his chest, he circled your frame with his arm, but his body felt stiff, and the embrace cold.

Still, you wiped your tears and got the best of the ten days he would be home. You cooked his favourite meals, forewent a few commodities to afford him a bottle of nice whiskey, and generally went out of your way to make his visit pleasant. But something seemed off in him. Something had changed. Not only had his body thinned and his voice deepened, perhaps the effect of cheap spirits and toxic fumes, but something deeper seemed to be off as well. The only way you could describe it was that he had lost the joy to live. Good food and drinks had no effect on him, and not even when you laid on his bed, tangled in his sheets wearing only your promise lockets, did he show any more emotion. He had also begun to sleep during the day and keep vigil at night, his pale eyes fixated on the wall until dawnbreak. 

You didn’t see him again until the end of the war.

For months, no letter arrived, nor from him nor from the war office. You heard at home the horrors of the battles of Verdun and the Somme, only known through those who lived it, since the newspapers refused to publish anything that could tamper with the people’s spirits, and even the letters sent home were subject to censorship. The more days passed, the more your worry grew. You were forced to remind yourself that no news was better than bad news, and perhaps Tommy just hadn’t found the time to write, or had run out of pencil and paper. 

It wasn’t until the beginning of 1917 that you heard from him again. He had received leave and decided to spend it in the north of France, claiming he didn’t have enough days to make the journey back worthy. You tried to understand, but you felt the pain in your heart nonetheless. Perhaps it felt too painful for him, coming back home knowing he’d have to leave once again. Perhaps he wished to rest and did not want to make the journey home and back for just a couple days.

Perhaps he had found a better company in France. 

You pushed those unfounded accusations to the back of your mind, keeping them under lock and key. How could you think that way of Tommy? He loved you, and he would never betray your trust like that.

Right?

His lacklustre writing got you through the war, still clinging desperately to every strand of his love you could. When peace finally came, you awaited eagerly for his return and for your life to go back to normal. But you couldn’t have imagined what normal meant.

You gave the army a man and they gave back a corpse. A living, breathing, soulless corpse. If you didn’t know better, you could have sworn they sent you the wrong man. This…person, the thing he had become, he wasn’t your Tommy. He wasn’t the one you had fallen in love with.

None of them came home the same, truth be told. But obviously your attention focused on the one you cared about. You could bear some aspects, like the nightmares and the initial paranoia. But some became unmanageable. The opium, the alcoholism, the violence.

The coldness.

It felt as if romancing a snowman. Everything inside Tommy had gone cold; not just his joy to live, but also his relationships with others. With his aunt, with his brothers, and with you. He hadn’t ended things with you, perhaps out of respect for your unwavering loyalty, but he might as well have and once and for all end your misery. 

You slept with him for several nights after his return, but he would always be gone before you awoke, and would only take you to his room after dark, as if you were a cheap alleway whore and not the one he had wanted once to marry. During the days you seldom saw him, with his mind buried in the business, or perhaps still buried in the French mud. You had simply faded into the background of his life.

For your own sake, and to not let ten years of your life go to waste, you endured. You could turn a blind eye to his crooked ways, and even could pretend that the pretty barmaid from the Garrison wasn’t batting her eyelashes at him every time their eyes met, much to his apparent delight. You could pretend that you didn’t hear from Arthur that Tommy caught the fucking clap in France.

But you couldn’t deal with the violence.

His anger, rarely incurred before the war, seemed ready to lash out at any moment now. Even the slightless things sent him into madness. His hand didn’t waver to shoot an inconvenient person, or to blind them with those godforsaken blades he had sewed into his cap. It became the murmur of the town that the new copper was after him, and they even said he had killed two men inside the Garrison, before leaving with the pretty barmaid. 

One particular day, he gave you a train ticket, and offered no more explanation that I’d do you good to be away for the day. Go to London, buy some clothes, get some fresh air. Of course you threw the ticket in the fireplace and stayed home all day, knowing he would be up to something if he wished to get rid of you so desperately. News reached you about the shootout in Garrison Lane. Orchestrated by a certain Billy Kimber after Tommy tried to sack him from the races. You knew he had been shot, but didn’t attempt to go and see him. He’d have plenty of company in the afterparty to keep the mind busy and the body warm. But you? You have had enough. You could ignore anything but this. This was just the beginning, and things would only get worse from here. And you hadn’t lived through a war, only to live the rest of your days in another one. 

If this was the path Tommy wanted to take, you’d have to swallow your feelings and go the other way.

~

You were bent over your coarse kitchen table. Beads of sweat gathered at your temples and rolled down the crook of your neck, getting lost in the valley between your breasts. The curves of your body swayed in a slow cadence. You had spent the last 15 minutes working on that bread dough, kneading the sticky lump into shape, while the unforgiving summer sun heated up your tiny kitchen through the opaque window panes. The last thing you wanted to do was light up the stove, but homemade bread was considerably cheaper than store bought, and in the current situation, every penny counted. Oh, what you’d give to be laying under the shadow of an oak, enjoying the breeze and dipping your feet in the river. 

A knock on the door pulled you away from your thoughts. You weren’t expecting any visitors, at least not any that would simply drop by unannounced. The force of habit made you open the door without looking through the peephole, and you found the entrance blocked by the imponent presence of the one and only, Tommy Shelby.

Not Tommy. Thomas. He had long ago stopped being your Tommy. 

“Mr. Shelby, what brings you here?”  The formality in your tone made him flinch. Four years had passed since you walked away, and he still couldn’t get used to it.

“Mr. Shelby? My my, (Y/N) I believed ourselves to be past those formalities”

You were ready to tell him you were busy and send him off, but he decided to push past you and into the house, displaying his lack of care for social formalities.

“Make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” You crossed your arms over your chest, watching him take a seat in the chair your husband sat in.

“Your husband came today to my office, you know?” Husband. Tommy had never used his name, Daniel. The few times he spoke to you or inquired to others about you, he only called him that. Husband. Trying to turn him into an object and not a human being.

“Did he now?” You asked, uninterested, as you wiped the table clean and covered the dough with a cloth to rise.

“Asking for money” Tommy spoke slowly, letting the words drag to test your reaction “A considerable sum, in fact” He had a triumphant smile, as if he had caught Daniel doing some evil thing and was now exposing him to you “Any idea why?”

You hesitated with your words, unsure on how to proceed. But he would find out sooner or later anyway.

“Babies are an expensive business and we need more space” You turned to face him, seeing the colours drain from his face. His pale eyes scanned your figure, stopping over your belly, covered by a white apron.

“You…”

“Why did you come here Thomas? To tell on my husband, hoping to expose him? To make me upset? What is it that you want?”

He stood and grabbed your hands, making you stumble and forcing you to hold onto him for support.

“That means this is our last chance” You were taken aback by the urgency in his voice.

“What do you mean our last chance?” You tried to step away, but he only held you tighter “We left our last chance behind many years ago. When you almost left to be with Grace in New York. When I told you I would be getting married. Now-”

“Is not too late yet” He cupped your face, and much to your dismay, his touch still sent sparks coursing through your skin “We can be together. We can be happy. I would raise your child as my own and no one needs to know”

Your knees trembled. Your mouth dried up. Had he come here, into your home, first wanting to put you at odds with your husband, and now to ask you to elope with him?

“Tommy” You spoke softly, hoping to reason with him “That is not okay. We cannot do that. Our time has passed. I have Daniel, you are due to marry Grace and have her son. Your son” He raised his eyebrows, puzzled. Officially Charles was the son of the late Mr. MacMillan, but you were no fool. The Shelby eyes never lie.

“Screw your husband. Screw Grace. I know you love me still. Isn’t it all that matters? I need you. We can grab our things and get away. Start over. Be together as we should have. Leave behind the gang, the business, our pasts. ”

Your lips trembled. A tear threatened to spill off the corner of your eye. A knot tightened painfully around your windpipe, making it hard to breathe.

“Tommy, I.. We…No. Is not the right thing. You can’t abandon your boy. And Daniel, he deserves the world, I couldn’t break his heart like that”

Tommy slammed his fist on the table “For fuck’s sake. Do you want to be happy? What is so good about Saint Daniel? He took you from me!”

You immediately became defensive, feeling anger seep into you, replacing your softer emotions. He actually had had the nerve to question your husband, instead of questioning how his own doings drove you away. You took a step back.

“He makes me happy. He loves me. He is a nice man. A nice, good, honest, hard-working man. He…”

“He’s not me. That’s the point, isn’t it? He’s safe. He is honest. He would never hurt a man, let alone kill him. He’s everything that I’m not”

His eyes scanned the room, going from the flowers Daniel had brought you and were now in a vase, to the embroidery frames with sweet little messages hung on the wall, and the two armchairs in front of the blackened fireplace; over the mantelpiece stood your wedding protograph. You saw longing in his features, longing at what his life could have been if circumstances had been different, if things hadn’t gotten in the way, if he had been different, if…

“Tell Daniel to forget about the loan” He couldn’t mask his defeat. Tommy had aged years in just a moment. He had never lost a fight, nor being kept from what he wanted. He had never known defeat. “It's a gift, for the baby. I’ll rip the paynote and we will forget about it” He opened and closed his mouth, wanting desperately to say something else but not daring to “If you ever need anything, and I mean anything at all, just call me. It doesn’t matter when or where, I’ll come to you. I’ll always come to you” 

Tommy hesitated in the soles of his feet, not daring to breach the distance between you two. In the end he leaned closer, just enough to brush a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered more than it was wise, and you caught a glimpse of silver peeking out from between his clothes. A silver necklace. Blinding pain shot through your chest, making you gasp for breath. You tried to reach out and touch the necklace, but he had already pulled away. He fixed his cap and left.

You rushed to the window, your teary gaze following him until he had disappeared from sight. Even after all those years, your knees trembled and your stomach tickled with butterflies in his presence. Heart aching for the man he had stopped being a long time ago. For the Tommy who had been buried in France and replaced with a new one. One you never knew.

Feeling weak and shaky, you went into your room and reached into your nightstand, pulling off the bottom of the drawer to reveal a small silver chest. It had been a while since you last opened it.

Inside were no riches or jewels or great secrets of the State. Only a bunch of pressed poppies, two lovers smiling from a faded picture, a dull heart locket, and all the dreams of what life could have been.

[jessicaaatje]

People I'll write for

Some will be platonic, but sometimes I can make them not platonic. You can make couples, then I will maybe write a poly fic, or one where the couple are the parents of the reader.

WOSO

Alex Morgan

Christen Press

Ashlyn Harris

Ali Krieger

Tobin Heath

Lindsey Horan

Emily Sonnett

Kelley O'Hara

Hope Solo

Leah Williamson

Jill Roord

Jackie Groenen

Vivianne Miedema

Alexia Putellas

Jenni Hermoso

And more...

STRANGER THINGS

Max Mayfield

Eleven

Nancy Wheeler

Robin Buckley

Susy

Erica Sinclair

Chrissy

Kali

Platonic

Will Byers

Mike Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Dustin Henderson

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Parents

Jim Hopper

Joyce Byers

Bob Newby

Murray

MARVEL

Natasha Romanoff

Wanda Maximoff

Yelena Belova

Daisy Johnson

Jemma Simmons

Melinda May

Kate Bishop

Elena Rodriguez

Bobbi Morse

Sprite

Darcy Lewis

And more...

Platonic

Leo Fitz

Deke Shaw

Mack

Peter Parker

Pietro Maximoff

And more...

GLEE

Santana Lopez

Quinn Fabray

Marley Rose

Mercedes Jones

Platonic

Kurt Hummel

Noah Puckerman

Blaine Anderson

DC

Sara Lance

Zari Tarazi

Zari Tomaz

Spooner

Astra Logue

Gideon

Amaya Jiwe

Charlie

Ava Sharpe

Kara Danvers

Alex Danvers

Maggie Sawyer

Lena Luthor

Laurel Lance

Thea Queen

Mia Queen

Dinah Drake

Felicity Smoak

Killer Frost

Caitlin Snow

Nora West-Allen

Allegra Garcia

Jesse Quick

Lois Lane

Sarah Dawes

Nyssa al Ghul

Platonic

Most of the boys in the arrowverse

CRIMINAL MINDS

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Alex Blake

Kate Cahallan

Elle Greenaway

Penelope Garcia

Platonic

Derek Morgan

Spencer Reid

Parent

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Jason Gideon

PITCH PERFECT

Becca Mitchell

Chloe Beale

Aubrey Posen

Emily Junk

Fat Amy

QUANTICO

Alex Parrish

Shelby Wyatt

Nimah and her Sister

DISNEY

DESCENDANTS

Mal

Evie

Uma

Audrey

TVD

Caroline Forbes

Bonnie Bennett

Lizzie Saltzman

Hope Mikealson

Josie Saltzman

Penelope Park

Rebekah Mikealson

Hayley Marshall

Davina Claire

Freya Mikealson

ARCANE

Jinx

Powder

Vi

Lost In Space

Penny Robinson

Judy Robinson

Platonic

Will Robinson

HUNGER GAMES

Katniss Everdeen

Foxface

Primrose Everdeen

Johanna Mason

And mkre from the 74th hunger games women

TWILIGHT

Alice Cullen

Leah Clearwater

Reneesmee Cullen

Rosalie Hale

HARRY POTTER

Ginny Weasley

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Tonks

Daphne Greengrass

Lily Evans

Platonic

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Parents

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

James Potter

Remus x Sirius

James x Lily

ZERO CHILL

Kayla

Ava Hammerstrom

Sky

GAME OF THRONES

Arya Stark

Sansa Stark

Ygritte

Brienne

Margaery Tyrell

Daenerys Targaryen

REIGN

Mary Stuart

Lola

Kenna

Greer

THE 100

Clarke Griffin

Octavia Blake

Harper

Raven Reyes

Lexa

Anya

Madi Griffin

Cobra Kai

Sam LaRusso

Top Gun

Penny Benjamin

Amelia Benjamin

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace

Platonic

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

'Hangman'

Parents

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell

'Iceman'

'Goose'

More To Come!

[runnning-outof-time]

Main Masterlist

Last Updated: 6/20

All works are my own - I do not give consent to the reposting of them in any form.

——— (listed from oldest -> newest - by character) ———

Tommy Shelby:

— Wild Eyes: based off of the song ‘Wild Eyes’ by The Glorious Sons.

— A Walk By the Lake: (Y/N) can tell that Tommy has a lot on his mind, so she suggests that they drive to the nearest lake and take a walk; allowing themselves to get immersed in the autumn foliage.

— Lurking in the Shadows: (Y/N)’s initial interest in a man she meets fades quickly after she notices him lurking in the shadows, watching her every move.

— Ghost Town: Tommy travels back to Small Heath to find it a ghost town. As he walks down Watery Lane, he finds a woman, who’s happy to tell him of how his beloved city has changed since the Shelby name disappeared from the streets.

Arthur Shelby:

— The Wild West: Arthur Shelby serves as a town’s acting sheriff, but makes most of his money from stolen horses and train robberies.

— Rainy Days: Arthur stays home with his partner and listens to the rain fall all day.

John Shelby:

— Traveling: John and (Y/N) decide to set out on a trip that spans across the seasons. They get lost in many beautiful woods and see countless sunrises and sunsets during their travels.

The Shelby Brothers:

— Backbone: the brothers during WWI based off of the song ‘Backbone’ by KALEO.

Alfie Solomons:

— Pen Pals: A young, prominent woman living on a countryside estate finds an unlikely pen pal in a ‘baker’ from Camden Town.

— Just One Last Present: After celebrating a birthday to remember, Alfie gives his wife one last present. (Alfie x OC Rose Solomons, created by @/justrainandcoffee)

Misc:

— Esme Shelby-Lee/Living off the Land: Esme’s able to live the life she’s dreamed of...away from the gang and the smoke with her husband and family.

—

— Luca Changretta,John Shelby/A Turn of Events: After being pushed away from the only man she’s ever loved, John Shelby, (Y/N) finds herself in the company of another — a man who makes her feel a fire she’s never felt before, not even with John.

— UNDER CONSTRUCTION —

— Tommy Shelby/Art Deco: Tommy Shelby becomes enthralled with a woman who no person at the party can seem to catch the eye of…that is until he tries.

— Tommy Shelby/One Last Time: Tommy and (Y/N) take one last trip out to the countryside after he tells her that he’s going to fight in France.

— Tommy Shelby/In His Thoughts: Tommy encounters a woman while at the home of one of his business partners. He has no idea who the woman is, but he can’t seem to stop himself from thinking about her.

— Tommy & Alfie/Lost in the Countryside: (Y/N) somehow finds herself stuck in the same car as Tommy and Alfie. With one being her brother and the other her fiancé, her loyalties are tested pretty fast as she finds just how frequently the two argue with each other. To make matters worse, they manage to find themselves lost amidst the countryside.

— Tommy Shelby/Wild Eyes p.2: based off of the song Wild Eyes by Brother Elsey

— Tommy Shelby/Play With Fire: moodboard based off of the pairing of Tommy Shelby and @/evita-shelby ‘s OC, Eva Smith-Shelby.

— Arthur Shelby/Birthday Celebration: Arthur and (Y/N) celebrate her birthday the only way they know how: by going out on the town and raising some hell.

— Tommy Shelby/A New Discovery: “I am able to do things that others cannot.” - a moodboard based off of the pairing of Tommy Shelby and @/evita-shelby’s OC, Eva Smith-Shelby

— Arthur Shelby/“My Darling Daisies”: Arthur can’t help but smile when his two, young daughters come bounding in the house to show their father the daisies that their mother, his wife, had weaved into their hair.

— Alfie Solomons/A Man of Simple Pleasures: Alfie Solomons has given up his days of risk and adventure to persure a passion of his that is moreso on the quieter side: being a librarian. And when his old friends from his days running one of the meanest gangs in Camden Town turn up wondering why he’s done this, he simply states that he’s “proud of what he has become”.

— Tommy Shelby/There’s Something About this Place: In which Tommy becomes encapsulated by the mysteriousness of the library he visits, as well as the woman who spends a great deal of time inside it.

— Tommy Shelby/A Night at the Cinema: In which Tommy decides to take his lady to one of the best cinemas in London for a night out.

— John & Arthur Shelby/“Honey, let’s take a trip”: A glimpse into the honeymoons that the other two Shelby brothers and their wives embarked on. Unlike Tommy did with his two marriages, John and Esme and Arthur and Linda decided to strip everything away and venture out to the countryside to spend some time together.

— Tommy Shelby/Dandelions: “There’s nothing better than your smile and a field of dandelions.”

— Alfie Solomons/Writing in the Rain: In which Alfie and a woman he’s never met write letters to each other. Over time, he notices that he gets these letters in sporadic chunks…and they always seem to mention the rain.

— Tommy Shelby/“Welcome to Downton, Mr. Shelby”: moodboard inspired by @/notyour-valentine’s series “Welcome to Downton, Mr. Shelby”.

— Tommy Shelby/Harbor Town: Tommy travels to a small harbor town for business, where he can’t seem to stop himself from spending his extra time down by the docks.

— Tommy Shelby/A Happy Accident: made for @/there-goes-thefighter’s 300 follower milestone.

— The Shelby Brothers/Godless Men: inspired by the song Manifest Destiny, Pt. 1 by Rival Sons

— Tommy Shelby/“Let’s Set Sail”: (Y/N) tries to coax Tommy out of his office by enticing him with a sailing trip. Even though he’s got work piled on his desk - and has a general distaste for anything that involves water, he agrees, knowing just how big a smile this trip will put on his wife’s face.

— Alfie Solomons/Wishes: based on the fic titled Wishes by @/raincoffeeandfandoms

— “Nevertheless, She Persisted.”: a gift for the lovely @/acewritesfics.

— Arthur Shelby/Closer to Heaven…Closer to Hell: inspired by @/call-sign-shark ‘s Arthur x OC series Heaven in Your Eyes.

— Tommy Shelby/Wildflowers and Wild Horses: inspired by the song with the same title by Lainey Wilson.

— Rose Solomons (OC)/So that the ladies know: Rose Solomons enjoys spending her alone time reading and writing. She loves to immerse herself in works that are prevalent to the movement she is part of, and has even taken up writing pamphlets and letters so that the other women working towards sufferage know that they are not alone. Inspired by @/raincoffeeandfandoms ‘s OC, Rose Solomons

— Tommy Shelby/Once Upon A Time…: Tommy Shelby becomes enchanted by a woman he sees inn the garden of a business partner. (Y/N)’s a beautiful woman who immediately finds interest in the man seeking her out. When you think that you’re sure there is love, you must remember that every fairytale isn’t always what it seems…

— Tommy Shelby/Only The Wild Ones: inspired by the series of the same title written by @/everythingelseisextra

— Alfie Solomons/A Tale As Old As Time: Moodboard inspired by Disney’s Beauty and the Beast

— Alfie Solomons/Autumn Dreaming: Even though spring is approaching them, Alfie and Rose still take time to sit and reminisce on late autumn walks that they took.

— Tommy Shelby/There’s Something About These Grounds…: The new Mrs Shelby holds a deep fear of the grounds of Arrow House. A conversation with a strange woman by the pond on the property has her worried for the future of her family, and what makes things worse is that Tommy doesn’t want to hear a word about it. Why won’t anyone listen to her? Why can she not even go outside now?

— Alfie Solomons/At Least There’s A Sunset…: Alfie and Rose Solomons decide to take a trip into the mountains during the height of winter. Snow starts to fall just as they reach the cabin they’re renting. Come the end of the day, they were practically snowed in. But at least a beautiful sunset came along to tell them that their trip would all work out just fine.

— Alfie Solomons/A Winter Getaway: Alfie and Rose decide to take a winter getaway to Iceland once the travel restrictions are lifted. When Rose goes back through the photos taken of all of the wonderful sights, she finds that Alfie wasn’t in any of them. Of course Alfie had a reason for that.

———

divider by @firefly-graphics

[peakywitch]

MASTERLIST!

 Hey cuties, Marti here. I’m starting to write my masterlist. This one will be 2020 masterlist. Request are open and here is my prompts list! Feel free to ask for one, two or ten! Send me a message asking for one! lots of love, Marti:)

PEAKY BLINDERS

 ANGST: ⚡️

FLUFF: ☁️

TRIGGER WARNING: 💥

ARTHUR SHELBY:

AGE GAP (headcanon, asked) 💥⚡️☁️

How i think Arthur would react when he finds out the girl he likes is way younger than he thought.

THOMAS SHELBY:

THE PSYCHIC (witch!reader): ⚡️☁️💥

ONE // TWO // THREE

Tommy meets a psychic and she starts revealing things no Shelby knew.

MERRY FUCKIN’ CHRISTMAS: ⚡️☁️

 ONE // TWO

After discovering a lie, a fight takes place in the Shelby household, leaving a broken heart and a guilty man.

HIS DAISY (asked) ⚡️☁️

When Tommy’s daughter appears after being away the whole night, both parents have a peivate chat.

CHARLIE, MOMMY AND DADDY (asked)⚡️ PART 2

Tommy isn’t over Grace, but still is married to the woman who loves him more than anything. When she finds out, the dispute over who is more a parent to Charlie begins, leving a marriage in pieces.

AGE GAP (headcanon, asked)⚡️💥

ONE // TWO

How i think Thomas would react when he finds out the girl he likes is way younger than he thought.

BABY, BABY  ☁️

When Y/N visits her parents, she begins to think she will be forever the aunt of the family

DARLING DID  ☁️ ⚡️

Darling thinks Tommy wants to be with the dead rather than with their kid.

OF CATS AND KIDS  ☁️ 💥

“Ok so how about a tommy Shelby x reader The reader is his wife( let’s imagine there was no grace) and one rainy day she comes home and is hiding something under her coat When tommy asks what it is she says nothing Then they hear a small meow and she says Yeah well that explains a lot of things and tommy just falls even more in love?”

TEN YEARS CALM ☁️

Tommy has a certain way to express his feelings. Asked, prompt: "Can i borrow that book of yours?"

PRE WAR TOMMY BLURBS: (if you want to ask for one, please specify it is for pw!tommy!)

marry me

our kids

JOHN SHELBY:

JANE:  ONE ⚡️☁️

Trying to guarantee a good future for her daughter, Y/N takes a job in the Shelby Company.

CASSIOPEIA: ONE ⚡️☁️

John doesn’t know how to cook, Y/N does. John does know how to flirt, but Y/N doesn’t know what to feel.

TO DIE FOR (blurb) 💥☁️⚡️

When PTSD hits Y/N, John helps his crying and hurt wife.

DON‘T YOU I-LOVE-YOU ME (blurb) ⚡️

John keeps forgeting about his dates with y/n and she is confronts him. Based on my experience.

AGE GAP (headcanon, asked)⚡️

How i think John would react when he finds out the girl he likes is way younger than he thought. 

FUCK MEN (asked) 💥☁️⚡️

A little party never killed nobody, because John Shelby is there to rescue his wife.

MICHAEL GRAY: 

LITTLE HANDS:  ONE // TWO ⚡️☁️

Michael leaves the village without telling the mother of his future kid.

SICK (asked, blurb) ☁️

Michael is sick, and want Y/N to cook soup for him although he doesn’t like soup.

WELCOME TO SMALL HEATH: ONE ⚡️

“Welcome to Small Heath” was what Y/N heard the day her and Michael’s life changed forever.

BUSINESS  ☁️

A new relationship blossoms in the office, but it’s no secret morning sex exists.

TOO MUCH, TOO LESS 💥☁️⚡️

Y/N went through a lot, and Michael Gray won't be able to step over her anymore. She won't allow it.

HOLY GOSSIP  ☁️⚡️

Partners in crime sometimes don't last. 

KNOW-IT-ALL 💥

 Michael always knows what his girlfriend is thinking. (or, in which Y/N has sex flashbacks and Michael knows),

OLD CHAPTERS  ⚡️

In hopes of defeating an old enemy, Michael pays Y/N a visit.

WISH I COULD ☁️

"Hey hope your day’s going well :) “I wish I could marry you…” & Michael Gray? Thanks so much love 💕"

FINN SHELBY:

BEHIND THE GARRISON, BY THE CANAL ⚡️

Finn forgot about a date and got discovered.

LEMONADE LIPS (asked, blurb) ☁️

Picnic, books, butterflies and lemonade kisses.

ALFIE SOLOMONS:

BONNIE GOLD:

ISAIAH JESUS:

MODERN!SHELBYS:

MODERN!MICHAEL:

RANDOM POSTS about our fave gang:

their zodiac signs, by me, someone who knows a little 

peakys’ astrological signs: in more detail.

poor finn

a quick guide about where to sit in peaky school

MORE RANDOM POSTS but about the actors:

SOMETIMES I LIKE SEAN WALLACE TOO

ALABI (asked) ⚡️☁️💥

“ Hiya creative human being! I was wondering if you could make an imagine with Sean Wallace using 19,28,54 in which he comes back home after been hiding and find out his girlfriend was pregnant and they have a 2-moth-old baby girl???? Random, I know. Love your writing, bye 💕 “ 

COLD AND SWEET:  ONE // TWO   ⚡️ ☁️

Mornings without coffee, are not the same. So, in order to fix things, you sometimes just have to know what coffee someone likes.

NOW  ⚡️

Now that he’s gone, I still see him on his chair. Running his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply to calm himself, looking at me with a smile full of love and tenderness. 

THINGS SEAN TOTALLY DOES ☁️

Sean Wallace headcannons that just are true.

[snailg0th]

here’s my giant leftist to-read list for the next few years!!!

if a little (done!) it written next to the book, it means i’ve finished it! i’m gonna try to update this as i read but no promises on remembering haha

Economics/Politics

Property by Karl Marx

Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx (done!)

Wages, Price, and Profit by Karl Marx (done!)

Wage-Labor and Capital by Karl Marx (done!)

Capital Volume I by Karl Marx

The 1844 Manuscripts by Karl Marx

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific by Fredrich Engles

Synopsis of Capital by Fredrich Engels

The Principles of Communism by Fredrich Engles

Imperialism, The Highest Stage Of Capitalism by Vladmir Lenin

The State And Revolution by Vladmir Lenin

The Revolution Betrayed by Leon Trotsky

Fascism: What is it and How to Fight it by Leon Trotsky

In Defense Of Marxism by Leon Trotsky

The Accumulation of Capital by Rosa Luxemborg

Reform or Revolution by Rosa Luxemburg

Discipline and Punish by Michel Foucault

The Conquest of Bread by Peter Kropotkin

On Anarchism by Noam Chomsky

Profit over People by Noam Chomsky

An Introduction to Marxist Economic Theory by Ernest Mandel

The Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith

The Postmodern Condition by Jean François Lyotard

Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher

The Socialist Reconstruction of Society by Daniel De Leon

Anarchism and Other Essays by Emma Goldman

Socialism Made Easy by James Connolly

Race

Biased: Uncover in the Hidden Prejudice That Shapes What We See, Think, and Do

Blindspot by Mahzarin R. Banaji

Racism Without Racists: Color-blind Racism And The Persistence Of Racial Inequality In America by Eduardo Bonilla-Silva

How To Be Less Stupid About Race: On Racism, White Supremacy And The Racial Divide by Crystal M. Flemming

This Book is Anti-Racist: 20 Lessons on How To Wake Up, Take Action, And Do The Work by Tiffany Jewell & Aurelia Durand

The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activism For The Twenty-First Century by Grace Lee Boggs

Tell Me Who You Are by Winona Guo & Priya Vulchi

The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks About Race by Jesymn Ward

Class, Race, and Marxism by David R. Roediger

America for Americans: A History Of Xenophobia In The United States by Erica Lee

The Politics Of The Veil by Joan Wallach Scott

A Different Mirror A History Of Multicultural America by Ronald Takaki

A People’s History Of The United States by Howard Zinn

Black Theory

The Wretched Of The World by Frantz Fanon

Black Marxism by Cedric J Robinson

Malcolm X Speaks by Malcolm X

Women, Culture, and Politics by Angela Davis

Women, Race, & Class by Angela Davis (done!)

Freedom is a Constant Struggle by Angela Davis (done!)

The Meaning of Freedom by Angela Davis

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde

Ain’t I A Woman? by Bell Hooks

Yearning by Bell Hooks

Dora Santana’s Works

An End To The Neglect Of The Problems Of The Negro Women by Claudia Jones

I Am Your Sister by Audre Lorde

Women’s Liberation And The African Freedom Struggle by Thomas Sankara

W.E.B. DuBois Essay Collection

Black Reconstruction by W.E.B. DuBois

Lynch Law by Ida B. Wells

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

Sula by Toni Morrison

Song Of Solomon by Toni Morrison

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Paradise by Toni Morrison

A Mercy by Toni Morrison

This Bridge Called My Back by Cherríe Moraga

Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander

Black Feminist Thought by Patricia Hill Collins

Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower by Dr. Brittney Cooper

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Black Skins, White Masks and The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon

Killing of the Black Body

Revolutionary Suicide by Huey P Newton

Settlers; The myth of the White Proletariat

Fearing The Black Body; The Racial Origins of Fatphobia

Freedom Dreams; The Black Radical Imagination

How Capitalism Underdeveloped Black America

How Europe Underdeveloped Africa

An Argument For Black Women’s Liberation As a Revolutionary Force by Mary Anne Weathers

Voices of Feminism Oral History Project by Frances Beal

Ghosts In The Schoolyard: Racism And School Closings On Chicago’s South Side by Eve L. Ewing

Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon To White America by Michael Eric Dyson

Why We Can’t Wait by Martin Luther King, Jr.

Fatal Invention: How Science, Politics, Big Business, Re-create Race In The 21st Century by Dorothy Roberts

We Gon’ Be Alright: Notes on Race & Resegregation by Jeff Chang

They Can’t Kill Us All: Ferguson, Baltimore, and a New Era In America’s Racial Justice Movement by Wesley Lowery

The Common Wind by Julius S. Scott

Black Is The Body: Stories From My Grandmother’s Time, My Mother’s Time, And Mine by Emily Bernard

We Were Eight Years In Power: An American Tragedy by Ta-Nehisi Coates

American Lynching by Ashraf H. A. Rushdy

Raising Our Hands by Jenna Arnold

Redefining Realness by Janet Mock

When Affirmative Action Was White: An Untold History of Racial Inequality in Twentieth-Century America by Ira Katznelson

Whistling Vivaldi: How Stereotypes Affects Us and What We Can Do

Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

Left of Karl Marx: The Political Life Of Black Communist Claudia Jones by Carole Boyce Davies

Black Studies Manifesto by Darlene Clark

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

The Souls Of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois

Darkwater by W.E.B. Du Bois

The Education Of Blacks In The South, 1860-1935 by James D. Anderson

The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery And The Making Of American Capitalism by Edward E. Baptist

The Color Of Money: Black Banks And The Racial Wealth Gap by Mehrsa Baradaran

A Black Women’s History Of The United States by Daina Ramey Berry & Kali Nicole Gross

The Price For Their Pound Of Flesh: The Value Of The Enslaved, From Womb to Grave, In The Building Of A Nation by Daina Ramey Berry

North Of Slavery: The Negro In The Free States, 1780-1869 by Leon F. Litwack

Black Stats: African Americans By The Numbers In The Twenty-First Century by Monique M. Morris

Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools by Monique M. Morris

40 Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise, Fall, And Redemption of The Black Athlete by William C. Rhoden

From #BlackLivesMatter To Black Liberation by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor

A More Beautiful And Terrible History: The Uses And Misuses Of Civil Rights History by Jeanne Theoharis

Medical Apartheid: The Dark History Of Medical Experimentation On Black Americans From Colonial Times To The Present by Harriet A. Washington

Working At The Intersections: A Black Feminist Disability Framework” by Moya Bailey

Theory by Dionne Brand

Black Women, Writing, And Identity by Carole Boyce Davies

Slavery By Another Name: The Re-enslavement Of Black Americans From The Civil War To World War II by Douglass A. Blackmon

Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

Some Of Us Are Very Hungry Now by Andre Perry

The Origins Of The Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality In Postwar Detroit by Thomas Surgue

They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib

Beyond Containment: Autobiographical Reflections, Essays and Poems by Claudia Jones

The Black Woman: An Anthology by Toni McCade

Double Jeopardy: To Be Black and Female by Frances Beal

How We Get Free: Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor

Indigenous Theory

Colonize This! by Daisy Hernandez and Bushra Rehman

As We Have Always Done

Braiding Sweetgrass

Spaces Between Us

The Sacred Hoop by Paula Gunn Allen

Native: Identity, Belonging, And Rediscovering God by Kaitlin Curtice

An Indigenous People’s History Of The United States by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz

Why Indigenous Literatures Matter by Daniel Heath Justice

Highway of Tears: A True Story of Racism, Indifference, And The Pursuit Of Justice For Missing And Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls by Jessica McDiarmid

The Other Slavery by Andrés Reséndez

Seven Fallen Feathers by Tanya Talaga

All Our Relations: Indigenous Trauma In The Shadow Of Colonialism by Tanya Talaga

All Our Relations: Finding The Path Forward by Tanya Talaga

Everything You Wanted To Know About Indians But Were Afraid To Ask by Anton Treuer

Rez Life: An Indian’s Journey Through Reservation Life by David Treuer

Latine Theory

Borderlands/La Frontera by Gloria Anzaldúa

Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of Pillage of A Continent by Eduardo Galeano

Inventing Latinos: A New Story of American Racism by Laura E. Gomez

De Colores Means All Of Us by Elizabeth Martinez

Middle Eastern And Muslim Theory

How Does It Feel To Be A Problem? Being Young And Arab In America by Moustafa Bayoumi

We Too Sing America: South Asian, Arab, Muslim, and Sikh Immigrants Shape Our Multiracial Future by Deepa Iyer

Alligator and Other Stories by Dima Alzayat

API Theory

Orientalism by Edward Said

The Making Of Asian America by Erika Lee

On Gold Mountain by Lisa See

Strangers From A Different Shore: A History of Asian Americans by Ronald Takaki

They Called Us Enemy (Graphic Novel) by George Takei

Yellow Peril!: An Archive of Anti-Asian Fear by Edited by John Kuo Wei Tchen and Dylan Yeats

Yellow: Race In America Beyond Black And White by Frank H. Wu

Alien Nation: Chinese Migration In The Americas From The Coolie Era Through World War II by Elliott Young

The Good Immigrants: How The Yellow Peril Became The Model Minorities by Madeline H. Ysu

Asian American Dreams: The Emergence Of An American People by Helen Zia

The Myth Of The Model Minority: Asian Americans Facing Racism by Rosalind S. Chou & Joe R. Feagin

Two Faces Of Exclusion: The Untold Story Of Anti-Asian Racism In The United States by Lon Kurashige

Whiteness

White Fragility by Robin Di Angelo (done!)

White Kids: Growing Up With Privilege In A Racially Divided America by Margaret A. Hagerman

Waking Up White by Deby Irving

The History of White People by Nell Irvin Painter

White Like Me: Reflections On Race From A Privileged Son by Tim Wise

White Rage by Carol Anderson

What Does It Mean To Be White: Developing White Racial Literacy by Robin DiAngelo

The Invention of The White Race: Volume 1: Racial Oppression and Social Control by Theodore W. Allen

The Invention of The White Race: Volume 2: The Origin of Racial Oppression in Anglo-America by Theodore W. Allen

Immigration

Call Me American by Abdi Nor Iftir

Create Dangerously: The Immigrant Artist At Work by Edwidge Danticat

My Family Divided by Diane Guerrero

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story by Luis Alberto Urrea

The Undocumented Americans by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

Enrique’s Journey by Sonia Nazario

Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay In Forty Questions by Valeria Luiselli

Voter Suppression

One Person, No Vote: How Voter Suppression Is Destroying Our Democracy by Carol Anderson

Give Us The Vote: The Modern Struggle For Voting Rights In America by Ari Berman

Prison Abolition And Police Violence

Abolition Democracy by Angela Davis

Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis

The Prison Industrial Complex by Angela Davis

Political Prisoners, Prisons, And Black Liberation by Angela Davis

Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson (done!)

The End Of Policing by Alex S Vitale

Invisible No More: Police Violence Against Black Women and Women of Color by Andrea J. Ritchie

Choke Hold: Policing Black Men by Paul Butler

From The War On Poverty To The War On Crime: The Making Of Mass Incarceration In America by Elizabeth Hinton

Feminist Theory

The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir

A Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft

Bad Feminist by Roxanne Gay

7 Feminist And Gender Theories

Race, Gender, And Class by Margaret L. Anderson

African Gender Studies by Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí

The Invention Of Women by Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí

What Gender Is Motherhood? by Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí

Feminism Without Borders: Decolonizing Theory, Practicing Solidarity by Chandra Talpade Mohanty

I Am Malala by Malala Youssef

LGBT Theory

Gender Trouble by Judith Butler

Performative Acts and Gender Constitution by Judith Butler

Imitation and Gender Insubordination by Judith Butler

Bodies That Matter by Judith Butler

Excitable Speech by Judith Butler

Undoing Gender by Judith Butler

The Roots Of Lesbian And Gay Opression: A Marxist View by Bob McCubbin

Compulsory Heterosexuality And Lesbian Existence by Adrienne Rich

Decolonizing Trans/Gender 101 by B. Binohan

Gay.Inc: The Nonprofitization of Queer Politics by Merl Beam

Pronouns Good or Bad: Attitudes and Relationships with Gendered Pronouns

Transgender Warriors

Whipping Girl; A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity

Stone Butch Blues by Lesie Feinberg (done!)

The Stonewall Reader by Edmund White

Sissy by Jacob Tobia

Gender Outlaw by Kate Bornstein

Butch Queens Up In Pumps by Marlon M. Bailey

Black On Both Sides: A Racial History Of Trans Identities by C Riley Snorton

Go Tell It On The Mountain by James Baldwin

Ezili’s Mirrors: Imagining Black Queer Genders by Omise’eke Natasha Tinsley

Lavender and Red by Emily K. Hobson

[theshelbyclan]

Defiance

Summary: When your brothers went off to war, you couldn’t just sit and wait for them: you had to work, so as nurse Shelby, you started nursing in London

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​)

A/N: Anon requested: Hello, I saw that you write Shelby sister imagines? Is it ok for you to do me one please? I always imagine her being the same age as John and very close to Tommy. I was thinking along the lines of when the boys go to war she goes to a hospital in London dealing with soliders who need rehabilitation and help with PTSD. She doesn't come home until a year after the boys? Here's they are in trouble with Campbell and Billy Kimber Obviously take it wherever you like to I'm happy for whatever x I’m making this a two-part story, to be able to combine two different requests that had a lot of similarities. I’m using your request for the first part, and let me just say, this is such a beautiful idea that it deserves to be a film on its own. Hope I did it justice! :) Part 2 is Acceptance 

Warning: mentions of death, war and suicide.

Words: 3107

***

“I will not,” defiantly you stood in front of your superior, arms crossed in front of you and a rebellious scowl on your face. “Excuse me?” the head nurse turned around to face you, “This again, nurse Shelby?”

For a moment, you faltered. Going against a senior nurse was something that wasn’t tolerated, at all. And with good reason! The hospital wouldn’t be able to function properly. During the war, it’d been constant chaos, with men coming in and going out constantly. Dying was often a blessing, and there had been so much, so much death. But the war was over and still the men kept on coming.

“I’m not trying to rebel, nurse Miller,” you said, more meekly this time, “I just don’t see how this is going to help any of them.” “Doctor says it works,” nurse Miller replied matter-of-factly. “But does it?” some fire was coming back into you, “They are able to talk and walk again, sure, but that’s not the same as recovery, is it? The problem is not of a physical nature, it’s a mental struggle these men face.” The head nurse looked up from her work and turned fully towards you now, “Remember your place, nurse Shelby. Do as you’re told. Go on, off with you.” “What research has really been done concerning these…” you waved your hand in an annoyed manner, “methodsthat the doctors employ these days!” Thoroughly irritated now, nurse Miller dropped her work and one look told you all you needed to know: you were in trouble. Again. And so you were back to scrubbing bedpans yet again. All nurses were required to do this work and the long days without much sleep had hardened you all to the blood and filth. Still, some nurses were given this job more than others. Especially the nurses who couldn’t control their mouths around their superiors. Silently, you cursed your Shelby spirit.

But then your mind drifted off to the subject you had been discussing with nurse Miller and your blood began to boil again. ‘The soldier’s heart’, that’s what they used to called it. These were the men who could never sit still, felt anxious all the time and were constantly on edge. It had been considered a ‘normal’ condition for decennia, but it had taken on the form of an epidemic after the Great War. Brave men could no longer function and the severe psychological trauma haunted most of them still, even though the war had been over for several months now! ‘Shell-shock’ was now the popular term and doctors everywhere tried to fix the physical symptoms of the condition. You simply couldn’t fathom how none of them seemed to acknowledge that these were just symptoms: the real problem had taken root in the brain or the heart, maybe even in the soul.

“What did you do this time?” Daisy, or nurse Wells as was the proper term, asked you, when she saw you sitting on your knees in front of piles and piles of bedpans. You looked up and grinned sheepishly, “I disagreed with nurse Miller.” 

“Again.” “Again,” you admitted contritely. Daisy put down the towels she had taken in for washing, “If you’re going to disagree with anyone, choose someone less uptight! Might save your knees.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Daisy was the perfect nurse: she could function on two hours of sleep a night, see the most horrific stuff and still work on tirelessly, while aiming to make the others smile. Where you’d be without Daisy you didn’t even dare think about. “Alright,” she sighed good-naturedly, “Tell me. What did you argue this time? And tell me you’re sorry afterwards, just to practise!” Full of anger, you threw down the brush, “Electro-shock therapy doesn’t fucking help anyone! These men went to hell and back and now their brains are protesting against all the horrors they witnessed. Their minds are revolting, as they should be! The only thing ever accomplished by shocking the men into talking again or walking again is that you’ve taken away their last manner of protesting against inhumane practises. Bravo! You’ve made them into full human bombshells now, without a peep of opposition. How in the fuck is that even medically sound!?” Daisy waited a moment, “So you’re not actually sorry.” “Fuck, no.”

She looked around the door for a second and then whispered, “Fuck.” Your head shot up and you grinned broadly, “Nurse Wells, what did you just say?” “I suddenly felt brave,” she shrugged a little, “thought I might be brave enough to say the F-word, with just you here to hear me.” Full of theatrics you stood up and offered her your hand, “I congratulate you earnestly. You have now crossed a line. Welcome to the fucking party!” Beaming, Daisy tried to scold, “You’re a bad influence on me.” “You should see the rest of the Shelby clan,” and a sudden pang went through you the very moment you had spoken the words. Your friend noticed at once, “Y/N, when are you going back?” “Can’t abandon the men now,” you said briskly, leaving very little room for discussion. Daisy hesitated and finally asked, “They did all come back from France, didn’t they?” “Yes.” “When did you hear?” Scrubbing again, you replied, “I never heard, but I’d know if something had happened to them.” Daisy nodded: she knew you well enough to know your instincts never failed you, even if it got you in trouble. A lot.

***

You were lying in bed and even though the shifts weren’t as long as they’d been during the war, sleep was still scarce. Many of you got five to six hours of sleep now, which had been unimaginable during the war! Still, exhaustion wasn’t unfamiliar to any of you and when the nurses hit their pillows, they often slept at once. Still, you were wide-awake at this very moment. When the war started, it didn’t take long for the boys to sign up. Your brothers went, full of energy and bravery and all women were left grieving at home. Ada kept her mind off it, something you were never good at. You couldn’t bear the thought of all these men dying out at the front, and for what? No one seemed to know. But aunt Polly had really send you over the edge. Every morning she got up to pray and at first you had joined her, but unrest had grown inside of you and praying simply wasn’t enough anymore. So, just like your brothers, you had decided and left for training in London. There was no arguing with you and no one tried.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the things you’d seen during your time here as a nurse. The broken men, shattered limbs, blood and gore and death were easy enough to get used to. That thought alone made you frown in confusion: what has become of us, that we think that’s the easy part? But the endless streams of young men, hopeful men once, now broken and shattered like the fields of France themselves, that was the hard part. You fed them, nursed them, mended them, talked to them and held their hand if they went. And each and every face changed the moment just before they died: they were all one of your brothers. They were still alive. Aunt Polly had the gift of second sight and even though you weren’t sure what to believe, you had some of it too. Either way, you would’ve known if they were dead. But what were they like now? Because that was the real reason you daren’t go back to Small Heath. What is they were like some of these men, like ghosts trapped in the body of a once healthy human being? You wouldn’t be able to cope.

People always said that twins have a certain connection. You and John had never noticed anything of a special connection, apart from a certain gift for squabbling. But once he was at the front, when the bombs started falling, you could hear his screams in your mind. That’s when the connection had suddenly kicked in and it kept you up and made you tear your hair out for fear. God was cruel like that. “Are you a Shelby or not?” you suddenly whispered strictly to yourself. “Who is this, cowering away in London and fearing what she might see at home? Be a grownup and fucking face your family!” But something just stopped you.

***

For the next couple of weeks, you tried to get back into the swing of things. You worked harder than ever, with your exhaustion as a form of atonement. Daisy was worried and even nurse Miller told you to slow down at some point.

And then you sat next to a bed of a dying soldier. Your shift had finished already, but still you’d refused to leave him. And why? Because he reminded you of Arthur. “Nurse?” he asked feebly. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts roaming about, “I’m here,” you comforted him. “I can’t see,” he said, “Is that normal?” You took his hand, “I’m right here. Can you feel my hand?” He grabbed it a little tighter, “Yes. You have soft hands.” You smiled warmly at him. He asked again, “Nurse?” “Yes.” “When I get better,” he tried to sit up a little, “Can I maybe take you out some time?” He sure as hell wasn’t the first one to ask, so his request didn’t embarrass or shock you in the slightest. You tried to put on a chipper voice, imitating Daisy, “I don’t know. It depends, I suppose: where would we go?” The wounded soldier smiled, “I can take you to the movies. That’s what the Americans call it, did you know? The movies…” You couldn’t help but smile, “Which film would we go to?” “I’ll take you to that new romantic film, the one with that famous American actor.” “You quite like the Americans, don’t you?” you joked. He smiled again, suddenly revealing how handsome he actually was, “Americans, they have a way with women.” “So do you!” “Does that mean you’ll go with me?”

“When you get better, we’ll go to the movies,” you confirmed. But he didn’t get better. The next day, he was back to his ailing and screaming. The trouble with his mind was that sometimes the fragments seemed to recompose again and he was as sane as any man, but at other times, the war bombed his soul. His physical injuries were extensive and his chances of survival were slim. Still, the doctor was adamant on trying shock therapy on him, thinking it might help with both his physical and psychological ailments. You didn’t agree, but kept your mouth shut for once. Still, you screamed into your pillow the next night, feeling so fucking helpless at the sight of pointless suffering. The next morning, nurse Miller send you over to that soldier once again to change his bandages. All light had left his eyes. Practically inaudibly, he said, “Nurse?” “I’m here,” you took his hand again in yours. “Would you’ve done it? Would you’ve allowed me to take you out?” “Of course!” you exclaimed, “Not every day a handsome young man asks a girl like me out!” He paused for a moment, “Honestly?” “Honestly,” you said. Suddenly, he relaxed and fell back into the cushions. You frowned a little though, slightly worried about why he was no longer sure of his recovery. But there was more work to be done and you had to be on your way again. When nurse Miller told you he’d gotten hold of a razor somehow and killed himself in the night, something inside you shattered. That was it. You were done. ***

On the train to Birmingham, you couldn’t help but think about how much you’d changed. Once a Small Heath gypsy, being on edge about not being useful enough, you’d left full of innocence. Well, maybe not innocent, you were a Shelby after all. But you’d grown up being protected by young brothers, fighting them and others constantly, and still you considered your childhood a happy one. The amount of times you’d screamed at them, “I’m not a child anymore!” was insane, but only now you felt like that sentence was justified. The war had changed you too. Quickly, you’d send Aunt Polly a telegram before departing London. It said: ‘I’m coming home. Still alive. Make sure the boys save me some whiskey.’ She wouldn’t be pleased with a message like that, but you couldn’t wait to deal with the consequences again. Stepping off the train and back onto familiar ground felt like entering a dream. Oh, how you had missed the stench and noise! Without a thought, you took off your shoes and walked barefoot through the muddy streets. Watch out, Birmingham, you thought cheekily, the pauper princess is back! All nerve left you as soon as it’d come when you stood in front of your house at Watery Lane. And while you were still plucking up the courage to open the door, it swung wide open and nearly hit you square in the nose. A flash of green came rushing out and two arms squeezed the life out of you. “Where the hell have you been?” they demanded. Softly, you breathed in the smell of her perfume, “Fucking working, Ada, unlike you.” “Aunt Pol is going after you with the wooden spoon and I won’t lift a finger to save you,” she scolded, without letting go. You rolled your eyes into your sister’s hair. And then you suddenly noticed, “Looks like you’ve been busy as well!” Ada stepped back and looked down, “Seven months. Can’t even see my toes anymore, I’ve gotten so fat.” “Not much to look at anyways,” you commented. Ada slapped your shoulder and you winced. At least nothing had changed between you two.

With Aunt Polly it was an entirely different story. As soon as you walked into the house, she froze and fixed you with one of her stares that could make empires crumble. You could feel your shoulders slumping, your heart racing and you held your breath. Nothing had changed there either: it was like you were eight years old again. Slowly, she walked over to you and took a long hard look at you, never releasing eye contact. Then she grabbed your face and you almost winced, but instead she said, “You need to eat. Sit.”

Not hesitating, you obeyed at once. Without a word, she threw your telegram on the table. The silence was filled with anxiety-fuelled electricity and she let you calmly simmer in it for a few more moments. Then she spoke, “You have ten seconds to explain, before I slap you back to London myself.” So you took a big gulp of breath and explained, “I got into another fight with the head nurse and then everything went to shit and I didn’t know what to do, because I felt guilty, because he died and I fucking cannot with those doctors, because I knew work would be hard and I signed up for it, but all of a sudden I was just done, and I wanted to come back sooner, but I was scared Tommy and Arthur were dead and that John was, well I wanted to come sooner but didn’t know how to come back, and also I was you know scared that you might not take it well, and how I left, and yeah well, I was afraid this was going to happen…” “Leave her be,” Ada said to your aunt, “She’s worn out.” “It’s been eight months since the war ended,” Aunt Polly said, her face still not betraying any emotion, “We thought you were gone.” “I’m okay, Pol,” you said carefully. “How the fuck were we supposed to know?” She burst out, “No note, no letter, nothing. And now you think you can just show up, like the queen of fucking Birmingham, after writing some shitty telegram that made me drop my favourite teacup?” “Oh no, the blue one?” you asked. Ada glared at you, her eyes saying: not the right fucking response right now. So you cast your eyes downwards, “I’m sorry, Pol. The work, it just drags you in. I kept on seeing their faces in all the wounded soldiers I took care of. It was the only way I could cope.” Aunt Polly’s face softened a little, “It’s the waiting. The waiting almost killed the women.”

Images of wartime nightmares flashed in front of your eyes. Waiting was the thing you were terrible at, as it turned out. It ate you up inside, and now you’d done it to them. Finally, Aunt Polly’s reaction made sense.

“Forgive me,” you pleaded.

Your aunt walked over to the table and sat down next to you. She took your hand in hers and a wave of reassurance washed over you, “You’re like a working horse. They go crazy when they rest. You leaving shouldn’t have come as a surprise to us. It’s good to have you back. Welcome home, Y/N.”

No longer able to contain yourself, you flung yourself forwards and hugged your aunt. Tears fell from your eyes and finally, ease came over you.

Then you heard voices from the other room. Arthur’s voice first, loud and angry. He hadn’t changed much either then, perhaps a little angrier than before. Then Tommy’s reply, cold and business-like. He sounded like dad now. Finally your twin: John laughing like he was still playing in the gutter. For a few minutes, you didn’t move. You just listened to them and revelled in their sounds. These were the sounds of brothers, still alive, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

“Billy Kimber has a bloody army!” Arthur shouted.

You looked towards Ada for some kind of explanation, but she just rolled her eyes. Aunt Polly sat back and lit a cigarette. The fact that she gave that one to you, before lighting another for herself, showed she now thought of you as an adult as well. The moment was brief, but so intimate.

With a bang, the door slammed open en Arthur came storming in. Tommy was sighing deeply and still cursing right behind him, and through the open door you could see John. They all froze when they saw you, all at the same time, jaws practically hitting the floor.

“Billy Kimber, eh?” you merely said, “Looks like I showed up just in time.” 

***

Masterlist

[wouldpollyapprove]

She’s Not Yours: Part Two

Summary: Y/n and Finn have been friends for a few years, meeting when he let a few men know that she was no longer theirs to catcall. They were the best of friends, but Y/n wasn’t as honest with him as she wanted to be. But how could she be when she involved with his brother. Life couldn’t get any easier for her when she found out that Finn had developed feelings for her. What a rough position she’d found herself in.

Thomas Shelby x Reader / Finn Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, lanugae

A/N: I wrote this while writing Legend, which has Tom Hardy in it, and I fucking loved it. It was amazing and he did an amazing job portraying Reggie and Ronnie. And I loved the whole cast. It was like two hours but totally worth it. I’m also pleased with how this turned out. I was unsure how I would make a second part of this but here it is. 

Part One

Masterlist 

With Y/n’s quick departure, the Garrison was a war zone, Tommy and Finn at each other’s throats. One angered over what he felt had slipped between his fingers, the other outraged that he may not be the first choice. Neither were willing to back down. As foolish as it was, they were both willing to die for their cause. 

Arthur and John shared a look, one that told the other it would be a long night, as their brothers’ rage spilled out into the main room. They were there to drink, but from the looks of it, they were there to break up a fight.

“Fuck you, Tommy!” Finn spat as his fist connects with his brother’s jaw. Tommy staggered back, hitting the door frame of the private room. “Fuck you!”

The older man was at a loss for words. Most of the time, his youngest brother was all bark and no bite, but it seemed the dog had come out in him. His punches were clean and movements swift. Finn was no longer a blinder, dependent on his blade and pistol. Instead, a boxer with iron fists and feather feet. This was not his brother, not the one he knew.

“You fucker.” Tommy composed himself and wiped a bit of blood from his lip. “You think you’re tough now, don’t you?”

The two brothers that watched from the sidelines did nothing to intervene. Tommy and Finn would fight no matter what they did. So, there they stood, leaning against the bar, as they watched their brothers throw glasses at each other and dodge punches, waiting for them to grow tired.

Those wanting to enjoy their evening in the pub found that it was time to go home when Tommy landed on a table, its legs gave way from the force. People finished off their drinks, some left them half have empty and escaped through the door. As much as everyone wanted to stay and watch, putting money on a certain outcome, they knew it best to leave. Peaky business was meant to be just that: Peaky business. No one wanted to stay just to be grabbed by the collar and thrown out the door by John or Arthur.

Harry, though, he wanted to have a pub left by morning and did what should have been done when glasses shattered against the wood floor. With a heavy sigh, he reached for the telephone and dialed the one person that would end the violence. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Polly’s stern voice filled the empty pub as her eyes landed on her nephews that were trying to kill each other. Nothing else had to be said for John and Arthur to finally come between the men. John grabbed a bottle from Finn’s raised hand with one hand and held him back with another. Tommy huffed when Arthur stood between him and John, his muscles relaxed a tad as he wiped the sweat from his brow. When all was calm, their aunt asked again, “What the fuck is going on here?”

The tap of her foot echoed through the room, all her nephews afraid to answer. Of course, John and Arthur weren’t exactly sure what the fight was over, more impressed with the fact Finn decked Tommy. “Well?”

“Finn here is mad that someone desires me more than him,” Tommy pointed at his youngest brother.

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll only get her killed.”

“You shut your fucking mouth!”

“That’s enough, Thomas,” Polly said through gritted teeth. “Who are you two blockheads fighting over? Tell me it’s not Y/n.” Silence fell over them once more, answering her question. She groaned, “You idiots! I assume you scared her off too.”

“Well, it seems I’m the only one that knows how to treat a woman right,” John laughed before his aunt told him to shut up. 

“You two better figure this out before I do,” Polly warned. “She deserves better than this.” She gestured to the broken table, shattered glass, and bruised men. “Y/n deserves to be happy, not miserable.”

While the Shelby brothers sorted there shit out, Y/n was a miserable mess. Coming home with puffy red eyes, her mother begged her to explain what had happened. The woman was as loving as she could be but couldn’t find it in her heart to understand her daughter. She cared, but never enough. Between sobs, her mother did nothing but scold her when the name ‘Shelby’ rolled off her tongue. Shouts could be heard down the street as Y/n’s mother told her that she’d gotten what she deserved.

“They’re no good gypsy gangsters! I thought I raised you better than this! Better than to be a fucking whore!” Her mother screamed behind her, watching her daughter run up the stairs to the sanctuary that was her room.

With the bedroom door shut and locked behind her, Y/n slide down the hardwood onto the floor and pulled her knees close to her chest. She shouldn’t have said anything, nothing would help anyway.

Her mother never minded Finn, he was a fine boy as long as he never entered the house and his name never spoken around the table. The Shelby family, though, was a different story. They were the enemy in her mother’s eye. The ones out to ruin their lives. Y/n wasn’t allowed to be around the family, but that never stopped her. What her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

But now she knew. 

She knew that her daughter did more than run around with Finn. She did more than just have a drink at the Garrison. Her daughter was a fucking whore in her eyes now.

As the night dragged on, the tears never stopped but Y/n decided to push herself off the floor and try to get some sleep. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, sleep finally caught up with her and she let peace overtake her. There were no tears behind her eyelids, no fights, no brothers, no unloving mother. There was nothing but fields of green and pure white daisies. 

Like all things, that came to an end.

Y/n batted her eyes, letting them adjust to the light that peaked through the window. A groan escaped her lips when her door rattled, her mother on the other side. 

“Open the fucking door, Y/n! I need you to go to the market!”

The girl sighed and sat up. The market was better than home, so she couldn’t complain. Quickly, she changed her clothes and smoothed down her hair. Moments later, the door opened, her mother’s furious face staring right at her. 

“About fucking time!” she spat and shoved a piece of paper in her hands. “These are what I need.” Y/n nodded and went to move past her mother, but the woman grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her back. “Don’t you fucking think of going to see those Shelby boys,” she whispered in her ear. “Or I’ll tell your father what you’ve done.”

Y/n nodded and turned for the stairs before her mother could see her paling face.

The streets were packed as men set off to work at the factories and women to the shops. Y/n kept her head down, afraid of how fast word traveled in Small Heath. Few knew what had actually taken place at the Garrison the night before, but people had creative minds and loved spinning stories out of nothing. It wasn’t ridiculous to fear gossip.

Marking off things from her mother’s list, she did her best to move as quickly as possible. Even if there was a crowd, her mother would simply believe she’d stopped to speak with Finn or Tommy and tell her father. Y/n couldn’t have that. Not when she knew the temper that man possessed. 

She wasn’t even halfway through the list when a paper was dropped in her basket. She turned to see the delivery man but caught nothing but the sight of other women looking at the selection of fruit. Y/n glanced back at the note before picking it up. Once open, her eyes scanned the ink along the page. In unfamiliar writing, it requested her presence at the Shelby residence.

“Fuck,” she swore, turning her back to the tomatoes in front of her. Moving through the crowd she sighed. That was the one thing she’d been told not to do. But her feet carried her there anyway. It was an accident, really. Walking cleared her mind and that’s what she did once she was away from the market. She walked and walked and walked, ending up closer to the Shelbsys’ house than she would have liked.

It was too late to turn back once she realized. So close, it wouldn’t be right to turn away now. One foot in front of the other, she bit back her fear and went up to the front door. With shaking hands, her knuckles hit the door, waiting for a response. Shuffling behind the door made Y/n wish she’d headed home. Then the door opened.

Polly gave the girl a sympathetic smile and opened the door wider. She entered the house, the smell of biscuits wafted through the air. Polly led her to the kitchen, where Tommy and Finn sat opposite of each other at the table. Y/n stopped in the doorway when their eyes landed on her, unsure of what to do. 

They were going to make her choose, weren’t they? The thought made her breakfast want to reappear. She could n’t do that, she couldn’t choose. Finn was her best friend, she would be lost without him. He was the brother she’d never had, the friend that would stay up all night to help soothe a broken heart. Y/n couldn’t lose that. Then there was Tommy. He made her heart flutter and treated her like adult she was. He made her feel safe and gave her the stability she lacked at home. 

“I’ll leave you three be,” Polly stated and grabbed a cup of tea. “Any fighting-” She pointed at Tommy and Fin. “-and I’ll kill you both.”

With her exit, Y/n shifted her weight from one foot to another, her nerves getting the best of her. She couldn’t stand to look at the two men, who’s eyes were trained on her. Shame was all she felt, that she’d put them in such a position.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” she shook her head, eyes on the ground. “I should have never put you both in this position.” She wanted them to be mad, it’s what she deserved. But neither of them seemed angry, their eyes soft.

“Tommy told me you didn’t want to hurt me with your relationship,” his words were soft, bitter at the end. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry, not when you cared so much. You shouldn’t be sorry, I should.”

A soft smile from her friend coaxed her closer to the table. Finn was probably still angry, but at least he understood, that’s all she could ask for. She knew, though, that Polly had a part to play in this. Probably threatening the boys to kiss and make up. It was times like this she was glad they were a tight-knit family.

“You’re okay with it?” she asked, close enough for Tommy to pull her onto his lap.

“Are you okay with it Finn?” He flashed his brother a smug smile, content that he was getting what he wanted as usual.

Finn groaned, rolling his eyes. “Just give me some time to get used to it.”

*~~*~~*

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[just-patchy]

Masterlist

Fanfics

Princess Carry (Malleus x Reader)

Masquerade (Leona x Reader)

Sole Exception (Kalim x Jamil)

Please Don’t Leave (Jade x Azul x Floyd)

Mx. Steal-Your-Bodyguard (Sebek x Reader)

3rd Wheel (Cater x Riddle x Trey)

To Love and Be Loved (Platonic Reader-insert)

A Murmur of the Heart (Malleus x Deuce) [Twst Secret Santa]

Glimpse (Leona x Yuuta) [Twst Secret Santa]

Headcanons

Short(er) characters getting caught wearing their larger S/o’s clothes (Part 1: Riddle, Ruggie, Azul)

Part 2: Kalim, Lilia, Epel

Yandere Malleus, Jade and Floyd with a taken S/o

Persona 5 Characters Dorm Sorting [Crossover]

Dorm Leaders in BnHA universe

Anxious s/o that needs constant validation (Ace, Floyd, Lilia) [Raffle Reward]

OC

Self-insert/MCs

Charis/‘Jordan’ Mercury (Twst)

Yuuto Maihara (Twst)

Anson Leung (Twst Yuusona)

Twisted Wonderland

Florenetta (@twst-florenetta) (Info)

Stefano Fuoco | Relationships (Canon)

Johnathan de Onestà | Relationships (Canon)

Gian Sidhe | Relationships (Canon)

Marius Phantom

Lucetta Montague

Mordred Baidam

Regenis (@regenis-dorm) (Info)

Johann Cyneheard

Heath Carta

Reagan Cyneheard

Allen Dallas

Qilin

Shen Yanque

Shi Canlong

Canon dorms

Heartslabyul: Eira Tsutsuji | Garnet Knightley | Howl Knightley

Savanaclaw: Nikostratos Florakis

Octavinelle: Cetus Larimar | Ianeira Mazarine

Scarabia: Sona

Pomefiore: Elias Wälzer

Ignihyde: Halcyon Lerna | Anthea Laverne

Diasomnia: Vhuthla Arania | Alexandra Oleander | Berahthraben Crowley

Other fandorms

Natalia Sidhe (Felidae)

Taffryn Dulcie (Dulcis)

Freyr Winther | Konoha (Glacirem)

Wei Luzhi (Shundain)

Samantha Donaghue (Stagrove)

Juno Gorizia (Tulgey Wood)

Dylan Mairi | Kazuma Momose (Zipangu)

Vulture 5: Shreya Kadenokoji | (Juhnglfang)

WNA OCs (@fools-of-wna)

Whimsical Orchestra Academy (wip)

Staff/Others

Dominic Trein

Amias Davis

Yesenia Dynas

Claude Avenant

Mairimashita Iruma-kun

Babyls

Andras Aria

Saleos Soleil

Gam Milena

OC Headcanons

OC Headcanons: Johnathan and Lovette

Ship Headcanons: Dominic/Catrina

Ship Headcanons: Dominic/Lucien

OC Fics

Nap Time (Leona and Gian)

Missed You, Bestie (Gian and Jay)

Nightmares (Stefano)

Lonely Puppet (Stefano’s backstory/flashback)

Wish Upon A Star (Natalia and Barnum)

Stay the Night (Gian and Cheshire)

Daisies (Stefano and Amora)

Criminal (Johnathan and Nathaniel)

Lead (Mordred and Kallistê)

Told You So (Emil/Sebek + Freyr)

Eel Socks (Unreasonable | Freyr/Floyd)

Starlight, Star bright (Spotlight | Stefano/Kalim) [Spotify 2020 Wrapped Writing Challenge]

Striking Gold (??? x Reader)

And the flowers bloom (Eira)

Hell of Heaven (Stefano, character study-ish)

Sleep Habits (Anson/Ace)

The Witch in Me (Kunaal)