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bitletsanddrabbles · 2 months ago

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Island of the Procrastinating Brain

I swear, my brain is actively trying to drive me insane.

Back in 2022 it came up with a plot for @alex51324 's "Island of the Gays" where the Duke of Crowborough comes to the Island because, well, by this point the man's less of a human being than he is a walking bundle of neurosis. I got through a couple of scenes before my brain got tired and stalled out, but I still have a good frame work. Every once in awhile, I come back and poke at it and get out a few more sentences. Maybe even a paragraph or two.

Yeah, have I mentioned I'm not a fast writer?

And Phillip does NOT want to deal with his issues and Thomas does NOT want to deal with Phillip, which, okay, FAIR, but that's kinda the point of the whole thing. But in the meantime my brain still wants to write Phillip on the Island, so what's it done?

Come up with a sequel, naturally!

And it really, really wants to write this sequel despite the fact I can't do it properly until I've written the first piece, which neither my brain or my characters seems interested in, because they are all PUNKS, but my brain will NOT stop thinking about this hypothetical sequel which, at this point, will never be written.

So I'm just going to write out the summary for the thing here, in case anyone's curious and wants a laugh, because I can and maybe it'll galvanize the lump of grey cells in my skull to be productive. Maybe. Not holding my breath.

Things you need to know before going into this:

Random.org has decided that Thomas is married to Peter Fitzroy for this one, which is kinda important for Thomas's characterization.

Phillip only kinda counts as human at this point, but he's actively trying to fix that. The results are mixed.

It was inspired by a couple of polls I ran when I was trying to figure out where I was taking the first piece (hey! I have the last scene written!) and the suggestions that Phillip might like working in some sort of architectural field (believe that was from @o-rchidae) and that he wind up married with an older working class bloke who would not take his shit.

Right then. Let's go.

Okay, so, this takes place a couple of years after the Walking Disaster of Crowborough arrived. At one point he was tapped to help with building or repairs or some such and he realized he liked it, so he's taken to studying books on building and architecture and has joined up with the local work crew. The problem is, he's basically teaching himself out of books and then applying it to real life, so he keeps getting ideas about "Say, why don't we do this thing THIS way?" and while it'll seem like a reasonable idea, there is, in fact, a very good reason NOT to do it that way, but because a) he's a Duke and b) a bunch of people hate him, on general principle if nothing else, everyone just goes "Oh, okay, sure" and the do it that way and…it fails. And the people who hate him laugh and it's obvious that EVERYONE knew it was a bad idea and he gets frustrated, but he wont' say it, because a) Duke and b) boys don't cry.

And this goes on for awhile.

After a bit, though, a new guy shows up who has lots of experience building things. It was kinda his job before he got here. He is educated in the ways of Building Things and knows what's up. He's also at least ten years Phillip's senior and has limited patience for upper class twits, so when he joins the crew and is informed there's this know-it-all-Duke who's always demanding they do things his way (by which we mean 'making suggestions that everyone just goes along with'), even though it's stupid and wastes time and resources, this guy goes "Pff, not on MY watch!"

And sure enough, the next time Phillip makes one of his suggestions, instead of "Yeah, sure, okay" he gets "We're not doing that." Why? "'Cause it's a stupid idea that won't work." WHY? "Because (insert full explanation of why the thing wouldn't work)." And Phillip stops asking and the rest of the crew cheers and laughs at how the old guy sure showed him and they anticipate an end to the questions.

THIS TOTALLY BACKFIRES.

Instead Phillip, who had actually been kinda slowing down on the suggestions over time, is making ALL of the suggestions, ALL of the times, and arguing every last aspect of the suggestion with Old Timer before giving up. The crew can't put up a fence without an argument. Old Timer starts calling Phillip 'Phil'. Rather than tell him to stop, Phillip just starts calling Old Timer by a similar nickname, which Old Timer ignores, because not giving in to his own trick, oh no. There's talk of starting a police department in case they murder each other.

After this has gone on for awhile there is a Big Dramatic Plot Twist and the Old Timer goes out into the woods for something and…doesn't come back in a timely manner. He stays gone long enough for people to get worried and mount a search. To everyone's shock, Phillip wants to come. He's quite insistent on the point. They finally agree to put him in Thomas's party because he and Thomas "get along now" (read: Thomas has spent enough time with Peter talking him down that he can tolerate Phillip's presence under the right circumstances as long as he doesn't say anything). The parties go out and before long, Thomas and Phillip's party has the good luck to find Old Timer. He's accidentally been injured badly enough he can't walk and crawling through the woods is not easy going. The manner of this accident wasn't a super obvious bad idea, but that could maybe have been avoided with a bit more thought, perhaps, with luck. Most of the party just nods and goes "Yeah, sounds about right, could have happened to anyone."

…Phillip flips straight out and starts screaming at Old Timer for being an idiot who could have got himself killed. And then storms off a ways into the woods, back toward the village, leaving everyone else wondering a) the best way to get the injured man back home and b) what the heck just happened with the prissy little Duke. Thomas gets deputized to go find out what Phillip's problem is. There is protesting involved, but he finally gives in because he'd like to be home by dinner, thank you very much.

Phillip has, by this point, stopped to have a smoke, which both gives Thomas an opportunity to catch up and, thankfully, a scent to find him by. Thomas asks him why on earth he's so upset that Old Timer is hurt since the two of them hate each other and everyone figured Phillip would LOVE it if the other man died…

And that's when he finds out that everyone's had that relationship all backwards. Phillip doesn't hate the Old Timer, oh no! He loves being called 'Phil'. He absolutely adores the fact that when he asks "Why don't we do this?", rather than just go "Yeah, okay" and waste time and resources doing something HE KNOWS WON'T WORK, the Old Timer says 'no' and, over the course of the argument, actually EXPLAINS why not, which means Phillip ACTUALLY LEARNS THINGS. The more he argues, the better he becomes at building things and he doesn't have to try and decipher what some book is telling him or guess what the book might be leaving out and he LOVES IT and if the Old Timer had died, how would he learn things then? When Thomas points out that he'd learn just as much - maybe more - if he just asked the Old Timer to teach him things rather than argue, Phillip low key panics because what if he figures out Phillip WANTS to learn and stops talking to him or refuses because he doesn't like him at all?

By this point Thomas is a) trying to remember if he was ever THIS paranoid, and praying he wasn't and b) wondering what on earth to do with a Duke who is clearly in love with a crusty old working class codger, but hasn't figured it out yet.

He decides to tell Rouse and make it HIS mess to deal with.

Phillip and the Old Timer eventually get married and get a cottage of their own and Phillip about dies happy at the idea of a home that he actually owns instead of something that he's the custodian of for the next generation who will be the custodians for the generation after that and so on.

#downton abbey #thomas barrow #downton abbey fanfiction #fanfiction #island of the gays #duke of crowborough

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bitletsanddrabbles · 4 months ago

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[Fic] The Glory, the Shame

This is what happens when I try to come up with something to write at 7:00 am on Veteran's Day - you get Thomas and Peter sitting on @alex51324 's Island of the Gays philosophizing.

Not certain I'm going to include this one in the Island Sandbox, since it is now about twelve hours after I started, I am tired, and not at all certain it hits the right notes. But it's a thing and I wrote it, so here. Can be read as pre-relationship or just buddies, as you so feel moved.

Needless to say it is beta free. Also free of guppies, goldfish, loches, koi...okay, I'm going stop now before someone hurls a salmon at my head. On to the story instead.

Thomas sat on the bluff outside of town, a cigarette dangling in his fingers, watching the seagulls. A stiff wind was blowing, making his cheeks sting, but at least it wasn’t raining. Most of the village had decamped to the pub, intent on reducing Tully’s whisky supply to dregs. Thomas had thought about joining them, but his heart wasn’t quite in it.

A crunching noise alerted him to the fact he was about to have company. He looked up, half expecting it to be the herd of cattle they let roam the island south of the village, but it turned out to be Peter Fitzroy.

“Mind if I join you?” the one armed man asked.

“Sure,” Thomas replied. “The ground’s none too soft, though.”

“Probably better that way. Easier to dust off after.” Peter lowered himself to the ground with his usual easy cheer. “I take it the pub was a bit crowded for you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, I could use a pint or two about now. Maybe three or four, but there wasn’t even standing room in there.”

“I know what you mean.” Peter pulled out his own cigarettes and worked one out of the case. Even though he was perfectly capable of lighting it himself, Thomas lite it for him. Less hassle that way. For a minute the two of them just sat and smoked. Finally Peter said, “I thought it was a lovely service.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. It touched on all of the key points without being soppy or condescending. Father Tim did a good job.” That was one problem with people who hadn’t actually been in the war. They could easily make it sound like they had been, like they knew exactly what the soldiers had been through when it was very clear they didn’t. It tended to lead to lofty proclamations about bravery and sacrifice that stank like the mud of the Somme, or sneering dismissal of the misery that had lead to missing limbs and haunting nightmares. Admittedly, Thomas had as little patience for the nightmares as the next person, but mostly because they interrupted his sleep and he did not like being woken up, thank you very much. He understood, but…well. His nightmares never disturbed anyone except himself.

“What did you think of the suggestion that we build our own war memorial, like villages are doing on the mainland?”

Thomas frowned at that one. “I’m not entirely certain. I wouldn’t fight it, of course. But I don’t know that it would help me any.”

The other man gave him a curious look at that. “Isn’t there anyone who’s gone that you want remembered?”

“Maybe.” Thomas took a slow drag and thought for a second before blowing out a long stream of smoke. There was Lord Flintshire’s valet, and a couple of other servants who had visited Downton frequently, but they’d been friends, not lovers. He didn’t know if anyone here would even know them. “I’m the one who didn’t know anyone in London, remember? Yeah, there were blokes I had it off with now and again, but never more than a couple of times. The people I’d really care about, well. They weren’t our sort. Seems a bit pointless to put them on there.”

“Hm. I suppose.” The other man allowed. “Then again, there are those of us who would want brothers on there, so I don’t know that it would have to be just our sort.”

“I still don’t know if any of my brothers made it through,” Thomas admitted. “I might be the last one standing.” He tried not to look at his gloved hand, but his eyes flickered to it involuntarily as he stretched his fingers.

Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Is there anyone you could write to find out? Or do you not want to?”

Thomas shrugged. “My sister, perhaps, if she’d write back to me. I don’t know that I’d bother, though. They might as well all be dead, as much as we pay attention to each other. Again, I don’t see that there’s anything to be gained by knowing.”

“That’s fair, I suppose.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a bit. Again, it was Peter who broke the silence. “What do you suppose Kit’s doing?”

“He planned on spending the day working on play bills for the theatre’s next production,” Thomas replied. “If he finishes that, he’ll probably read or something like that, I’d imagine. I’ve told him not to feel poorly about it, that he was well out of it, but. Well. No one likes to feel like they didn’t do their bit.”

“If they were clever they would.” Peter frowned, the expression out of place on his normally cheerful face. “I keep trying to tell Davy Hall that no one’s looking down on him for not serving, but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.”

“Davy?” Thomas looked askance at the other man. “You’re joking.” The other man shook his head. Thomas blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “The man had rheumatic fever as a boy. The doctors expect him to drop dead of a hear attack or have his kidneys give out any day now, and he’s bemoaning the fact that he failed his physical and they wouldn’t let him go get shot at because his health might give out before the Germans got him?”

Peter gave a rueful sort of smile and a one sided shrug. “Apparently his brothers both died, so he really is the last one standing. And he’s here, so it’s not as if the line is going to continue. I think he feels as if, had he gone, one of his brothers might have survived.”

Thomas was aware of that sort of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that way about anything. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, even if I was expected to die young, I can not imagine feeling that suicidal.”

The comment earned him a sideways look that couldn’t decide whether to be fond or exasperated. “No, I can’t imagine you could. You’re too determined to live.”

His cigarette half way to his lips, Thomas froze. He slowly turned to look at the other man, gauging whether that comment had meant what he thought it did. When Peter lifted his eyebrows and shot a look at Thomas’s glove, that was a pretty clear answer. “Figured it out, have you?” Thomas replied, smiling tightly, trying to make a joke of it. He supposed if the other man was going to get him kicked off of the island, he’d have done it by now, and he didn’t seem like the sort for blackmail.

“Yeah.” Peter turned and crushed out his cigarette. “Several of us have. Me, Tully, Jessop, Rouse.”

“Dr R knows?” Thomas cringed. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“He does.” The other man gave him a wan smile. “He doesn’t blame you, though. None of us do. If you get right down to it, you were the clever one, getting out of there rather than waiting for the Huns to drop a shell on your head.” He nodded to the glove and added, “Not to mention you could easily have died of infection. Difficult to call someone a coward when they’re doing something they know full well could kill them.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time,” Thomas admitted. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing he could do, but if Peter didn’t think poorly of him already, he doubted the truth would change that too much. “I just, I’d had it. I’d signed up to help save them that could be saved, not to die for a country that would just as soon kill me themselves. Or lock me away for two years and then let someone beat me to death when I got out, which is close enough.” He crushed out his own cigarette, then, after a moment’s thought, went to get another.

Peter shrugged. “You’re not wrong. And I still don’t blame you.” His eyebrows knit together and he asked, curiously, “Although, if I might ask, how did you manage it? It’s a difficult shot to manage yourself.”

“I didn’t manage it myself.” Thomas tucked his lighter away and blew smoke into the air. He would never understand how some people managed not to smoke. What did they do for their nerves? “I took myself out to a nice, quiet corner of the trench, lit m’self a cigarette, and then held my hand up over the wall. A German sniper took care of the rest for me.”

Oddly, that garnered a smile from the other man. “Well, that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you note?”

“No,” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly in any condition for it. Too much morphine. Who knows? By the time I was thinking clearly again, he was probably dead anyway.”

“Probably.”

They were quiet again, for a stretch. This time Thomas broke it. “How long have you known?”

“Several months now. We put it together about the time Gordon ran off.”

“Blimey.” Thomas blinked at that. “And it took this long for any of you to say something?”

Peter shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, really. After all, who decided it was cowardice? And who decided that cowardice was something to die over? A bunch of men who never left England, except on holiday? The men who wished they had the guts to do something like that?” He looked down at his own shoulder. “I may not have invited a German sniper to have a shot at me, but I wasn’t exactly crying when they told me I couldn’t carry a stretcher anymore.”

“I should think not.”

“We did our bit. Then we went home. It’s what we said we’d do.”

“Too right.”

“We’re just lucky we made it.” Peter gave a salute to the clouds. “To the Glorious Dead.”

“And the Inglorious Living,” Thomas added, giving his own salute.

The other man leaned in, resting the stump of his shoulder against Thomas’s. “Glorious or not, I’m just as glad to have you hear instead of lying under poppies in France.”

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled and looped an arm around the other mans’ back to help them both stabilise. “I could say the same.”

#downton abbey #thomas barrow #downton abbey fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #island of the gays #peter fitzroy #veteran's day #wwi

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