#sorry there's so much about thomas i just. i think about this version of tom and his relationship with pat a lot

[spacerangersam]

Tell me more about your BBC Ghosts character swap AU please?

(like I wanna know from you about the other BH ghosts you didn't draw in their character swap AU version yet on what their character swap would be, for example Thomas, Mary & Robin please?)

Thanks!

I'd be happy to!

Thomas is a caveman, tricked into a fight by his cousin (with less of the dramatics though, since Francis couldn't have forged a letter)  who either got stabbed with a spear or bonked on the head with a club. Regardless, he was killed and in death, gets to carry around a spear. It‘s big, cumbersome and annoying, and I just think it’s funny. He can give the living bruises with it.

To blabber on a bit: his name is actually To, but Julian thought that was stupid so renamed him Thomas, and he did originally come from Scotland. Though it wasn't called Scotland when he was there, obviously.

He struggles a lot with modern English - he’s lived through the rise and fall and change of so many languages that he really struggles to keep up. He slips between using new English and old English, French, old Brythonic languages etc, especially when he’s upset. That's what really kick-started his friendship with Patrick- Pat was the first one really willing to just stop and try to understand what Thomas was saying, and the first one to really sit down and help Thomas with his English. They have lessons every Thursday evening. 

He still likes poetry, but because of all that he’s even worse at it. He also still hates Byron, just for less personal reasons.

With the whole having being around for thousands of years and watched people come and go, he's terrified of the other ghosts moving on without him. He doesn't like to sleep alone because of it, likes being able to keep an eye on at least one ghosts during the night. He tends to spend the night with Pat or Kitty, curled up on the foot of their beds, but he’ll stay with someone else now and then

Mary is a Girl Guide leader from the 80s. She's a timid woman to begin with, raised in a strict Catholic household, who works in a farm shop-come-cafe. She was encouraged to take up the Guide role by her husband to give her more confidence, and she stayed with it after his death. It didn't really make her more confident though, and her Guides quickly learned that they could walk all over her. She died while camping out on the Button grounds - some of the girls set a fire that quickly got out of control. Mary couldn't get out of her tent and died of asphyxiation (suspend your disbelief if you wouldn't mind). She still was close to Annie (and depending on how much you want to play around with the au, Annie could still be around, era switched with the plagues) and learned to be more confident through her.

She insists on doing grace at mealtimes, even though she can't eat, tells people off for blasphemy, and prays on Sundays in lieu of going to mass. The longer she's with the ghosts though, the less she does it. She has a few handy survival tools in her pockets, and like Pat, knows a thing or two about using a bow and arrow.

Robin is from the Georgian era, a nobleman's son who was sent to live with his uncle in hopes he'd straighten Robin out and turn him into a proper gentleman. Robin hated that idea. He planned to make a getaway and start a new life, one where he could just be himself, only to get struck by lightning before he ever made it off the grounds.

It's hard think of a Robin with ‘perfect’ speech, so I like to imagine he came over from North Wales, Welsh being his first language. He does speak English, albeit reluctantly, and has no desire to be fluent in it.

He's still outdoorsy and cares a lot about animals - his parents never had much time for him so he spent most of his time chasing around mice in the manor and sneaking into the stables to pet the horses. He can also still muck around with electricity.    

I don't think I've talked about Julian either, but he's the headless Tudor. Much like in canon, he didn't pay much attention to his wife or child, which was ultimately his downfall when he unknowingly partied with people who were plotting to kill the queen and was damned by association. He got his head lobbed off, and the head can appear in photographs. He makes so many jokes about it.

I can't really think of much else to say at the moment but yeah, that's them

[leadandblood]

PLEASE tell us more about your Crozcest interpretations of canon scenes omg 0w0

This reply has gotten SO fucking long, oh my god, Anon, what have you unleashed. (kidding, i love you, thank you so much for this ask <333333333)

Below are my thoughts and interpretations of canon scenes along with screencaps from the show. All the things below are speculation. No, these characters are not related whatsoever in the show. I made this AU up bc it's fun. Don't go into the soup store if you hate soup. Don't read this post if you hate blorbo incest. (though this post is very mild and mostly covers the basic family dynamic)

okAY OKAY, So!! Basically everything has to be viewed through a different lense, because well. they're family now! It changes Everything! So I might as well describe the whole show, but I guess for this post, I can start with ep 1...?

Overall

Technically Edward is better off, because he gets a higher position in the navy. He has influence, he has command, he can order men around as he likes as long as it's something a lieutenant can do. It's possible to think Francis likes him more because of this BUT!

Thomas gets to be way closer to Francis and is allowed to spend more time with him and has way less weight and expectations placed on his shoulders. Many of the tasks he has to do are controlled by Francis, are always the same and don't require much from him apart from physical labor. It's basically "I want to keep you as close as possible on this journey without burdening you too much or raising suspicions". That of course doesn't prevent Tom from working his ass off, but we'll get to that at some point.

Alternative first scene (Francis & Edward)

In one of the cuts, the first scene we get of Francis is with Edward (ignoring Blanky). And he's being all fatherly and friendly and touchy, which is actually adorable. All is well! I'm soft.

Despite everything, especially earlier into the journey, Francis doesn't dislike Edward all that much. When he's in a good mood, one could even say he loves him. Edward has been capable - he's a good lieutenant, when they're actually sailing and when he knows what to do. I'd say Francis is proud of him at least a bit at the start of the show, even though he wouldn't admit it.

(sorry for the shitty screencaps i only have this cut in 720p)

Then there's of course Edward's yay, daddy, hi! 🥰🥰 expression which is beyond adorable. I love him very much.

Alternative first scene #2 (Francis & Thomas)

In the bluray version (and netflix, too, i believe) Francis's first scene is with Thomas. Which in itself is crazy to me like. The fact they chose Jopson and Little specifically to accompany Francis in his first ever scenes!! Bonkers in the best way possible. (and also HIGHLY convinient for this AU reading lmaooo) Anyway.

Tom's cunty little head wiggle here is everything to me. When your dad goes on another rant abt how much he hates your auntie who comes over to visit once a month and you just have to endure it and nod along.

I think Francis is that sort of parent you've had to comfort when you were a kid. They'd pour their heart out to you about their problems (which you could do nothing about). And despite how small you were, you were expected to respond maturely and to not only bear your parent's tears, but to comfort them. This of course is an insane burden to give to a child, who WILL then feel responsible and WILL feel like they have to do something, yet can't. (Been there, felt that. Sorry Tom)

I think he has had to do that since he was young and that's why he's good at it now compared to Edward. He had time to practise and to learn to bear these sessions from Francis. Tom locks his own emotions up to let his father's flow over him. He might then release them somewhere else ehm ehm, Edward.

Overall terribly unhealthy, but very good angst material.

On a sillier note, Tom stop looking at him like that that's your father ffs-

2nd scene (Dinner on Terror)

Here's just a moment to appreciate this quick glance at Francis (and also how pretty Edward is)

Something something Edward being the one at a table, dining with his father and the officers while Thomas is the one serving them. Something something, useful youngest child, something something a-prize-to-show-to-others eldest child. Tickles my brain.

Also I can't help but imagine Edward looking over to Tom anytime his sleeves slide up a bit when he stretches out to pour them a glass like 👀

Then Francis's moment of "can't believe you'd betray me like that, Edward". To look at Fitzjames with such admiration and interest and to ask questions while barely looking at Francis at all throughout the dinner must be so humbling lmao. (it drives him mad)

I think this is part of the reason why he then makes the Birdshit island comment. It's not 100% aimed at James, but at Edward also, although indirectly. "You think he's so great? Well I don't. And it disappoints me that you do."

Toxic parent Francis go woooooo.

Anyway, then there's this glance which Edward quickly ignores. "Are you hearing this shit?" "oh my god dad shut uppp🙄"

Trust (Erebus visit)

When the officers from Terror visit Erebus after she's injured, Edward stays behind, presumably to watch the ship and keep command while the rest of them are gone, which I think is a great show of trust on Francis's part. Francis, Blanky, Hodgson and Irving are all on Erebus... He's really quite alone and although it's for only a short while and they still feel safe, I think it's notable how much he trusts Edward.

Anyway.

Then there's a whole lot of nothing until the ice cutting scene which i JUST noticed btw aksndgkejf Hi Tommy. I don't think Francis would order him to do it. Rather, I choose to believe he volunteered.

He's always wanted to be stronger and better and to keep going and keep pushing and most importantly to be better than Edward. That's why I think he'd volunteer. Though it may have also been an ''everybody needs to help'' situation, where they were way too desperate to waste a pair of perfectly good hands.

Conclusion to ep 1

We mostly got Francis's POV in this episode, but that's okay. There will be time for the sons too.

Overall I think Francis likes both his sons, though in very different ways and the first ep is a great display of that. He may also be conflicted about the ways in which he shows this, but doesn't know how to do any better, so he just keeps at it. It gets worse as the show progresses, but I'd be getting ahead of myself with that.

Edward Francis wants to push through the stress and burdens of command so that he comes out of it better. Not only that, he trusts that Edward can manage it. That, I think is a really interesting part to their dynamic. The duality of "god, you can't do anything right" and "you can manage this" (eldest daughter syndrome if i ever seen one)

Meanwhile he made Thomas a steward. He had been Francis's steward before, so he may have taken a liking to it and maybe asked his father to give him that position again. Also Francis wants to shelter him more than Ned - wants to keep him close. He's the last thing his wife gave to him before she died, so he cherishes Tom like treasure.

The first episode was for introducing characters, of course, and to set it all up, so there isn't much open conflict or relationship evolution between them Yet. That will change, though. I'm already excited to do the next episode.

I will be writing some of this into the actual fic, but I'm far from that yet, so I might as well make this post my starting point.

Um. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk 😭😭

[baconcolacan]

Any aus that you're interested in? I would love to see something like police officer/criminal from your hands, whether it be a drawing or a fic

Also, (Regimen) Tord sometimes feels like his only purpose is Tom and all, but does he care about Pat and Paul? Equally as much? If so, Were Tom to hurt one of them (physically) what would Tord do?And would his treatment change, if Toms actions were reasonable (idk like self-defense) or not?

Does regimen Tord still hate "sunshine lollipops?" What would his reaction be were Tom to somehow hack the base's system and have it blasting throughout the whole base/army?

If Tord were to, lets say kiss Tom (in the state he's in now, hospitalized, unstable, and all that) what would toms course of action be?

And lastly, if toms team (the ones he departed from in his capture while being given to the red army) if his men could tell him something before he left, what would each one say? (Including matt)

Also i sincerely hope that you'll be able to take a break with all the work and ur siblings, i honestly admire how u can do all of these things at the same time, you give me strength! Sorry for asking so much, if you want you can respond to all the answers individually/on different posts since its so many!

Whew~! Had to grab my coffee before I answered this one buddy! And don't worry! I'd be happy to answer this in one go, never apologize for asking about my current brainrot no matter the length :3c Warning long post below

Any aus that you're interested in? I would love to see something like police officer/criminal from your hands, whether it be a drawing or a fic

By this you mean AUs that I might want to create myself? Well, at the moment I'm very attached to all the current AUs I have. That being Stay and Military Dads (Regimen if you count it as one, though its canon divergence, but technically thats also AU???). But if you means AUs outside of me, I really like the Frankenneighbors/Stitched Up AU by lunareclipse06, years before this one was Crisis AU by sleepyeule but don't bother them about that, Eule left the fandom long ago. Officer/Criminal hm? Weeelll, I'll think about it.

Also, (Regimen) Tord sometimes feels like his only purpose is Tom and all, but does he care about Pat and Paul? Equally as much? If so, Were Tom to hurt one of them (physically) what would Tord do?And would his treatment change, if Toms actions were reasonable (idk like self-defense) or not?

I wouldn't say he cares about them as equally as he does Tom, if they were all drowning and he could only save two, he'd save Tom twice. Still, he does care about Pat and Paul a lot more than most people, they're friends in some capacity and he has fought with and defended them before. He trusts them, and thats saying a lot for this version of Tord, being that he's so paranoid of everyone around him. If Tom were to hurt them, and he has (see: Pat's nose), he'd probably just sigh and chide at whoever got hurt 'I've already warned you before: Thomas is not to be underestimated.' But he would also probably punish Tom, just a bit of a light smack is all. Generally though, Tord thinks his verbal warning about Tom was sufficient enough, and if people still got hurt knowing Tom can and will hurt them, he'll just think they're stupid for taking it lightly. He'll be very disappointed in Paul or Patryck if they continue getting bodied by Tom though.

Does regimen Tord still hate "sunshine lollipops?" What would his reaction be were Tom to somehow hack the base's system and have it blasting throughout the whole base/army?

Yes he still very much hates it, and for everyone's sake lets hope Tom doesn't do that because it will result in the loss of a significant amount of lives, though knowing Tom he'd do it either way given his whole mental instability thing. But Tord is also mentally unstable, so after the initial damage has been done, Tom is most likely going to suffer something really bad.

If Tord were to, lets say kiss Tom (in the state he's in now, hospitalized, unstable, and all that) what would toms course of action be?

Canon-wise in my fic, Tord would never initiate, but sure I can answer this what-if. Atm, Tom is very very vulnerable, his body is all broken up and mentally, he's not doing well. He'd most likely just let the kiss play out, but he'd probably try to bite Tord if it goes on too long.

And lastly, if toms team (the ones he departed from in his capture while being given to the red army) if his men could tell him something before he left, what would each one say? (Including matt)

Aw you cheeky bastard you :]c Are you looking for unofficial-official closure for this scenario I wrote? You've got a lot of gumption coming to the actual author of the fic for this, as I never ever intended for them to have proper closure, as that's just how it is sometimes, we don't always get to move forward in life with everything tied up nicely. But for you, because you've been so sweet, alright. Here you go, an unofficial-official scene for Regimen:

The snow was too thick to walk through, reaching up to a concerning level at his legs, he feared what that meant for Matt, for what he’ll have to endure once his unit had been given permission to leave, he had hoped that their way out of London wouldn’t be too arduous, but that was a much too frivolous wish on his part, and he knew that.

 The air was so cold that breathing it in seemed to sting at his lungs, he shivered as he walked, breathing out shaking breaths that brought about a fog around his chin, circling his face before dissipating into the air. His injuries throbbed painfully, pulsing against his wrappings, shifting his temperature from hot to cold in quick flashes. The weather didn’t help with this.

Tom squinted against the wind, blinking furiously as his skin was pelted with the sharp chill of the raging snow. He gritted his teeth as the rebel in front of him pulled too hard at his restraints. They had tied him up too tightly, his arms ached from behind him, his joints creaked in protest, threatening to dislodge if he moved the wrong way.

His throat burned, the pressure from the rope around his neck worsening how it tightened with his anxiety. He feared that he wouldn’t be able to breathe, but every time his thoughts began to spiral, the rebel at the front of the group who were guiding him seemed to sense this, and abruptly pulled the rope forwards, like he were a misbehaving dog in a choke leash.

“Watch it, Mask.” The rebel jeered, his smirk only growing at the glower he received in response. “Can’t have you passing out before we get to those dead men you call your unit.” He scoffed, the other rebels around him snickered as they too watched for Tom’s reaction. Now that the once mysterious rebel leader was unmasked, most of the rebels who he had scorned hungered for any kind of retribution.

Tom didn’t give them that satisfaction, instead grinding his teeth against the gag they forced on him as he kept his head down.

“Pathetic.”

Tom heard one of them whisper as he was tugged forward again, though he didn’t expect it this time, which caused him to let out a garbled, choking, cry as he stumbled on his feet. He was able to steady himself before he could fall, but he could feel himself shaking, his body was at its limit, and this rough handling wasn’t helping to stabilize his condition.

One sweeping glance around him revealed an unabashed glee in the eyes of the rebels at the sorry sight of him. Tom committed their faces to memory, a small part of him still raging at their audacity to do this to him. After ALL he had DONE when they were too WEAK, too COWARDLY to do anything themselves.

Traitors.

Traitors the FUCKING LOT OF THEM!

He has had ENOUGH betrayals.

“You have 3 minutes, Mask. Make it count.”

Tom looked at the rebel who addressed him with the barest tilts of his head, but the man had already faced away from him and was opening the doors to Waterloo block without much preamble. The doors opened with a loud creak, the light from outside spilled in like a flood, illuminating weary faces on the other side, squinting against the sudden intrusion and billowing cold.

“Say your goodbyes scum.” The rebel who opened the door addressed Tom’s unit with a sneer, the other rebels stepped up to his sides, weapons on standby, which made those closer to them back away in trepidation.

Tom was pulled into the middle, the rope around his neck tightened too much as it happened, he choked on his spit, his mouth tried to open to take in a gulp of air, but the gag wouldn’t let him. His vision blacked out for a moment as he fell to his knees, unable to cushion himself with his hands tied. His head snapped down concerningly fast, but he felt the rebel pull the rope up, causing his head to lift up with the movement, he let it happen, as he felt his strength leave him exponentially.

He found himself staring up at a blurry ceiling.

“3 minutes.” A voice beyond him said, sounding too far away to his ears.

“What the fuck DID YOU BASTARDS DO TO OUR LEADER?!”

“THOMPSON!!”

“LEADER!!”

“THOMPSON?!”

“HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

“THOMPSON! THOMPSON!!!”

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling

Stop yelling.

Stop yelling for him.

He doesn’t want to save you.

This isn’t for you.

This wasn’t ever supposed to be for you.

He’s not a hero, this isn’t a selfless act. He doesn’t fucking care so STOP FUCKING YELLING.

He only cares about…

“…Tom…?”

Hands. Gentle hands on his face. Familiar. Smooth and unscarred by injury. It means safety. It means silence. It means home.

Tom slowly came back to awareness, enough that he realized that his unit had surrounded him, a few of his remaining fellow Corporals had put some distance between him and other panicked unit members, the ones who looked at him in concern, and the ones that looked at him with hope. As disgusting and vile as that is, at the moment, this moment, it didn’t bother him as much.

He looked directly into two blue eyes, shining with tears that fell freely down freckled cheeks. The droplets heavy with grief, and the tiniest sliver of relief at seeing him again.

Not many people looked at him like that anymore, with concern, with happiness….with grief, knowing that they might never see each other again.

The gag was gone, crumpled on the floor next to the person in front of him. He worked his jaw, testing it out as he tried to get the soreness out.

He smiled, small, pained, but happy.

“Hi Matt…” Tom leaned into his friend’s touch, his lower lip quivered as he tried to keep up his smile. Matt’s expression broke out into anguish, crumbling so pitifully that it made Tom’s heart ache. His friend began to shake, shoulders jumping as his sobs began to escalate. Matt bit his lower lip in an attempt to stop himself, his sobs turning into strangled whimpers as his tears flowed out in earnest, a bead of blood seeped out from between his teeth.

The hands cupping Tom’s face were trembling, badly. Tom never let his smile waver even so, he shook his head and made small clicking noises with his tongue. “Shhh, shhh…Hey, don’t cry…” He whispered softly between them, slowly moving forward as he did so. “Matt, come on, shhh its okay. You’ll be okay. Look at me, Matthew, hey. You’ll be okay, I promise…” Once he was close enough, Tom gave him his best reassuring smile as he rested his forehead against Matt’s own. “No more tears now, okay? You’re safe now…”

Matt blubbered, Tom’s words only proving to renew his tears. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around his friend as he cried into his shoulder. Tom grunted, a sharp, short pain lancing through him at the motion, but he didn’t make it obvious as he leaned against Matt’s body.

This was a warmth he was never going to forget.

“W..What about y-you??” Matt hiccupped against his shoulder, muffled enough that only Tom could understand it, being so close. “T-Tom…I can’t- I can’t without-“ Matt let out a pained wail, unable to finish his sentence, his cries muffled into the fabric of Tom’s bloodied uniform.

Tom’s throat tightened, stinging with something sour. He swallowed hard and willed away the tingling sensation around his eyes.

He looked up around them, seeing the saddened gazes of his unit members as they watched Matt cry into his clothes. There was a hint of confusion in their eyes, no doubt wondering why Matt was reacting like this towards him. He wanted to shield his friend from their looks, he knew that once he was gone, there was a possibility of Matt becoming a target, it was obvious now they knew each other on a more familiar level than what they had let on at the start.

He didn’t want Matt to be his replacement. Never.

Tom locked eyes with Corporal Devinson, who was the only one watching them neutrally.

“Devinson…” Tom said, his voice rough and gravelly. “I struck a deal with the rebels, they’re allowing the unit to leave London, on the condition that you never return.” Devinson’s eyes widened at that information, along with several other unit members. Tom continued. “Corporal, do you remember what play our Colonel was fond of?”

Devinson’s gaze sharpened at the coded words. He glanced up at the rebels waiting by the door, watching them intently. He looked back at his leader. “It was cursed.” He replied.

Tom smirked. “You should give it a read, at least. My favorite line was from Act 5, third scene.”

“I’ll try, leader.”

“Good..” Tom felt Matt beginning to settle as his sobs pattered away to small whimpers and hiccupping. He gave Devinson a softer look, wishing he could hold Matt the same way his friend was doing to him. “Take care of the unit, Devinson. Promise me you will.”

Corporal Devinson stood at attention, he nodded his head sharply. “Always, leader.” Then his gaze turned sad. “I’m….I wish we could do something….I’m so sorry Tom….”

They weren’t friends.

Tom didn’t comment on the use of his name. He regarded his whole unit silently before he spoke. “Look after each other, listen to Devinson. I’m sorry it ended like this. At least this way, you’ll be far from the conflict.” He shook his head when some of them seemed to want to protest, Baxton most of all. He clicked his tongue, quieting them. “No. This is how it ends. We failed. I failed. You have to leave. This is my last failsafe, this is my last defense to keep this unit safe.”

It was terrifying how easily he could lie through his teeth.

He couldn’t care less what happened to them now.

But Matt still needed them. Need their protection. He doesn’t trust any of them, but their sentiments were always easy to play to.

Hilarson had influenced them like that.

Tom felt something constrict his heart, but as always, he ignored it.

For Matt’s sake.

“Promise me. You’ll look after each other.”

The unit was silent.

Then they voiced out their agreements, though seemingly strained, as they looked down at their leader and at each other.

Tom sighed, he moved back a bit, causing Matt to sit up a little and look into his eyes again. His friend’s face looked a bit puffy, his eyes were red and still tearing up, his breath shook as he took in air in small gasps. Tom smiled sadly, knocking their foreheads together one last time before he moved to stand. Matt was immediately at his side and helped him up.

But before he let go, Tom whispered into his ear.

“I’m sorry, about everything.”

Matt’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Tom was suddenly pulled backwards with a cry, he fell to the floor but was still dragged backwards as he choked and gagged.

“TOM!” Matt shrieked, along with the startled and angry yells of protest from the unit members around him as they all surged forward, trying to get to their leader.

They were stopped as guns were pointed at their faces.

“Time’s up.” The rebel who had pulled Tom back spat. He watched in satisfaction as Tom curled in on himself on the floor, wheezing. He looked back up at the rebels with a scowl. “Get out of London.” He sneered before he jerked his head back, signaling for the others to follow him out while keeping their weapons trained on the unit.

Tom cried out as he was roughly pulled to his feet again.

“YOU’RE HURTING HIM!! STOP!! STO-!”

“Prince.” Devinson stood in front of Matt, who tried to run forward. The Corporal put his hands on Matt’s shoulders, he ducked his head down and shook it slowly. ‘Don’t’ He mouthed as a warning.

Matt’s eyes darted towards his own, panicked. A protest rolled up to his tongue, but in a split second, he managed to catch Tom’s gaze just as he was lead out of the doorway.

Tom’s eyes, despite the situation, was just as soft as it looked when Matt had held him on the floor.

“Shhh…”

Matt wouldn’t hear it, of course, but he knew what Tom was trying to say.

Tears fell freely from his eyes again, seemingly freezing on his cheeks this time, without the warmth of his friend nearby.

Tom smiled at him, sad, slow, final.

Then he was gone. --- OOH MINI FIC? HAHAHA ANYWAYS SOME NOTES: “Corporal, do you remember what play our Colonel was fond of?” "It was cursed." > Theater kids like me know we don't say this play's name: The Scottish play. Tom smirked. “You should give it a read, at least. My favorite line was from Act 5, third scene.” > "Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane," - Macbeth Act 5 Scene 3

That whole section was basically just Tom telling Devinson to go to Hilarson's safehouse in Scotland. The SCOTTISH play. Dunsinane Hill is in Scotland. Tada, I'm a fucking nerd. BUT ALSO TYSM FOR THE WELL WISHES!! Im rlly tired these days so Im unable to draw much for the blog but yknow. I'll have my time again.

[mlwritingprompts]

Submitted prompt: This Movie Is Garbage

Because I refuse to believe Animated Astruc isn't just as much of a misogynistic creep in his writing as the real deal.

So, we've all heard the thing about Thomas Astruc basing Sabine on one of his ex-girlfriends, basing Tom on himself, and Marinette basically being his RPF fankid, right?

For those of you that didn't know, I am so sorry to have robbed you of your innocence.

Anyway, for the purposes of this prompt I'm ignoring Tom being a self-insert because Astruc has an even more blatant self-insert, that being the literal in-universe version of himself, which is the Thomas Astruc I will be referring to for the rest of this prompt unless specified otherwise.

Sabine and Thomas Astruc used to date. It doesn't really matter how their relationship went or how it ended- although for the record I'm going to assume badly- because the real meat of it comes after, when he started directing. 

See, in the Ladybug movie, Ladybug's mother shows up in a few scenes, and bears a striking resemblance to Sabine. On her third watch of the movie, Sabine manages to pause it at the right time and find a family photo in the background, and, wouldn't you know it, the fictional Ladybug's father bears a striking resemblance to Thomas Astruc himself.

Sabine realizes that Thomas clearly never got over her, and is now using his movies to imagine a future where they'd stayed together and had a child. While this is undoubtedly disturbing and more than a little pathetic, it's far from her only problem with the movie.

For one thing, there are certain shots and scenes in the movie that make Ladybug look... rather sexualized. She is at MOST fifteen in the movie and, having a teenage daughter herself, Sabine finds it disturbing that the camera seems to want her to view a teenage girl as sexually desirable. And the fact that said teenage girl is meant to be in the wrong for not wanting a relationship, and her arc resolves with her dating someone Sabine can safely say will not give her what she needs. (Like respect, for one thing)

The fact that this is an animated version of her and Thomas's potential child does not help matters at all.

And god, there is so much more. The more Sabine thinks about it, the more she realizes how bad this movie is on a writing level and a moral one.

She knows Marinette has seen it, so she decides to have a chat with her daughter about some of the more objectionable content. It's not that she doesn't trust her, but, well. Teenagers can be rather impressionable at times.

To her relief, Marinette already seems to have spotted it, and she is not pleased.

Neither is Alya, who is over at their house at the time, and seems to be in the process of writing a review of the movie to be posted on the Ladyblog. To call it a negative review would be an understatement.

Their discussion turns into more of a venting session about Thomas Astruc and all his various crimes against storytelling. Alya seems to be taking notes of Sabine and Marinette's complaints in between her own.

____________________

Once Alya's review is published, all hell breaks loose on social media with regards to the Ladybug movie. The movie becomes deeply controversial, although most people seem to agree it's bad, even if they don't agree on why. Even more controversial than the movie itself is the people involved in making it.

Alya did her research on this one, and she found what can be generously described as "a lot of bad shit". Animators for the movie drawing NSFW of the very underage, very based on real children characters for one. Also, with Sabine's permission, she included the little tidbit about Movie!Ladybug being Thomas Astruc's hypothetical child with a woman he never got over.

Akumas will be made. Blood will be spilled. Call-out posts will be written. How do you imagine the fallout?

[itsallyscorner]

For Tom x

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Tom:)

Warnings: none, just pure teeth rotting Fluff:)

A/n: Hello my loves! This is literally a rewrite because I accidentally deleted the original version of this story on Tumblr RIGHT before I was gonna post it😭 Anyway here it is, I hope you all like it! Ally x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

look at my sunshine🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your giggles filled the hallway as you lead Tom into your makeshift studio. Since you were quarantining with him and his mates in their shared home in London, you were miles away from your crew and studio. Which, yes, made it difficult to record an entire album on your own—but it did give you the creative freedom to do whatever you pleased for the album.

The boys had their own creative outlets; for example putting together a puzzle or having a movie marathon. While you found those activities enjoyable, the inner singer in you couldn’t stop thinking of beats or coming up with lyrics in your head. You needed the studio—you needed to bring those beats and lyrics to life before you could forget them. So with the help of the houses’ tech lord himself, Harry made it possible for you to have your own little studio in the spare guest room of the house. There, you spent endless days writing and recording things like harmonies and building melodies. Little did you know that this would lead to the creation of your sixth album. Now a couple months later, your latest album is currently in its final stages and would soon be released to the world.

Tom adoringly watched your figure, which was drowned in one of his oversized jumpers, excitedly skip towards the guest room. As soon as you were both inside, you rushed to close the door and eagerly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What have you been up to, lovey?” He teasingly asks you. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know if it were bad or good.

Your figure was bent over the desk where your laptop was located. Turning over your shoulder you tell him, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You’re met with an amused grin on his blush pink lips.

Gathering your laptop into your arms, you move to sit beside Tom on the bed. He curiously leans forward, trying to get a glance at what’s on your screen.

“Nuh uh, it’s a surprise, Thomas.” You playfully scold him and gently push his face away from your laptop. He responds with a pout against your palm before pressing a kiss onto your skin. You continue to click around on your laptop, looking through your documents for the specific file.

Meanwhile, Tom shuffles further up the bed, getting comfortable. He notices the new distance between you and him and decides that he’s unsatisfied with the additional inches. He choses to snake his arms around your waist and lifts you up, happily placing you on the empty and lonely space on his lap. Laying down on his back, he takes a moment to admire the way you look in his jumper. It was a few sizes bigger than you and stopped right above your knees. The jumper may have looked good on him, but it looked absolutely perfect on you.

“You look so cute in my jumper.” He hums, hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs. Your nose scrunches up as you lightly slap his chest; your silent way of saying “shut up” whenever Tom would say something that made you blush.

You finally find the file you were looking for and place your laptop on your lap. You nervously glance at your screen, biting down on your lip out of habit.

“Ok, so I did something.” You started. Tom squints his eyes at you, “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad something.”

You huff, “I just told you it wasn’t anything bad! Do you want your surprise or not?”

Tom chuckles and grasps onto your thighs, “Yes—yes, sorry, keep going.”

“So you know how I’ve already finished my album?” You question him. Tom nods, staring up at you while you sit on his thighs.

“Well, I wrote a few more songs that were supposed to be on the album. But I don’t know, I felt a bit greedy and decided to keep them for myself.” You explain. Tom raises a brow at you, “Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about keeping songs to yourself. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just that, they’re about you.” You pause, staring down at your fingers that fiddled together. “Like I wrote them specifically for you to listen to. I wanted to include them on the album, but it just didn’t feel right to share something that was meant only for you.”

You place your laptop on the bed and turn it so the screen is facing Tom.

“So...as a solution, I made you your own album.” You were too busy avoiding his stare, that you missed the twinkle in Tom’s coffee colored orbs. He carefully sits up, his arms around you getting tighter, as he pulls you closer into his chest. Tom ducks his head down to yours, nudging your nose with his to get you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the lopsided grin on his features grows wider.

“You made me my own album?”

“Yeah.” You shyly answer. Tom softly coos at you, cupping your face and pressing a chaste kiss onto both of your cheeks.

“You are the most precious thing in the world, sunshine, I swear.” He squishes your cheeks together and began to cover your face with butterfly like kisses. Sweet laughs erupt from you, the sounds making Tom’s heart swell.

You stuff your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, using it as a place to hide from his lips. Instead, Tom opts to lay his kisses along the side of your face, your neck, and your shoulder.

“Lemme kiss you!” He whines. You chuckle at him, finally moving away from his neck. His attention darts towards your lips more than once, prompting you to lean forward and connect them with his. Tom’s lips were soft against yours, like clouds or cushiony pillows. The kiss was short and sweet; though it didn’t prevent you from feeling the adoration and passion he felt for you in that moment. In fact, he felt it all the time, but right now, his love for you was coursing through his veins.

He finally pulls away, leaving the taste of him linger in your mouth. “Can I have a listen?” He motions his head towards your laptop beside him.

“Go ahead.” Tom’s arms unravel from your waist, the area they once occupied left cold and yearning for his warmth. He uses one of his elbows to hold himself up and the other to control the touchpad. His eyes scan the file.

For Tom x

someone like u

test drive

worst behavior

main thing

He glances at you, “I start with ‘someone like u’, right?” You reply with a quiet “mhm”.

Tom clicks on the link. The opening notes of ‘someone like u’ begin to play followed by your angelic voice. You hear him release a content sigh, making a small smile to form on your lips. His arms make their way around you again, this time holding you closer against him. He rests his head on your chest and sneakily presses a kiss onto your neck. You fondly run a hand through his curly hair and rest your chin on the top of his head, listening to the songs you’ve made for him.

The two of you listen through the album in one go with no stops. You found joy in Tom’s reactions towards every song. Sometimes he would make little comments or sounds of shock whenever he heard you hit a certain note. He nodded along to the beats of ‘test drive’ and ‘worst behavior’, dancing around in his seat and making you join him. This time, you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he listened closely to the lyrics. ‘Main thing’ got him the most, leaving him with a goofy-lovesick grin plastered onto his face.

When ‘main thing’ came to a close, the room became silent, leaving Tom enough time to process the four songs you wrote about him and the meanings behind them.

You were the first to speak, “So did you like it?” You scan his face looking for any signs of dislike.

Tom’s eyes widen, “Are you kidding me? That was bloody fantastic—that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m obsessed with it, oh my god!” He expressed, arms moving around as he spoke.

His face was radiating with happiness, “You are the most talented and loving woman in the world. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you or your love—but I just love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so fucking much too, you dork.” You laugh, pecking his lips.

“No, but seriously, thank you so much. I know you’re used to writing songs, but the fact that you actually took the time to write songs about me means a lot. They’re just a bunch of songs, but they mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of them.” He admits, taking one of your hands and placing it onto his heart. Your palm feels the faint rhythm of his heart beating against his chest.

You tilt your head at him, mirroring the smile on his face, “I’ll always write songs about you. You somehow manage to inspire them anyway.”

Tom smirks, “Well I am Tom Holland.” You snort and roll your eyes at his humble brag.

“You’re still a dork, Tommy.” You comment.

Tom shrugs, “I’m a special dork because I’m your dork. Therefore making me superior to the other existing dorks—there’s a difference, darling.”

“And where did you come up with this hypothesis, Mr. Holland?” You question him, playing along with his antics.

“It’s Tom’s Theory.” He answers with feign seriousness. You burst out laughing, “Oh is it?”

Tom leans down to your laptop and restarts his album. “Yes, and now Tom’s Theory, believes that we should listen to the album again until I learn all the lyrics to every single song.” He proclaims.

“Babe, you don’t have to—” Tom stops you, “I’m dead serious.”

It was going to be a long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Tags ↴

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Tom Holland + characters Taglist

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General Taglist

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading

[eddswrold-fandicc]

Tomtord Smut

bottom Tord

"Now, this will be on for 48 hours. Get along, or it'll be on longer." Edd clicked the lock shut.

The chain was 1 foot long, connecting to Tom and Tord's wrists at each end.

"But Edd-" Tom started his complaint.

"No buts! You two are getting ridiculous. Now deal with it."

Edd tucked the key in his pocket and walked off, leaving the two in the living room alone.

"This is stupid..." Tord muttered.

"Yeah, no shit. It's your fucking fault, commie."

"Oh, it's not just my fault, jehova. I don't recall breaking the window."

"It's your fault I broke the window!" Tom spat, getting irritated with the Norwegian.

Tord sighed and rolled his eyes, "Whatever, Thomas."

The two stood in silence, not knowing what to do next. There was only a foot separating them, so there wasn't much to do to begin with.

"I need a drink." Tom started making his way to the kitchen, tugging Tord behind him.

Tord pulled back, stopping Tom in his tracks, "No you don't. I'm not dealing with your ass drunk."

"And I'm not dealing with your ass sober," Tom tried tugging Tord again, but had no luck.

The two stood there, glaring at each other.

"Now what's going on?" Edd was walking down the stairs.

"Dickface won't let me get my alcohol."

"I'm not dealing with him drunk, Edd."

Edd sighed, clearly fed up with the two, "Tom, you don't need alcohol. And Tord, no masturbating with him chained to you."

Tord shrugged while Tom threw a fit.

"What?! Edd!"

"No, Tom. There's no alcohol anyways," Edd slid past the two, grabbing a cola from the kitchen and going back upstairs.

"This is bullshit." Tom started to walk off again, tugging Tord behind him.

"Where are we going now, Thomas?" Tord was starting to get annoyed with Tom's tugging.

"My room."

Tom grabbed his bass and sat on his bed. Tord sat beside him, leaving room between the two. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. Might as well play on his phone for a while.

Tom started strumming his bass, creating a low tune. He started to hum a tune, most likely one he created himself. Tord couldn't help but listen to his voice. He always adored the way Tom would sing, even though he would never admit it.

Tord softly sighed, scrolling through a hentai server on discord. He kept scrolling and scrolling until he dramatically gasped, almost dropping his phone. A blush rose to his face as he looked between Tom and his phone.

A hentai comic, and the girl kind of looked like Tom. She even had black eyes and brown hair. Tord skimmed through the comic, feeling himself get hard. Sure, it was wrong to get hard at the hot, sexy, anime version of your enemy. But that just makes it hotter.

Tord bit his lip, looking at the hentai girl get pounded into by a dragon dildo. He looked up at Tom again, imagining what it would look like if it was him getting fucked like that.

"What?" Tom deadpanned, stopping his tunes.

Ah, shit. Tord zoned out.

"What?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tord hesitated, "Like what?"

"Don't play dumb, asshole."

Tord shrugged and turned his phone around, showing Tom the comic. A blush appeared on his face as his eyes widened. He looked at Tord, "Why?"

Tord smirked, "Would you like to be fucked like that, Thomas~?"

Tom set his bass down, taking a deep breath, "Are you really turned on by that? She looks like a female version of me!"

Tord bit his lip, looking Tom up and down. He made sure the other noticed too.

Tom swallowed. There was no way he was going to let that commie fuck him. So he better take control now before it's too late.

"Or would you like to be fucked like that~?" Tom shifted a quarter into his monster form.

Tord was taken back, now wide eyed.

"I-uh-" He was nervous now.

Tom smirked as he slowly climbed on Tord, gently pinning him down. He watched his expressions. How his face turned red, and how his eyes averted. Avoiding eye contact.

"Look at you, commie. Not so big now, are you~? Just look at that pretty face of yours turning red."

Tord shuttered and bit his lip, looking to the side.

"Oh? Does someone have a praise kink~?" Tom bent his head down, softly kissing and nibbling at Tord's neck.

Tord's breath hitched as the monster kissed on a sweet spot. He bucked his hips by accident, grinding them on Tom's leg.

"Desperate, are we?"

"I-I didn't mean t- hah~!" Tord was cut off by a breathy moan as Tom bit down on his sweet spot.

Tom emitted a low chuckle, licking and kissing his bite mark.

The bedroom door opened, "Hey, have you guys-"

Matt's eyes widened as he saw what was in front of him. He quickly turned around and shut the door, yelling 'sorry' the whole way out.

Tom looked back down at Tord. His whole face red, trailing down to his neck. He slid his hand up the Norwegian's shirt, rubbing and pinching at his hardened nipples.

"Embarrassed~?"

Tord nodded, closing his eyes.

Tom decided it was time to take things further. He unbuckled his trousers, throwing them aside and letting his erect monster cock hit the cold air.

Tord's eyes widened at the size. God, that thing was about to be inside him. Pounding his puckered hole. He bit his lip, becoming squirmy.

"Pants off. Now." Tom commanded.

Tord nodded as he quickly slid his pants off, comparing the sizes of the two.

Tom positioned himself in front of the other, looking down on him, "I think you know what to do."

The other stared at the dick in front of him. Slowly licking his lips, he slid the erection in his mouth.

Tom slid his fingers through Tord's hair, gripping it, and slamming his dick down his throat.

Tord gagged, taken by surprise. Tears welled in his eyes as Tom continued to fuck his throat.

"Such a pretty little boy, Tord. Keep taking my cock like this, and I'll give you a reward, hmm~?"

The smaller man moaned around the monster's cock, taking his own in his hand and jerking it.

Tom pulled out, sending his warm cum all over Tord's face. He turned the Norwegian over, so he was on his hands and knees. Though he had to be careful from the chain.

"Such a cute little hole." Tom kissed it before sticking his tongue out.

Tord jumped at the contact, burying his face and moaning in embarrassment.

"T-Tom, please..." He whined into the pillow.

Tom pulled off, prodding his finger at his entrance, "Please what?"

He stuck his finger in, making Tord softly gasp.

"P-Please... fuck me."

Tom watched his shoulders shake as he added in another finger. He listened to Tord's soft moans escalating as he picked up the pace.

"I could have you cum just from my fingers."

Tord continued to moan in the pillow as he reached down to touch his dick.

Tom quickly pulled his fingers out, positioning himself at the stretched hole in front of him and slowly pushing in.

"A-Ah! Tom, lube?" Tord looked back, tears pricking his eyes again as he looked at Tom desperately.

"Don't have any." Tom let his dick sit still, letting the smaller adjust to the stretch.

Tord took deep, shaky breaths as he wiggled around. He exhaled as he gave Tom a thumbs up, rattling the chain as he moved his wrist.

Tom slowly moved, wanting to desperately pound into Tord and make him scream. But he had to be slow at the moment, from the lack of lube.

He picked up his pace more and more as he heard Tord's moans. He suddenly stopped, feeling himself getting close. He waited for Tord to calm down before he rammed into him.

Tord nearly yelled, covering his mouth. Tom hit his prostate, making him cum from one thrust. Pathetic.

Tom continued to ram into him, "I'm not done with you yet. Keep making those pretty noises for me."

Tord moaned in his hand, using his other one to grip the sheets. His body was shaking, nearly getting to his breaking point.

He felt Tom slide his hand up his back, and into his hair, gripping it and pulling his head back.

Tom grabbed his arm, pinning it behind his back, pounding into Tord quicker and quicker.

"T-Tom- please~!"

"Hold on, I'm getting close~!"

Within a few more harsh thrusts, Tom was filling Tord's ass to the brim with his cum. Letting go of his arm, he pulled out, letting the cum leak down.

Tom delivered a slap to Tord's ass, making him jump, "Okay, let's get dressed and shower."

Tord slumped down into the sheets, catching his breath as Tom threw his clothes at him.

Both got dressed for the shower, careful not to get the chain stuck in their clothes.

They ran into Matt, walking down the hallway. A blush appeared on his face as he tried to avoid eye contact.

"Sorry, Matt," Tom sheepishly grinned.

"S'ok." Matt walked past them and into Edd's room.

Tord looked behind them at Edd's door, "Why'd he go into Edd's room?"

"Dunno. You sound tired."

"I am tired." Tord opened the bathroom door and flicked on the light.

"Shower and nap?"

"Food first."

Tom nodded, "Agreed."

[im-constantly-fangirling-backup]

Promotion

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested: Yes; I lost the original request, sorry :(

Warnings: Swear Words

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry about the repost, for some reason the old version got deleted so I’m reposting it :) I tried to make the reader badass but like I don’t know how to do that so I guessed. I hope you guys love this!!

Summary: The reader storms into the Garrison which pisses off Tommy, but when he sees what has gotten you so angry and watches your response, he can’t help but be impressed.

[Main Blog] [Masterlist] [Taglist Form] [Requests Open!]

The Garrison seemed to be the hub of all the Peaky Blinders and the people that wanted to meet with them. People were walking in with friends on their arms and out stumbling, drunkenly walking their newfound date to the closes private space they could find. And in the midst of all that celebration, you had walked in with the biggest scowl on your face- a contrast that Tommy easily picked up on from where he was leaning against the countertop of the bar. “What’s got ya so pissed, love?” he asked you, sipping on his whiskey. You sighed. “Nothing,” you grumbled, signaling to Grace that you wanted a glass of whiskey. “Yet,” you said under your breath. Tommy caught that whisper but ignored it, opting to take another swing of his drink. He had noticed every time you walked into the Garrison, you walked in with a sour face instead of your usual bright one. It bothered him that you didn’t smile as much anymore when you were there, but Tom was never a man good with words. So he simply let you stew in your anger, but made sure to brush your hand every now and then to remind you that he was there if you wanted to rant. He might not be able to talk, but he could listen. “Why hello there, love!” you and Tommy heard a deep, baritone voice say from behind you. Turning around, you saw a man with crooked teeth smiling abashedly at you, his eyes lingering on your chest too long for it to be a casual observation. Your nose scrunched up from the smell of alcohol reeking in his breath. “What the hell do you want, Trevor?” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy’s eyebrows raise slightly in shock, but when you noted his slight scowl you knew he was irritated. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Trevor held his hands up in mock surrender. “Just askin’ how you’ve been after all these years, love, nothing more. Certainly nothin’ to get all feisty over.” You grit your teeth before smiling at him cockily. “Yeah, now that you’ve done that, can you fuck off?” You added a bit of politeness into your voice- just enough to patronize him. “Hey,” you heard Tommy say. “Calm down, will you love? I don’t need another bar fight on my hands.” His voice was laced with frustration and anger, although his face stayed neutral. The normal glint that was housed in his eyes disappeared, replaced by indifference. It was almost like the deep ocean of his blue eyes froze over into ice. You smiled at him the same way you smiled at Trevor: with a hint of condescension. Honestly, it was a miracle that Tom didn’t shoot a bullet in between your brows at your expression. “Why don’t you stay out of things that aren’t your fucking business, Tom?” Tom clenched his jaw before turning back to his whiskey. “If it’s under me bar’s roof, it’s me fuckin’ business, love.” Trevor chuckled, causing both you and Tommy’s heads to snap towards him. “You let him call you love? What are you, his whore?” You bit your lip out of anger so hard it drew blood, the tang of copper running over your tongue. You tried to focus on the taste in an effort to not cause a scene; if you did cause a bar fight, you’d have to deal with an angry Thomas Michael Shelby, which was much worse than what you were dealing with right now. “Look, Trevor, what do you want?” You arched your eyebrow. Trevor shrugged. “Just wanted to see ya, I swear-” “You never talk to me unless you want something from me, so how about you just tell me and I can be on my merry way?” Trevor’s eyes darkness slightly, his usual energetic (and annoying) bravado slipping slightly. “I need some money.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “What? So you can go and spend it on more drugs and tequila? No fucking way.” Trevor’s lip curled slightly, and you noticed his fingers twitched as if wanting to curl up into fists. “Don’t fucking humiliate me in front of Mr. Shelby!” Another laugh tumbled out of you, this one full of much more bitterness than the last. “Why? You saw no problem humiliating me in front of my father? Consider us even on that front, Trevor.” Tommy choked on his whiskey slightly, now

understanding why you were being so hostile and angry whenever Trevor was in the Garrison. You had run away from London after a man there- Trevor, apparently- had started the rumor that you recently had an attempted abortion that didn’t work, leaving you pregnant. Although you were only 19 at the time, you weren’t an idiot and eventually understood that he was making you unmarriable to everyone except him. He couldn’t raise his status, so he lowered yours. He would marry you, thereby securing all the riches your family had for himself. Thomas cleared his throat. “I think you need to leave.” His words implied that Trevor had a choice, but his deep and firm voice communicated what his words didn’t: if Trevor didn’t leave of his own free will, he’d be dragged out against it. Trevor gulped. “Please, love-” You shook your head no. “I gave you money that last time, Trevor. ‘S not my fault you can’t budget for shit. So if you want money, get a fucking job.” “If you give me money, I’ll go back to your dad and tell him I lied. I swear, love, I will just please!” Trevor practically begged, a tear slipping out the corner of his eyes. You took in a deep breath, placing your hand on top of Thomas’s when he made a move to get up. “Look, Trevor, I don’t want a fucking apology. I don’t want you to tell my father that you were lying. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.” You stepped closer to Trevor, letting your hand fall off the counter. “If I see you ever again,” you said threateningly, letting your breath fan out over his face, “You’ll only have one good leg.” You turned around and fidgeted with your now empty whiskey glass, tilting and watching the sunlight hit the glass. “If you want money, get a job. You’re smart enough to find you, I’m sure. If you were smart enough to manipulate my family, I’m sure you can get a fucking job.” You picked up Tom’s whiskey glass and downed it in one gulp. “Fuck off, Trevor. And remember my threat, because I will follow up on it. Starting in ten seconds.” You didn’t see Trevor run across and away from the Garrison, but you heard the quick clicks of his shoes against the wood. Turning around after ten seconds, you were pleased to find him gone. Thomas cleared his throat and turned to you. He eyed his whiskey glass that still rested in your hand but made no comment. “This is going to sound really fuckin’ creepy,” he began, “but that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled and then groaned. “I fucking hate that guy.” “I can tell.” You hummed. “Still pissed at me for how I talked to him? Or are we good?” Tom turned back to the bar, asking Grace to refill both of your glasses. “I want to give you a promotion, love. Your potential’s wasted as a secretary.” You sipped at your now refilled whiskey. “Hmm, wouldn’t people think I fucked my way to the top?” “If you’d scare them off like you did Trevor,” Thomas pointed out, “I don’t think a single person would voice their doubts.” You nodded. “Then I accept, Tom.” Thomas grinned and extended his hand. “You’re now Y/N Shelby, my second in command.” You laughed and shook his hand. “If screaming at Trevor was all it took to impress you,” you teased, “I would have hunted him down a year ago.” Tom sipped at his whiskey and chuckled. “You about done with that drink, love? I was thinking we could celebrate your promotion,” he said suggestively, winking at you when you side glanced at him. You felt hot, a slight blush making its way on your face. “What are we waiting for then?”

[sirensmojo]

"Depth Over Distance" Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Angst & Fluff.

Summary: Tommy remembers the time he fell in love with you when he realizes that you are falling out of love with him.

A/N: It's Tommy's point of view all along. [it was supposed to be out yesterday but I fell asleep WAY TOO SOON and on my computer....]

PS: Inspired by "Keep your Head up" by Ben Howard.

*Masterlist*

*Arrow House*

The clock was ticking, it was the only sound that could be heard in the office, along with the smoke Tommy exhaled. His eyes were blankly staring at the void forward him, his vision blurred by his thoughts.

She was standing in the chair right in front of him but she wasn’t saying anything, she probably didn’t even notice he was standing near her.

She wouldn’t even look at him in the eyes anymore or even throw a single glance his way. He used to say he’ll not eat with Y/N when just coming home from the House Of Commons, but for several months she wasn’t even expecting him at all. When he would arrive late for dinner, he would rush to the dining room but found it empty.

No plates on the table, and no Y/N waiting for him. It was maids that would welcome him and tell him his wife took supper earlier before going to bed, using the excuse that “she had to wake up early”.

What was she doing early in the morning anyway?

Why was she out all day long? But most of all, why wasn't she looking at him anymore?

Y/N and Tom met during the war, she was a nurse in his department. Being a tunneler meant you weren’t going out often, but when you did, it was solely to put out the bodies of the dead or reach for help for those who were deeply wounded.

He remembers she used to always come to him to take care of his scars when he refused to let anyone touch him until all his soldiers would be taken care of.

She wasn’t saying anything when he would do so, but her eyes… Tommy remembers vividly the way she was looking at him, the aggressive burning fire that was animating her eyes and her stern look contrasting with the way her lids softly fluttered whenever he would catch her looking at him.

She used to panic a little before understanding it was his way to tell her she could take care of his wounds and scars.

Her touches were so soft and sweet, her skin was always smooth and cold. Not in a bad way, it was easing his own that was burning like hot coals.

Being under the ground in very tiny tunnels with all his soldiers, Tommy had to take on his shoulders an amount of pressure no one could ever even imagine, he had to give them orders and lead them to death from time to time. No errors would be acceptable, so he had to calculate everything for everyone.

The air down there was toxic, hot and tense. That’s why he loved Y/N’s skin being cold, it would remind him about the life above the ground, what fresh air felt like, and even if at the time he hadn’t had much space to think about that, she was bringing him hope.

A hope that would be killed as soon as he was back in the tunnels, but still. He could taste hope somehow, so it was better than nothing.

When returning home, he forgot about her for some time, but soon enough, the universe, destiny, or whatever, sent his angel back in the streets of small heath.

She was working in a bakery, and soon, Thomas was bringing bread everywhere he would go. Even in family meetings or the betting shop. Every occasion was an invitation to visit the woman that didn’t seem to recognize him… Or so he thought.

“Y/N! Give your Sergent Major what he needs and close the shop! We need you at the back!”

Her cheeks reddened.

“I’m coming!” Y/N responded by turning her head to the back door before slowly facing Tommy again. She was keeping her head down, but when she met the icy blue staring-eyes of the man she once knew in another time, she cleared her throat and gained composure again.

“So what do you want?”

“Huh?” He responded, aghast.

“What bread this time?” She answered back and he raised his brows.

“You remember me?” He will not order anything, but he wanted the truth.

“Who can forget what happened there.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and the bitter tone of her voice alarmed him. Did he do something to her personally or was that tone about the war itself? Tom was confused.

He frowned and was staring at the woman in front of him.

“You heard my boss, I gotta close.” She let out before she walked around the counter to join him. She seemed to be aware he was going there only to see her, that’s why she didn’t wait any longer to put him out of the bakery shop.

Tommy, that was now out, under the rain, turned back to look at her through the windows, confusion filling his eyes.

She was aware of his scheme and she indeed kicked him out the shop.

Her attitude made him forget he was a peaky blinder and that he should be served like a fucking Prince. With her, he only felt like a simple man. Not that it was a bad thing, but since he returned his business was the only thing he could think about until he saw her again.

Now she became the key to this other dimension where Tommy Shelby was just Tommy Shelby, not the leader of a backstreet gang, not the head of the Shelby family, no. None of those things mattered or even existed in that dimension. It was just him, her, and the way she was looking at him.

Tom maybe didn’t know what to say that day, but he eventually came back the next day with only one purpose: She will not kick him out this time. This wasn’t too ambitious, or was it?

Because last time she made no effort to kick him out. Her Y/C/E eyes were enough for Tommy to be unable to say anything back.

But he wanted to believe this time will be different.

He pushed the heavy glass door and entered, no clients. He quickly glanced behind the counter but he was surprised to see a blonde girl. It wasn’t Y/N.

“Mr Shelby!” The woman began, a huge smile on her face, she surely knew about his position in this town. “What brings you here? Can I help you?”

But he glimpsed a form, in the tiny room at the back of the shop, and here she was, lifting huge bags of flour from the ground.

He turned back to the girl that was speaking to him and cleared his throat, “Give me my everyday order.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand… It’s my first time serving clients, I do not know what you usually take…” She seemed sorry and scared. So, she heard about what happened when the peaky blinders didn’t have what they wanted.

He got out a cig, lightening it up slowly before puffing on it and lifted his eyes back on the woman, “Well, bring someone who knows.” Was all he said.

“Y/N, please come!” The blondie girl ran to the back door.

“Is it something you do often, to frighten people?” Y/N asked, outright, when nearing the counter.

“Give me my everyday order.” He was looking deep into her eyes, and he could swear he saw her gritted her teeth as the muscle of her jaw tensed.

She grabbed a couple of pieces and wrapped them in fabric, shaking her head.

“Is it something you want to tell me?” He raised his brows, still smoking.

She handed him his order and exhaled, “I don’t understand why you chose that path. Haven’t you got enough with the killings?” She looked at him straight in the eyes, and he would swear she was looking into his soul.

Tommy didn’t say anything for a moment, his body stiffened. It was when his cigarettes burnt his knuckles that he blinked, grunting. He frowned and looked at the burning on his pale skin as the cigarette fell on the ground.

How did she do that? It was as if she understood him better than he did. And her words made him feel like he was cheating on himself.

She grabbed his hand in both of hers, which startled the man that looked up to her face.

It had been forever he hadn't seen her that close, her hair falling perfectly on each side of her face, framing her judging look. “Now you act like you don’t remember who you are, huh? Or maybe you truly forgot.”

Her words echoed in his mind but he was still desperately searching for their meaning. What was she saying?

“So, you hate me.” He concluded, not because that was what he thought but because it was his way of knowing what he truly wanted to know without directly asking her a question. He didn’t need her to think he cared what she thought, even if that was the case.

She put his knuckle in her mouth while frowning at him,” No, I don’t hate you, of course, no.” She was taken aback by his remark. As if it was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard.

“So, what is it? You always be looking at me with those eyes,” he pointed to her with his free hand. That’s when he realized his finger in her mouth, making him flutter his lids a couple times out of confusion, “like I did something wrong.” He concluded while staring at her mouth.

Y/N scoffed, “Stop speaking in the name of my eyes. It’s not my fault if you see your own conscience in them.” She said as letting go of his finger.

She pulled his arm, leading him in the tiny room at the back of the bakery shop. “Sit.” She motioned a dusty table and two chairs while she went away.

Tommy obeyed, patiently waiting for her.

He rewinds the time and hears her voice again, “It’s not my fault if you see your own conscience in them”, well. Maybe she was right. Maybe all of the things he thought he saw in her was in imagination, but here he was, about to have a full conversation with the woman that saw the real him.

“Give me your finger,” she let out while sitting right next to him. “I never hated you, Tommy. It’s who you become that I can’t stand. I thought you discovered your true self there, I guess I was wrong.”

“Don’t speak in my name. It’s not my fault if you see a version of me you want to see and not who I am.”

She lifted her gaze to his, “I saw you looking at your soldiers there. You felt powerless in front of their distress, and it seemed to burn you from the inside. I’m not lying.” She said, putting some kind of liquid on his burn.

“That’s why I become who I’m becoming.” He snapped back, staring at her movements, wincing of pain.

“To never be powerless…” She muttered utterly to herself, but he heard her, and noticed her nodding to herself, she was genuinely trying to understand him.

“And I saw you.” She tied a piece of tissue around his knuckle before exhaling deeply.

“Back then, yea” He completed before she could add anything as if to let her know he wasn’t the same anymore.

“It’s so depressing how you want everything out of life but not the life itself.” She smiled at him faintly, raising a hand to his cheek.

She fondled his skin and shamelessly brought her lips to his, kissing him softly.

Tommy was surprised but in a good way. Now he was sure about what he felt between them since the war.

He put a hand at the back of her head, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, his other hand she took care of cupped one of her cheeks, tenderly.

He couldn’t believe it was the same Y/N in his vivid memories that was ignoring him right now.

He wanted to say something, but the words refused to form in his mind, and his voice was tied in his throat.

He knew she never approved his business even if she never said anything, and he was pretty sure this was the reason he was forced to watch the spaces grow between them.

A heaviness settled on his chest, making him cough even harder than usual. He abruptly crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and clenched his jaw as he grabbed the paper Y/N was reading.

He wanted her attention, he wanted her to look at him the way she used to. He wanted to see his own conscience in her eyes, he needed his wife. And she wasn’t there anymore, or maybe it was him who wasn't there?

Maybe the fact he entered politics was the last straw that broke the camel’s back? It was love or business and he made a decision.

That last thought made sense and would explain why she didn’t even look at him after he grabbed the paper and just left the office without saying anything.

(...)

In the morning, as he just entered the Shelby Brother Company Limited’s office, he saw his wife, sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of his desk.

“Y/N.” His voice was full of expectations.

When he saw the suitcase near her legs, he realized what was bound to happen.

“Sit.” She spoke with a low voice. And that’s when he realized...

It was him who changed. She was still as calm as usual, her hair still perfectly framing her face by falling at each side of her head.

Her Y/C/E eyes that, for the first time in months, met his blue ones were still animated by the same burning fire that when he found her in the bakery shop.

She was the same.

He came and sat at his desk, taking advantage of the fact she didn’t refuse to look at him, to stare at her face, printing as many details as he could before she would vanish, because that’s what she’ll do. He knows it.

“You had been away.” He succeeded saying. He didn’t want her to go silent again or to ignore him, so he made a step towards her, hoping she would do the same.

Tommy didn’t speak the first words coming to his mind, he meant something while saying this.

He wasn’t talking about distance here, no. He was talking about depth, she had been far too in-depth for him to reach for her.

She seemed to understand the depth he meant because she quickly looked away, fleeing the judgment in his icy stern eyes.

“Keep your mind set in your ways. It’s who you are now.” She mutters, giving him a faint smile.

He knew a ‘but’ would be coming at some point, he was patiently waiting for the sentence to drop on his head, so she could finish him off as if her ignoring him didn’t already do enough damage.

“It’s the time we go separate ways, Tom. But it’s okay, cause I’ll always remember you the same….” She tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes abruptly. A couple of tears racing at the corners of her eyes, “Eyes like wildflowers… with your demons of change.”

So that was it, he was right, he was the one who let her down, the one who changed.

“May you find happiness there… May all our hopes all turn out right.” She concluded, finally opening back her eyes.

He closed his eyes at each of her sentences, they were like bullets to him. One hitting him deeper than the previous.

No tears were to be found in her eyes anymore, it was his Y/N right here, right there. The one that once saw him, but couldn’t see him now.

[lehnsharks]

📓 (your branrow ideas are a blessing!!)

So sorry for the late reply, but my brain was fried and I had a hard time coming up with concepts for a while. Until now 👀

This started out, because a friend came up with the idea of Tom having an OnlyFans account. Warning for nsfw talk!

Thomas Barrow is a more than average enjoyer of BendMeOverABentley’s OnlyFans content. He entertains himself with his videos every Friday night and has even been promoted to top-supporter.

Things get a bit complicated when his close friend Sybil introduces him to the a man named Tom Branson, who just moved into town to help Sybil out with her job in journalism. Thomas didn’t need an introduction for he knows more about the man in front of him than Sybil. Tom is the one Thomas has been fantasizing about for weeks now and he’s even more gorgeous in real life. They have lunch and all Thomas can think about is the fact he has seen Tom more often without clothes than on. He is struggling to focus on what's being said and Sybil occasionally snaps him out of it, asking him what's wrong. Thomas can’t really blurt out what’s on his mind, because he couldn’t handle the strain of embarassment, not yet anyway.

After that Thomas' life becomes a waking nightmare, Tom continues to post content and Thomas keeps on watching - despite forbidding himself to. He isn’t putting up too much effort. What makes matters worse is how charming and fun the Irish man is in real life as well, not to even mention all the flirting he seems to reciprocate.

One day, Sybil hosts a party, inviting her friends and most of her colleagues. Tom seeks out Thomas' company and they end up talking with a group of people. Sybil even mentions how Tom is a very good driver. Tom holds Thomas’ gaze as he carefully speaks his next words.

"I can give you a ride anytime,"

Thomas nearly spits out his drink, because this cannot be a coincidence, since he clearly remembers getting off on Tom's latest video, where he rode a toy. The evening ends with Tom going home with Thomas, and turns out Tom knew from the moment he heard Thomas' name, he knew who the man was. The name "Wheelbarrow" was a very poor cover after all.

This is so poorly written out, but the idea is better in my head, I swear!! Tom’s OF’s udername should be credited to the amazing people on the Thomas Barrow Fanclub Discord. The true MVPs!

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

[userjoel]

[ drabble ♡ lingering stares & unexpected blushes ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ] : “quit smiling at me like that. i can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.” /// you help tom rehearse his lines for ‘far from home’ but he looks so cute standing there in his glasses and you just can’t help but stare

[ pairing ] : tom holland x gender neutral reader

[ warnings ] : tom drops the f bomb once or twice

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ notes ] : i know how unrealistic it is for someone else to have access to a marvel movie script like y/n in this story when even the actors get fake versions sometimes but!! for the sake of the story pls ignore this minor inconvenience </3

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“And this...is Mr. Beck.” You dramatically enunciate, trying your best to make sure your voice sounds deep like Samuel L. Jackson’s.

And maybe your voice change was just that convincing, because Tom doesn’t seem even the slightest bit distracted by your acting skills. He continues to stay in character, his eyebrows knitting together instead in response to the line.

“Mysterio?”

“What?” You change your voice again to one that (you thought) might be more appropriate for Jake Gyllenhaal. 

Tom gently shakes his head, a shy smile appearing on his lips. “Uh, doesn’t matter. It’s just what my friends have been calling you.”

You’re currently lying on your stomach across the plush expanse of your living room couch, reading off the weighty packet of papers clutched in your hand as your boyfriend, glasses perched on his nose, paces back and forth in front of the fireplace not too far away from you. You’d glance over at him in between lines, noticing the way he’d sometimes lick his lips or run his fingers through unruly hair whenever he felt his next line slipping away from his memory.

It was common for you to help Tom run through his lines every once in a while, but today was a rare occasion when he didn’t need to be on set. The opportunity had you hoping it’d mean a chance to get his mind off of something other than work. But when you spotted the massive, bookmarked script sitting unattended on the kitchen island in the morning, you realized halfway through your coffee that that option was off the table.

So, here you were — now working through your second cup of the day — helping Tom do his self-assigned homework.

“You can call me Quentin.”

You squint for a moment to read the stage directions that follow before extending your hand towards your boyfriend, who catches the gesture from his peripheral. You raise an eyebrow, a serious look in your eyes to match the graveness of the scene. Tom notices, and you swear you could see the corner of his lips twitch up ever so slightly. But it’s gone before you could say for sure.

He closes the distance, gently taking hold of your outstretched hand before shaking it with a kind of firmness. You smile at him when your eyes meet. He doesn’t return it, but there’s a tenderness and twinkle in his eyes as they rest on you that you knew you’d never trade for anything else in the world. 

It feels like he holds both the gaze and your hand for a second too long. You have half a mind to pull him into the spot on the couch next to you, but you think better of it and let go.

“Um…” Your vision scrambles back to the script, trying to find where you left off. “Oh — Saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you in my world.”

“Thanks. Wait, I’m sorry. 'Your world?'” Tom doesn’t return to the same spot where he was pacing just moments ago. Instead he stands a few steps away from you, arms crossed in concentration, looking down at his feet or glancing outside the window from time to time.

“There are multiple realities, Peter. This is Earth Dimension 616. I’m from Earth-833.” You find it slightly more difficult for you to refocus. The brief moment you shared earlier has made you lose the flourish you’d been previously putting into your recitations, the lines come out more monotone.

And you know. You know you should be helping him practice his lines for this very, very important multi-million dollar movie, but there were far more pressing things at hand for you.

Like how cute your boyfriend looked.

He’s dressed simply; a buttery-soft white t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. But it’s less about that and more about how he looks all together — the glasses; the curls of his hair; the way the fabric of his sleeves clings to his muscular arms; how he seems to fidget when he senses you staring at him for a little too long.

He’s doing it now: Tom doesn’t look up at you, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other instead. But with a pleasant chuckle of disbelief, he’s back to being Peter: “I’m sorry — you’re saying there’s a multi-verse?”

You smile and bite your bottom lip when you notice the sudden transition in character, head craning to the side a bit as you continue to look at him, trying to catch his gaze. It’s obvious he knows what you’re doing, and it’s beginning to get to him. He can feel your gaze heating his skin up; the rosy tips of his ears betray his otherwise external nonchalance.

How could you not love the effect you had on him? It felt that much more special because he seemed to get worked up over random little things you usually didn’t even know you were doing. He could look so put together on set and in his element, but one innocent look from you was all it took to break his character.

“I thought that was just theoretical. I mean, that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity. We’re talking about an internal —”

“Eternal.” You gently correct him, the small smile never faltering from your lips.

Tom finally glances up at you, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Fuck. I always get that bit mixed up. Uh — right. So it’s — I mean, that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity; we’re talking about an external —”

“Eternal, babe.” You giggle, sitting up slightly as your eyes take a look at the script. “It’s the eternal inflation system? Whatever that means.”

“Bloody — eternal. Eternal eternal eternal.” Tom’s eyebrows knit together in frustration as he repeats the words to drill it into his memory. You continue to watch with amusement from your front row seat. It was always fascinating (and maybe just a tiny bit attractive?) to see him switch from his English dialect to an American one so casually. One saw little use for movies when you were dating a talented actor.

“Darling?" Tom's voice snaps you out of your daze.

“Hm?”

“I love you, y’know that, yeah? I love and absolutely adore you for being a godsend and helping me run through my lines… but you’ve got to quit smiling at me like that.”

You tuck your lips between your teeth for a moment to vainly try and stifle the smile, eyes widening with feigned innocence and confusion. “Me? Smile? I have literally never smiled at you in my entire life, Thomas.”

That makes him chuckle, shaking his head as he finally gives in and sits down by your side, his body sinking into the couch. You can’t help but laugh too, turning face him.

He cocks his head slightly, softened eyes fixated on your lips. “Mm… See what I mean? That smile. Right there.” His thumb and index finger carefully grab your chin as his voice lowers. “I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

And suddenly, it’s your turn to forget what to say next. You blush under his stare.

Your boyfriend’s eyes glimmer as they look into yours. But they disappear behind closed eyelids as he draws you in to gently kiss you.

The soft petals of his lips don’t linger against yours for too long, but the physical affection remains in the way his forehead leans against yours. Against the silence of the moment, you feel him draw in a breath to say something, and you swear it's gonna be some romantic one-liner. But instead he says in a Queens accent: “We’re talking about an eternal inflation system. And how does that even work with all the quantum… It’s insane!”

“Did I get that right?” One eye peeks open for confirmation.

And just like that, it's back to business. You hum, pulling away from him to grab the script from the coffee table. Your eyes quickly scan the page. “Mhm! And then Mysterio says… Don’t ever apologize for being the smartest person in the room.”

“All in a day’s work.” Tom chuckles, and you can tell by the way his shoulders relax that he’s done — for now. His arms wrap around you as he falls back on the couch with you lying on his chest. “Eternal inflation system, initial singularity, quantum… Y’know sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I auditioned to be Groot instead.” 

“Hm,” you purse your lips in thought. “Well, you’d certainly make a very handsome tree, I can tell you that much.”

Tom feigns a delighted gasp. “You mean that?” 

“Of course, I mean look at you. It’s obvious you were born to play the part.”

“Ha." You watch the way his eyes crinkle as he entertains the idea. "Honestly, you’re gonna be the reason why I turn into a big diva one of these days,” He mumbles as he leaves a peck on your nose.

“Don’t get so ahead of yourself, champ.” The corners of your lips turn up as you reassuringly pat his chest. “You might want to start improving your line memorization skills before you start thinking that far ahead.”

Tom groans as he tosses his head back, his eyes screwed shut. “You hurt me, baby. Really. You do.”

“I love you too.” You giggle as you sit up to straddle his waist, and you pick up the script one final time. “Now, do you want to run that last line by me again?”

[tomtenadia]

Remember Us - part 6

Monday surprise!

As some of you might have read from my post from yesterday, I officially finished this fic and it will have 10 parts. this was the original plan and I am glad I kept it. The idea of having many more chapters of Rowan not recognising his family was far too painful.

Chapter 9 and 10 are so sweet that they will probably give you cavities, but I just thought they deserved the best happy ending.

Also, i got very attached to Thomas and he is a great fan of his parents.

Well, I hope you will enjoy this.

-------

Rowan had been staying at Lorcan’s while Aelin still kept her distance. It had been two weeks and they had been horrendous. She had blocked him off of her life. She was not answering his calls or texts and apparently had told Elide not to tell him anything about her. He was furious. They should be together and face such a tragic moment in their lives, together. But Aelin would not listen. He had tried everything to talk to her.

Someone knocked on the door and, since he was home alone, he went to open it.

On the other side he found Aelin. But the woman in front of him had a lifeless stare and deep shadows under her eyes. She was the ghost of his wife.

“Ro…” she said in a thin voice and then broke down in heavy sob.

Rowan didn’t even think. His arms pulled her at his chest and kissed her head. The sight of an Aelin so heartbroken was a shot to his heart.

“I am sorry.” She added, hiding her face in his chest and inhaling his scent that always gave her comfort.

“Shhh… I am here. I am never letting you go again, no matter how much you shout at me.” Another tender kiss “I am coming home and we’ll get through this.”

Rowan was in bed and staring at the ceiling after the dream woke him up. The Aelin from the dream was a shell compared to the version sleeping at his side. He turned his head and stared at her sleepy face and a deep part of him hoped she was fine. That the baby was fine. Because he knew for sure he didn’t want to see her again in the conditions she had been in the dream. Seeing Aelin in pain or sad hurt him.

He sighed and got off the bed and walked to the kitchen but once he got there he realised he had no idea where anything was. Aelin had said he would make pancakes but could not remember the day she had said. 

A splitting headache hit him and Rowan sat down on the sofa, head in his hands and then for a moment he felt disoriented and could not recognise his surroundings. Panic hit him. He looked up and saw a boy staring at him. He jumped up and almost fell.

“Dad.” The boy’s voice was almost tearful.

And as quickly as the moment of disorientation came, just as rapidly it went away and lucidity returned.

“Tom,” he ran to the boy and hugged him to console him as soon as he started crying. He had scared him “I am sorry I frightened you.” Thomas hugged his father and stopped crying and Rowan relaxed for an instant.

“Do you want pancakes?” He asked his son, still not letting him go.

“It’s not Saturday.” Said the boy, looking at his father in his eyes.

“Shhhh…” said Rowan with a finger against his mouth “You can have pancakes all the time.” He lifted the boy in his arms “but you need to tell me where everything is.”

Thomas grinned and pointed to the kitchen and once in there he started pointing at the doors and Rowan finally found a pan. Then he grabbed his phone and searched for a recipe, grabbed eggs and milk from the fridge and joined Thomas back at the counter who, in the meantime, had grabbed a chair and was kneeling on it so he could follow his dad.

“Will you be my assistant?” the boy nodded eagerly.

After ten minutes he was mixing the batter making sure it was smooth as the instructions recommended.

“Ok, Tom, are you ready for the first one?”

“Pancakes,” he shouted happily and Rowan smiled. He might remember a very few things about his son but he was definitely going to cherish that moment. It didn’t matter if it had been only a day. He was already in love with the two children. He just hoped he could become a good father to them once again.

*

Aelin woke up and found the bed empty and for a moment she thought it had been only a dream, but as she rolled over she noticed Rowan’s side was crumpled and gently caressed his pillow. He had always been an early riser and it seemed that some things had not changed.

She sat up, grabbed her fleece from the chair and left the bed looking for Rowan.

As she exited the bedroom she heard laughter coming from the kitchen and followed the sounds and once inside she could not believe the scene. Thomas was kneeling on a chair beside Rowan trying to cook something.

“Pancakes on a Wednesday?”

Thomas turned to her “shhh mum, it’s a secret.”

Aelin walked to her son and kissed his head “good morning, my love.”

“I am helping dad with pancakes. He doesn’t remember how to make them.”

Rowan flipped one and Thomas clapped “that is mine.” He grabbed a plate and placed the pancake on it “go and sit while I make more.”

Thomas climbed down the chair and walked to the table with his plate.

Aelin moved to Rowan’s side “did you sleep well?”

Her husband nodded and hesitated for a moment wether to tell her about his episode. Then he sighed and told her what had happened and Aelin looked at him with a doctor’s eye.

“A TBI can have such effects. It can cause moments of disorientation in which the person doesn’t know where he is. It can also affect short term memory, making it difficult to learn new things or even remember things you just did.” She placed a few more pancakes in Thomas’ plate “but there are ways to help you. We can do lists, have notepads and clipboards in the house. Have a note book and note down things.” She explained going back at his side “long term memory is stored already in your brain,” and playfully patted his head “you actually haven’t lost them. They are still all there. It’s just your brain has to sort through them again. It’s very complicated and technical, but they will come back. Short term memory is another issue. Do you still feel confused?”

Rowan shook his head and passed Aelin a plate with pancakes and then grabbed the jar of Nutella “go and scoff your breakfast.”

Aelin grinned “see? You remembered I take them with Nutella.”

In that instant they heard a cry and Aelin realised Freyja had woken up. She was about to stand when Rowan stopped her “Eat,” he commanded and again she had a glimpse of past Rowan. The one who would made sure she ate.

A moment later he came back with his daughter in his arms “I think our princess wants to join the breakfast club as well.” Freyja threw her chubby arms around his neck, snuggling close to him “what does she eat?”

Aelin went to the fridge and grabbed one of her pressed meals and Rowan began feeding his daughter.

It was an hour later when Aelin was ready for work “mum should be back very soon and I am taking Thomas to the nursery. Will you be okay with Freyja for half an hour tops? I changed her and she is fed, it should be easy.”

Rowan lifted the little girl in his arms “we should be fine.” And gave her his best reassuring smile.

“You call me if you have any problems.”

Thomas went to hug his dad before following Aelin out of the door.

Once he was alone with his daughter he stood, with her still in his arms and hobbled around the living room and stared at their impressive bookcase. Freyja leaned forward and with her hands tried to grab a book “ ‘tory” she babbled.

“Do you want me to read you a story?” He asked her and the girl green eyes were fixed on him and then she nodded.

He placed her down on the carpet and turned to the library in search of a storybook for her.

“I think I— ” he turned with a book in his hands and froze. Freyja was gone. Shit.

“Freyja.” He called her, panic rising in his voice. She couldn’t have gone far. How fast could a 18 months toddler go? He took his cane and started looking around the house “Freyja?”

In that instant Evalin came back and he breathed in relief.

“Rowan, are you okay?”

He was the worst father ever “I lost Freyja. I was looking for a storybook and when I turned she was gone.” He was preparing himself from some lashing from his mother in law but the woman burst into laughter.

“She does that. Thomas has been teaching her how to play hide and seek,” the woman explained calmly walking around the house and then going to the girl’s bedroom. Rowan followed her.

Evalin lifted the blanket from the side of the bed and pointed at under her bed.

Rowan heard a faint giggle.

“I wonder where my girl is.” Said Evalin keeping up the pretence. She opened the wardrobe “no, she is not here.” Rowan observed her and then joined in “she is not in the toy box either.”

Evalin placed her hands on her hips and grinned at Rowan then crouched down “here you are.”

The little girl screamed in delight as her grandma caught her.

The three of  them went back to the living room and Evalin passed Freyja back to Rowan and went to unpack her shopping bags.

“Do you need a hand?” He offered.

“No, it’s just fruits and veggies and a few more things. I love to go down at the market in the morning and buy fresh ingredients.” She told him, “you love to go too on your day off, wake up early and also go to the fish market and get the first catch.”

Rowan sat on a chair at the big table with his daughter in his arms.

“Aelin can cook, but you are the chef of the family.”

He smiled back and gently bounced Freyja on his knee and she giggled.

“How does it feel being back home?” She asked her son in law while stashing away the groceries.

Rowan sighed “it feels good and strange at the same time.” It was hard to explain how he felt without sounding like a lunatic “Some things are starting to feel familiar. But others feel totally new and others scare me.” He confessed but the woman in front of him looked at him with tenderness “the kids for example, I feel like I love them madly already but it pains me that the memories with them are still fuzzy. I want to give them back their father.”

“And Aelin?”

Rowan sighed “I think I feel something for her. I would not call it love yet. But yesterday we kissed and it felt like the most normal thing ever.”

Evalin smiled.

“But my memories are a jumble in my head right now. I have them, they are there and I found that being at home is triggering more and more of them. I want to do this. I want us to be a family again.” He grabbed his phone and showed her the photo on his home screen. The one on the beach, all of them smiling and happy. “I want this again. I just don’t know how to get there.”

“Rowan,” Evalin walked to him once done with the groceries and sat at his side “you have been awake for a month and at home for two days.” She patted his knee “both Aelin and I think that being home will help trigger more of your memories. Look through photo albums.” She stood and opened a cabinet and took out a box which once opened he discovered it contained a lot of photo albums. “Digital is good, but you and Aelin both love to print out the photos and make scrapbooks.” She rummaged in the box for a moment and then passed him an album “start with this.”

Rowan took it and it noticed it was their wedding album “Her friend Chaol took all the photos and then Aelin made a scrapbook and added notes and comments on it. She said she did not want the usual boring wedding album.”

He opened the first page and in big colourful letter and nice calligraphy it said Buzzard & Fireheart: the beginning of an epic tale.

The second page it had a picture of the two of them in an armour, back to back and swords drawn.

“You two hired some costumes for that photo.”

Rowan laughed and kept on flipping through the photo album. It was organised like a story, with small narrating paragraphs near the photos and he read each one of them.

“You two got married on a beach, then had a gigantic barbecue for all your friends and then when night came you lit a bonfire and had your first dance as husband and wife in front of the fire. Both of you barefoot.”

Rowan smiled “it sounds like fun.”

“It was a great day.” She bounced Freyja on her lap “all the albums tell a story. You did all of them like that so when looking back you could also remember more of those moments.”

Rowan reached the page where they were standing in front of Aedion, who officiated the wedding, and he stared at Aelin. Her light blue dress was gorgeous, but he was stuck on her smile. In the photo he was looking at she has the brightest of smiles and he realised that falling for her would be so easy. She was caring, brilliant, funny and sarcastic. She had passion. She had fire.

She was his Fireheart.

[hraishin]

Oh please tell us about Brazilian interactive self insert fics!

Bless you for indulging me in talking about this milestone of brazilian fanfiction that made me who I am today.

So, a few years back (like 2012-2013) I started getting more and more into fanfic, and of course there was the ship fics, which I didn't partake much in because I was, ahem, christian and very adamant of no gay thoughts even if I was gay myself, and the other type of fanfic that we all know which is a fic with one or multiple OCs. I was big into OC fics and started reading them around that time. Of course, in the middle of OC fics there are the self-insert fics, which are common till now with the y/n thing, etc etc, but BOY OH BOY us brazilians decided that y/n (or s/n here for "seu nome") wasn't enough, and it wasn't enough as well to keep the fanfic for one specific character/actor, so we learned coding.

Imagine this: you find a self-insert fic that seems really interesting, but oh no! it's a Harry Styles fic and you aren't into Harry Styles, but the plot of the fic is intriguing? :/ You wouldn't read it, right? What if you could change Harry Styles' name into someone else's? Say, Tom Hiddleston 🤔 These interactive fics said YES, YOU CAN!

Once you clicked on the fic, a question box would appear from the coding of the page, asking your name, and you'd put your name. Sometimes it asked for last name and nickname, hair color, eye color, etc. You were in the fic. Then, of course, they'd ask the name of the male love interest (keep it in mind that most of these fics were straight) and you could be like "Thomas" and then nickname would be "Tom" and last name "Hiddleston", and you'd put his hair color and eye color as well. Suddenly that Harry Styles fic about, idk, meeting on a ship, was about YOU and fucking TOM HIDDLESTON meeting on a ship and living an epic romance (sometimes with smut involved, I read a lot of +18 things at that time, and in a little tangent I remember thinking "lmao who's 18 and reading this?" and this version of me couldn't imagine I'd still be reading and writing fanfic at the age of 22). Sometimes the fic would even let you put a secondary male interest, and your best friend's name, and one I've read even allowed me to put the name of someone I hated to be my enemy.

We basically took y/n fics and made it really say your name, and they were the shit back then. Here's an example of how it worked with my name and James McAvoy's because I used it to explain to a friend just now what the fuck interactive self-insert fics were:

The names are literally just THERE IN THE TEXT and that was some immersive shit. So here you go, I'm sorry to everyone writing and reading y/n fics now but you'll never get to this level (which honestly, good)

[lov3nerdstuff]

Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

[mxpseudonym]

Just Good Business III

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, “wife”

Summary: Reminding Tommy that he didn’t marry a fool was the greatest thing to happen to your bedroom.

Length: 1650 words (allegedly)

Warnings: 18+, sex, hints of rough sex, cursing, and as usual, underlying tones of forced/arranged marriage

A/N: There’s a forehead kiss and a sprinkling of Dom!Tommy in here for your patience! I am pretty sure I’m going to have this be a total of five parts. Part IV may not come right away because I’m in the middle of a WIP though.

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Reminding Tommy that he hadn't married a fool set several things in motion. First and foremost, you and Polly managed to successfully persuade your husband into conducting family business, not that it was hard. You knew London quite well, and one glance at the Eden Club's books had you asking Arthur if he could count to ten. Much of the above-board dealings in London were now your responsibility- properties, charities, and a social life that allowed you to see your friends more often.

Unfortunately, this meant regularly making the trip to Birmingham for the family meetings you'd been avoiding. It wasn't so much the meetings as it was Birmingham itself. One has no great hopes of Birmingham, as they say. However, there was a significant consolation that made it all worth it. 

Tommy Shelby, in action, turned you on. 

Actually, it was one of many things about Tommy that turned you on. With Tommy's guilt out of the way, you saw him around the house more. He came to bed, albeit late, nearly every night, and you got at least two breakfasts out of him a week. Along with finding that Tommy was much funnier than he let on when he wasn't talking about work, you also noticed that you had much in common. Tommy was as stubborn and prideful as you were. After six months, you still credited happenings between you with a desire to conduct good business- and business was excellent. Stubbornness, pride, your appetite for adventure, and Tommy's addiction to risk resulted in one shameless, exciting sex life.

You'd had partners before. Why deny yourself the world's physical pleasures? But while none could keep up with your desire to find and push boundaries, Tommy had mastered it. You thought you'd have to ease him into it, but it really just took you asking, "What are you going to do, Thomas? Spank me?" while bickering to get you on the same page. 

Not that Tommy wasn't enjoying himself as well. He'd met his match in his back talking, neck biting, hair pulling new wife he could hardly bring himself to say no to. What was coming to work late more often or your hands down his trousers while driving the Bentley in the grand scheme of things? 

So at the Birmingham family meetings, there was something about the way he was no-nonsense when he firmly told you where to sit and give updates when asked. If you were both being honest, while you loved taking orders from Tommy in the bedroom sometimes, you were on the fast track to giving them too. For now, you watched with thighs pressed together, and bottom lip pulled between teeth as he commanded the room. 

After Arthur wrapped up the meeting, you'd meant to mingle with your sister in law, but were quickly distracted. Ada didn't need to follow your gaze to know what was stopping you from listening to a word she said. 

"Good god, stop staring at my brother like that," Ada pleaded. You looked at her only long enough to say, 

"I almost wish I could say I was sorry." You had just caught Tommy's eye and smiled. "He can be quite good looking." 

"Ugh, okay, he's coming over here. I'm going to find Finn," Ada scoffed, then all but ran away only to have Tommy replace her.  

"Can I help you?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice. You chuckled and looked up at him.  

"You're already spoiling me, Mr. Shelby. What more could I ask for?" 

"I'm sure you have a list," Tommy said. You plucked his cigarette from between his fingers and took a pull.  

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Should I make you beg for it?" 

"I don't beg," you said, defiant as ever. Tommy rolled his eyes but moved closer. You could feel the warmth of his wool suit, and it matched the heat that was rising to your cheeks. 

"Then what do you call what you were doing the other day in my office?" Tommy asked. You thought for a moment then smirked. 

"Minding my manners. Please and thank you, Sir," you said, making him laugh. 

"Oi, stop flirting on come on," John yelled in partial disgust from where the family was gathering near the door. 

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming," you shooed him. You gave Tommy a knowing look as you grabbed your bag to join the group at the Garrison. 

"Gonna tell me not to get any ideas?" He asked. 

"Of course not. Get as many ideas as you can from here to that pub." You pointed a stern finger at him. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Tommy had long given up trying to get a grasp on what to expect from you. 

"God only knows what's going on up there," he'd say while tapping your temple. 

But nothing surprised him more than your absolute willingness to have him any time, anywhere. 

"Skirts hike up for a reason, Thomas," You once told him in the stables. Tommy had yet to find a good enough argument against that, so here you were, shushing him through breathy laughs as he almost tumbled into you. 

It was a busy night at the Garrison, and it wasn't hard to leave your group to find the back room. Now you were pressed up against a shelf that wasn't nearly sturdy enough. Tommy's pants were unbuckled in a hasty moment, and your knickers were pulled aside, and you were both stifling your moans. 

"Oh god, fuck, Tommy, how do you always feel so good?" You asked, your grip already in his hair. He groaned at the question and thrust deeper.  

"You're the one always warm and wet for me, aren't you?" He squeezed the flesh of your bottom, making you moan. He quickly relocated you further into the dark and onto a crate. "Such a naughty little thing I've got on my hands."  

"Just the way you like it." You bit his ear as you played with fire. His thrusts got hard and deep, earning more high pitched moans from you until he pressed a hand over your mouth. He kept his grip firm, just how you liked and spoke in your ear. 

"I'm giving you what you asked for with all of these people just out there. Do you want them to hear you?" He leaned back to see you nod. Of course, you did. Tommy shook his head as he chuckled. By the sound of your yearning moan, he just knew you were pouting beneath his palm.

"I know love, but when we get home, you can be as loud as you want. You can let the maids hear you, what was it? Minding your manners for me. How's that sound?" You accepted his counteroffer with a nod and was rewarded with Tommy moving his hand. He relished in the smeared lipstick that was now on your chin before adjusting his grip on you. 

"Now, be good, and stay quiet for me." 

Tommy had to give you credit for carrying out your version of quiet. You forfeited your usual words of encouragement and panted hotly in his ears, a whimper or moan periodically coming forth.  

"Tom," You pleaded his name under your breath. His grip tightened around your waist, and you knew it would bruise, which only shoved you that much closer to the edge.  

"That's a good girl," he praised you, knowing what it did to you. In this case, it made your thighs tighten around him. "So good, you can tell me where you want it. Should I make you walk around with me all over your face?" 

He felt you shiver and swallow a moan that came out like a sob. His thumb reached between them, and it only took a few circles of your clit to send you over. 

"Oh fuck," You bucked against him as you came. Tommy's eyes squeezed close while you kissed his neck. It was truly incredible, you had to admit. You knew he was close and you had to decide. "In me."

"In you?" He repeated, not fully registering anything as he got closer. 

"I want you in me, Tom. Please," you said again. You kissed him, then pulled back to look in his eyes. "I'm begging you." 

You loved watching him come undone. Even in the low light, you took in his parted lips, creased brow, and flushed cheeks. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment before you pulled away and began putting yourselves back together.  

"I'm excited to go home if you keep your word," you said, leaning against the crate while Tommy pulled out a cigarette. 

You quietly smoked and thought about how strange this was. Before it was sprung on you, being married was something you hadn't expected anytime soon. Being married to someone you actually enjoyed was a fate every woman you knew hoped for but knew not to anticipate. And here you were with both a marriage and an enjoyable husband. 

"What's wrong?" Tommy asked, tossing away his cigarette. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek, but you caught it and observed the silver band around his finger instead, running your thumb over the metal. 

"Do you like this?" Your eyes lifted to meet his. "The ring?" 

The ring, the marriage, what was the difference? He smirked then turned his hand, interlacing your fingers. 

"So much that I think there must have been a mix up of fortune. A better man should have it, maybe." He said, then kissed your forehead and started towards the door. "Come now, I think I'll let you walk around with me dripping out of you for at least a half-hour."

"I may just have to give you a proper thank you on the ride home then, Sir." 

Tommy expertly ignored questions about his whereabouts from his brothers and knowing looks from his sister, all while holding your hand. You smiled to yourself and thought, 

I have a crush on you, Tommy Shelby. 

--

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot​

JGB Series Tag List: @biba3434

[inkyvendingmachine]

"We need to check on Tom... and uh, are we taking the Lurker back to New York? ... oh. And we should probably tell Dr. Northeast. We talked about calling him, but then we didn’t, we just passed out.”

BATIM Cthulhu AU: Season 1 Epilogue

✨Call of Cthulhu Season One Masterpost ✨ 💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of Call of Cthulhu: The Burning Stars scenario. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts.

So I split the last episode up until two parts, partially because at this point it’s mostly a lot of wrapping up and gay, and also because the last post was long enough already.

Joey and Sammy get Henry down to a cab, without cleaning up the house behind them, Lurker trailing. Convince the cab driver Henry just had a rough night of partying, (despite the fact they all look like they had a rough night) and get a ride back to the hotel. They are on high alert the entire time, waiting for gun runners to show up and try to kill Henry still...

But nobody shows face, so they drag Henry up into bed. Joey sets up his type writer for the Lurker to play with, Sammy tries to usher Joey to bed but he’s stubborn and wants to keep watch with Sammy. Of course, he’s not fine and ends up passed out on Sammy’s shoulder. Sammy goes to dump him into bed once he’s sure Joey is completely asleep enough, but Joey tries to hold onto him in his sleep (he’s clingy when asleep I have decided. if he is clingy when he is awake he is twice as much asleep,)

Sammy unceremoniously prys him off and shoves him into bed, goes back to playing his muted banjo until he can’t stay awake. At that point, he asks the Lurker to keep an eye out and passes out on the cot.

At some point in the night, Henry wakes up from a nightmare and goes over to sleep with Joey. When he puts his weight on Joey, it wakes him up and he panics, looking about the room for Sammy, who’s not in the other bed. When he locates him in the cot, he stumbles over and wakes Sammy up--

Sammy sNAPS AWAKE suddenly, surprising the lurker who bumps into the banjo and it strums, Sammy is VERY AWAKE NOW.

Joey grabs his face, "Sammy....?" "Wh... what do you need.?"  "... you're still Sammy." Sammy sighs. “And you're still sleep deprived, Joey," he grumbles, but it is fond. Joey nods in agreement, then tries to tug Sammy to the other bed. Sammy confusedly comes along with him. He pulls Sammy into bed and hugs both him and Henry close, and Henry re-wraps around them in his sleep. Sammy is super not relaxed... but he's also very tired, so once he falls asleep he will get more close to them,.. cause he is sleeping...

It’s later that evening when they wake up and get cleaned up again. They find Tom next door, and Joey talks to him about the gun running operations and weird cultist situations he was apparently dragged through, thanks to Gent. Joey even... admits he was not on his best behavior yesterday, since it had been a long day, so uh... If Tommy doesn’t want anything to do with JDS, that’s fine, but he appreciates him as an engineer and could probably easily find him some work if he’s going to cut ties with Gent.

Thomas says he’ll think it over, then asks about Joey’s... second black eye?? Henry steps in and covers for him, someone else totally also punched him in exactly the other eye and uhh before he asks about anything else they leave Tom back to his thinking...

Plans are made to update both the researcher that helped them and the people who were trying to kill them on the situation... Sammy suggests we could split up, but uh. Both Henry and Joey have insanities that keep them from wanting to be apart so, sorry Sammy, we’re all doing this together.

We head to Josephine’s place, the potion maker. The Lurker gets to hang outside cause even though he’s cute now uhh, probably won’t help our case. Joey walks in, hiding Henry behind him until he’s sure she doesn’t have guns drawn. They quickly reveal that Henry’s okay, and Joey gives just enough destroyed notes to her to prove he’s done his homework, demanding that she leave them alone. She asks about the stone, the other items they had encountered... and Joey tells her everything was used up in the ritual. She’s worried that the stone will just fall into someone else’s hands and repeat the process, but at that point, it’s not JDS’s issue anymore. The trio take their leave, scooping up a curious Lurker quickly and getting away before she catches them with it.

Next we head towards the hotel where Dr. Northeast was staying at. Joey arrives with a nice lump sum of money, as well as useless versions of his notes, only the pieces that could be interesting without finishing any spells. He starts asking about what happened, if it worked, and Joey just lets him know “There’s plenty left for you to research back in your house,” before they walk off. The Lurker waves to him as he yells after them “What-- what did you say about my house??”

With those ends tied up, work is over. We have four days in Haiti with no one chasing us or trying to kill us. The boys all are going drinking, and actually enjoying the vacation part of the work vacation. Henry’s done enough work, ten times over by now.

At some point, Sammy takes Henry aside, asks him about what we’re planning to do with the Lurker. Henry doesn’t know, we should probably consult him? Sammy admits that... he’s strangely been feeling like... there’s no way they could go back without him? Henry nods.  Sammy: “It’s.... I guess, it’s so strange, I... I can’t imagine going back without him...” Henry nods. Sammy: “Is... “ Henry: “It doesn’t feel like we should be able to just take him back to New York, but I’m with you. I don’t want to just leave him behind.” Sammy: “... Every time we’ve done anything for him I’ve, uh, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more excited. I... you... do you feel this too or am I going crazy?” Henry nods, not sure if Sammy is exactly feeling the same he is, but he gets it... being a father and all. Sammy’s reality check... uhh, maybe did not work as he was hoping. Needs tips from Jack... Sammy just nods uncertainly. “I don’t know, he’s not actually Bendy,” Henry: “No, but, we still care about him.” Sammy just nods again, as Henry pats his back. Sammy: “Well I don’t know how we-- ... well, I’m sure Joey has some scheme cooked up already.” Henry: “Heh, probably.”

Meanwhile Joey’s just been showing the Lurker around, talking to him, because the best time to sneak around Joey is when he’s busy talking. It’s a fun experience introducing the Lurker to the world outside of the Starpools, and finding out what things he knows nothing about or knows a wEIRD AMMOUNT OF INFORMATION ABOUT.

There was some talk of nightmares they might encounter... Joey and Henry are pretty quick to gather the other two boys near when they need help, aaaand, Sammy is least likely to ask for help... but, of course, if either of the other two wake up and see him panicking, they’re going to invite him closer, try to do whatever they can. There’s a lot of being touchy from Joey and Henry, between each other and of Sammy, making sure they’re still all actually there. Hugging, cuddling, sitting close, etc. A lot of reconfirming themselves on this world... Joey has realized throughout the shared body experience that he doesn’t quite know how to comfort people... so sometimes when he tries, he just ends up hovering awkward over them cause he’s trying to figure out how to pat their shoulder... correctly??? 

At another point, Sammy ends up going out to some venues that have musical events going on. He’s still interested in taking in the music, though he’s much more withdrawn than usual in these sorts of situations. Some nights, Joey ends up following him out, either because he’s too worried about Sammy being away from safety or because he wants an excuse to go drinking again... and Sammy is a great excuse. Joey totally ends up trying to make out with Sammy on one of the walks back, which Sammy chalks up as Joey being drunk... But still, Sammy will go for this far more than anyone might have expected and kiss him back, assuming that’s the end of it...

We get to the Party Time, and manage to have time to appreciate it more since we’re not having a personal chase scene through the middle of it this time. There’s a lot of dancing, drinking, partying, food... With how excitable and dressed up everyone is, the Lurker is pretty easily able to just ride on shoulders and blend in. Sammy is also able to wear his mask around, which while he’s been carrying it everywhere, has only actually been wearing it within the hotel room.

They avoid the area where they encountered the Masked Messenger. They do end up looking for the helpful spirit that got them back into their bodies, meeting with her and thanking her for her help.

The Lurker is pretty happy with just people watching, though does like to be up high for better views... Novel concept, being tiny but also tall?? FUN. They get him lots of snacks... and oh, he does want to stay for the full thing. While hesitant, the trio do end up lasting the entire night. Joey ends up drinking to get through it though, using alcohol to mute his brain from the everything that’s yelling in it now. 

The next morning, they end up asking the Lurker what he wants to do. Stay as the Lurker of the Starpools? Is he interested in leaving with them, heading back to New York? 

The Lurker admits he thought they were just keeping him around for protection, but is corrected: They were inviting him along because he seemed interested in doing more than just murdering. The first time they were just trying to get him back to the Starpools, so they hadn’t abandoned him in the middle of the city, but after that... The assistance was nice, but not the sole reason he was being kept around.

The Lurker admits that... well, he had been a bit down when he was thinking that we wouldn’t be hanging out anymore, so... sure! Why not!! Let’s do this!!!!! ... HOW ARE WE GOING TO DO THIS EXACTLY?

Turns out that they do have private accommodations on the boat back, so while some activities books might be needed to keep him in the room, uh, otherwise it’s actually not that hard.  

So, here’s where we’re ending. For now?? Dunno if we’re gonna continue this, though we’ve been talking some post-game ideas already.

But JDS doesn’t work with Gent anymore, but Tom is?? The Lurker runs around as Bendy and has taken on his pranking nature, Henry has taught him how to draw, and Joey just passes it off as Quirky Part of the Studio. Henry has also used this trip to get Joey to give him more time off, which Joey is fine to do, so Henry hasn’t quit yet. But he has let Joey know that he can’t cling to him so much. So now Joey has started hovering Sammy a lot more, which is ultimately how they end up secret dating... There might be some stargoo shenanigans, there might be some more magics... who knows... 

✨Call of Cthulhu Season One Masterpost ✨ 💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀

[strawberrylemonz]

Tree of Innits

Part 4

Part 5 [CURRENT]

Part 6

DT: @wintercat96 and @snapdragonfirefly

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They were not expecting this, not one bit. They were expecting more Tommys, of course, it was expected at this point. What they didn’t expect was receiving so many at such a rapid pace. Thomas was feeling grateful for making such a big tree, only to realize that they would need more room soon. That was a future problem, however, for the group had a very important topic to discuss. 

“I want to be called Tommy!”

“What the fuck, I don’t want to be called Theseus! You can be called that.”

“Fuck no! You can have Theseus, I’ll take Tommy!”

“I’m Thomas!”

“No, I’m Thomas!”

“Maybe finding different variations of our name was a bad idea.”

“No shit, sherlock.”

“Okay, everyone, shut the fuck up! Sit down, and chill out. We’re all restarting, we’re getting new names.”

Tommy’s of all kind pushed each other around, no ill intent behind any of the actions. From a distance, it appeared as if there was a group of clones playing like children. In a way, this was an accurate description. As the group sat down by the tree, they began to come up with new names for each other.

--------

“Hey, we all agreed on the rules. The one with the most trauma is the one who bares the name Theseus. Sorry, not our fault you’re the most fucked up out of all of us.”

Theseus grumbled as he crossed his arms. It wasn’t fair! He was just Thomas, now he’s Theseus? That stupid name seemed to haunt him wherever he went. Technoblade’s stupid story would haunt his mind forever, followed by the wither attack. Stupid Dream SMP. That server seemed to be cursed when he was on it. Rolling his eyes, Theseus reached over and swatted the winged teen upside the head.

“Hey!”

“Shut it, Chirp.”

Chirp, also known as Avian, just grumbled as he rubbed his head. He glared over at the only other winged Tommy there, who was laughing at his misery.

“Oh, shut up. At least my nickname isn’t fucking Tweet.”

Tweet, also known as Ash, glowered at Chirp. Much to his annoyance, Chirp just gave him a smug smile. Rolling his eyes, Tweet huffed as he spoke up.

“It’s not my fault that BB claimed the nicknames TB and Phoenix. Selfish prick.”

“I’m basically you, so that makes you a selfish prick as well. And I’m the one with the phoenix feather necklace. I was also the third Tommy to show up, so deal with it.”

Rust snorted as he tuned his guitar. He found it quite amusing how some of them got their names, himself included. Name them after the worlds they came from? Why didn’t they think of that earlier? Tommy, Toms, Rust, he didn’t care what he was called as long as they all had names to distinguish themselves from one another. He peered up to see Princey, deemed as Thomas, run his fingers across the carvings in his crown. Thomas, unlike most of them, grew up with a family. This didn’t mean that his own problems were less than everyone else’s. Sighing, Rust got up to sit by Princey. Across from them sat the youngest Tommy there. As the youngest, being only 9 years of age, he was automatically given the nickname Champ, but they also agreed to call him Toms. The young boy smiled as he spoke to RL and Sunny. RL came from a world where it was only him and Boffy. He spoke of dragons and creatures of all kinds, as well as the harsh weather. Sunny was a starchild, a demigod amongst them all. He spoke of the gods and goddesses that ruled the worlds, as well as the children who came from them. 

“Really? A sun?”

“Yup. Kristin had begged Clara to save that dying sun, and Clara was more than happy to do so. From that dying sun came a baby boy, me. I was gifted to Kristin, and then eventually joined Phil, Techno and Wilbur, all gods themselves. I still haven’t earned the role of a full god.”

“Woooooaaaah.”

Terraria hummed as he watched Magma show off his abilities to Kraken and Danger. Once he was done, they turned to Kraken, who proudly showed off his sorcerer and shapeshifting abilities. When it was Danger’s turn, he just shrugged. He explained that he came from a world without all these abilities. He did bring up that he learned to fight from Technoblade, much to his annoyance. He had been adopted by Phil a few months prior to this strange experience. Both of his new “brothers” didn’t seem to like him, not that he blamed them. He was always labeled a troubled kid by the foster system. 

“They taught me how to fight, and that’s about it. I do know some tips on thieving and running away, so there's that. I also play video games and watch YouTube.”

“What are video games?”

“What is a YouTube?”

“Holy shit, my phone better work in this place. I’m showing you guys my favorite song.”

--------

The Tommys were busy at work, all settling into their new home. Avian and Ash settled down on the tallest point of the trees. Avian was having a blast as he teased Ash about being called Tweet, making the latter even more annoyed. Danger was setting up his things in his area, pleased that his presence brought internet with him. He was, however, disappointed to find that he couldn’t message Tubbo. Champ just sat down on Danger’s bed, watching as the older boy explained the concept of video games. Theseus sat outside of the tree, in front of the entrance, and stared into the trees. So much was happening in such little amount of time. So many versions of himself had popped in, almost all at once. The most concerning manner was the fact that they had received a Tommy that was far too young. Everyone else but Champ were 16, making them all confused as to why Champ was the only 9 year old there. No matter, they all had a silent agreement to keep the child safe. 

“So much for three makes a team, huh?”

Theseus hummed in agreement, continuing to stare ahead as he was joined by Rust and TB, both sitting on either side of him. Rust was the first to speak up. 

“So, unkillable? God slayer? And you can fly a plane?”

“Eh, what can I say? The phoenix feather works wonders. Besides, I was also a baby zombie to those around me. The name had to stem from something.”

Theseus snorted as he and Rust turned to face TB, giving the smug boy amused looks. 

“What about you, huh? At least I didn’t create a dome cult.”

“He’s got you there, Rust.”

As the three of them conversed, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. They didn’t know what the future held, but that didn’t matter. As of right now, they were all safe and sound.