#thomas Barrow
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flowersandfashion · 2 days ago
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all i want is a scene where Mary says “I think that Mr Barrow is more than a valet to Mr Dexter”
and someone (maybe Isobel) replies “well I should hope so, he's a butler” to exasperated sighs from everyone else
you know, at this point I’m just asking one thing of the new downton movie, and that is to see Thomas be a rich gay in America and have him throwing gatsby-like parties and just be a bitch to everyone because he can and because he deserves to be a little (a lot) mean about finally getting a good life
special points if he manages to give Carson a heart attack
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bitletsanddrabbles · 3 days ago
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[Fic] The Glory, the Shame
This is what happens when I try to come up with something to write at 7:00 am on Veteran's Day - you get Thomas and Peter sitting on @alex51324 's Island of the Gays philosophizing.
Not certain I'm going to include this one in the Island Sandbox, since it is now about twelve hours after I started, I am tired, and not at all certain it hits the right notes. But it's a thing and I wrote it, so here. Can be read as pre-relationship or just buddies, as you so feel moved.
Needless to say it is beta free. Also free of guppies, goldfish, loches, koi...okay, I'm going stop now before someone hurls a salmon at my head. On to the story instead.
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Thomas sat on the bluff outside of town, a cigarette dangling in his fingers, watching the seagulls. A stiff wind was blowing, making his cheeks sting, but at least it wasn’t raining. Most of the village had decamped to the pub, intent on reducing Tully’s whisky supply to dregs. Thomas had thought about joining them, but his heart wasn’t quite in it.
A crunching noise alerted him to the fact he was about to have company. He looked up, half expecting it to be the herd of cattle they let roam the island south of the village, but it turned out to be Peter Fitzroy.
“Mind if I join you?” the one armed man asked.
“Sure,” Thomas replied. “The ground’s none too soft, though.”
“Probably better that way. Easier to dust off after.” Peter lowered himself to the ground with his usual easy cheer. “I take it the pub was a bit crowded for you?”
“Yeah.” Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, I could use a pint or two about now. Maybe three or four, but there wasn’t even standing room in there.”
“I know what you mean.” Peter pulled out his own cigarettes and worked one out of the case. Even though he was perfectly capable of lighting it himself, Thomas lite it for him. Less hassle that way. For a minute the two of them just sat and smoked. Finally Peter said, “I thought it was a lovely service.”
“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. It touched on all of the key points without being soppy or condescending. Father Tim did a good job.” That was one problem with people who hadn’t actually been in the war. They could easily make it sound like they had been, like they knew exactly what the soldiers had been through when it was very clear they didn’t. It tended to lead to lofty proclamations about bravery and sacrifice that stank like the mud of the Somme, or sneering dismissal of the misery that had lead to missing limbs and haunting nightmares. Admittedly, Thomas had as little patience for the nightmares as the next person, but mostly because they interrupted his sleep and he did not like being woken up, thank you very much. He understood, but…well. His nightmares never disturbed anyone except himself.
“What did you think of the suggestion that we build our own war memorial, like villages are doing on the mainland?”
Thomas frowned at that one. “I’m not entirely certain. I wouldn’t fight it, of course. But I don’t know that it would help me any.”
The other man gave him a curious look at that. “Isn’t there anyone who’s gone that you want remembered?”
“Maybe.” Thomas took a slow drag and thought for a second before blowing out a long stream of smoke. There was Lord Flintshire’s valet, and a couple of other servants who had visited Downton frequently, but they’d been friends, not lovers. He didn’t know if anyone here would even know them. “I’m the one who didn’t know anyone in London, remember? Yeah, there were blokes I had it off with now and again, but never more than a couple of times. The people I’d really care about, well. They weren’t our sort. Seems a bit pointless to put them on there.”
“Hm. I suppose.” The other man allowed. “Then again, there are those of us who would want brothers on there, so I don’t know that it would have to be just our sort.”
“I still don’t know if any of my brothers made it through,” Thomas admitted. “I might be the last one standing.” He tried not to look at his gloved hand, but his eyes flickered to it involuntarily as he stretched his fingers.
Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Is there anyone you could write to find out? Or do you not want to?”
Thomas shrugged. “My sister, perhaps, if she’d write back to me. I don’t know that I’d bother, though. They might as well all be dead, as much as we pay attention to each other. Again, I don’t see that there’s anything to be gained by knowing.”
“That’s fair, I suppose.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a bit. Again, it was Peter who broke the silence. “What do you suppose Kit’s doing?”
“He planned on spending the day working on play bills for the theatre’s next production,” Thomas replied. “If he finishes that, he’ll probably read or something like that, I’d imagine. I’ve told him not to feel poorly about it, that he was well out of it, but. Well. No one likes to feel like they didn’t do their bit.”
“If they were clever they would.” Peter frowned, the expression out of place on his normally cheerful face. “I keep trying to tell Davy Hall that no one’s looking down on him for not serving, but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.”
“Davy?” Thomas looked askance at the other man. “You’re joking.” The other man shook his head. Thomas blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “The man had rheumatic fever as a boy. The doctors expect him to drop dead of a hear attack or have his kidneys give out any day now, and he’s bemoaning the fact that he failed his physical and they wouldn’t let him go get shot at because his health might give out before the Germans got him?”
Peter gave a rueful sort of smile and a one sided shrug. “Apparently his brothers both died, so he really is the last one standing. And he’s here, so it’s not as if the line is going to continue. I think he feels as if, had he gone, one of his brothers might have survived.”
Thomas was aware of that sort of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that way about anything. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, even if I was expected to die young, I can not imagine feeling that suicidal.”
The comment earned him a sideways look that couldn’t decide whether to be fond or exasperated. “No, I can’t imagine you could. You’re too determined to live.”
His cigarette half way to his lips, Thomas froze. He slowly turned to look at the other man, gauging whether that comment had meant what he thought it did. When Peter lifted his eyebrows and shot a look at Thomas’s glove, that was a pretty clear answer. “Figured it out, have you?” Thomas replied, smiling tightly, trying to make a joke of it. He supposed if the other man was going to get him kicked off of the island, he’d have done it by now, and he didn’t seem like the sort for blackmail.
“Yeah.” Peter turned and crushed out his cigarette. “Several of us have. Me, Tully, Jessop, Rouse.”
“Dr R knows?” Thomas cringed. Oh, that couldn’t be good.
“He does.” The other man gave him a wan smile. “He doesn’t blame you, though. None of us do. If you get right down to it, you were the clever one, getting out of there rather than waiting for the Huns to drop a shell on your head.” He nodded to the glove and added, “Not to mention you could easily have died of infection. Difficult to call someone a coward when they’re doing something they know full well could kill them.”
“I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time,” Thomas admitted. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing he could do, but if Peter didn’t think poorly of him already, he doubted the truth would change that too much. “I just, I’d had it. I’d signed up to help save them that could be saved, not to die for a country that would just as soon kill me themselves. Or lock me away for two years and then let someone beat me to death when I got out, which is close enough.” He crushed out his own cigarette, then, after a moment’s thought, went to get another.
Peter shrugged. “You’re not wrong. And I still don’t blame you.” His eyebrows knit together and he asked, curiously, “Although, if I might ask, how did you manage it? It’s a difficult shot to manage yourself.”
“I didn’t manage it myself.” Thomas tucked his lighter away and blew smoke into the air. He would never understand how some people managed not to smoke. What did they do for their nerves? “I took myself out to a nice, quiet corner of the trench, lit m’self a cigarette, and then held my hand up over the wall. A German sniper took care of the rest for me.”
Oddly, that garnered a smile from the other man. “Well, that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you note?”
“No,” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly in any condition for it. Too much morphine. Who knows? By the time I was thinking clearly again, he was probably dead anyway.”
“Probably.”
They were quiet again, for a stretch. This time Thomas broke it. “How long have you known?”
“Several months now. We put it together about the time Gordon ran off.”
“Blimey.” Thomas blinked at that. “And it took this long for any of you to say something?”
Peter shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, really. After all, who decided it was cowardice? And who decided that cowardice was something to die over? A bunch of men who never left England, except on holiday? The men who wished they had the guts to do something like that?” He looked down at his own shoulder. “I may not have invited a German sniper to have a shot at me, but I wasn’t exactly crying when they told me I couldn’t carry a stretcher anymore.”
“I should think not.”
“We did our bit. Then we went home. It’s what we said we’d do.”
“Too right.”
“We’re just lucky we made it.” Peter gave a salute to the clouds. “To the Glorious Dead.”
“And the Inglorious Living,” Thomas added, giving his own salute.
The other man leaned in, resting the stump of his shoulder against Thomas’s. “Glorious or not, I’m just as glad to have you hear instead of lying under poppies in France.”
“Thanks.” Thomas smiled and looped an arm around the other mans’ back to help them both stabilise. “I could say the same.”
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tinymintywolf · 6 months ago
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ive been watching downton abbey with my roommate 🤡
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rowanoftheunknown · 6 months ago
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People said the queer coded villain was tired but I ask my fellow friends, romans and countrymen to remember Thomas Barrow. No man has ever nor can they ever serve that much evil cunt swag and all for a show whose median age demographic would probably be in the 60 range. Nobody has ever or will do it like him.
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klazje · 4 months ago
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i always feel like a gay little freak when i talk abt downton abbey irl to like. old women. they’re always like “oh…you’re favorite is thomas? the gay evil footman…?” YES THE CUNTY GAY EVIL FOOTMAN. god why is that so hard to understand.
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manyrandomfandoms · 7 months ago
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tw: brief mentions of miscarriage and suicide attempt
the dichotomy of the level of stakes in each episode of Downton Abbey will always be funny to me. Some episodes are like
“Thomas is on the brink of being fired for being gay”
“it’s the actual World War I”
“Sybil could very well die in childbirth”
“Bates has been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit”
“one of the staff caused a MISCARRIAGE of someone from Upstairs”
“Thomas has been found half dead in a self-inflicted bloody bathtub”
And then other episodes are like
“Will Carson let the staff go to the town fair”
“who will win the flower competition”
“The cooks dropped the chicken on the floor”
“Sybil is wearing pants”
“Branson is still fraternizing with the Downstairs”
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kaaaaamii · 3 months ago
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Thomas Barrow:
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it just reminded me so much of him
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youbettertpwk · 1 year ago
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sport scholarships were invented when Lord Grantham suddenly accepted Thomas Barrow's homosexuality as soon as he realised he was decent at cricket
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kidcataldo · 26 days ago
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Thinking how future historians in the downton abbey universe will wonder if the crawleys were actually murderers, bc there’s just an excessive amount of deaths on record to make any of it look innocent
And like an entire subreddit would exist to prove lord grantham was some type of mob boss in the aristocracy, who killed anyone who wronged his family. The descendants of the granthams are constantly in the media trying to disprove these theories, like “no great grandad was just a guy… we think” but they don’t really have any solid evidence to disprove any claims bc the family took those secrets to the their graves
It’s so bad that people wholeheartedly believe he was the one who sunk the titanic and caused World War I
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dirrymoir · 2 months ago
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Thomas Barrow x CVNTY HATS 🎩✨
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downtondownstairs · 2 months ago
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Happy 14th birthday Downton Abbey // 26.09.2010 // original Downstairs cast
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just-barrow · 4 months ago
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😭🥰🥹😍😊
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much-brighter-ink · 1 year ago
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My favorite part of Downton is actually when Thomas's job is almost over after O'Brien outs him and Robert is like "I explored many men's bodies back in my day at Eton... anyways CRICKET. WE MUST HAVE CRICKET" and it's never mentioned again
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lehnsharks · 3 months ago
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Now kiss~
I rewatched s2 and it reminded of how much I LOVE the potential dynamic between Tom and Thomas. They had some sexual tension going on in my book 🫶 I mean, Tom had to wait a long time for Sybil
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papa-evershed · 11 months ago
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Rob James-Collier as Thomas Barrow DOWNTON ABBEY: CHRISTMAS AT DOWNTON 🎄🎅
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