#toff writes stuff

[toffyrats]

intro post!! 🤯🤯

heyy it’s me toff and i decided it was finally time to make a proper intro post !

fandoms list (subject to change):

les miserables

arcane

splatoon

newsies

the legend of zelda

pokemon

i post my random thoughts a lot!!! i also do art and sometimes write things!

my fav characters:

viktor

mel medarda

jinx

frye onaga

pearl houzuki

marina ida

albert dasilva (#red’s tag)

grantaire

marius pontmercy

courfeyrac

hop

i am an aaron tveit and jeremy jordan lover forever

other socials!

tiktok: toffyrats

discord: sadfac3d

and that’s basically all you need to know!! hope to see u around!!

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[allthespoons]

i’m no longer asking, i’m telling: SOMEone needs to write the fic where will and mack hook up for the first time in will’s hotel room at worlds after their little coffee date. not even drunk, just so happy to see each other again and be in each other’s space. gets a little too tender, will’s hand cradling mack’s head while he’s on top of him and mack’s rubbing up against him and mumbling, “i wanted this, i wanted to do this for a long time, smitt.”

getting jerked off by leno when they’d both been partying all night and crashed in the same bed was one thing, and this was an entirely different thing. will can’t laugh this one off. knows he can’t ever do it again because it felt too real and also wants to do it again so bad his teeth hurt, so after mack leaves sweden he ignores all his texts and calls and facetimes and says, “nah, man, i can’t” when toff invites him to van for mack’s bday and holes up in the cape feeling like there’s a gaping wound in his chest and trying not to think about it and of course not being able to stop thinking about it. leno’s not even talking to him right now and he’s ignoring mack and he’s fucking everything up and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way that mack looked up at him like it was real for him, too. which it can’t be it can’t be it can’t be. it can’t be like that and fuck mack for not being able to do anything like a normal person and tearing open all this stuff inside will he never ever planned on acknowledging.

[untilwefind]

what about Willmack having the first time sex but they have so problems to figure out how. Will is way too impatient, just trying to slam all in, Mack is bitchy and whiny because it doesn't feel as good as he imagined it. Whenever Mack is in a comfortable position, Will doesn't get the right angle anymore to get his dick inside of Mack.

Will is so desperated he even thinks about getting up and going over to Toff or Ekky to ask them how the hell he can fuck Mack

The Geometry of Want

i totally didn't spend my whole lunch break writing this. that would be weird...

They’ve been circling the moment for weeks. Teasing and grinding, half-dressed in each other’s beds, hooked on the thrill of secrecy and proximity.

But now it’s actually happening. Will’s on top of Mack in the Marleau's guest house bed, shirtless, panting, and already sweating like a man who’s three periods deep in overtime.

And it’s going terribly.

“Dude,” Mack groans, voice taut with both frustration and physical discomfort, “That is not—ugh—nope. That’s my hip bone. How are you this bad at this?”

Will pulls back, red-faced and blinking hard. “I swear to God, you were just lined up right! I felt it—”

“No, Will. You felt my thigh crease.”

Will drops his forehead to Mack’s chest with a groan. “Okay, okay. Let’s just—reset. I’ll go slow this time. Like, gently. Romantic. Like a fucking nature documentary or some shit.”

“That would require an actual sense of rhythm and patience, neither of which you have.”

“I do have patience!”

Mack just raises one unimpressed eyebrow from where he’s sprawled naked on the mattress. “You literally tried to shove it in dry earlier.”

Will opens his mouth to defend himself, then closes it again. He flops dramatically onto his back beside Mack. “I panicked. You were making those noises.”

“They were confused noises!”

Silence settles. Not the sexy, charged kind. The we may never have sex again because we’re both terrible at it kind. Will turns his head to look at him. Mack is still naked and gorgeous and flushed and annoyed, which somehow makes him look even more edible.

“We can fix this,” Will says, sitting up like he’s about to give a locker room speech. “We’re two elite athletes. We’ve overcome worse. Remember when you tried to make pancakes and set off the fire alarm?”

“Yeah, because you told me to microwave the batter.”

Will waves that off. “My point is, we’re problem solvers. We just need… a new angle.”

“We’ve tried every angle,” Mack says, flopping onto his stomach with a muffled groan. “Missionary, sideways, me on top, you on top, me with my leg up like a goddamn ballet dancer—”

“Maybe we just need a consultant.”

Mack lifts his head slowly. “What?”

Will’s eyes gleam with desperation. “Like, someone who’s done this before. Someone on the team. I bet Toff’s done anal like a thousand times. Ekky too. He’s European. They’re weirdly good at this stuff.”

“You are not getting up to go ask Toff how to fuck me.”

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” Will mumbles.

Mack lifts a pillow and throws it square at his face. “You absolute idiot. We are not crowd-sourcing our first time.”

Will catches the pillow, groaning. “I just want it to be good. You deserve, like magic. Not me accidentally dry-humping your kneecap for five minutes.”

That quiets Mack. His mouth softens, the usual edge in his voice fading. “You really care if it’s good?”

“Of course I care,” Will says, tugging Mack’s wrist until he’s curled in beside him. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You kind of already did,” Mack deadpans, then breaks into a small smile. “But… it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Will exhales. They lie there a moment, skin against skin, breathing syncing back up.

“Maybe we’re overthinking it,” Mack murmurs. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Yeah,” Will says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “It just has to be us.”

---

They’ve been lying there a while, naked, half-sticky, half-sulking, when Mack shifts, stretches, and rolls over onto Will’s chest with a sigh that’s equal parts drama and decision.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s try again.”

Will’s eyebrows lift, hopeful. “Really?”

Mack smirks, just a little. “Yeah. But we’re doing this my way.”

Will holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you want.”

“First,” Mack says, scooting down the bed and dragging the sheets with him, “You’re gonna shut the hell up and let me take care of you for a second. You’re all keyed up like a rescue dog on Red Bull.”

Will sputters a laugh but Mack’s already got his mouth around him, confident and focused, and fuck, okay. Maybe this really was part of the problem. Will’s brain promptly short-circuits. He fists the sheets, tries not to buck, tries not to cry. Mack’s mouth is hot and perfect and unfair.

It doesn’t take long. Will’s been half-hard and strung-out for half an hour now and Mack’s mouth is so smug about it.

Afterward, Will collapses back against the mattress like he’s been tranquilized. He blinks up at the ceiling, breathing in relief and new clarity.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

Mack grins against his hip. “That’s the post-nut talking.”

“I still mean it.”

“Well,” Mack says, crawling back up, kissing his chest, his jaw, his temple, “Good. Now you can focus.”

And Will does.

This time, everything is slower. Softer. Will’s mouth lingers in places he missed before. He kisses under Mack’s ear, down the line of his throat, across his ribs. He takes his time prepping him, fingers gentle, other hand stroking Mack’s thigh like he’s grounding them both.

Mack starts out snarky, muttering “Don’t get cocky just ‘cause you made me moan once,” but the second Will brushes the right spot, his whole body arches. The snark dissolves into a shaky whimper.

“There,” Will says quietly, like a promise. “There's my target.”

He lines up again, Mack’s legs hitched over his hips, and for a breathless moment they both hold still.

And then, it happens.

Not forced, not clumsy, not at a weird angle with too much lube or not enough.

Just, there.

He slides in, easy and slow, and Mack lets out a stunned, breathless gasp.

“Oh,” Mack says, blinking hard, voice cracking. So that's what they were missing.

Will freezes. “You okay?”

Mack nods fast, one hand gripping Will’s wrist, eyes wide. “Yeah, no, I—holy shit. Do that again.”

Will starts to move, careful at first, and Mack bites his bottom lip like he’s trying to stay quiet but can’t. His body rocks into it like it knows this now, like all the geometry just clicked into muscle memory.

It’s so good all of a sudden. Hot and slick and right. Their hips line up naturally now, every thrust drawing soft, involuntary sounds from Mack that Will stores away like treasure. Will’s hand is curled around the back of Mack’s neck, holding him close, breath stuttering into his hair.

Mack shudders underneath him. “Okay, okay,” he’s gasping. “You’re so—Fuck, you feel so good, Will.”

And Will, ever the golden retriever with a crush, nearly whines.

They move together now, easy and synced, sweaty and close. Mack wraps his legs around him, pulling Will deeper, the smug bratty edge of his voice melted down into open, soft need.

“Why didn’t we start like this?” Mack moans, kissing his shoulder.

“Because I was trying to fold you like origami,” Will pants. “And you were yelling at me about angles.”

Mack laughs breathlessly, then gasps again as Will angles his hips just right.

“Okay, okay, don’t joke—there. Right there.”

“Yeah?” Will murmurs, nose brushing his cheek. “I got you, baby.”

Mack just holds onto him tighter, mouth pressed to Will’s neck now, like he can’t decide if he wants to keep talking or just feel.

It’s messy and raw and perfect in the way only rookie sex between two idiots in love can be. And when Mack finally comes, shuddering, clinging, overwhelmed, Will follows with a groan so loud it’s probably echoing through to the main house.

---

They stay tangled up afterward, chests heaving, skin flushed, Mack’s cheek pressed to Will’s collarbone.

Silence.

Then—

“So,” Mack says, still breathless. “No need to ask Toff after all.”

Will wheezes a laugh. “Nah. But I might tell him we figured out the angle thing.”

“Do not bring math into this ever again.”

Will grins, kisses his temple, and pulls the blanket up around them both. “Deal.”

[alltimecharlo]

absolutely obsessed with the way you write bratty omega mack. and will being the only person who can calm him down!!!

i would loveeee more of this trope if you’re willing! mack being sad about something and being a brat as a defense mechanism and will being able to break those walls down and steady him

awh yes of course anon!!! fic under the cut :))🩵

Mack is in a mood.

Will clocks it the second he walks into the locker room. He knows Mack by now—knows the way he snaps gum when he’s trying not to sulk, the way he gets quieter and more biting with his chirps, the way he glares at his phone like it personally offended him. Will doesn’t need to ask. He knows.

Something’s wrong.

The guys don’t seem to notice, not really. Eky tries to joke with him and gets a raised eyebrow and a sharp, "You think you’re funny?" for his troubles. Toff tosses him a protein bar and Mack just lets it hit the floor. Brat.

Will watches all this from across the room, tying his skates slowly.

"You gonna pick that up, or are you waiting for someone to feed it to you?" he calls, lazy-like.

Mack doesn’t look at him, but Will sees the flicker of a smile. Barely there. It disappears quick.

“Fuck off,” Mack says.

But it’s softer. For Will, it always is.

They hit the ice and Mack’s playing like he’s got something to prove, elbows high and skating fast and furious. He overhandles the puck, doesn’t pass when he should, and gets into a shoving match in front of the net that earns him a full-throated warning from Coach.

Will skates past him on the bench. Leans in and murmurs, "Keep it up and he’s gonna staple your ass to the bleachers."

Mack mutters, "Whatever."

Will bumps his shoulder. "Use your words, omega."

Mack stiffens. Glares at him. But there’s no real heat in it.

After practice, Mack practically bolts to the showers and Will lets him. Knows better than to chase when he’s like this. Let him stew a little. Let him simmer.

Will waits until most of the guys are gone before slipping into the back hallway that leads to the changing stalls. He doesn’t knock. He just pushes open the door to the stall he knows is Mack’s, shuts it behind him, and leans back against it.

Mack is sitting on the bench, towel around his hips, arms crossed. His damp hair is flopped into his eyes.

“You gonna make this a regular thing?” Mack asks flatly.

Will raises an eyebrow. "You gonna stop acting like a little shit?"

Mack doesn't respond.

Will steps closer. Drops into a crouch so he’s eye level. “Hey.”

Mack doesn’t look at him.

Will leans in a little more. "Talk to me."

"Why? So you can tell me I’m being dramatic?"

Will studies him. The tense set of his jaw. The faint pink of his eyes like he’s been blinking back tears. The way his fingers are digging into his own arms like he’s trying to keep himself from unraveling.

He says, gently, "Mack."

Mack finally looks at him. Will sees it all then. The hurt. The fear. The frustration.

"Got a call from my agent this morning," Mack mutters. "Some...stuff about next year."

Will tilts his head. "Stuff like what?"

Mack shrugs. "Like, people wondering if I’m not living up to expectations."

Will frowns. "That’s bullshit."

Mack gives him a thin smile. "Yeah, well. It’s what they’re saying."

Will moves without thinking. Slides up onto the bench beside him and pulls him into his arms. Mack resists, stiff for all of three seconds, and then he’s melting against Will with a shaky exhale.

"They don’t know shit," Will murmurs into his hair. "You’re the best player on this team."

"Don’t patronize me."

"Not. I mean it. You’re the guy I watch every shift. The guy I trust to be where I need him. You think I’d be scoring this much if I didn’t have you?"

Mack huffs a weak laugh. “So it’s all about your stat line.”

Will grins. "Exactly. Gotta keep myself relevant."

They sit like that for a moment. Close. Quiet.

Then Mack says, softly, "I hate that you can see through me."

"I love that I can."

Mack flushes. Pushes lightly at Will’s chest. Will doesn’t move.

"I mean it," Will says, all serious now. "You get mean when you’re scared. You get bratty when you’re sad. And I’m gonna be here either way, okay? Every time."

Mack looks at him like he wants to argue. But then he just deflates.

"Okay."

Will kisses his temple.

Mack grumbles. "Sappy."

Will laughs. "You love it."

Mack mumbles, "Maybe."

And when Will pulls him in closer, Mack lets him.

♡

[gizmos-n-gadgets]

The Ghost of the Carnival

ok before we start, a few things. First of all, the Carnival au belongs to the lovely @sm-baby go check out her stuff she’s talented as hell. Secondly, I’ve already made a post about the original Wisper design, you can find that here, and please dear gods go check that out, because it’s important to understanding this and also it did not get the time of day when I first posted it and I worked on that thing for months.

Well without further ado let’s get into it! Here is Carnival au Wisper

Below the cut is a drawing and blurb for its relationship with each of the other characters

It admires The Coder’s determination, but also fears for him because of it. It does its best to help The Coder when it can, even though at first it doubts anything good will come out of it. Nicknames for Caine: Bricky, Some Pumpkins

They both think the other is both overly dramatic and hostile. If in public, among the others, they’ll play nice, or at the very least they’ll tolerate each other. But otherwise, if they’re together they’re arguing. Nicknames for Pomni: Meater, Agony Piler

They and The Host are very close. However they do occasionally get into very bad arguments that often end with some blood, or rather, stuffing, spilled. Nicknames for Ragatha: Chuckaboo, Church Bell

Of the entire cast it is by far the most affectionate toward and protective of The Storyteller, fiercely defending her, even if it ends in their own demise. In return, it is favored in many performances, especially those that call for an element of the macabre. Nicknames for Gangle: Tintinnabulation, Trouvaille, Swan Slinger

They hate each other and have a fiery rivalry. But perhaps in a different timeline, they could’ve saved each other from their horrors, maybe even have been friends. But the Ghost was too late. Nicknames for Jax: Gigglemug, Gibface, Hornswoggler 

They have a strange respect for one another and are a force to be reckoned with when they team up. They find amusement in making vast labyrinths together and watching the players struggle through them. Nicknames for Zooble: Ineffable

It both fears of The King and fears for The King. Sometimes he will have it write and display visions of gore and violence and tragedy. Other times; sweet dreams of a world they can only wish for. Nicknames for Kinger: Haw-Haw-Toff, Afternoonified

They have a disdain for The Player, jealous of the attention he gets from their friends. They wouldn’t dare hurt him as it would hurt their own loved ones, but sometimes . . . sometimes The Ghost’s imagination threatens to push that boundary. Nicknames for Abel: Gal sneaker, Skilamalink 

I also have a blurb for Kaufmo but uhh I didn’t draw him (sorry lol) so ima just put that here

It encouraged the dark side of The Clown to come out, though not on purpose. They brought out the dark humor in The Clown, though it started innocent, it, among other things, is what lead to his demise. Nicknames for Kaufmo: Foozler, Button-Buster

[lbcreations-blog]

Hallo !! Was wondering if ye could do some platonic headcanons for Zuko with a reader who's just a menace to society?

Hell ya, I love Zuko

Notes: This is very short. By the way, I apologize for such

Masterlist

---------

A menace to society

You are a normal human. You can not bend one bit. So you decided to take your personality as your weapon. At least that was the plan you made until you just straight up became a menace to society.

Now Zuko has to deal with you, his menace to society bestie.

Anng and Katara would get so angry with your antics. Sokka would get angry with you but is more likely to join your antics. Toff, she's joining your antics. When she's in the mood to do so, at least.

And then Zuko, your best friend. You worry him. He does not want the fire benders to put you in jail.

When you kick down that cabbage guys stuff, he is trying to stop you. When you push the waiter for giving you the wrong snack, he is right behind you, trying to stop you.

In the end, he cares for you, but please stop, he's worried.

----------

I know this was short. I was not too sure how to write this but I hope you enjoyed it

[selkiefinalist]

2024 writing roundup:

not the best year from a writing perspective - the demands of life really ran me over, over and over and over. however, i did finish a few things versus just quitting, which is worth celebrating! so here we go:

breach: cale/willy, t-rated, ~1k. because whales. and also cale/willy. i was hoping to pull off drag bar fic by the end of the year but i opened it a few days ago and, well. it needs some work. and then there will be two (2) fics in that tag, the heart wants what it wants, etc

bottle up: colby/sid, t-rated, ~1k. featuring colby as a hockeybot

best fit: just a lil mikko/naz for my pal patrichornkissed whose url will hopefully be restored. gen, under 1k.

of all calamities: timmy stu/chabby, 5k, t-rated somehow. in which our little german boy reads too many tumblr tags about his skating and loses all of his leg bones, and chabs has to nurse him back to health. disaster fic but i finished it, so

call it home: mario/toff, 10k, e-rated. in which i stockholmed myself into having unbearable and painfully soft feelings about not just the pairing but the entire team, waaaah i’m so glad kas let me write this for him

gingerbread: loc/rosco pwp, ~1k, e-rated. based on the avs very horny holiday media stuff. every once in a while i am compelled to attempt pwp and then immediately remember why i don’t, but someone in the one (1) discord server that i’m in was lamenting the lack of anything in their tag on ao3 and now there is something. voila!

[lettersregardingjeeves]

this downright jolly newsletter puts me to mind of interactive fiction games your worthy followers may be remiss to miss. the absolutely topping writer of Tally Ho (and it's not-exactly-sequel Jolly Good: Cakes and Ale) may or may not be contacting Wodehouse via oujia board to write the bally things. with a valet-and-toff premise, 1920s setting, great quantity of overbearing relations, and all the adventure and romance and potential for complete social disgrace due to overcomplicated schemes that anyone could ask for, it's simply bang up the elephant

my apologies in advance if, once shared, you are lost, like me, in all the variations & scenarios &c. that the games allow

yrs affectionately-

As a player of Tally Ho myself, I can assure you that my followers certainly would be remiss to miss it! Topping stuff, and so Jeevesian I even put it on my list of adaptations of Wodehouse! I didn't know about the sequel, however, so I may very well have to add it!

[rayslittlekitten]

WIP Updates - June 11, 2024

Hi, y'all! First and foremost, thank you all for still sticking around and being so patient if you're still following me. I haven't really posted any fics since end of last year (the Christmas Kai fic), and with the exception of finally finishing that Dieter fic which I posted a few months ago (it was literally like a two year WIP).

My inspirations and motivations have been really up and down on top of tons of life stuff (all good stuff, including my broken leg being almost fully functional again) so I've been focusing on that mainly. I do write whenever I get a zap of inspo and motivation but it's usually just a line or two, unless it's a new fic idea and churn out paragraphs, but none of them are complete so I just add to my WIP list instead.

What motivated me to write this post is because I had realized in a few months I'd be a year since I last updated "I Almost Told You That I Loved You" and many have asked about it and you all deserve an update on all my WIP. I promise you, I have not abandoned it. I have the beginning of the next chapter written, but I am very meticulous about what direction I want to take it and it requires a lot of time and energy for me go back to that place to figure it all out which unfortunately, these days I don't have for that, but I assure you it is not abandoned, but I don't have any ETA for the next chapter. It's been especially difficult for me to write smut which like 95% of these contain.

But here are the WIP that I have been actively working on since forever:

I Almost Told You That I Loved You Chapter 20

Fine Wine (Dad!Will x Wife!Reader)

Crush Part 2

Untitled Dad!Will x Wife!Reader smut (maybe I'll share a snippet one day)

Next chapter for the Toff Girl series (another one I need to really figure out what direction I want to take it in)

There may be some not listed on here which also doesn't mean I've abandoned those either, I'm just not currently actively working on those, although feel free to send an ask if you have any questions about them. Thank you again for your patience! You all are the best 🥹

Also, just in case, because only sometimes Tumblr shows my masterlist link on my header, here is my MASTERLIST which I will eventually revamp because it is a tragedy. You can also find me on AO3.

[toffyrats]

toff makes newsies content alert alert 🚨

hi guys ok context for this story (?) basically i was reading abt the donner party like a month ago and then i wanted to do a little character study ish thing w modern au newsies, but then like a quarter of it ended up being abt the donner party so. atleast i have something to feed my newsies followers with. yeah? yeah.

so tw for like. kinda weird mentions including death, cannibalism and so on n so forth. it’s not yk awful YOU KNOW WHAT i’m making this seem a lot more about the donner party than it actually is let’s just move on.

there’s some redfinch, ralbert (but its one sided ofc) and kinda implied javid? ? also kath n sarah hate eachother (for now). again its a character study but all of them so no single pov but cmon its me so its kinda albert centric. ok this is getting long lets begin

     “the donner party is sooo boring,” race groaned from where he was sitting with crutchie on a beanbag. “who cares about a whole bunch’a dead guys in a wagon?”

     “i find it interesting,” crutchie put in. “really emphasizes the human instinct to survive.”

     albert shook his head in disgust. “i would never eat another human. sounds gross.”

     “if you went that long without food, you would,” crutchie replied matter-of-factly. 

     “what was the point of all that, then?” race grumbled. “pretty much all of ‘em starved anyway. they coulda gotten off easier without eatin’ eachother.” he practically threw his book across the room into albert’s hands. “i’d rather starve than eat another person.”

     “they weren’t right in the head,” jack explained, not looking up from his book. “they were so hungry, they probably became demented.”

     “humans are animals,” crutchie added.

     albert snorted. “great job, crutch. want a medal?” 

     “no, i mean- no matter what, driven by hunger, thirst or exposure, we’re gonna try to live. even if that means eating our friends.”

     “ehh, i dunno.” jack tapped a finger on the top of his book. “i think i might be with william hook on this one. rather die from eatin’ too much than eatin’ too little.”

     albert leaned back in his chair, the front legs lifting up off the floor. “i don’t even think eatin’ people was the problem,” he mumbled. “if the reed guy didn’t take the stupid shortcut, they all woulda survived.”

     “man, if only,” race cut him off. “then they wouldn’t be in the history books at all and we wouldn’t hafta be crammin’ for the test right now.”

     “yeah, ‘we’ as in ‘not you’, race.” albert waved his friend’s book above his head. “i still have your book. we’s the only people studyin’.” 

     race opened his mouth to say something back when the door to the room opened and katherine walked in.

     “oh!” she seemed taken aback. “hi, guys! didn’t know you were in here.” she took a few steps in their general direction and stopped. “wait, are you supposed to be in here?”

     the four boys glanced around at eachother and shrugged almost in unison.

     “sorta,” albert said finally. “we’s technically supposed ta be in gym, but coach said we could study since we got a test tomorrow.”

     katherine gave an exasperated sigh and turned her course to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. “nobody ever uses this room. you couldn’t have just stayed in the gym?”

     “gym’s awful.” crutchie shook his head. “well, i mean- for me, anyways.”

     katherine nodded in understanding, opening a cabinet starting to go through it. “you guys meet the new kid yet?”

     race immediately perked up. “there’s a new kid? no wa-“ 

     “you wouldn’t like him,” katherine deadpanned.

     “oh.” race’s face fell. 

     “well, what’s he like?” jack asked curiously, finally putting his book down.

     “quiet, reserved… uh, he’s kinda preppy looking-“

     “ew, yeah, okay, cut it right there.” race made a face and waved his hand infront of his face, making a ‘stop’ gesture. 

     “he sounds almost as boring as the donner party,” albert groaned.

     katherine shrugged, turning back to the file cabinet. “i like him.”

     “of course you do.” jack smiled and shook his head. “he seems like your typa guy.”

     “and of course you’re the only one that cares,” race smirked.

     katherine pinched the bridge of her nose with a long sigh. “race, please.”

     race threw his hands up in mock innocence. “hey, hey! i’m just sayin’!”

     crutchie closed his book and held his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. “race, have you forgotten the only reason they broke up in the first place?” 

     “yeessss, crutchie, i know,” race forced out. “does this kid have a sister or somethin’?”

     katherine hesitated. “yes, he does.” her voice was curt, and she sounded like she didn’t want to further the discussion. 

     unfortunately, race was never good at picking up on other’s emotions. “what’s her name?”

      jack glared at him, but katherine spoke before race could figure out a way to deflect the blame somehow. “sarah. sarah jacobs.” 

     “jacobs, huh? what’s th’ guy’s name?” jack asked, diverting the subject.

     “david,” katherine sighed out, relieved. “you should talk to him, when you can. maybe not al and race, but-“

     “yeah, definitely not al and race,” albert said quickly, and race nodded in silent agreement. 

     jack suddenly got up and cracked his back, then his neck, then every single knuckle before finally saying, “alrighty then, me an’ crutch’ll go find ‘im. he should jus’ be in gym, yeah?”

     race stared at him with a blank expression. “how is even getting up out of a chair an entire process for you?” he asked finally, and albert snickered. 

     jack shot yet another glare in race’s general direction as he turned to help crutchie up. “you sure you don’t wanna come?” he asked when the shorter boy was successfully up on his feet. 

     “positive,” albert hummed. katherine gave a triumphant shout and pulled out a single paper from the cabinet. 

     “what’s that?” race pressed, curious as ever. 

     “oh, just a little list- it’s for the school newspaper.” she shrugged and glanced quickly between the four boys. ”i have to give it tooo…” she scanned the paper quickly for a name. “…finch cortes. i don’t assume any of you know what class he has right n-“

     “physics, room 203,” albert answered immediately, before katherine could even fully finish. “i mean- i think. how would i know?” the front legs of his chair hit the ground with a loud bang as he looked down at his lap, his face heating up. “it’s on the second floor,” he added quietly, fast enough that it almost sounded like one word.

      crutchie smiled and ruffled albert’s hair playfully. “don’t worry, you can trust red on his finch factopedia,” he assured katherine, and albert swatted his hand off of his head with a sharp scowl. 

     “ooohhkay then,” katherine nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing like she didn’t quite get what was going on. “well, i’ll go find him, then. thanks, albert, i’ll tell him you said hi.” 

     “wait- no!” albert desperately tried to stop her, but she was already out the door. 

     nobody could really understand how katherine’s brain worked. it was as if she were a machine, and anything you tell her to do, she will or won’t without any wavering decision- and she was notoriously bad at reading between the lines.

     “welp, we’d better get goin’,” jack said quickly, and crutchie agreed. 

     “no, wait! no, please! don’t leave me with him!” albert pleaded as he watched jack saunter out the door, eager as ever to meet a possible new acquaintance. crutchie pivoted and shot a sympathetic glance in albert’s direction. “sorry, al. you’re stuck wit’ him.”

     “to most, being stuck with me is a good thing!” race reassured albert mockingly, draping his arms around his friend’s shoulders. 

     and then it was just race and albert. and for some odd reason, it was a lot more awkward than usual, and the air cracked with an unusual tension.

     “so… you an’ finch, huh?” race asked after a moment, a crooked grin creeping onto his face. 

     albert shook his head quickly and wrung his hands nervously. “no, no,- it’s- not like i got a crush on ‘im or anythin’, i… it’s this brain of mine, the adhd, it, uh, chooses to fixate on the dumbest people at the most inconvenient times…” his voice trailed off, his unfocused eyes coming to rest on race. 

     his mind began to wander, his thoughts turning to static before they could even front. he shrugged it off- something he had gotten used to by now-and looked away. “you get what i mean.” 

     “i mean… i guess.” just the tone in race’s response let albert know he didn’t at all get what he meant. 

     just then, the bell rang, loud and steady, startling both boys out of the uncomfortable silence they had fallen into. 

     “saved by the bell,” race chuckled, stuffing his books into his backpack. he pointed at albert forcefully as he turned to leave. “don’t think ya got off easy, though. i still wanna know all about this fling wit’ you an’ birdie.”

     albert groaned loudly in response and flung his backpack over his shoulder lazily, hearing race talking to himself about albert cortes, finch dasilva, and a few other things in italian that albert couldn’t understand a word of.

     albert knew he wasn’t off the hook, he didn’t need race of all people telling him that. but he also knew that finch was in his last class, and maybe-for once- he wouldn’t be all sweaty and gross after gym and too self-conscious to even try to sit near him.

     no, he did not have a crush on him.

     he loved race, and no matter how much he wished for it to, it was never going to change. but maybe finch would take his mind off of it.

     no, albert is not thinking about that right now!

TEEHEE HOPE YOU ENJOYED please speak to me in the tags tell me what you liked and didn’t and whatever also yes ik crutchie would use a wheelchair in a modern setting but i dont even know how those work so yeah not touching thag until i do more research

[upsettingandunfortunateclasshate]

I slag yank films and telly but to my knowledge it's not as held back by class barriers as the UK in terms of writing, casting, programme making

And for me that's why a lot of working class people chime with their stuff more than BBC and ITV dramas etc

Poverty and struggle is better done over there than here, especially African American struggle, cos here it's made by people who aren't in poverty and who don't struggle

The UK could never make Oz, the Wire or the Walking Dead cos it would be written by toffs and acted by toffs cos that's who dominate our TV & film in front of the camera and behind it. It'd be fucking atrocious. But worse than that, they can't conceive of the idea let alone pull it off.

[luckypho87]

more stuff i want to write bc why not at this point:

hurt/comfort the spooky bros where raf gets hurts in the middle of a game in a playoff run & josh freaks out on the actual ice as owen is in the stands in pure horror

hurt/comfort the twins coots/toff as the jumbotron would show the mother that abandoned them so many years ago in a game where they would be pitched against each other (IN THE NYE GAME WHY NOT ADDING TO THE DRAMA)

let's add to the ✨trauma✨ the bros, in other words

bonus happy vibes:

franco/sasha/matthew reacting to franco being employed

[oddaodd]

Alright I have a small idea for a fic with Alfie if you feel like writing it so Reader has been dating Alfie for a few months, everything is going well except he’s been hiding from her his actual job ( she thinks he’s actually a baker ) but the thing is he never lets her visit, he always has excuses and Reader being the curious little thing she is, just decides to pop up some day for absolutely no reason whatsoever which only make everyone shit themselves because hey the boss’ girl who was supposed to be kept far away is here and we’re gonna get our ass kicked 🙃 anywhooo she arrives and see that she is definitely not in a bakery and all the so called bakers are trying to get her out of here but she clearly sees all the alcohol and barges in her man’s office to demand an explanation. Alfie doesn’t know what to do and he’s scared that she’ll want to leave now that she knows he’s far from being a cute little grumpy baker but she’s just so disappointed because she actually thought he was a baker and she actually thought he could make all kind of cakes and stuff and she’s all pouting and upset because 🥺 you don’t actually know how to bake an apple pie 🥺 and he’s just FLABBERGASTED like he really thought she’d hate him and break up but no no no she’s only upset because he can’t cook for shit so he promises her to get her all the finest bakers in England and to always make sure she’s satisfied and he also promises to not hide anything from now on ( because she threatened him to stop cuddling with him and he just can’t risk it ) and everyone is happy lol that was long I’m sorry I just really can picture that in my head and I got carried away 🤭 keep up the amazing work though 💗💗

· The Best Pies In England ·

Warnings: none 

Author’s note: Thanks for requesting this, it was super cute to write! I hope you enjoy it and have the loveliest of days! ❤️🥰

·

When Y/n stepped into Alfie’s bakery all eyes were on her. Nobody just walked into that place with a smile and a confident stride.  Nobody knew what to do so all the “bakers” just stared in expectance.  

It wasn’t until Ollie approached her with wide eyes and a shaky voice “Miss Y/L/N, what are you doing here?” That panic struck the bakers. They all knew who she was and that she wasn’t meant to be there.

“I came to see Alfie” she smiled.

“Mr. Solomons isn’t here” one of the bakers blurted out earning an apprehensive glance from Ollie.

“But… I saw his car parked outside.”

As Ollie opened his mouth thinking of a witty, yet totally believable excuse Y/n noticed that fear was imprinted in the faces of all the men surrounding her and upon a closer look, she realized they weren’t actual bakers. There were a bunch of barrels and crates covered in canvases that Y/N was surprised she hadn’t seen upon entering, putting two and two together she realized there was no bakery.

“Where’s Alfie?” She asked a bit hurt at his lie.

“Miss Y/N” Ollie began as he tried to usher her outside, but Y/N ignored him and began hastily walking in the opposite direction trying to find Alfie, a worried ollie following close behind trying to get her to leave.

They reached an important looking door and without thinking about it twice y/n barged in. At the sound of his door opening Alfie stood up from his chair already wondering which toff he would have to deal with. His eyes however softened when he saw who It was behind the door.

“You lied to me”

Ollie was wise and stepped out of the room as y/n walked towards Alfie’s desk.

“You told me that you were a baker and that you could bake and…” her tone slightly hurt.

“Y/n...”  he began going around the desk to stand before her. “I can explain”

She just looked at him in confusion urging him to continue.

“The bakery is just a curtain” he admitted scared. He had never met someone like y/n and he didn’t want to loose her over a lie. Maybe if he was honest and begged for her forgiveness she would be willing to ignore his illegal doings and wouldn't leave him. 

Y/n looked into his eyes that were brimming with honesty. “So you don’t actually know how to bake an apple pie?”

Alfie shot up one of his eyebrows in surprise “is that what you’re concerned about?”

Y/n sighed and took a look at their surroundings. “Among other things..”

Alfie came closer to her and took her hands in his “Treacle, I hadn’t told you about all this because I got scared you might not want to be with me after you saw the kind of man I am.

Y/n was shocked at his confession. How could he ever think that?

“Ill always want to be with you” she reassured caressing his cheek before softly kissing him.

“But, You can’t lie to me again” she said parting from his lips.

“I promise”

“If you do, I’m gonna start sleeping in a different room and you’re gonna loose all your privileges with me... even cuddling”

I promise, pet...and I’ll find someone to bake you an apple pie, alright? The best in England.

· 

@nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime 

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I know this is a kind of odd (and vague) request, but does anyone know of any good SFW crack fics? It’s been a stressful week so I’ve been looking for some utter ridiculousness to cheer me up (crossovers, crack AUs, anything!) thank you so much!

Here are a few I found for you, dear!

the best laid schemes by asideofourown (T)

There was a squeak by his foot, and Crowley cracked one eye open to see the rat from before sitting in front of him, clutching a small, tarnished key in its mouth. Crowley blinked.

“Huh,” he said. He was used to his schemes coming back to bite him in the ass, but this was the first time something demonic he had done seemed like it would actually end up helping him. The rat squeaked and then scurried up his arm, depositing the key to his manacles into his hand before returning to the floor.

“Well,” Crowley murmured, a plan forming in his mind as his fingers curled around the key. He snapped his fingers, freeing himself with a miracle, and collapsed with a grateful sigh to sit properly on the floor. “Now,” he said, looking at the rat in front of him with a sharp smile. “How many friends might you have on this ship?”

[Over the years, Crowley's made some furry friends. Having an army of rats comes in handy, sometimes]

Blame It on the Goose by almaasi (G)

Village shenanigans AU where neighbours Aziraphale and Crowley are given the runaround by a particularly rude goose.

Or:

When Anthony J. Crowley moves to a pleasant English village, he expects to begin a peaceful life, gardening and minding his own business. He pretends not to notice his new neighbour, some flamboyant toff named Azira-something, who seems to do nothing but eat, and illustrate birds. But there’s a horrible goose on the loose, and it and its friends are causing a disturbing amount of havoc. Stealing shoes, squashing flowers, unlocking gates, tangling hosepipes... and sending Crowley out of the house with no clothes on in the middle of the night to borrow some underpants from the aforementioned neighbour. The entire population of Lower Tadfield is in uproar over these innocent-looking monsters. Something must be done! If Aziraphale and Crowley have to team up to defeat a gaggle of psychotic geese, so be it. And if they happen to like each other more than expected, so be that, too. What good is a peaceful life without a dear friend, anyhow?

Dear Raphael by asideofourown (T)

The thing was, even after Crowley Fell, Heaven forgot to delete his login to their system.

The only half interesting thing he had ever found in Heaven’s archives was their newspaper, even though it was a dreadfully dull rag. But even then, Crowley was never inspired to truly interfere with the Celestial Observer’s contents until the late 1600s, when advice columns were invented on Earth.

As always, brilliant inspiration struck him like… like whatever inspiration strikes like. So Crowley resolved to meddle, just as a side project. Maybe if he got enough angels heated at each other, he could report it as a victory to Hell. Anyway, Dagon had always liked gossip, and the Celestial Observer’s new advice column was a ready source of that.

It was pure genius.

[Crowley, demon of Hell, becomes Heaven's foremost advice columnist]

“Little old lady on the floor below” by Mischievous_Misfit (G)

"I headcanon that he helps the little old lady downstairs with her groceries and the like but that if anyone asks about it he just lies. She knows he's not human and removes all the religious stuff from her house to make him more comfortable. It isn't until she says something about having to hide her garlic away that he realizes she thinks he's a vampire."

This is fic based off of @KillHitlerAgain headcanon on tumblr. I saw it and just knew I had to write it out. Hope you enjoy!

Feel free to add on with your own recs!

~Mod P

[mxpseudonym]

Everything There Is

Pairing: Tommy x OC

Summary: Florence and Tommy are in this together.

Request: “Hi! Can you do a Tommy x oc or reader as his wife in an arranged marriage where she is also a business woman and their marriage was a sort of contract and their relationship is mainly professional apart from sex n all, and Tommy comes home all worn out and she asks him to share with her and tommy is reluctant but she assures and reminds him that she is capable of protecting the family, Charlie and Tommy too. And then they just kiss and Tommy leans into her or something. Thank you!!” 

Length: 1650 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Underlying tones of forced/arranged marriage

A/N: Hello sweet, tender anon. This was a joy to write, especially Charlie 🥺. What a sweet angel.

--

Florence Heywood had been meeting with Tommy for two years about his investments. At first, Shelby Company Ltd simply needed advice from her property management company about renting and leasing. However, Florence and Tommy quickly found they were both as ambitious and calculating as the other. Unlike her other clients, Tommy didn't gaff at her suggestions of overseas ventures or buying big. It was a joyous union. Even Florence's mother didn't understand her dedication to the company. However, it was the senior Mrs. Heywood's father, who left the business to his granddaughter.  

"Don't you have enough, dear? You've come so far, not just as a woman, but as a business owner," her mother said after being told that grandchildren were not a priority. Florence wanted more. She was a modern woman who craved a legacy and a family name that honored her grandfather's work. 

"Enough of that," Tommy said, sliding a few signed documents into a folder before turning to her. "I told you to stop being so easy to read. Now, what's wrong?" 

Florence rolled her eyes but was thankful when Tommy went to pour them some whiskey. The upside to meeting at Tommy's home was that the rules were nonexistent. She didn't even have to leave her shoes on.

"My mother wants me to get married soon, probably have kids," she groaned. "She's set me up to go to the pictures with a banker on Friday."

"Isn't that what most women want?" Tommy walked over and handed her a glass of amber liquid. 

"You'd be surprised," Florence said, then sighed. "I'm just scared." 

"Florence Heywood is scared of something? Hard to believe." Tommy shook his head. 

"My grandfather left me his business when it was just one tiny office on Victoria Street. He put everything he had into it to make something of our name and pass something on. What if some prick weasels his way in and ruins it all? It’ll be his to gamble away. Or starts mistreating my employees. It's the stuff of nightmares." She shivered and looked to Tommy, who nodded in understanding. 

"We Shelby's want to do the same thing. Work hard enough to have what the toffs do- the opportunities and good fortune. My brothers and I fought side by side with those fuckers in the war. We get the shell shock, blow our bloody brains out, fuckin' live with demons, don't we? But they got everything, and we got nothing. Nothing changed." Tommy said. Florence was surprised to hear him talk with her like this but certainly didn't stop him. "But I have my family and my son. Anything less than success is unacceptable. You're right to be critical. You've got to know who's on your side." 

"Easier said than done," she mumbled. "How is Charlie, by the way?"

"He's with his tutor now. Won't stop talking about that train set you told him about last time," Tommy chuckled. Florence's grandfather's spare room that had the most extensive train set she'd seen. She was happy to tell Charlie all about it, but now he was intrigued.

"I'll happily take the blame."

"Hope you've got something planned to remedy this in the near future."

"I will talk to Father Christmas," Florence offered with a laugh. She sighed and thought of all of what Tommy has worked for and her as well. "You know what, Tommy? You and I are doing it. We're making a name for ourselves. Even when no one understands what we want, we have a vision." Tommy smirked, noticing that the strong drink was already making her eyes a bit glossy.

"And what is it that we want?" He asked. She raised her glass and motioned for him to do the same.

"Everything there is." 

In life, Tommy wasn’t often surprised. Sure he was blind sided now and again, but his cynical nature taught him to expect the worst. A few weeks after his optimistic toast with her, Florence arranged a meeting on the grounds of having a new venture for him that would challenge his ability to be two steps ahead. The last thing he expected was a marriage contract. Like any other venture, she laid out the facts, including Tommy needing to do something good for his image as a new politician. 

"This is really...something." Tommy looked over her detailed work in a slight daze. 

"I know, and please don't think I take this lightly. I'm just thinking about Shelby Company Ltd and Heywood Capital, establishing a bloody empire," Florence explained. Tommy could see the stars in her eyes as she thought about the possibilities. It was her promise that locked him in, however.  

"Tommy Shelby, I will protect you if you will protect me. That's as good as any marriage, isn't it?"  

Tommy thought about it for a few days. Florence Heywood, a woman he'd call his friend and one of the savviest people he knew, wanted to get married in the name of a legacy. He could hardly believe it when he picked up the phone and called her office.

"Everything there is, eh?"

It took several hours of negotiation, a prenuptial agreement, and the presence of a lawyer. Still, in the end, he said yes. 

For a while, the Shelby's referred to Florence in the form of the question, "isn't she that woman who manages Tommy's properties?" And Mrs. Heywood gave Florence an earful for getting engaged without ever bringing Tommy around for tea. But after a bumpy start, the rest went rather seamlessly.

One year later, Florence was sitting in her own lovely office in Arrow House with Charlie on her lap. She hadn't planned on reading to Charlie every night, but Charlie would sooner sneak out of bed in his pajamas and ambush her in her office than miss her reading to him. And he did. 

"Both parties should review the completed document carefully to ensure that all relevant deal points have been included," Florence read softly. Charlie was nearing a deep sleep, so Alice in Wonderland was sneakily replaced by the contracts she was in the middle of reviewing.  

When she heard the front door close, she stopped to check her watch. It was a quarter past 9 PM already. She followed the sound of Tommy's footsteps going up the stairs then quickly descending moments later. He was panicked, she could tell. If not from his steps, from the way he burst into her office. 

"Sh!" Florence placed a finger to her lips. Tommy let out a breath of relief as he ran a hand through his hair. Tommy came over and placed a hand on Charlie's head, then a kiss to his forehead. Florence was surprised she received one as well.

"He couldn't sleep?" Tommy asked quietly, eyes looking to the papers in her hand.

"He wouldn't allow it without a story. Tonight's is Once Upon a Time There Was A Walk-Up in Camden Town," she mused then pressed her own kiss to Charlie's head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"Is it fine, or is it nothing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's," Tommy sighed once again, thinking about his day, his week even. The Russians, the Irish,  hell, Arthur, and fucking Linda. Christ. 

"Tommy," Florence's voice cut through the smoke and mud, bringing him back into the present. She stood smoothly, expertly shifting Charlie to her hip. "I know you're stressed. I just want to remind you that we promised to protect each other, right? Whatever it is, we figure it out together."

Tommy reached up and cupped her cheek.

"You're right, we promised. I promised." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. It took everything for Florence to remind herself that there was no place for weak knees when holding her child. "Let's put him to bed, and I'll tell you it all, Mrs. Shelby."

--

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot