#tommi salami

[cannibalhellhound]

Teletubbies for @half-oz-eddie because it was too funny to ignore

Tommy is dipsy, Sal is Tinky Winky, Eddie is Lala and Buck is Po

I also have a small oil version because yes 👍🏼

[theweewooshow]

take me down, see how low i go

Nothing happens between Sal and Tommy when they’re both at the 118 because why would it?

Tommy knows Sal’s straight and even though he may have had something of a hero-worship crush on him in the beginning, they’re best friends now and it’s mostly passed. He knows where he stands with Sal, the one constant in his life that won't ever change.

So when Sal leaves the 118 in a terrible moment of his unchecked attitude, Tommy’s upset about it, of course. He’s used to seeing him almost every single day. When they aren't at work, they’re hanging out—him, Sal, and Sal’s girlfriend-then fiance-then wife, Gianna.

It’s weird being at work without him, but at least they still have their time off together.

Once Sal starts up at the 122, it’s harder to find time to spend together when their shifts don't really cooperate with them, but they make it work, texting memes and complaints and anything and everything to each other. It’s a near-constant stream of conscience that he gets from Sal now and it almost feels like he knows Sal better now because of it.

The friendship they’ve fostered over the years only seems to grow stronger through this adversity.

So they carry on and the 118 grows closer under Captain Nash, almost like a family, but Tommy starts thinking about his future and what he wants to do and who he wants to be.

Because there’s still something he’s never told anyone about himself.

Because there’s still a part of him that no one, not even Sal, knows.

Because he wants things to be different.

Because he doesn't want to hide anymore.

So he puts in for a transfer to Harbor and starts his training to become a firefighter pilot.

Sal gives him shit for it, of course, but he seems glad that Tommy’s doing this for himself, that Tommy is going after what he wants.

And when Tommy comes out to him in his backyard as they grill up some burgers, Gi in the house putting together a salad and some sides to go with them—maybe a year after he leaves the 118, halfway through his training, after he’s downloaded Grindr and been on a few dates and is finally ready to say it to somebody—Sal…Sal kisses him.

read the rest on ao3

[wallabywhump]

I took a little break from "you still have my heart (i'll get it back)" to try and refresh the creative juices this morning, (I was really flagging) and wrote a little bit of a Sal/Tommy fic inspired by my tags on this post. It's also maybe a Tommy Begins type fic?

Anyway! Here's an unedited snippet of the first time Tommy meets Gerrard.

Firehouse 118’s Captain is Vincent Gerrard. He’s tall, and mean, and he approves of Tommy the second he walks in. “You serve?” Gerrard asks, somehow looming over Tommy despite them both standing and Gerrard being a few inches shorter. “Yes, sir. Army, pilot, full ten years.” Gerrard gives him an appraising look. “Left, did you? Of your own accord?” Gerrard assess Tommy, from top to bottom, eyes lingering as he does, and for a moment Tommy wonders what he’s looking for. He wonders if Gerrard can see what Thomas Sr. could see all those years ago, that led to evenings spent at church with the pastor, and his parents divorcing, and military academy, and ten years in the army. Tommy licks along the top of his mouth, in lieu of swallowing, and straightens up. Feet spread, back straight, arms looped behind, not making eye contact and staring ahead.  “Yes, sir. Honourably.” Gerrard hums. “Didn’t want to go back? We’re at war now, son.” Tommy takes a deep breath because he knows these questions. He has prepared for these questions. Tommy has been asked by his buddies if he was going to reenlist, they always need good pilots and Tommy is one of the best. “No, sir, my mother is unwell.” Tommy knows this isn’t a lie, but it feels like one anyway, and his heart beats erratically. “She needs me stateside and with both feet on the ground more than the country needs me in a helicopter over the desert.” Gerrard grunts, his moustache wiggles as he sniffs, and for a moment Tommy expects the man to be displeased. Except, the man surprises him. “Good.” Gerrard nods. “Family is important, and your mother will appreciate it, even if the country doesn’t.”

[possible-streetwear]

[ilikethe-internet]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Sal Deluca/Tommy Kinard Characters: Tommy Kinard, Sal Deluca (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, WIP, hurt weewoo, Cuties, not quite relationship yet, just mainly solidarity, Domestic Violence, domestic abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Shitty Fathers, Fire Fam - Freeform, past sal/tommy, Tommy Kinard Needs A Hug, Sal has his moments Summary:

“Tommy—,” Bobby starts to question until Tommy’s face crumples. They all freeze where they stand. Sal’s the first to move. He closes the distance and pulls Tommy in with a warm hand at the back of his neck.

[personalrprants]

I wonder if the reason Amber had a breakdown about the "doxxing" is because, inevitably, GorlWorld was going to find out that Amber does, in fact, do feeder content for pay/praise?

[gaysupersoldiers]

As Sal and Tommy is Salami, it's only right that Buck Sal and Tommy is Baloney

[grimtruthes]

Simon “Ghost” Riley

These are my head cannons for this bitch. Fight me if you don’t like them, my 4’11 ass will beat you into submission :)

Proof read but I make mistakes and 9 times out of 10 I miss them

Have fun reading

Simon “Ghost” Riley

This dude snores, and loudly or not at all and it doesn’t even sound like he’s breathing, or alive at that matter.

This guy’s sleeping schedule is all over the place as well, like he cannot get a normal 8 hours rest without waking up at least once. It has gotten to the point where he just expects it and sets his alarm to wake up that early and train before going back to bed for a little later.

Simon Riley has a hidden sweet tooth, he will eat anything slightly sweet just for the hell of it. Cookies? Gone. Brownies? Inhaled. That slightly sweet treat you were saving? You bet your ass Simon got ahold of it.

Simon definitely has gotten his clothes at Spencer’s or Hot topic before no doubt. Those gloves? Got them from Hot topic. and he has a secret matching pair of boxers 🤫

Simon absolutely hates coffee with a burning passion. He is only a tea drinker through and through. He tried drinking Price’s coffee once and he was sick for days. He vowed to never try any coffee ever again.

This guy loves dogs. So so much, if he ever were to retire I see him becoming a dog owner of multiple different breeds. All of their names would be after loved ones. Like Johnny, Kyle, Tommy, etc.

Simon swears he hated cats but the moment one comes up to him he’s a huge softie, picking them up and placing the cat into his sweater and keeping it warm and cozy. Without a doubt he would own a cat eventually and probably give it some stupid common name like “Luna” or “Garfield” or something like that.

Simon hates salty food, he isn’t too sure why himself but he just using a huge fan of salty food. Saltines and soup and stuff normally with a little salt is fine, but he won’t go out of his way to go and eat like soy sauce or any fish either. Or any type of salty meats like Ham, salami or specific types of sausages. He hates ham more than the dirt in his shoes.

Simon wears strictly black clothes if given the chance. Black to light gray are his favorite to wear without a doubt. He loves the color black so much all his gifts from other people always have something tied to the color black.

Simon has the music taste of a teenager who just found out who LINKIN PARK is: Breaking Benjamin, Staind, Three Days Grace, Skillet etc. if he could he would strictly listen to 2000’s rock music strictly

Simon is pretty gentle with kids surprisingly, he loves them actually. Always wanted kids himself but he never really got the chance considering he became a soldier right out of his butchers job and never cared much about romance or caring for another person besides his teammates.

He loves giving gag gifts all the time. It’s dumb but to him it’s the most hilarious thing ever, random non matching Socks, random shinny stones or bullet casings he found, gifts tied to inside jokes. He loves it all and gives them to the people he likes. On the other hand if he’s made to give a gift to some he hates, he will get the most generic brand cookies that are years old off the shelves of your common store and give them to that person.

Simon fucking Riley, will eat anything under the sun (given it’s not coffee or too salty) your mom’s cooking? He loves it, your burnt water ramen? He’s had worse. This asshole will steal you’re food then point and laugh at you.

His comfort food is mashed potatoes and gravy. He doesn’t even like gravy?? But yet gravy and potatoes are his favorite. Literally no one knows why.

[heavensickness]

Actual best characters in Disco Elysium

ANNETTE

Lilienne

Ruby

Acele

Noid

Novelty Dicemaker

Idiot Doom Spiral

Tommy Le Homme

Call Me Manana

Cindy

Pale Driver

Gorący Kubek

Salami Guy

Roy

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Soft and Sweet

I know it's been a while, but I've had a few story ideas and I crave your work lol. I really want soft Remus h/c. Remus feels like he can't be soft though. And he knows about all the reassurances and the "be who you are" speeches that Logan got when he felt like he needed to be a robot and Patton got when he was hiding being sad and Janus got and- well everyone but him basically got. But he never needed that speech cause he is being himself, and he's happy with himself... however being himself has some disadvantages. He's as soft as a porcupine covered in nails with how his brain and magic works (he thinks even though he's definitely been soft with others and helped them) and he really wants a soft day and for once his intrusive thoughts are taking a lazy day or something so he wants his freaking soft day with everyone. He just really doesn't know how to go about it since it's so rare for him. 💜 (Doesn't have to be hurt/comfort. But I'm in love with the idea of Remus trying to set up a soft and quiet day and failing and trying to not ask for help cause "that's stupid") – insanitori

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none! just soft remus and soft janus

Pairings: dukeceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3280

    This is it! This is it! This is it, this is his soft day, he's so ready for it.

He's made sure he doesn't have to go into the Imagination to work, he doesn't have to go and bother the others and they won't bother him, and he's even pilfered a copy of Roman's fairy lights to hang up on the edges of the room.

Remus claps his hands and wriggles, unable to keep the manic grin off his face. It's been so long since he had a day where he wasn't busy—and really, can you blame him? Have you seen all the shit running through good old Tommy Salami's head recently?—and now that it's here, he can have his soft day the way that everyone else has. You know, where you don't have to do anything in particular, except the things you really want to, and you can make sure that the lighting is just perfect and your drink is just right and the whole world is a little floaty and sweet and just the way you want it.

He's heard everyone extoll the virtues of a soft day for ages now—he lives with Janny, for crying out loud, he knows better than anyone the benefits of having a soft day, okay, and if you'd been forced to sit through about a million TED talks on the matter, you would too—and finally, finally, he gets to know what it's like himself. So last night, when he'd been getting ready for sleep, he put on his coziest pajamas and snuggled down in his softest blankets and took way too long to get to sleep because he was so excited.

Which brings him to now.

About three hours before his soft day is technically supposed to begin, Remus is awake. Now, if he were awake for just too-excited reasons, this might not be as big of a problem, but he's not awake for no reason.

His back hurts.

Frowning, Remus twists under the covers, trying to figure out which muscle has decided to be a thorny dildo and wake him up. No, it's not that one…no, that one's fine…it's only his right side that hurts when he's trying to figure it out but it's hurting in a place where there isn't really a muscle to be causing that type of pain. Maybe it's a bit further up? His fingers press along his spine, trying to locate the tell-tale knot where he can prod halfheartedly at it until he can go back to sleep.

But everything he tries just hurts, and not in the productive way a massage is supposed to.

He flips over, making the mattress jostle, and tries to twist and stretch it out. It hurts like a stretch is supposed to, but it doesn't feel like he's actually stretching it out, just that it's hurting.

This isn't supposed to happen today. This is supposed to be his soft day. Not his back-aches-and-who-the-fuck-knows-why day.

He looks at the clock. It's still about two hours before he's supposed to be up. Muttering something unsavory about muscles and how much he'd like to permanently redesign them, he closes his eyes and tries to ignore it long enough to go back to sleep.

The pain makes it difficult, forcing him to shift about this way and that to try and find a place that won't strain the muscle and make it worse, but also that isn't causing the problem in the first place. Is it the mattress? But he's slept on this mattress for ages without a problem, is it how he's sleeping? Probably, but he always sleeps like a roly-poly, why would it just now be causing him problems? Was it something that had built up over time and he was just now noticing it? But that barely made sense either, unlike the other Sides that rarely paid attention to their bodies until they were in absolute-danger-will-die-and-fall-apart mode, he knew that he needed to take care of his meat sack.

Which is why he was supposed to be having a soft day.

No. Nope. Not happening. He has been looking forward to this soft day for ages. He was not going to let some stupid back pain ruin it.

He doesn't quite manage to get back to sleep, but he does manage to slip into that little half-sleep daze where everything is all nice and floaty until it's time to get up. He sits up, wincing at the pull in his back but smiling when he sees the gentle light coming in from the window.

Perfect.

He gets up, reaching for the remote to turn on the fairy lights. He makes them a soft green color, to match the ambiance of his room, and he's just about to put the remote down and go about his soft day when he notices that one of the lights is flickering when it isn't supposed to be. Frowning, he crosses the room and reaches for it, pulling it down and trying to discern what the problem is.

Maybe the bulb is faulty?

He looks at the back, trying to find how it's connected, and locating a few screws that hold the back of the bulb to a tiny panel connected to the main wire. He should have a screwdriver around here somewhere…maybe it's over on his desk.

He goes to root around, pushing aside his other projects, pliers, and scraps, but he doesn't see his screwdriver. Alright, maybe it's in his toolbox.

After upending the entire thing when he can't seem to find it and sorting through the piles and piles of screws and bolts and nails, he has to conclude that no, there is no screwdriver in here. Or rather, there is, but it's not the right one. Those screws are tiny, they're not gonna work with the normal-sized one.

He bites his lip and goes back to the flickering light, all but glaring at the screws. Maybe if he just uses something sharp, like the corner of something small, he'll be able to get it open. Yeah, that should work.

He takes the point of another tool and start to turn it in the screw. There, he can feel the traction of it, this is working, he's almost there—

Only to realize he's just stripping the head of the screw and now there's no hope of getting it out even with the right screwdriver.

Fine. Fine. It's fine. This light will just be flickery. He shoves it inside one of the chew toys he's making for Uma and takes a deep breath.

Soft day. Soft day.

What about a shower? Janny's always saying that he takes a shower and it makes him feel better, let's try that.

He goes into the bathroom, wincing at the bright lights, and just turns on the one near the door. There. That way, there's enough shadow in the shower itself to make it feel all warm and cozy, but he won't be flopping about in the dark. He takes off his pajamas and turns the shower on, waiting for the room to get nice and steamy before getting in.

At first, it's great. The pressure of the warm water does wonders for the budding headache, reminding him of why it's one of his favorite grounding techniques when the voices get too loud. It's not too loud, it's not too quiet, he can watch the light make pretty patterns in the water as it runs down his arms, his hands, his fingers, and the little ornament with bath salts that Logan gave him to help him focus smells so good.

But then his back starts to hurt again.

Maybe it'll be easier to stretch standing up? He raises his arms above his head, accidentally knocking into the ceiling, and tries leaning to this side first, then this side, then back, trying to isolate the problem. Then he leans over, trying to touch his toes, only to realize that stretch is more for his legs and he'd rip them apart before he even got close to stretching the right part of his back. Maybe backwards—nope, nope, not backwards, not in the shower, he's not trying to crack his skull open today, that's Thursday.

He lets out a sigh and his forehead clunks against the tile wall.

Maybe he should just focus on getting his back not to hurt first. Then he can go about his soft day without worrying about it. Maybe he can take another shower later.

He gets out, toweling off, and shucks the pajamas back over his head. Going out to his room, he puts his hands on his hips and scrunches his face up.

"Okay, you little shit, what the fuck do you want?"

Twisting sort of helps, but it just feels like he's making it worse. Doing a bridge doesn't help because it's too low down. Cat-cow and child's pose aren't working the right parts, and doing a lying-down twist with his knees on one side then the other works, technically, but it just feels like he's succeeding in making it hurt and not actually doing anything productive.

Maybe it's just sore? He has been sitting down a lot lately, maybe moving around a bit will get the muscle warmed up and help it stop doing whatever the fuck it's doing. So he gets up and starts trying to figure out how to do that.

Turns out that specifically trying to work that section of his back requires exercising a lot more of his body by default and he is not a fan of exercising. Plus, these pajamas are great when he's lying in bed or lazing around not doing anything, but as he starts to work up a sweat, they start to pinch and rub and pull and really just get disgusting, so he has to take them off and put on these ill-fitting scratchy things that are the only other ones clean right now.

As he pulls it over his head, the tag gets stuck in his hair and suddenly he just wants to rip the whole thing in half. This was supposed to be his soft day, goddamnit, and everything is just fucking awful. He tried so hard to just get this day where he was free and he could be soft and it was supposed to work and now his good pajamas are sweaty and his lights are flickery and his back hurts and everything sucks.

He lowers his arms. His back hurts. He stands in the middle of his room, panting. He looks around.

Blood and viscera cover the walls. Half-completed projects cover every surface. There's a mangled piece of metal pinning an old piece of pizza to the desk.

What was he thinking?

He can't be soft. That's not his job. His job is to be gross and ridiculous and annoying.

No wonder this wasn't working.

As the realization washes over him, he suddenly feels the absence of those three hours of sleep thanks to his stupid back. He trudges back over to his bed and flops down on it, ignoring the pain. He stares out the window.

…there's a project he needs to finish when he wakes up. He'll just do that today instead.

***

You deserve a soft awakening, my dear.

***

Rain patters gently against the window just beyond the curtains. The sun has not hidden its face completely, the fabric coloring amber as a few stray sunbeams reach their fingers through to brush his cheeks. He stirs in the bed, covers rustling and shifting around him as his eyes slowly open.

The window was cracked, the warm smell of cool rain drifting through, curling around the edges of still-damp hair. His limbs, still sleep heavy, move toward it. A soft hum escapes his throat.

He lies there like an old oak tree, speckled with moss and lichens as the rain falls around him. Roots seem to grow from his trunk and hold him fast to the bed, refusing to let him so much as roll over.

His eyes flutter once more.

The rain continues to fall, slight breezes wafting through the window to venture tentatively around the room. They curl over his desk, his nightstand, his lamp. His phone sits plugged in, its alarms asleep, screen blank. A thin ray of light warms its edge. The breeze toys idly with a strand of his hair.

The rain manages to slip through the grey haze permeating his brain, but no more, for it takes all the limited focus he has to feel the covers, hear the rain, smell the breeze. And it is so warm, so sweet, so gentle there, nestled beneath the covers, that he feels no urging to move.

A soft rumble of thunder, far away in the distance.

Storms can be timeless, truly, and so he drifts in that semi-lucid state until a quiet creak comes from the door.

"Sweetie, are you awake?"

Muffled footsteps make their way across the door and the bed dips with another's weight, a familiar face swimming into view.

"There you are," Janus murmurs, reaching out to steady himself as he leans closer, "hello, sweetie."

He hums, blinking slowly.

"Are you alright? I've never known you to linger in bed for so long." His concern washes gently over Remus's trunk. "Are you sick?"

He shakes his head.

"No? Not sick?" He shifts his arm to prop himself up more securely. "Just tired?"

"Tried to have a soft day. Didn't work."

"Oh, sweetie," he hears distantly, before something warm brushes his forehead, "it's alright. You can still have your soft day. Can I help?"

"Help?"

"Yes, sweetie, will you let me take care of you? That's soft, right?"

"But it's stupid."

"I do hope you're not saying that soft days are stupid," Janus murmurs, voice gentle enough to take the sting out of the slight chastisement, "are you?"

"Me needing help with them is stupid."

"Oh, sweetie, no. It's alright." Even Janus sounds upset at that, reaching down to ruffle his hair. "It's alright to get help for something like that, you're letting someone take care of you, that's soft, that's okay. Please, sweetie, let me help? Let me take care of you?"

Remus stirs a bit, blinking up at him. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why're you so excited? What're you getting out of it?"

Janus's confusion gentles as he huffs, tapping Remus lightly on the cheek. "Do you know how often I get to spoil you as opposed to everyone else? Because it's not that often, sweetie, and you know how I get about things I want."

A light pink flush rises to Remus's cheeks.

"Let me spoil you, sweetie," Janus murmurs, running his fingers over his face, "let me be soft with you. I want to."

"Okay."

Janus smiles and reaches down to guide the covers away from his neck, making it easier to breathe. His touch lingers as he tucks it away, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair. Remus hums, pleased, and he strokes a thumb along the curve of his cheek.

"Do you want to tell me what didn't work before?"

"My back." Remus shuffles. "Hurts."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie, would a massage help?"

"We can try."

"Roll over for me, then, dear, let's see what we can do."

He mumbles and tries to roll only for the covers to ruck up awkwardly under him and trap him there. A disgruntled noise makes Janus laugh as he reaches to help, still laughing when Remus's expression turns outraged.

"Oh, the big eyes," he murmurs when he blinks up at him, "is that good?"

He lets out a startled huff when Remus pouts up at him instead.

"Come now, what's all that for?"

"'S hard."

"It's hard? What, moving?"

"Mhm."

"You poor thing," he says softly, only half teasing as he helps roll him onto his back, "comfortable?"

"Yeah."

"Lovely. Hold on a moment, let me just…there. Alright, can I lift up your shirt?" When Remus nods, he carefully takes the hem of his pajama shirt and raises it up, only to let out a noise of dismay. "Oh, sweetie, you're all bruised back here…I'm not sure a massage will be helpful, but I'll rub some bruise cream onto it, how does that sound?"

"Okay."

Thunder rumbles again as he works, closer.

"Close your eyes if you like, sweetie. I'll stay with you."

His touch is warm, and he must have taken his gloves off, calluses dragging slightly along the curves and sweeps as he traces. Parts of Remus's skin tingle slightly from the contract between the cool breeze and his gentle touch. After a few moments, he goes from rubbing the cream into particular places to running long passes up and down the planes of his back, up and down, up and down.

It overwhelms him with soft persistence, following the pitter-patter of the rain and the humming of the warmth just beyond the curtains. Time drifts away once more, carried by the soft tender brush of the breeze over the covers.

After a while, he realizes Janus is calling him.

"Sweetie," he says, "sweetie, can you open your eyes for me?"

Remus does with some reluctance.

"There you are, yes, hello. I'm all done, now, and the cream has soaked in as much as it's going to. Would you like a cuddle?"

He mumbles softly and Janus leans down.

"Was that a yes, dear?"

"Mhm."

"Alright, then, one moment."

Another roll of thunder as he carefully slips under the covers too, letting out a small noise at how warm it is.

"Come here, then, sweetie," he murmurs, carefully coaxing Remus into his arms as the breeze gusts about, "there…all better."

He smells of spilled tea and fresh water. Remus tucks his nose into the crook of Janus's neck as more hands come to trace little invisible lines up his back, across his shoulders, down his sides. He snuffles at the slight ticklish touch and Janus's chuckle rumbles against his chest.

"You talk a big game," he whispers, "about not being all sweet and cuddly and precious…but I know better. You can be all soft too, Remus, you can have soft days too."

And as the rain continues to fall, the thunder rumbling gently out of the window, it becomes the easiest thing in the world to drift away there, in Janus's arms.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[newlyy]

are you following the recent ALR drama? usually she is boring but right now there's a lot going on

yesssssss i think even ppl who dipped (like me) are wading back in with the tommy salami fiasco

[rdng1230]

Hellow, I’m in the salami group and I saw your headcannon abt sal making Tommy feral w small acts of dominance and I went feral lolll it was everything, I was wondering if you’d mind if I wrote a lil diddy abt it including the stuff you wrote down?? Lmk thanks ! 💖

OF COURSE!!!! Tag me when you’re done I wanna read it ❤️❤️❤️

[possible-streetwear]

Greater Than One

[hometownrockstar]

friends of mine including alibi thought I named myself tommy after tommy coolatta from hlrvai when in reality I used to only go by thomas but couple people called me tommy n then i made my discord name tommy salami in reference to the hit saw tweet and ppl started calling me tommy much more then. but now Im thinking of taking tommy's last name like as retribution or out of love or something idk

[creativecuquilu]

Peter and the Abused Bunny

A really weird yet depressing story I prompted up on Dalle.

Cringe! No, no enjoy because this story is so screwed up, I might even get banned from Tumblr...

One day, Peter was taking a stroll through the forest. Said forest looked really run down, and he really didn’t hope it has haunted. But it was much worse than that.

Deep in the woods, he found a small white plush bunny. The toy was really dirty, broken and it smelled really foul. 

He disguntingly picked up the stuffed animal and took it to the police station where he worked. That bunny could belong to a child who got lost, thought Peter as he trailed down Tower Bridge.

Once in the station, Peter looked very analytically at the rabbit. He analyzed each stain, each stitch, the scratches on its eyes and the patches of fur that came out.

- Yuck! - winced Peter as he smelled the filling sticking out of its stomach - Salami? How in the world does that plush toy smell like salami? Better be someone really sick who thought it was a real rabbit...Pretty sure Jon’ll have a better explanation for it.

Difficultily he gave the toy to his friend Jon, who also looked disgusted by its look and smell. He decided it was better to have a small talk with it. To his surprise, the rabbit began to project its life into Jon’s mind.

The bunny belonged to an old man named William. A nurse bought it to him so it could make him company, sadly one day, he took it for a picnic and forgot about it, for the field trip car was really eagerly waiting for him.

One week later, another man, Paul, found the plush toy lone in the tablecloth, dirty with leaves, rain and mud.

- Poor little thing... - he sobbed - Your owner must’ve forgot about you. I’ll take you home until I find him or her.

And he picked up the bunny. He was roomates with Colin, really thought, he wasn’t any fond of animals.

One night, Colin told Paul he was giving the toy to a child in need. But what he really meant, he was going to throw it into the street and hit it to pieces with his cricket bat until he was tired or the rabbit was torn apart. He ended up ripping one of its arms and removing one eye as well. After the beat up, Colin left behind the animal.

A bit later, one drunkard named Tom found the bunny in the alleyway.

- Oi there! - he mumbled as he staggered towards it. - Who left that lil’ thing in the shtreet? They shoul’ be ashamed of wat have they done to him!

Grasping the rabbit by the throat, he laid it on the floor and said -

Don’t worry, lil’ buddy...Uncle Tommy’s gonna fixct you up real quick!

He grabbed knifes, drugs, and needles. What he did not understand is that the needle was, in fact, a heroin one. He pricked the rabbit in the arm and pushed the piston into the filling. He was also so drunk, he did not think of using the scapel to open up its innards. Looking up at that filling sticking out of its belly, Tom’s stomach began to gurgle and his mouth started to flood.

Ripping out some of the stuffing, Tom stuck it into two slices of bread, and added in salami, letucce and ketchup for flavor. Then he gave it a hearty bite...

It had a weird texture, but it was so delicious...

Jon began to convulse. That story was so horrible his mind could not take it. Peter ran to him, picked up the bunny again and took it back to examination.

The rabbit spoke the story again to him. This time Peter was not imagining it; he listened clearly to it and when it was all over, he felt his heart crack. He knew he was about to cry.

He left the room, large tears slowly trailing down his firm, caucasian cheeks. Patrick was the janitor, and when he found the rabbit, he knew the backstory was up to no good. Picking up the tattered, somewhat hollow raggedy animal, he sobbed as he comforted it and decided to take it hime.

The day was over. Peter was still heartbroken about the case. So heartbroken, he even decided to crunch into celery salad for dinner!

And well, that’s it. More prompts coming this week, hopefully I won’t get banned for posting this...I am so sorry.

[reindeer-spotting]

i had a really weird dream. i like sang at an mcr thing . and then there was this foreign band and there was a bombing at their show and a stabbing or something and someone got framed for the bombing. and then there was gabe (an irl of mine) who was at this icecream factory store thing idk, i was walking thru it and into the atrium and saw him, basically half of him went home and came back but the other half was in a perpetual motion machine to make salami. so me and one of the girls from the band called kara had to go and watch over him. she wasnt too happy to be there but it was wtv, we talked and ate some salami (not like from him obviously, like other salami.) i had this pet fish taped to my leg; or like a plastic pouch of water taped to my leg with a goldfish in it, but it was sorta on the side of my leg where i couldnt rlly see it, and im like 'woah this fish is like my reason for living' and shes like. she doesnt say anything. and then a little while later i notice it's dead so im like 'ok im gonna go to the bathroom and drain it' and im moving all my stuff away from the door and shes like 'at least put your shoes on?' and im like 'nahhh dw about it' and i leave the perpetual motion machine room and i go to the bathroom thats closest. it's really small and the sink is like on a little pedestal in the wall, kinda? and theres some kind of dudebro slogan taped to the mirror that i dont remember. so im like 'i kinda need to piss also' so i sit on the toilet to piss AND THEN IT DROPS THROUGH THE FUCKING FLOOR and im like strapped into this chair and theres like a rolling tray of salsa and i'm being told to write out all of my secrets in the salsa, and i can't scream for some reason? anyway i start thrashing around and hitting the tray on things and keep on saying that i'm 15. there was also something about spotify idk? and then this kid from my primary school called leo opens the door and now i'm like lying in a bed and he's like '..?' and im li ke'does that always happen?' and he goes into another room and doesnt answer me. i step into the hallway and there's a bathroom, and another small bedroom besides the one i was in. my mum was in the bathroom and kara was in the other bedroom. i run to kara and we hug and are like so relieved to see eachother. and then i'm lying in bed with someone, maybe kara? idk. and im looking at the pouch on my leg and there's the dead goldfish and also a new, alive goldfish and im like 'i still need to drain this' and for some reason she's reluctant for me to, so i just take it off my leg. on the other side it says something about an IV bag and how it might be off-putting and to not have tobacco near it?? idk. and then that dream pretty much ended and i had this other dream which i had had before (except i actually haven't) and jackfilms is opening the door to this cabin and i think he's saying something, and then he opens another door and a few more doors. and then we actually get inside and it's very very wooden but kinda modern, theres a giiant fucking couch with a few guys on it, i forget who, and then i/the camera goes and sits on one end where tommy from smosh and two other dudes are, tommy and one of the dudes are on the couch and the other dude's on the floor. the dude on the floor says they're not allowed to speak and can only say 'yeah' in this kinda slurred/baby voice. tommy tries it out and laughs. and floor guys says 'no you gotta say sir at the begining'. so tommy does and it sounds kinda funny, the other guy also says it and laughs. and then the dream ended