stop thinking with your dick and start thinking with your pussy. ok now stop thinking with your pussy and start thinking with your dick again. meditate on the differences between them. call me back when you get it.
Hello, angels! Quick question for my Peaky Blinders fandom pals: does anyone remember when BBC (I think) released those two monologue recordings, one of Tommy and one of Alfie? Does anyone know where I can find those?
like, it's true in that you are extremely unlikely to attain a perfectly ethical lifestyle in our current circumstances
but the way people have applied it seems to finish the sentence by saying "...and therefore there's no reason to even attempt to behave ethically here"
recommending black sails to heated rivalry fans because I don’t give a fuck anymore. ‘what do they even have in common ?’ nothing. nothing at all. i am trying to hurt you.
Keep thinking about this Austin Walker post that now lives in my brain. It's a reply to people saying genAI can help creators 'develop concepts' and waste less time on research (x)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Fuck off and give me the ball . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
maturity in fandom space is understanding that people will have their own characterization and interpretation of the fictional characters you love, sometimes you will see their opinions on your favorite fictional characters that you don’t agree with or outright believe is wrong, but instead of getting into an argument with them or insulting them, you choose to scroll past things you don’t like and mind your own business. it’s all play pretend anyway. I promise you it won’t affect your life in any way, shape or form if a random stranger doesn’t sympathize with a misunderstood villain you love (and I say this as a villain lover who loves and sympathizes with so many misunderstood villains)
hii!! i’ve been trying to find a fanfiction from the sherlock BBC fandom called “Power Play” it was written by melanoms and all I could find are your reblogs about it. do you know if there’s any place i could find it? i’ve been dying for a reread!!! (also im so sorry if this is a dumb question im really bad at navigating tumblr lol) thank you so much :]
Hello, hello! I believe they took it down on all sites, unfortunately, and didn't orphan it on AO3. I also ran into trouble when I wanted to reread it. I don't think the author is on tumblr anymore, either. 😭
Summary: "We are ever striving after what is forbidden, and coveting what is denied us." ~ Ovid
Length: 3156
Warnings: Unrequited infatuation and pining.
A/N: I'm actually posting when I said I would. Everybody clap!
The door of the conference room burst open, and Rena strutted inside. Starting right away, she accused him.
"Mr. Shelby, I heard you think I'm stupid."
The clap of paper slamming down on oak wood echoed around the room. Even from his spot at the opposite end of the table, Tommy recognized the contract he'd dropped off earlier that week lying on the table. Except, as he recalled, he'd given it to Irene's cousin, Peter, who ran their family's stationery business, not her. Tommy pulled out a cigarette slowly.
"Good morning to you, Irene. I thought I'd be talking to our contact," he spoke slowly, never one to rush when he had the upper hand. Irene's stern look was knowing and shot right through him like usual.
"You were hoping that Peter wouldn't have a brain between his eyes. If he didn't, he'd think himself bigger and badder than he is. But he does, so he knows his limitations. I look after things like this."
Tommy huffed. He had, in fact, taken one look at Peter and thought his distant in-law was, at the very least, easy enough to goad into a favorable contract for the Shelbys. Or rather, he'd hoped they'd practically give their goods away for free so Tommy could move the money towards the London expansion. He hadn't accounted for Peter not having the ego of a man who was tired of deferring to a woman day in and day out when it came to their family's business. Tommy took a drag of his cigarette.
"I've offended you."
"I feel no way about it. Now, do you want to try again?" She asked. There was no leeway to account for their familiar relationship, which let him know the offer to revise was his only pleasantry. Anyone else and she'd have burned the contract, not caring if the business never saw a ream of paper or pot of ink again.
"Would you like to sit?" Tommy drew attention to her even-footed stance at the end of the table with her hands in her coat pockets.
"No, I've got something after this. There's another second chance I'm giving out today. Maybe I'm feeling gracious."
In the end, Tommy was surprised he wasn't panting after such a fierce negotiation. Irene was difficult the way wading against a current or running a marathon was. Maybe that's why he could appreciate her like this. The sun's rays peeked in through the window and highlighted her face when she bent down to sign the new contract. Pieces of blonde hair fell in her face, and he confirmed it again. She really was a lovely woman. Irene stood up straight, nearly startling him, then reached out a hand. Her grip was firm as they shook hands.
"I'm glad we worked this out right away," she said as she patted her coat for cigarettes. She pulled one out, and Tommy wordlessly moved to light it. She grunted in gratitude, and Tommy huffed. She had no mind to worry about being elegant, he learned. He could take anything in the world. Billy Kimber. Grace. London. Couldn’t he take her as well?
Irene’s eyes flicked up at the sound of his amusement. Their eyes locked, and Tommy heard a voice in the back of his head loud and clear. Don't.
Because he knew the coat wouldn't have a lighter in it. At a glance, it was a fine wool thing that kept her warm. But the sleeves were too long and the buttons were on the wrong side, so it wouldn't have a lighter. It belonged to her husband after all, and Arthur never had a lighter on him, only soggy matches.
-
Irene Bradley wasn't a name Tommy was familiar with. Tried as he might, he couldn't think of her likeness before she walked through the door of their home on Watery Lane the night of her and Arthur's engagement dinner. Scudboat may have mentioned a woman. Once. Ages ago, not long after they came back from France. He'd twirled the edges of his mustache as he recalled the eldest Shelby pacing around Small Heath, in the rain. Suddenly, Arthur had turned his collar up and took off. Scudboat followed him, thinking he was returning to the Garrison. But Arthur clapped his shoulder and said, "Gotta go see her." At the time, Tommy thought he meant a whore or some poetic name for hitting the bottle when Scudboat grumbled about it.
That was the only time Tommy had even heard a reference to her before the engagement announcement. Arthur had stood at the end of the family meeting and said it outright.
"Alright then. I'm getting married." There was first a few laughs when the whole thought it was a joke. But Arthur poured a glass of whiskey and raised it. "Cheers."
Tommy didn't know the last time Arthur had that look in his eyes. His brother could be tough, but he was soft around the family. He didn't like seeing Ada cry or Tommy's efforts go to waste. With well-formed pushback, a "no" could become a grumpy "yes" in moments. But Aunt Pol would recount the look he'd get in his eye when he meant it.
It was a sort of righteous glare with the backing of the devil that could shut the whole house up because it let you know the boy had made up his mind for all of them. There could be hollering and a gnashing of teeth, but that look said he wasn't going to budge, and you could lose your life trying. Arthur's glass was raised to a room of Blinders stunned to silence, but with that one look, the congratulations poured in. Tommy leaned against his office door, watching the crowd warm up to the idea as the liquor poured. He looked to see that Polly was already searching for him, though it would be a fruitless effort. He was just as blindsided as the rest of them.
"Who is it?" Polly asked when she found him.
"No idea and no guesses," Tommy admitted. Polly sighed but quickly shrugged.
"He's got that look, you know the one your mother used to get, so there's no stopping him."
When the mystery woman came in for the engagement dinner with the family, he was certain. He'd never seen her before. He'd remember if he had. Her looks were charming- her blonde hair lightened by the sun was braided behind her, and her warm eyes were steady and clear. She didn't smile much, but she wasn't shy or afraid of them in the slightest. She was nearly a head shorter than Arthur, who led her in by the small of her back, but walked with her shoulders back, not shrinking into him.
"Irene?!" Ada gasped before Arthur could introduce her to the family. Tommy raised an eyebrow as his sister went over to her in a hurry. Polly turned the corner from the kitchen with a pan of roasted chicken in her hands and paused at the scene before her.
"It's you," Polly said. Tommy could feel relief in his aunt's exhalation. She pressed her hands together for a prayer of gratitude when the pot was placed neatly in the middle of the table.
"Everyone," Arthur boomed just before the woman could speak, getting the room's attention, "this is my soon-to-be wife, Irene Bradley. Treat her nice, would ya?"
As the family found their seats, Ada whispered to Tommy that Irene's family owned the Bradley Stationery Company and used to send food and office supplies to Watery Lane when the boys were away fighting and things got rough.
"It's her family's, but she runs the place. Pol did a deal with her back then. That's why our paper and ink were cheaper than everyone else's. Or so I've heard," Ada whispered while they watched the somewhat awkward couple. "But I've never seen Arthur take an interest in her before."
Tommy moved towards the head of the table, where Arthur was showing Irene where to sit.
"I finally get to meet my future sister in law, eh? Feel free to sit anywhere, Sister. Arthur's at the head of the table tonight," Tommy told her. Irene nodded at the offer.
"Thank you. It's Thomas, isn't it?" She asked, already extending a hand to shake. Tommy raised an eyebrow and grasped it.
"Just call my brother Tommy," Arthur said, clasping a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "He's the real sharp one of us." Irene looked between them, and a soft smirk appeared on her face.
"It's nice to meet you."
-
"If family can't talk, then why are we having a meeting?"
Irene's gaze turned to him. The chill that sliced through Tommy's chest also stilled the room. Arthur told them that Irene wouldn't want to come to family meetings, but Tommy insisted with the encouragement of the rest of the Shelbys. The rest of them wanted to emphasize that she was family now, but Tommy wanted to keep an eye on her. On them.
It was the first time in years he wondered if Arthur knew something he didn't, if he'd figured out some secret to life.
So, Tommy watched them.
Irene, Rena as Arthur called her, was sarcastic but straightforward, never shy. Except for the occasional gossiping woman, people seemed to like her. Firm but fair, Tommy concluded. But what intrigued him the most was how she seemed to create peace wherever she went. He'd never seen someone from a place like Birmingham have so many quiet, peaceful moments with a clear mind and honest demeanor.
But there was an indifference. Irene and Arthur seemed almost like strangers. When the couple sat together, they sat across from each other like it was a business meeting. Tommy had never seen them hold hands or kiss, and when they walked through the streets, Arthur was a step behind like he couldn't be bothered to match her pace.
Yet they worked well enough together. Irene brought Arthur lunch at the shop a few times. Arthur could answer everything asked about her, like why she hadn't wanted to join the family meetings, which was a feat on its own. He couldn't remember Finn's teacher's name or the combination to the safe. Yet here she was with the temperament that Arthur anticipated from her. Tommy sighed and placed a cigarette in his mouth.
"Alright, kin. Tell us what you want to say," he encouraged, gesturing to the room.
"I don't like being told what to do, and I don't like telling people I don't work with what to do. But I know what I know, so I'll tell you. Conducting legal betting isn't as difficult as you think. Kimber has a monopoly, but everyone hates him. He's a pain to work with, but he holds grudges and he'll kill you dead so they don't go against him. Get him out of the way and make sure you do good business. Then it'll work out," she said.
Polly hummed, nodding as she thought it through. Meanwhile, Tommy stood impressed. The Blinders weren't entirely on board with going against Kimber, but he was getting impatient. He was planning to go behind their backs. The ends would justify the means. But his family warmed up in an instant, chattering about possibilities. They could actually get things done.
Irene looked up at him with a knowing stare and generously let her lips, rosy and full, split into a smile. Her cheeks were much more plush when she did that, hinting that they may give in to slight dimples if she gave it her all. He didn't realize it warmed him until the feeling left the moment her eyes turned to Arthur, who sat across from her and praised her for saying "good words."
Tommy didn't get it.
Did she like his brother because Arthur knew how to, more often than not, go home at night to their apartment above the stationery store? Was it because he never said a bad word about her, even when he was vomiting his drinks in the wee hours of the morning in the alley behind the Garrison? It couldn't be for money. She had more than enough. She was a no-nonsense business person and definitely didn't need anything from them, much less that. Anyhow, she was as admirable as she was captivating. It didn't make sense for Arthur to marry her. It didn't make sense for Arthur to be able to marry her.
He didn't realize his curiosity had turned into more until John came to have a cigarette with him outside the Garrison. His younger brother wasn't one to be too serious. After his wife Martha passed and he returned from war to his children, he was focused on holding his own life together to help with the family business or tell others to do so. So Tommy figured he'd been too obvious. It was too clear that he didn't even know what he was watching for anymore.
"We just got back, and everything's different. Doesn't feel real," John started. His breath showed in the crisp air as he pulled out a cigarette, his movements smooth like second nature. "We've all got to find something to take hold of, right?"
"Right," Tommy responded gruffly.
"Can't all grab onto the same thing, can we?" He asked. Only the sound of their exhalations and the background noise of working men putting their bodies on the line in a different way, this time to put food on the table. Tommy didn't have to ask what he meant. Too many images of lingering glances turned into stares played in his mind. "Brother, you know Arthur. You look at her with a hungry eye, but Arthur looks at her like… his mine's made up. That's his woman."
"I know she is."
"I know you do," John agreed swiftly. "Everything's real even if it don't feel like it. Real things, real consequences. That's what Aunt Pol says." John laughed and flicked the dwindling cigarette into the mud before shaking out his arms, getting rid of the stilted conversation. "New girl at the Garrison's nice to look at. They say she can sing too," was all he said in the end before leaving. Tommy heard himself chuckling before he realized he was doing it.
"The day John Boy's gotta give you an earful is the day you've lost it, man," he said to himself. "Leave her be."
-
Tommy watched her take the first drag of her cigarette in Arthur's gray coat. She wore that coat a few months after he'd committed to leave her be. She was wearing that coat when he found that he couldn't.
He went to check the safe at the betting house. It was late, but he wanted to be sure that the ledgers were done properly. He walked into the empty bullpen and was nearly startled by a bright, full-bellied laugh. He'd never heard it and found his hand reaching for his gun. With light steps, he turned the corner, only to see Rena sitting in Arthur's office. The door was open, neither having anything to hide. She was curled up in a chair with Arthur's coat around her. Tommy realized it was his first time seeing her without perfect posture.
Arthur leaned on his desk in front of her, fiddling with a glass Tommy only assumed held whiskey not too long ago. His brother had been heavy-handed with it since he'd come back. Couldn't go a day without it anymore.
Irene didn't mind, though. Whatever story Arthur was telling her with slurred words that day made her head tilt back and her eyes squeeze closed. Arthur stumbled over his words from laughing at her reaction. Tommy watched his brother lean forward and whisper something to his wife. She must have given him a cheeky reply, because he pinched her cheek and then kissed her.
To see a woman like her be kissed. To see her soften and place a hand on a man's cheek, even for a moment, was stirring. Tommy left Watery Lane, walking fast to stay ahead of thoughts of Irene's laughter and attempts to fill in the gaps of what her skin felt like. And worse, the question of what would have happened if they'd met first.
“I’m meaner than her,” Irene said, pulling him from his thoughts. He blinked at the back of her head.
“Who?”
“The woman you keep thinking I am when you look at me. I’m not that good,” she spoke evenly. Tommy raised an eyebrow.
“I’m just observing. My brother brings home a woman I’ve never heard of. I’m just looking for answers,” he said, a lie disguised as a blunt truth. Irene turned to him with knitted eyebrows. She opened her mouth like she was going to refute what he said, but she let it go with a shake of her head.
“There’s nothing to know.”
“Why’d you marry him?” Tommy asked. He didn’t expect to ever ask her that, but here he was.
“Audacious,” she breathed, laughing at his question. “Did you think it would be you? Do you think you could handle me all by yourself?”
“And Arthur can? You’ve met your match in him?” Tommy asked, disbelief evident with every word. Irene placed her cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the table, taking the few seconds to mull over his question.
“The dog I have at home brings me his leash on his own. That’s how I like it,” she said simply.
She didn’t wait for him to say anything else as she grabbed the contract and headed out the door. He thought over her words while walking to the window. Brings her his leash on his own? He didn’t understand it. Or maybe he didn’t believe it. What he did know was that she’d never snapped at him that way. She stepped onto the streets below and walked with purpose down the street. He couldn’t help but enjoy it. Tommy shook his head and reached for a cigarette.
"Can't all grab onto the same thing, can we?" He muttered to himself before shaking out his arms.
Trying not to post teasers to the pieces I've writing because we all know it'll take me forever and then it'll be the Lizzie Lesbian Gothic Horror story all over again.
I don't know if I've ever said this, but if you send me a nice message and I don't answer it, it's because I keep them unanswered in my inbox so I can read them over and over! It just occurred to me that people might feel like I'm not acknowledging them 😭
I fucking hate this website because not only did I click this goddamn link expecting it to be a joke of some sort, but it wasn’t a joke and I sat here spinning the screen around enjoying myself in a stupid bag of cornflakes like the dumbass monkey I am on Tumblr.com, enthralled by being in a bag of corn flakes in
Now that he is a convicted felon, fraud, and adjudicated rapist, he wants to skip judicial process and one-way ticket innocent people to concentration camps in El Salvador.
But Only On Tuesdays @mxpseudonym - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
