Never Complain Never Explain

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Welcome to my Downton Abbey sideblog. My main blog can be found here.

So a little about me. My name is Ellie, I'm 22 and Irish. I love reading, writing, and all things history. This little blog is basically my way of coping until they release the 3rd movie.

You can find my work on my AO3. If you want to leave requests, my asks are always open :)

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Field of Dreams: CHAPTER 9

Neither man spoke. It was hardly the place, standing between rows of bedrooms and listening ears. Thomas wasn’t even sure confrontation had been his intention at all. Tom looked surprised, really. Tired eyes meeting his as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands worrying at the fabric of his jacket.

Thomas himself was fighting the urge to turn and leave, to pretend he’d never been there at all. To make his way back to his room and the bed he’d so dearly craved only moments ago. But he wouldn’t sleep now anyway. And he was far too confused by the whole thing to do anything but stand there and wait for Tom to make up his mind.

A03

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I love Thomas and Richard and would you be willing to write a story of them hanging out where it leads to more like he comes back for Thomas

I'd love to write a fic for you !! Shoot me a message and we can brainstorm the idea 😊

[thomasbarrowblog]

[barris-events]

Welcome, friends, new and old, to Barrisember! Together, we'll be celebrating our two blokes from the first of November until December 14th. You can join in the merriment with any type of fanworks that sparks your creativity. Feel free to check out our previous events' fanworks and prompts for inspiration!

Our asks are always open, should you have any questions, comments or suggestions.

Guidelines and fresh new prompts will be posted on this blog in August, so stay tuned!

To Thomas and Richard 🌜💙🌛

[tekdiver]

DOWNTON ABBEY: THE GRAND FINALE - Official Teaser Trailer [HD] - Only in…

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It's happening!!!

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August

Pairing: Thomas Barrow x Richard Ellis

Rating: Teen. No warnings apply.

Authors note: Shamelessly reposting old work. Just reread this today and am feeling rather proud. I need to find the time to write for this pairing again !!

There was a bite to the breeze that drove the waves crashing against the shore. The cold, fresh air tasted as though it had never been inhaled by another man. It held a promise of autumn. It's too cold a bluster to belong to even the dreariest July day, yet the sun still possessed the strength to dispel it when the clouds parted. The chill prompted Thomas to pull his jacket tighter, warding off the gusts as they walked barefoot along the sand.

Thomas knew a great deal about time. The winding of a clock, the rhythm of a day, the passing of the seasons—each marked by mundane tasks that signposted the passing of a year within the walls of the grand house. It had been a year since the royal visit. Had you asked him that morning, Thomas would have considered a year a lifetime spent waiting for the post, hoping to recognize the familiar handwriting on an envelope. Ask him now, and he'd say it was no time at all. How effortlessly they had fallen back into step beside each other, smiling and talking about everything and nothing at all.

"Shall we sit?" Richard smiled, gesturing to the dunes of sand. Warm here beneath their feet where the sun had peeked through, winning a silent battle with the breeze.

"It's nice here," Thomas replied, leaning back to recline on the sand, no doubt ruining his suit jacket. He surrendered to the moment, content to let the world wash over him. The gentle crash of waves, the rustling of tall dune grasses, and the gulls circling above, calling out their songs on the wind.

"Imagine living here," Richard mused, drawing Thomas's gaze. He lay on his side, watching him. Thomas smirked under his scrutiny.

"You'd get bored," Thomas teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he turned to face Richard fully.

"Not if you were here," Richard countered, his voice soft and earnest, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Then we'd both be bored."

"I doubt that very much, Mr. Barrow." Richard smirked, drawing idle circles against the palm of Thomas's hand, eyes fixed there thoughtfully. "I've missed you."

"Letters aren't the same, are they?" Thomas sighed, returning his eyes to the cloudy sky. They'd both been so busy. Thomas found running Downton offered little free time. Richard's job had him moving around the country so often that he never seemed to sit still long enough to make plans. They'd tried numerous times, but their schedules clashed, days off never aligned, things came up, and time moved on without them.

"I treasure them, though." He smiled. "But I'd rather hear the words you write from your lips."

"Sometimes I thought I'd dreamed you. Like you'd never existed at all." Thomas mused, how could he possibly deserve a man like Richard? How could he ever hope to keep him?

"I'll have to give you more to remember me by this time."

Remember him by, Thomas thought. Was this to be it—a day every year, every two years, till he was just a memory, a shadow from the past? Thomas held enough ghosts close to add another. Leaving him this time would feel like losing him.

He sat upright, flakes of sand falling back to the ground beneath him. Eyes fixed ahead, he refused to meet Richard's gaze.

"Thomas, let's not leave it another year," Richard urged, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "It doesn't have to be here—anywhere, as long as you're with me. Let's find a cottage someplace where no one knows us or cares how we spend our days. Just don't leave me waiting on the post," he pleaded, his hand reaching out to gently turn Thomas's face towards him.

Thomas froze, heart hammering, unsure if trusting his ears was wise. He'd misread things before. Assumed love where lust or friendship lay. He'd loved men who'd promised him forever only to leave without a trace, loved men he'd never hold, loved men that made him small, who asked for no name and were gone with the morning sun. He'd fallen easily, jumped at hope, crushed again and again. He didn't trust himself.

"Don't tease me, Richard," he spoke. Richard's hand still rested against his cheek. The weather at least had driven the tourists and locals alike from the beach. Secluded and quiet, theirs for a moment.

"I'm serious, Thomas. Opening your letters is the highlight of my week." His eyes scanned the beach before he leaned in, mere inches from his lips. Thomas could feel his breath escape with each word. "I fear I'm falling for you, Mr. Barrow, with every word you wrote."

"You're daft." Thomas smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek, caught and rubbed away by Richard's thumb.

"It's tragic, really, isn't it? Falling for a man I've only kissed once. You must think me terribly foolish to hope you might feel the same after so long apart."

"I'd never think you foolish." Thomas smiled, closing the distance to press his lips to Richard's. Gentle at first, a soft brush. It was all it took to break his careful restraint. His hands found the fabric of Richard's jacket, and he clutched it, pushing Richard gently back against the sand. Thomas settled over him, bodies pressed together as his hands wandered, following the seams of his jacket.

Risky and stupid, maybe, where anyone could see. But this moment, Thomas thought, was worth any jail sentence. The thrill of it, the sheer audacity. Richard's hands roamed as well, fingers threading through Thomas's hair, pulling him closer. They wandered further, the heat of his touch seeping through the thick fabric of his jacket.

A noise escaped someone's lips; Thomas couldn't quite tell whose. Too lost in the moment to care. It drew a smile to Richard's lips, and Thomas laughed, pulling back. His face flushed, eyes wide, smile wider.

"You must think me terribly foolish," Thomas smirked. "To fall for a man, I've only kissed twice."

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Midway through writing chapter 7 of a Field of Dreams. I am so genuinely excited to share it with everyone. Honestly, I need someone to talk to about it in the comments section 😂

Here's a sneak peak of what I have so far.

When he thought of Thomas, of that morning, of the warmth of his hand in his hair and the way it had felt to wake up beside him—It didn’t feel wicked.

It felt… good.

His fingers twitched against his knee. He shifted in his seat, adjusting his posture as if he could shake the thoughts from his body.

It wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. It was just… gratitude. For all the shared moments, the laughter and quiet chats. For how he'd made him feel better, brighter more like himslef. That was all. It was natural to feel something for a friend. That was what this was. That’s why it had felt so easy to fall asleep with him. That’s why he hadn’t wanted to move away. That’s why he had wanted—

Honestly, I have Tom stressed, and I love it. Trying to decide how'd he'd feel about everything. He is Catholic, after all. I'm not sure if I should explore that or not.

Anyway, this slow burn is going to heat up a little this chapter. Lots of guilt and pinning. But also lots of heart.

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Downton Abbey, but make it American

Clip from "The Late Show"

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Finally have this posted !!

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Thomas smiled, waiting just long enough for Tom to smile back. The flash of guilt finally softened on Tom’s face, though he still didn’t move. “I’m serious, Branson. I’m not carrying you.” “How about drag me?” Tom mumbled, his eyes fixed stubbornly on his feet, which seemed to be betraying him in some way. He really was drunk. Thomas had never had much patience for people in such a state. Drunken guests at the Crawleys’ parties usually meant hauling them to their cars or scrubbing up after their mess. Yet, as he stepped closer to Tom, he realized he didn’t feel the same disdain this time. For a moment, Thomas hesitated, unsure what to do. Wrapping a guiding arm around Tom’s waist felt… different. Awkward in a way that hauling some random guest to their feet never had. It felt personal, too close.

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Hi I love your fic Field of Dreams. Just wondering if your planning to release another chapter soon?

Hey 😊 sorry for the late reply. Hopefully have the next chapter posted by the end of this week. Super excited to share it with everyone!

Tom smirked, leaning forward slightly. He seemed to pause momentarily before meeting Thomas' gaze dead on. “And yet, here you are."

Thomas snorted softly raising his pint to his lips to hide the blush of his cheeks. It was becoming problematic. Their friendship.

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It was infact not posted in November 😬. Good news, it will be up by Tuesday!! That's a promise. Sorry for the long wait....

[ficwip]

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Branrow Fest Day 1 - Hot vs Cold

Slightly heavy on the Christmas Angst. Oops 😬

@branrow-events

[devious-cat]

[maramontwrites]

It's such an amazing feeling when someone picks up on something in your writing that you 100% intended but didn't think people would notice. Like, YES!! My writing properly conveyed the thing it was supposed to!!! You are so awesome for noticing that!!! I am so awesome for writing that!!! I feel so good about my story now!!!!

[branrow-events]

Branrow Fest officially starts on Monday. So exciting to finally see what everyone has come up with this past month !

Please tag your work #BranrowFest and tag this page @branrow-events. All creations will be reblogged here. 😁

Try and post your creations on the correct prompt day. But feel free to continue posting over the next few weeks as I know it's a busy time of year for everyone. Last day for submissions is the 1st of January.

Thanks again for all the support and have a very lovely Christmas and Branrow Fest 🥰

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WIP Wednesday

So excited for the start of Branrow Fest next week. Just a little story I'm working on for the event. It's a AU where Tom ended up being drafted for WWI.

"You all right, Tom?" A voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his gaze away from the grim scene around him. He knew he had been drifting lately—losing time, losing himself. He’d seen it before, men losing their minds until they put a bullet through their own skulls. But he was too exhausted to care if he was nearing that edge himself.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears—hoarse and hollow, swallowed up by the distant rattle of gunfire and the rumble of artillery.

"You look like hell."

"Fuck you." Tom turned his head for the first time, meeting the sunken eyes of the man beside him. His face was hollow, his cheekbones sharper than they should have been, with deep shadows beneath his eyes. His hair, usually neatly combed, was ragged, hanging awkwardly over his forehead.

"Thomas?"

"Branson."