This is the blog for Tommy/Maria Week 2026! Taking place March 9th-15th, 2026. This week is for more than just writers; artists can also join in. The more, the merrier.
The prompts (Created by my best friend @hypnotisedfireflies) are as follows.
Mar 9th: If It Ain't Broke
Mar 10th: Role Swap
Mar 11th: Wife Guy
Mar 12th: Unconventional Storytelling (Letters, Emails, Articles, Oral History)
Mar 13th: Fanart Inspiration
Mar 14th: Before & After
Mar 15th: Hard Decisions/Difficult Choices
I really hope everyone has fun with this. I love Tommy/Maria and am so excited to have more stories and art for these two. If you share your work here on Tumblr, please link @tommymariaweek25 or tag tommy maria week 2026, and I will share it here.
If you're sharing your works on AO3, I have created a collection under the name Tommy_Maria_Week_2026, so if you would like to, you can add them there.
Thanks again. I will be posting here with any updates I have, and I can't wait to see you all at the begining of March.
The title banner of this blog, the picture for the PFP, and the banner for Tommy/Maria Week were created by the fantastic @kenobiwanx.
Don't mind me, just over here kicking my feet and screaming into a pillow over this art that @bumblepony commissioned from @kenobiwanx 😭 Love you, Bumble. ❤️
As seen in chapter 15 of Save Me a Place.
--
She pulls the knife free with a sickening sound and pushes herself off the body, staggering slightly in the current. Her face cranes up toward the ridge – invisible now, lost behind the rain and the dark and the steep walls of the ravine. Then she looks back at him, and there's something almost frantic that crosses her face. "Stupid!" she cries over the wind. "Why would you – you could’ve broken your neck – stupid –"
"Yeah," he grits out, and he's already reaching for her, hinging one hand under her elbow, gripping hard enough that he can feel the bones of her arm through her soaked jacket. "Yeah, I know. Yell at me later – we gotta move."
He pulls her forward and she takes one step, two – and on the third her leg folds beneath her and she makes a terrible sound, a sharp yelp, her fingers clamping down around his forearm. Her whole body lists sideways into him, and he has to brace to keep them both upright.
"My ankle," she says through her teeth. "I can't – no –" She tries to put weight on it again and sucks a breath in hard through her nose. "Tommy –"
There's a sudden crash from above, something heavy tearing through brush and snapping branches; they both flinch and look up at the same time, toward the rim of the ravine that's barely visible through the curtain of rain. For a second there's nothing, just the dark and the sound of something sliding, and then a shape comes over the edge, half-falling, half-scrambling, its limbs working in that awful, disjointed way infected do. It hits the slope and tumbles, cartwheeling through the mud and the undergrowth, and crashes into the shallows six feet from where they're standing with a splash that sends brown water spraying across both of them.
Tommy doesn't hesitate. He raises his pistol and he fires before the thing has even finished rolling over, before it's done more than lift its head from the water. The round catches it just above the eye and it drops, instantly, boneless and face-down in the quickly-rising creek, but before Tommy can even blink there’s another crash, another shape spilling over the lip of the ravine, sliding and tumbling down the slope in a spray of mud and gravel. And behind it – behind it – a third, already halfway down and moving fast enough that it’s nearly pacing the other shape –
Tommy turns to her, screaming over the rain, "Put your arm around me! Right now!"
She does, with no argument. She slings her arm across his shoulders and he wraps his around her waist, hitching her up hard against his side, taking as much of her weight as his body will allow him to. She trembles against him, her jaw wired shut against another sound of pain as her bad ankle drags through the current. Her knife is still in her other hand, held low and close to her thigh, gripped tight between bloodless fingers.
“Hold still, your strap’s twisted,” he said, reaching past her shoulder.
He eased his fingers under the fabric and set it in place, his knuckles ghosting against her collarbone. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” She brushed her hand over the fabric, still faintly warm. “It’s so dark here.”
“Crazy, huh? It’s almost like… it’s still the night.”
She smacked his forearm. “Oh, shush.”
He chuckled, adjusting the right strap of his backpack higher, and rolled his shoulder with a quick, practiced motion. His jaw tightened for a breath and loosened again.
What the hell did he put in there? His collection of belt buckles?
He pulled a flashlight from his cargo pants and clipped it to the strap of his backpack. A bright stream of light burst through the darkness.
“Ready to explore?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. I can’t believe I can finally cross the Grand Canyon off my bucket list.”
He turned to her, eyebrows raising. “Wait… It’s your first time?”
“What? You’ve been here before?”
“I’ve been all over.” He shrugged with a smile as if Around the World in Eighty Days was written about him. “Okay, close your eyes.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you so tired of me already that you want me to tumble all the way down into the canyon and break my neck?”
“I’ll show you the way, smartass.” He reached out his hand, the corners of his lips curling into a crooked smile. “Come on. It will be worth it, I promise. I’ll even narrate the whole path for you.”
"you said some people don't know why they're wolves, they just howl for the sound of it / some will never know they're beautiful until the crowd points it out for them." 💚💜
happy #the mandalorian & grogu release day!! i couldn't just stay put and not to anything for my favourite space dad & son duo. i'm very happy these two got me into drawing again after a (way too) long break 💌 i had this vision for a bit and after some trial & error it finally came to life :)) this is the way. enjoy 🫶🏻
AHHHHHH @petitcroc this is so beautiful and I am crying 😭😭💕🥺😭🥺💕🥹💕😭 you have such a lovely emotive style, and all the little details - his wrist brace, Maria’s nose ring— 😭💕 I also love the light on her hair, and her profile. Gorgeous work 💕💕✨
Thank you for bringing this scene to life, and thank you @bumblepony 😭💕💕💕💕💕
Scene under cut, coming soon to Chapter 46 of The Stars Incline Us
Maria breathes in the rich scent of sandalwood and pine, lathering the bar soap between her palms before running her hands through Tommy’s hair. He lays with his head off the edge of the cot over a bucket of sudsy water, lashes heavy against the bruises beneath his eyes. She works the soap all the way to the ends of each curl, rinses with water so hot it stings the inside of her wrists, and steam rises into the chill air. The splash of water and the steady, ragged draw of his breath are the only sounds to permeate the quiet alcove. Neither of them break the silence for another twenty minutes as she teases the snags out, until his curls are soft and smooth through her fingertips, finishes toweling them dry and gathers them into a low half-knot.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, glancing up through those dark lashes to meet her gaze in the liminal glow of the flame.
“Of course.” She breathes through the ache coalescing in her throat, comes around the edge of the bed, helps him sit up, slow and easy. The tubes just came out yesterday, and he’s plenty sore.
He’s punished for the change in position, the cough rattling up from the base of his lungs like a runaway train. She climbs onto the cot, sits facing him with her knees at his elbows as he braces his ribs and folds forward into her embrace. She traces the knots of his spine in a long row, each one prominent even through the thick knit of his pullover, and forces the ebb and flow of her own breath to come steady as he goes a second round, then a third. When the cough is finally placated, he rests his head on her collarbone and catches his breath in short, tearing gasps.
“Fuck—“ A chimera of a sob, a groan, and a short, vicious laugh catches in his throat. His shoulders collapse as he curls a little tighter around his injured ribs; he’s a good deal more tender on his left side, and they suspect he managed to crack one or two. Maria settles her palm over his knuckles as he braces the injury, ducks her head and lets her tears be wicked away by the soft brush of his wool sweater against her cheeks. She slings her other arm up over his shoulders and holds him close.
After a long few minutes, the tension in his shoulders begins to slip, and the rasp of air in his lungs quiets a little. He sniffs, straightens gingerly, offering her a weak half smile, and his brow knits as his gaze shifts to the evidence of tears still lingering on her cheeks.
“Hey, now.” He grimaces, voice low and torn and a little breathless still as he leaves his injured ribs to return her embrace.
“Tommy.” She rests her forehead lightly against his, still warm with fever, and draws a breath that shudders all the way down. The stricture in her throat tightens until the ache becomes piercing, swallowing her words.
“I know,” he murmurs, his palm gentle between her shoulderblades. And he does. She knows he does.
“How did we get here?” Maria places a quiet request, tears slipping from the ends of her lashes as she closes her eyes.
His breath catches in his throat. She feels the brush of his hand at her cheek. “I’m so sorry, darlin.”
She opens her eyes, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, a hand gentle on the back of his neck. “Do you have anything to be sorry for?” She asks the question honestly, and Tommy meets it with a flinch, diverting his gaze to the dance of the flame on the wall beside them, the corner of his mouth tightening. He does not answer.
“What did Joel say to you?” Maria fights to keep her voice soft, asking for his gaze with a thumb across the ridge of his cheek, and when he turns back to her, his eyes are dark and wounded.
“Nothin’ that made any difference,” he says. The words twist around her heart, wrenching her.
“You sure about that?” she asks, not waiting for a response. “Tommy, I saw how he looked at Miguel, before you left. I know he wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”
He measures a slow breath. “Didn’t say he was. Neither was I.”
“Did he tell you he would take Ellie?”
His wince deepens as he drags his teeth across his lower lip. “He was scared. Wasn’t— I shoulda waited him out.”
Maria searches his face, pressing a knuckle to her lips as she fights the sting of tears once more. “Would you still have gone, if he hadn’t said it?”
He closed his eyes, releases a laden breath, and under it, a nearly imperceptible groan. “I don’t know.”
When he opens them, she’s heartsick to find something like shame, perhaps fear, raging in the shadows. She doesn’t speak, sensing the words building in his chest, but offers him a sorrowful smile, tracing the line of his cheek, softly drawing him back to her, but it’s too little too late. His eyes darken with a familiar haunt.
“I didn’t— *Damnit.*” He drops his head, fingers at the bridge of his nose as tears catch in his throat. “He took her and ran— if I’d been there— just a little sooner—”
Maria breathes against the ache that blooms beneath her sternum at his confession. She knows enough to understand he’s talking about Outbreak Day. She has no idea if Joel has ever attempted to absolve him of this guilt, and even if he has, she doesn’t know that Tommy would have accepted it.
She presses a kiss to his temple and guides his head to her shoulder; it takes him longer to regather his composure than he would have allowed on another day. She can feel his exhaustion, the way he collapses into her embrace, the reawakening of his fever as the afternoon wanes, and guilt pierces her chest, resonant and aching. She should not have asked this of him today.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she murmurs, threading her fingers through his hair, releasing the tie she just placed to comb loose the still-damp curls, soothing herself and him.
“No,” he replies softly, withdrawing to meet her gaze, brow knit with regret. “I’m sorry, Mari. You’ve got a right to be angry, darlin’.”
She’s at war with herself for a long moment, searching for the words which will SOOTHE them both.
“I know you’re tired, sweetheart. You gotta let us fight some battles for you.”
He nods wearily, defeated, but she’s not convinced he’s really hearing her, too caught up in the story in his head.
“Tommy, listen to me,” she says, lacing her fingers tightly through his. “I know your brother has his moments, and speaking of battles, I’ll gladly wring his neck the next time he tries to get under your skin like that— but I saw those radio logs, him tryin’ to convince you to turn around and come home to us. Tommy, I wish you’d listened.”
She wishes that more than anything, she thinks, as she wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder, a hand cradling the back of his head, holding him close. She wishes she couldn’t still feel the heat of the fever pouring off of him, see the ever-present pain in his dark eyes, hear the ragged, aching draw of his breath as he tries not to cough against fresh stitches and torn muscles and broken ribs and wounded lungs. She wishes she’d said more to him that day, wishes she’d found the words to silence his guilt, his fear— She wishes she could protect him from every gnashing set of teeth that seeks a pound of flesh.
“You act like you owe us something, sweetheart, but you don’t,” she continues, steadying herself with a breath. “None of us— I don’t know a single person who wasn’t heartsick to see what kinda shape you were in when you walked in here— Jacob excepted,” she interrupts herself with a quiet, tearful laugh. “Nobody’s asking of you what you’re asking of yourself. You can rest. You can tell us when it hurts, darlin’—“ she fights the swell of emotion in her throat, pulls away just enough to meet his eyes. “You know you mean the whole damn world to me, don’t you?” She waits for him to nod, tears in his eyes to match her own, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “Rest, cariño. Get your head on straight. Let us take care of you once in a while.”
He breathes a short, sorrowful chuckle, closes his eyes, drops his head back to her shoulder. She holds him, and he settles deep into her embrace, arms tightening around her waist.
“I love you,” he murmurs, hoarse.
“I love you too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hush.” She soothes him with another kiss, and they hold each other for a long few minutes. When his exhaustion starts to get the better of him, she helps him lay down and curls up beside him, tucking her head to his chest as he runs a palm up and down her arm. She waits for him to settle, for his hand to slip from her shoulder and his breath to steady in sleep, and then she laces her fingers through his and allows herself to follow him, at long last, into the gentle dark.
Another commission by the wonderful @miranhas-art of an AU where Knight Tommy stumbles upon Witch Maria's hut in the forest and they have a wonderful adventure.
I can’t believe I’m finally able to publish this stunning fanart I’ve commissioned from the incredible @valevntine, because that means the impossible actually happened and I finished the first chapter of Sleep on the Floor. My first No Cordyceps AU for Maria and Tommy, where they meet by chance in LA, and the rest is history in the making.
Thank you @valevntine, for creating this piece with such care and attention to every detail. Your talent, dedication and kindness blow me away every time. And I know I’ve told you this a million times (and honestly I will never tire of saying it), but you’re a magician and interacting without you is always such a singular joy ❤️
I can’t believe I’m finally able to publish this stunning fanart I’ve commissioned from the incredible @valevntine, because that means the impossible actually happened and I finished the first chapter of Sleep on the Floor. My first No Cordyceps AU for Maria and Tommy, where they meet by chance in LA, and the rest is history in the making.
Thank you @valevntine, for creating this piece with such care and attention to every detail. Your talent, dedication and kindness blow me away every time. And I know I’ve told you this a million times (and honestly I will never tire of saying it), but you’re a magician and interacting without you is always such a singular joy ❤️
Tommy/Maria Week 2026 - Day Seven - Hard Decisions/Difficult Choices
Summary:
Maria exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke, the spiral silver against the inky sky. “Where would we go?”
“Anywhere you want.”
“Paris.”
His lips curved into a roguish smile. “Sure, we got one of those in Texas.”
The tightly wound twine around her chest loosened. Laughter washed over her in bright, startling waves.
Easy. So easy.
She let out a long, slow exhale, as if she’d been holding her breath all this time and bit the corner of her lips. “What else do you have in Texas?”
His gaze dipped to her hair, back to her face—down again. She followed its path. A tiny jacaranda petal lingered on a loose strand of her hair, neon purple against deep brown. She glanced back at him and tipped her chin up, eyes steady on his. The corners of his lips lifted, settled into a slow smile. He leaned in, and the scent of soap, sun-dried cotton, and raw wood murmured across her skin, familiar like a long-forgotten memory.
He reached up, slow enough for her to stop him, and brushed his fingers down the lock of her hair.
The petal slipped free. They followed its gentle, fluttering trail to the concrete.
“I could tell you, or…” His gaze flickered to hers, lashes dark and ridiculously long. “You could see for yourself.”
*
One night in an LA parking lot, Maria and Tommy share a cigarette and a choice. Life splinters into a thousand stories. All of them fade like smoke. Except one.
Or
My first No Cordyceps AU :)
Tommy leaned in, and she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, pain hammering behind her eyes. A groan threatened to escape her. She rested her forehead against his shoulder instead, clenching her lips shut. The familiar gravity of his body drew her in, as if she could just crawl into him and stay there, wrapped in his warmth, away from the pain, away from the walls closing in.
Her stomach rolled.
No.
She braced her hand against his shoulder and pulled away. If she didn’t leave right now, he’d have to scrape her off the floor.
A dream date.
*
Early relationships, bad headaches, and the difference it makes to open the door.
I’m still not done crying, gushing, sighing and staring at this magnificent piece of art @bumblepony commission from the endlessly talented @kenobiwanx for chapter 41 of Like Real People Do. It will never stop making me happy and it gives me so much joy to finally share it!
I mean look at it! Look at them! Both gorgeous and happy and dancing like there’re no mushroom zombies lurking in the shadows haha
Thank you @bumblepony for gifting this to me, it’s a dream come true. And thank you @kenobiwanx for bring the scene to life with such incredible detail (the Cyndi Lauper T-shirt, the R-90 jukebox, the scarf!)
Ellie grabbed another chair and plopped down beside him. “So?”
He let out a long sigh. “So, Maria’s birthday is coming up.”
“And you’re worried she’ll finally realize she can do better and dump your sorry ass?”
“What?” He jumped, clutching the front of his shirt. “Did she say something to you?”
She opened her mouth like a goldfish and snapped it shut, her eyebrows drawing into a deep, deep frown. Like that time she swore she definitely, absolutely, completely didn’t smoke pot behind that dipshit Brian’s house… and then cried because she couldn’t find her left foot.
He slapped his hand on his knee. “Ellie!”
*
Tommy takes his role as a husband very seriously, so when Maria’s birthday comes around, he loses it a little trying to get her the perfect gift.
