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dancingtotuyo · 1 month

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Part II

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: The weight of your husband being in jail starts to take its toll.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: prison, visitation, family stress, lots of tears

Notes: Shout out to @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this and helping out with the details! Also shoutout to @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

Words: 3310

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You inhale deeply as you sit at the metal picnic table. Nathaniel bounces contently on your lap, taking in his surroundings. Families gather at each table, a low rumble filling the room. You glance down at your watch. The inmates are due any second, and Joel is supposed to be here too. Your eyes dart around the room at the families in the same boat as you. They all look a little different, consisting of different family components, but the same thing brought you all here.

Joel rushes in, the summer heat and job site filth evident on his skin and clothes. You wave him over to your corner table, feeling more relaxed to have him here. You’ve been able to talk to Tommy for an hour every week, but this is the first time you’ve gotten to see him since his sentencing.

“Hey,” Joel says, breathless as he slides in next to you. Nathaniel lets out an exuberant greeting, hands banging against the table. Joel chuckles. “Hello to you too, bud.”

“I thought you might not make it.”

“Cement guys were late.” Joel sighs, trying to brush the dirt from his shirt.

“Typical.” You mummer, earning a small chuckle from Joel.

“You good?” Joel places a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m excited to see him.” You smile, kissing Nathaniel’s head.

A couple guards file in to stand watch. Then, a loud buzzing rings, and the other door opens. It feels cliche, like one of those law procedural shows on TV. The room goes silent as men in orange jumpsuits file in, hands cuffed in front of them. Their eyes scan the crowd for their loved ones. Slowly, the volume rises as families reunite. Tommy is one of the last ones through the door, but the moment your eyes land on him, you feel tension ease from your body.

You stand, waving to him. His eyes finally land on you, lifting with a happiness you haven’t seen in a while. He has a cut over his eyebrow. It looks a couple days old by now, a faint bruise still visible around it.

You’re allowed a brief hug. Nothing long enough to transfer forbidden items is the idea, not that you could’ve gotten anything in here with the security patting you down how they did.

He melts into your soft touch just a little like he did when he’d come back from his second tour. “Hey, Baby.” He smiles into your cheek, his lips skim your cheek as you pull away to avoid being yelled out.

Joel hugs him next with a big pat on the back. You can hardly keep your eyes off him, your hand drifting absentmindedly to Nathaniel’s shoulders. Your two-year-old stares at his father with a sense of familiarity. He looks up at you and then back to Tommy. “Daddy!”

Tommy’s head snaps over, smile instantly falling from his face. “What’s he doing here?”

“Tommy…”

“I told you not to bring him.” He snaps.

“He’s your son.”

“This ain’t no place for a child!” Tommy says. “You don’t see Joel bringing Sarah for a visit, now do you?”

“Sarah,” you say, pulling at all your self-restraint. “Had soccer camp today but she said to tell you hi. She was sad she couldn’t come.”

“I want you to get him out of here. Now.” Tommy insists, not backing down.

“Tommy-“ Joel tries to quell his brother’s rising temper.

“Is this really how you want to spend visitation? Fussing at me for bringing our son to see his father?”

“Get. Him. Out!” Tommy says, smoke blowing from his ears. One of the prison guards starts toward your group.

Tommy holds up his cuffed hands in silent surrender. The guard backs up with a warning glare.

“I don’t want him here,” Tommy says. “I made that clear.”

Confusion skirts your brow. Your Tommy, the one you know and love seems to be at war with the person he’s become during his short time behind bars.

“I’ll take him out,” Joel says, reaching out for Nathaniel. He accepts, sitting comfortably on his uncle’s hip. Joel pauses, giving Tommy a chance to change his mind, but he looks away.

You bite your lip. Joel sighs. “I parked next to you.”

You nod as he walks out with your son. Tommy sits down at the table. You sit across from him, mouth drawn in a tight line.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“He shouldn’t see me like this. You shouldn’t see me like this.”

“You fucked up, Tommy, but we’re still here. You really want to go two years without seeing your kid?”

“It’s not like he’ll remember,” Tommy says. You sigh in exasperation. A faint smile finds its way onto his lips. “It’s almost like old times. You upset with me.”

You choke out a humorless laugh. “This is nothing like old times.”

“No… I guess it’s not.” He sobers up.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Do you really not want him to come see you?”

Tommy nods, stuck in his resolve. “Don’t really want you here either.” A sly smile crosses Tommy’s face as he runs a finger over your knuckle without being caught. “Don’t like these other guys checking out my woman.”

You roll your eyes, helplessly falling for his flirting. “How progressive of you.”

You step into the Texas sun twenty minutes later, slipping your sunglasses over your eyes. You walk across the parking lot, following Nathaniel’s empty chatter to Joel’s pickup. Nathaniel busies himself in the back while Joel rests his forearms on the edge. You come up beside him, copying his stance. Nathaniel doesn’t notice you, too engrossed by the plethora of less-than-safe tools and scraps in the back of Uncle Joel’s truck. Your elbow touches Joel’s, the metal hot under your arms.

“Thanks for taking him.”

Joel nods. “Tommy really doesn’t want him to visit?”

“Nope.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s your brother.”

“You married him.”

You let out a little huff of laughter, a half smile gracing your face, spreading to Joel’s. His deep laughter fills your body. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Any regrets?” Joel kids, turning his head to you.

You laugh. “Never. I don’t live with regrets, Miller.” You nudge him with your shoulder, tapping the side of the truck. “Nate, it’s time to go. We have Sarah’s exhibition game.”

Your toddler turns around, hammer clutched in his hands. “Play!”

“Come on, kiddo. You can play with my tools another day. I got a whole garage full of ‘em,” Joel chuckles.

Nathaniel seems to contemplate the words for a minute before letting the hammer clatter to the bed of the truck. You cringe at the sound before your son reaches for you. Joel chuckles, making sure his items are secure as you pull Nathaniel into your arms.

“You don’t have to go, you know. Today has been a lot.”

“Of course, I’m gonna go, Joel. It’s Sarah.”

He smiles, knowing your role in her life goes above and beyond the duties of an aunt, but not knowing how to communicate his gratitude for it. “Save me a spot? I have to run back by the job site. I should make it for the second half.”

You can see him cringe as he says the words. You know he feels guilty about it. Sarah’s been talking about this since the start of soccer camp. “Of course.”

Sarah clocks Joel the moment he walks into the building, her attention is no longer on the coach who’s giving a mid-game pep talk, but on her father across the field. Joel shoots her two thumbs up and a massive grin before directing her attention back to her coach.

Joel slides onto the cool metal bleacher beside you, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank god this thing is indoors this year.”

You nod remembering the blaring sun and burning metal bleachers from last year’s camp exhibition game. Your eyes narrow over Joel’s appearance. He seems even dirtier than he did an hour ago. “You take a dirt bath at the job site or something?” You reach over, patting some of the dirt from his shoulder.

“Something like that.” Joel chuckles.

Your thumb swipes away a smudge along his jaw. His jaw twitches under your touch. He playfully swats away your hand, capturing it with his own. “That tickles.”

“You’re filthy.”

“I didn’t really have time to shower on my way here.” He bumps against you lightly.

“Hence the dirt bath?” You grin, returning the bump, but this time your shoulder and thighs remain pressed against the other’s. His hand falls to your bare knee, hanging off of it. As the second half starts, Nathaniel climbs into your lap, eyes fluttering toward sleep.

For all the cheering you can’t do, Joel makes up for it, spending much of the game on his feet. It might only be an exhibition game and there might not be an official score, but it’s glaringly obvious that Sarah’s team is dominating with Sarah scoring two goals of her own. Joel is beaming.

“She looks amazing out there.” He says.

“She really does.”

“And she’s having a blast. Look at that smile.” Joel’s smile is just as big as his daughter’s, big enough to push away your own struggles of the day.

Sarah makes a break for the three of you as soon as she's dismissed. She drips with sweat, but her smile never fades as she goes on about every thought that went through her mind throughout the game and Joel hangs on every word.

Once Nathaniel rouses from his sleepy daze, he ropes Sarah into kicking the soccer ball around. Joel joins them on the field while you watch, your body coming down from the emotions of the day.

“Mrs. Miller?”

Your head snaps around. A woman about your age dressed in athletic wear smiles at you. You’re pretty sure she was one of the coaches.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Coach Miranda. I lead Sarah’s unit this week.” She stretches out her hand.

You shake it, supplying your first name in return. “Nice to meet you. I know Sarah had a blast this week.”

“I enjoyed having her,” Coach Miranda says. “She’s a talented soccer player.”

You smile, pride swelling in your chest. She’s not your kid, but that parental feeling toward her is very much there. “She learned so much. Her dad and I were talking during the game about how much she’s improved this week.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” The coach rocks on her feet, briefly considering her words. “Look, I coach one of the travel teams in the area.” She hands you a brochure. “I know she’s still a couple years away from being old enough, but we put on a few camps and clinics throughout the year for kids her age.”

You flip through the brochure of information. “These look very… fancy.”

“We offer scholarships if money is your worry.”

“No- I mean, it’s pricey but… She’s six.” You finally manage something coherent. “She just turned six. It seems early to start anything this serious.”

“Your daughter is very talented, Mrs. Miller.”

“Oh- I-” You stumble over your words.

“Is everything okay?” Joel asks, joining you with Nathaniel on his hip.

“I was just telling your wife how talented Sarah is.”

“We’re not married.” You blurt out unceremoniously, face feeling flush. There were smoother ways to navigate this and you are missing each one.

The coach’s face flashes with confusion and embarrassment. “Oh- I’m sorry. I just assumed when I said Mrs. Miller…”

“I am,” You feel more flustered than is needed. Nathaniel reaches for you and you take him from Joel. “I’m not his Mrs. Miller. I mean-”

“She’s my sister-in-law.” Joel finishes for you and you sigh in relief. “Helps me out a lot.”

Coach Miranda nods, a slight red tinge to her cheeks from the embarrassment. “Got it,” she says, holding awkwardness in her frame.

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “I’ll let him know.”

She nods, excusing herself quickly.

“That was odd,” Joel says.

“Being mistaken for your wife? Or her behavior?”

“Her. The wife thing I understand.” Joel shrugs. “Guess she was embarrassed.”

“The wife thing you understand, huh?” You cross your arms, smiling pushing on your lips. “I’m sure your brother would love to hear that.”

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t think he’s interested in anything I have to say after today.”

You roll your eyes, not wanting to relive the day's earlier events. “Here.” You hand him the brochure. “Apparently the coach thinks Sarah should sign up for more camps.”

“These are pricey for a six-year-old.”

“That’s what I said. She just kept saying how good Sarah is.”

“Course she did. She was the best one out there.” Joel smiles proudly. He tucks the brochure into his back pocket without another thought. “The princess wants pizza tonight. Your little troublemaker agreed.”

“Wow, you gonna start blaming everything on my kid now, Miller?” You laugh.

“If the shoes fits.”

“Ironic considering you called Sarah the princess.”

Joel rolls his eyes, waving the kids over. “I’ll pick it up on our way home. Your place or mine?”

“Yours works. I’m sure Sarah needs a shower.”

“Works for me,” Joel grins.

Nathaniel jumps into your arms. Joel takes your purse and Sarah’s duffle and the four of you walk out hand in hand, looking very much like the family Sarah’s coach assumed you were.

Two Years Later

You’re two years into it, obeying the strict dress code, getting pat down by security guards, and brief touches and chaste kisses with your husband. You typically go alone, leaving Nathaniel with Joel or a sitter. Joel comes sometimes. Usually, he visits Tommy on his own time.

The visits have gotten shorter, more curt. Tommy has been more irritable. You chalk it up to being stuck in prison, but this most recent visit leaves your emotions fried. Tommy barely looked at you, hardly strung together more than a sentence or single-word response. He didn’t flirt with you, his signature grin nowhere to be seen.

You press your back to the back door as it shuts behind you. Squeezing your eyes tight, you do your best to will away the tears you shed on the drive home.

“That you, Darlin?” Joel calls, rattling around in your kitchen. “I was just about to put the steaks on the grill.”

You hear Nathaniel playing in the living room. You catch a sliver of Sarah’s ponytail, back hunched over the table presumably doing homework. You take a steadying breath, but your diaphragm shakes.

When you don’t respond, Joel peaks around the corner. His brow furrows as he takes in your defeated frame.

“Sarah,” he calls out. Your eyes open at his strong voice, locking eyes with him. “Keep an eye on Nathaniel for me. I need to go out to the garage for a couple minutes.”

“Okay.” She says, none the wiser to your appearance.

Joel takes your hand, tugging you forward just enough to get the door open before he propels you back into the garage. Your body feels like a limp noodle, helpless to do anything but let him lead you.

The door clicks shut. He cups your cheeks. His soft brown eyes laced with concern meet yours.

Your body eases into him, desperate and touch starved as you grab ahold of his soft shirt. Shaking your head, your whole body begins to tremble. Tears fall down your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay,” It’s a stupid thing to say and he knows it.

“No it’s not!” You shout. “My life’s a mess! It’s all a mess.” You devolve into a puddle of indistinguishable words and sounds.

Joel pulls you into his chest, supporting your weight as your knees threaten to crumble beneath you. “Shhh, I’ve got you.”

If he’s being honest, Joel isn’t surprised by the breakdown. He constantly watches as you try to hold it all together. He’s visited Tommy too. He’s seen the impact of prison and self-loathing on his younger brother.

His hand slides behind your neck, cool against your overheating flesh. His fingers play at the nape of your neck, soothing you as you soak his shirt. It’s an event the two of you have become overly familiar with. Joel’s arms represent stability in your unstable world.

Slowly, the tears dry and your chest stops shaking. Joel presses a long, firm kiss on your forehead. With one final deep breath, your heart rate returns to normal and you’re able to slowly pull yourself away from your brother-in-law.

He gives you a smile, brushing away your tears. Wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, you manage a weak laugh. “I’ve been kind of a mess lately.”

“You?” Joel quirks a smile. “I haven’t noticed.”

A laugh clears your throat. “Thank you for everything.”

Joel shrugs. “It’s what you do for family, and ours is going through a lot right now.”

You nod, smiling through bloodshot eyes. “I really do appreciate you, Joel. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Joel reaches out, fixing the sleeve on your shoulder. His fingers drift over your soft collar bone not enough for you to notice, but long enough for him to memorize the feel of it.

“Don’t think I could either, Darlin.” Joel forces a smile, masking his true feelings.

He doesn’t say how mad it makes him that Tommy has put you through this, or that you deserve better, or even hint that he would support you leaving his little brother even though he knows Tommy would be heartbroken. He can’t say any of it because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Joel isn’t sure what those feelings are yet, but he knows it’s so much more than one should feel for their sister-in-law.

“That’s not true.” You shake your head. “You did this long before I came along.”

“Maybe, but I think we make a pretty good team.” His chest tightens. That word doesn’t seem to encapsulate what you are to him. The words that do are inappropriate to use. You’re just two people brought together by their love of another person. Joel has repeated that sentence to himself more times than he cares to admit.

“Yeah. I suppose we do.” A smile finds its way to your face and you clear the last tears from your face. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve been crying for an hour.” Joel chuckles, letting his finger run the length of your jaw. He’s pushing a line. He knows, but he can’t help it. These stolen moments are all he gets. “But amazing as always.”

“I swear you and your brother couldn’t tell a woman she looked bad if there was a gun to your head.”

Joel shrugs, putting his hands in his pocket to avoid doing something he may regret. “We were raised right.”

“Mhmm, that’s why my husband is in jail right now.”

Later that evening, you’re cleaning up from dinner, a drink within reach when Joel speaks up. “I think we should go on vacation.”

“We?”

“The four of us.”

You turn the idea around in your head. It would be nice. You can’t remember the last time you had a real vacation, probably before Nathaniel was born. “What were you thinking?”

Joel shrugs. “Just the beach. There’s this place we used to go when we were kids. I’ve been wanting to take Sarah.”

“You sure you’d want us to tag along?”

“Did we not just talk about this?” He steals a dish from your hand, placing it in the dishwasher. “We’re a team, and we could all use the break.”

“Yeah, It’s been a year… or two.”

“Try five.” Joel offers a weak smile. You return it. “I’ll call tomorrow. See what’s available.”

“Thank you.”

taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal @mellymbee @sarahhxx03 @lizzie-cakes @sixhours @duckybird101 @anoverwhelmingdin @nervoushottee

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #high infidelity (joel miller)#ppcu fanfiction #pedro stories #pedrostories

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sumwan · 3 months

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/dsmp /rp

Rewatching VODs again and it's sad to see how at the start of his imprisonment, Dream was trying so hard to downplay the prison's conditions and stay optimistic about them.

During Tommy's first visit, he says to Tommy, "It's not too bad, right? I can write and I can read and they bring me food." He talks about the new game he can play with his clock.

When Bad visits, Dream admits that Sam sometimes gives him less food when he burns his clock, but that he's not starving because he "[has] potatoes." He says that Sam is "treating [him] amazing" and that he's fine when Bad asks him if he's okay.

Tommy visits him again a month after the first visit, and by then Dream's attitude has changed entirely. Tommy says he's been suffering from success, and Dream replies, "Me too. Except for without the success part, just suffering." Then when Quackity visits him the first time and asks how he's been, Dream only says, "I've been."

Later after Techno gets locked up with Dream, he no longer attempts to downplay anything. Techno jokingly complains about Dream not being positive, and Dream can only think of saying, "Since you've been in here, I haven't been tortured. So I'll give you that much, that's been better." He tells Techno how there's absolutely nothing to do in the cell and how he's been eating nothing but "raw, disgusting potatoes" for the past months.

Dream did his best to convince himself and others that everything would be fine, that he could deal with the prison's conditions. He tells Sam that he thought the prisoner (himself) "would be fine with potatoes, would be fine with not seeing the courtyard." That he didn't realize how bad it would be. But the longer his imprisonment lasted, the harder it became to deal with it. Dream tries one last time to ask Sam for better food and to see the courtyard and then is forced to give up, trapped behind glass and with no hope of ever getting out.

#c!dream #dreblr #analysis

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year

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I’ve been sitting on this for a few days wondering if I should request it. For the blurb request if no one else has requested it - soft kisses on both cheeks and tip of the nose for Tommy Shelby.

Thanks for sending this in, Ace! 💕 I’m sorry I sat on it for a few weeks (maybe months at this point 😬) … I’m about a quarter of the way through the latest Birmingham chapter and I needed a break, so I decided to take on this request — I hope you like it! I think it turned out rather cheesy, but who cares…right? 😅

How Much I Love You

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: allusion to suggestive situation, Tommy’s a little mopy in this one, but then again, when isn’t he?

(Y/N) takes the opportunity to tell Tommy what she thinks when she finds him still in bed.

“Is the world going to end?” (Y/N) questioned as she shut the bedroom door behind her and pulled the corners of her robe tighter around her body. She’d got up to check on the baby about an hour ago and thought for sure that Tommy would have trailed out right after; heading to lock himself in his office for the day. To see him still in bed was a surprise.

“Huh?” Tommy questioned her, not making much effort to look in her direction as he kept his hand rested on the pillow behind his head.

“You’re still in bed,” she pointed out as she walked over to him.

“And that’s a crime now?” he raised his eyebrows as he was finally able to look at her.

“For you it might as well be,” she teased him, cracking a grin, one that he didn’t return. “Is something on your mind?” Tommy furrowed his eyebrows as to ask the silent question: ‘what?’. “You’re brooding…I can see it in your face. The only difference is that you’re doing it in here instead of your office,” she pointed out, explaining the reasoning behind her first question. Tommy sighed and looked away from her, his fingers tapping away on his chest; another one of his mannerisms that showed he was consumed by thought. “Scoot over,” she mumbled to him then, not waiting for him to do much before she sat on the side of the bed so that she could be closer to him. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Tommy sighed and stared at the ceiling for a few moments before glancing over at (Y/N) again. She was waiting expectantly for him to answer her question. “I’m just wondering where we all go next,” he began.

“Go next with what?” (Y/N) asked him to clarify.

“The business…the family…” he trailed off, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, “they all hate me now.”

“I don’t think they hate you,” she disagreed with his statement.

“I’ve put them in prison, (Y/N),” he didn’t dare dance around the subject, “sure they hate me.”

“They hate what you’ve done,” she suggested another way to look at it, “they may hate you now…they won’t hate you forever.”

“There’s no way you can know that.”

“You’re right.”

“So why bother bringing it up?”

“Because I wanted to get your mind off of it…” (Y/N) slowed their conversation down as she trailed off and took a breath, “I know how you get when your mind gets stuck on something…you become a problem unto yourself, and you cannot go down now…not with the family being where they are,” she tried to speak some sense into him. “Why don’t you go visit them?”

“(Y/N)…” Tommy spoke in a warning tone, showing her how against the idea he was.

“They ask what you’re doing, you know,” she commented, “it almost always comes up when I’m there.”

“They’re probably wondering if I’ve still managed to keep going,” he mumbled, adding in his own thoughts on the matter.

“They may be…” she trailed off, feeling stuck in the arguement at this point. Tommy could argue like a child who wasn’t getting their way, and he wouldn’t quit until he did…it made her nervous for the future arguements she’d inevitably have with their son. “But they still ask about you…you’d probably benefit from going to see them,” she shrugged her shoulders, deciding to see the light in the situation.

“Can we stop talking about this, love?” he asked her, a pleading look present on his face as he dropped his hand onto her thigh and squeezed it gently.

“What do you want to talk about then, hmm?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. She didn’t ask her question in any sort of tone, instead she was curious. “Should we talk about the weather?” she continued, her words making Tommy’s eyebrows furrow.

The confusion became even more apparent when she moved from sitting next to him to straddling his waist, a grin forming on her face as she leaned in closer to him. “What’re you doin’, love?” he questioned her, his hands automatically moving to the sides of her hips to hold her in place.

“I was thinking maybe we could talk about how much…” she paused, her hands moving up to take hold of his jaw. She leaned down even further to brush her lips against his. He tried to follow her, but she was too quick, and his actions made her giggle. “I…” she stopped again, kissing his left cheek, “love…” she kissed his right cheek, “you…” she pressed a kiss to his nose, making him scrunch his face at the unfamiliar feeling, which made her giggle again. She pulled back to smile at him, feeling butteflies erupt in her stomach as his eyes danced across her face. “I love you, Tommy,” she repeated herself, dropping her lips onto his then for a proper kiss.

Tommy took the opportunity, tightening his hold on her as he deepened the kiss. (Y/N) giggled against his lips before she managed to pull away and slide to lay on the bed next to him. “I should go check on the baby again,” she said to him, grinning as she spoke.

“That’s all?” he questioned her, surprise etched into his features.

“Hmm?” she played innocent, her eyebrows raised.

“You can’t do all that and then go check the baby,” he told her.

“Well I have…I’m going to check the baby,” she stuck to her guns, smiling before going to get off of the bed.

“You’re not,” Tommy managed to grab her hand and bring her onto her back once more, “because I’ve now got something to talk to you about.”

A giddy feeling arose in (Y/N)’s stomach as she saw how Tommy was looking at her. She could tell by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t going to be doing much talking. At least she’d managed to get his mind off of things.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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elmhat · 7 months

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potentially useful dsmp vod compilations!

I spent some time compiling related dsmp vods into youtube playlists! It's mainly for myself, but I thought I'd share with anyone who's interested.

Prison Arc — Tommy's first visit to Dream's escape. Vods are only included if they contain scenes inside the prison.

Daedalus Arc — Sam's imprisonment to his release.

Dream's Post-Prison Arc — Dream's escape to his final confrontation with Tommy. Vods are only included if they contain Dream. This is the playlist where I know for a fact I'm missing vods, so suggestions are appreciated! It's also the playlist where you'll probably have to do the most searching for specific moments.

Quackity's Las Nevadas Arc — The creation to the destruction of Las Nevadas. Vods are only included if they contain Quackity.

Just be warned: sometimes the part of a vod that's related to the playlist title is only a short moment from a much longer stream, so you might have to do a bit of searching. This is because I preferred to use the original vods over clips that might cut out important moments.

Let me know if you think something should be added or changed!

#dream smp #dreblr #c!dream #c!quackity #c!sam #lore thoughts #refs

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kommandonuovidiavoli · 2 months

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How are the gang’s relationship with their parents(and extended family)

OH BOI this took a lot especially because I had to think and RETHINK relationships and stuff, but here we go!

Abby's Family

Abby lives with her parents since she's still studying (and a minor too). They're still in a good relationship, as close as ever, and with new people around the house! Her older brother Jacob and his son Simon are living at her home since Jacob got a new job at Mr. Boss' company (his other kid and wife are living at their house in the next city, but they see each other in the weekends and often visit them at Abby's home!). Only problem is with Cree: since she got married in secret, she's seen less and less at the house, also because she moved with her new husband. Her and Abby don't talk anymore after a huge fight they had some years before. Jacob too doesn't talk to her too much, for some reason.

Also, they all love Hoagie, he's always welcome in the house! Sometimes they force Abby to invite him over...

Wally's Family

Wally too still lived with his parents and Joy at their house, but things are not too good. Wally doesn't have a good relationship with his mother anymore, they mostly scream at each other and argue a lot. His father keeps out of their arguments, doesn't even try to mitigate them anymore at this point; if they start, he just takes Joey to the living room to watch TV or something. Sydney has a better relationship with him, even if Wally never wants to talk about his problems with him. Teenagers...

At least things calm down when Kuki's over; they all love the girl!

He's incredibly close to Joey. The two spend a lot of time together, Wally allows him in his room whenever he wants, plays with him sometimes and also lets him sleep in his bed!

Also, since Lou and Syd reconnected, sometimes he hangs around the house too, if they need a babysitter for Joey. Wally... tolerates him. He's good at videogames, at least.

Kuki's Family

Kuki too lives with his family: her parents and Mushi. Her parents are still strict and serious, maybe a bit demanding now that she's in high school, but she handles it pretty good most of the times. But things are not good. Her parents barely talk to each other without arguing, and it is starting to take a tool on her. Also, they don't like Wally at all, considering him a "no good imbecile punk".

She isn't allowed to have him at home, Kani also doesn't want him to get NEAR the house, so sometimes Kuki has to get out without them knowing. But they ALWAYS get to know what she does, and it's because Mushi always tells on her.

The little girl somehow managed to get out of her lifelong grounding, and is now her dad's favorite girl. She's like one of those Delightfuls: a spoiled educated kid who always does what adults say.

Hoagie's Family

Hoagie still lives with his mom, his grandmother (when she wants to hang around) and his brother Tommy. Everything's fine on this side, luckly! His mom still works at Mr. Boss' company, but managed to become Head of Marketing, so she has a lot to do and not too much time to spend home. Hoagie makes sure everything is always ready and clean, cooks for everyone (and he's even GOOD at it!), takes care of laundry and makes sure Tommy showers AT LEAST once at week. He's the man of the house! Especially since no one knows or cares where his father is, at this point.

Abby's always welcome to their house, but Betty always asks to invite her when she's home too, so they can talk! She loves the girl!

His grandma usually hisses at her. Tommy too.

AND FINALLY I CAN ADD Nigel's Family

After getting his house back when he turned 18, Nigel lived alone in a house that slowly started looking like a messy prison: dirty dishes, clothes everywhere, dust and cracks. The only rooms that were intact were his parent's bedroom (which he started to sleep in) and his old bedroom, that he never entered since he went back. Penny arrived at the right time, as he needed something to get himself together and remember why he was still there and fighting in the TND: for the sake of kids all around the world. The same kids his parents protected as long as they could. Penny claimed the bedroom and is thinking of adding mermaid touches EVERYWHERE. The house still needs cleaning tho.

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h50europe · 9 days

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911/S.W.A.T. - When You Fear The Cold And Crave The Burn - CH1 now on AO3!

Buck is deeply affected by the loss of Tommy, who died during a training flight. About eight weeks later, the 118 is called to the scene of a horrible accident involving a prisoner transport and SWAT officers. Sergeant Donovan Rocker is among the injured. Hen and Eddie are stunned to find that Rocker bears a striking resemblance to Tommy while they are fighting for his life on the way to the hospital. They also worry about Buck, who is still blaming himself for Tommy's death.

Despite the concerns of Eddie and the rest of the team, Buck frequently visits Rocker and develops a bond with him. Their friendship deepens when Rocker learns he may be confined to a wheelchair. Buck, who has faced a similar situation, takes it upon himself to help the SWAT leader through this challenging time. Although Rocker is initially hesitant, he starts to feel a connection with Buck that he can't explain. And Eddie? He keeps a watchful eye on Buck. After all, he fears that his friend has gotten himself into a mess because he can't come to terms with Tommy's death.

#buddie #bucktommy #911 #911 on abc #swat #donovan rocker #tommy kinard #eddie diaz #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #ryan guzman #s.w.a.t cbs #swat cbs #evan buckley

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bleue-flora · 2 months

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So um, in light of my last post I was inspired to look into other dsmp people's ages because I feel like we don’t really think about it too often and oh does it make things interesting…

Just for reference and consideration, here are some United States Legal Age Minimums:

Drive: 16-18

Adult: 18-21

Vote: 18

Drink Alcohol: 21

Political Office: 25 (Representative) 30 (Senator) 35 (President)

Military: 17-18

Also Note: On average the brain is scientifically not fully developed until age 25 - and oh wouldn't you know it 90% of the server fall under that, meaning no wonder we have a bunch of wars their prefrontal cortex isn't fully developed and wouldn't you know it that part of the brain is responsible for regulating attention, behavior, and emotion as well as the processing that Actions Have Consequences... huh whelp that makes sense.

Anyways… age data is below (I didn't do everyone nor every event - nobody got time for that ;D... I didn't have time for this to begin with lol...) But I specifically want to highlight that not only was Dream 21 from Jan-Aug of his Imprisonment, but Sam was also 21 till Jun, and Quackity was literally 20 while he was daily torturing Dream... 20?! They were roughly a year apart, all of them so close. Like can you imagine, treating your peer like that? Sam is like a couple months older than Dream and that's it. Quackity can't even drink legally in the United States. That's insane...

(* to signify canonical Immortality)

Ok, so the full list of members and ages is at the bottom, but first, here are so key events I picked just to highlight their ages at the time.

Server Creation - April 24, 2020

GeorgeNotFound - 23 Callahan - 23 Dream - 20 Sapnap - 19

L'Manberg War - August 2, 2020

BadBoyHalo - 25 WilburSoot - 23 GeorgeNotFound - 23 Callahan - 23 Punz - 23 Eret - 21 Awesamdude - 21 Dream - 20 Fundy - 20 Skeppy - 20 Ponk - 20 Quackity - 19 Sapnap - 19 Niki Nihachu - 19 Jack Manifold - 17 Purpled - 16 Tubbo - 16 Tommy - 16

Pogtopia vs Manberg War - November 16th, 2020

Philza - 32* BadBoyHalo - 25 HBomb - 26 WilburSoot - 24 GeorgeNotFound - 24 Callahan - 23 Punz - 23 Karl Jacobs -22 Antfrost - 22 CaptainPuffy - 22 Eret - 21 Technoblade - 21* Awesamdude - 21 Dream - 21 Connor - 21 Schlatt - 21 Fundy - 21 Skeppy - 20 Ponk - 20 Quackity - 19 Sapnap - 19 Niki Nihachu - 19 Jack Manifold - 18 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17 Tubbo - 16 Tommy - 16

Exile - December 4, 2020

Ghostbur - 24 Technoblade - 21* Dream - 21 Ranboo - 17 Tubbo - 16 Tommy - 16

Doomsday - January 6, 2021

Philza - 32* HBomb - 27 Callahan - 23 Punz - 23 CaptainPuffy - 22 Eret - 21 Technoblade - 21* Dream - 21 Fundy - 21 Ponk - 20 Quackity - 20 Sapnap - 19 Niki Nihachu - 19 Jack Manifold - 18 Ranboo - 17 Tubbo - 17 Tommy - 16

Disc Confrontation - January 20, 2021

HBomb - 27 BadBoyHalo - 25 Callahan - 24 Punz - 23 Antfrost - 22 CaptainPuffy - 22 Eret - 22 Awesamdude - 21 Dream - 21 Ponk - 20 Quackity - 20 Sapnap - 19 Niki Nihachu - 19 Jack Manifold - 18 Ranboo - 17 Tubbo - 17 Tommy - 16

Quackity’s First Prison Visit - March 16, 2021

Awesamdude - 21 Dream - 21 Quackity - 20

Techno's Visit- June 6, 2021

Technoblade - 22* Awesamdude - 21 Dream - 21

Jailbreak - November 28, 2021

Philza - 33* HBomb - 27 BadBoyHalo - 26 George - 25 Callahan - 24 Punz - 24 Karl Jacobs - 23 Antfrost - 23 CaptainPuffy - 23 Foolish Gamers - 22 Eret - 22 Technoblade - 22* Awesamdude - 22 Dream - 22 Connor - 22 Fundy - 22 Skeppy - 21 Hannahxxrose - 21 Ponk - 21 Quackity - 20 Sapnap - 20 Niki Nihachu - 20 Jack Manifold - 19 Purpled - 18 Ranboo - 18 Tubbo - 17 Tommy - 17

Comprehensive List From Oldest to Youngest: Name - Date of Birth (Current Age) - [Join Date] Age when Joined

Philza- March 1, 1988 (36) – [Nov 16, 2020] 32 *Immortal*

HBomb- Jan 4, 1994 (30) – [Sept 22, 2020] 26

BadBoyHalo- April 2, 1995 (28) – [May 19, 2020] 25

Wilbur- Sept 14, 1996 (27) – [July 12, 2020] 23

GeorgeNotFound- Nov 1, 1996 (27) – [April 24, 2020] 23

Callahan- Jan 19, 1997 (27) – [April 24, 2020] 23

Punz- Jan 31, 1997 (27) – [July 7, 2020] 23

Karl Jacobs- July 19, 1998 (25) – [Aug 26, 2020] 22

Antfrost- Aug 27, 1998 (25) – [Sep 5, 2020] 22

Captain Puffy- Sept 18, 1998 (25) – [Nov 16, 2020] 22

Foolish Gamers- Dec 18, 1998 (25) – [Jan 16, 2021] 22 *Immortal*

Eret- Jan 9, 1999 (25) – [July 19, 2020] 21

Technoblade- June 1, 1999 (23) – [Sept 22, 2020] 21 *Immortal*

Awesamdude - June 8, 1999 (24) – [April 28, 2020] 20

Dream - Aug 12, 1999 (24) – [April 24, 2020] 20

Connor- Aug 26, 1999 (24) – [Nov 16, 2020] 21

Schlatt- Sept 10, 1999 (24) – [Sept 20, 2020] 21

Fundy- Oct 10, 1999 (24) – [July 7, 2020] 20

Skeppy- Jan 17, 2000 (24) – [July 18, 2020] 20

Ponk- April 18, 2000 (23) – [May 7, 2020] 20

Quackity- Dec 28, 2000 (23) – [Aug 11, 2020] 19

Sapnap- March 1, 2001 (23) – [April 24, 2020] 19

Niki Nihachu- Nov 3, 2001 (22) – [Aug 6, 2020] 18

Jack Manifold- Aug 14, 2002 (21) – [Aug 3, 2020] 17

Purpled- Oct 24, 2003 (20) – [July 9, 2020] 16

Ranboo- Nov 2, 2003 (20) – [Nov 17, 2020] 17

Tubbo- Dec 23, 2003 (20) – [July 7, 2020] 16

Tommy- April 9, 2004 (19) – [July 4, 2020] 16

They are all babies confirmed... things make so much more sense... brain development guys it's important ;)

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swordfright · 4 months

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Since we're talking c!Quackity...one of the interactions that fascinates me is the conversation between him, c!Wilbur, and c!Tommy when crimeboys visit Las Nevadas, because it contains this snippet of conversation:

This snippet comes in the middle of a larger conversation wherein Wilbur, more or less freshly revived, is grilling both Tommy and Q for details about how to get into the prison to see Dream. After this, the conversation moves on to navigating the visitation system. This snippet is framed within the context of Wilbur wanting to visit Dream, Tommy trying to convince him not to, and Quackity...? Well, okay, what is Quackity trying to do here? What's his goal in this conversation? He readily supplies Wilbur with info about the visitation and security systems (while Tommy actively withholds and obfuscates this info), so does that mean Q is trying to normalize his own visits by encouraging other people to visit? That's possible, but what interests me more is the question of, like, what the hell is going on here in a broader sense.

The simplest view of this conversation is that it's an argument between two people who are diametrically opposed, and Quackity is the third party here, a guy who doesn't seem particularly invested in either outcome. Which begs the question, why does he bring his own visits up at all? Q is the one who cuts in and mentions that he's been visiting Dream, which at this point isn't a secret on the server but it's also not something Q seems interested in discussing at length. The torture visits are something to be flaunted, not talked about. My assumption, given what we know about Q as a character, is that he's leveraging his experience with navigating Pandora in order to impress Wilbur. Information is something that can be negotiated, brokered, sold - so he's letting Wilbur know he has something Wilbur wants.

This is classic Q behavior right up until the end, where he gets oddly touchy about the torture being brought up. This moment has always struck me as weird, especially considering the handful of other times Quackity doesn't care whether people know (the conversation he has with George comes to mind, as well as the path he asks Foolish to build.) So there are three possibilities here:

that Q is bothered by Tommy saying the quiet part out loud;

that Q has only just found out about Wilbur's gratitude to Dream in the last 5 minutes (literally) and doesn't want to give Wilbur a reason to oppose him right now;

there's something about Tommy specifically knowing about and acknowledging the torture that rubs Q the wrong way.

Personally, I don't see option #2 as viable, given that Wilbur and Quackity are already beefing over how close to Las Nevadas Wilbur can build stuff. That's part of the reason Wilbur is here in the first place: to execute some chernobyl-grade negging. It's not world-ending beef, but given the propensity for mid-tier beef to turn into world-ending beef on this server, it's not nothing. Point is, Quackity and Wilbur have already been at odds with each other for this entire episode. Is Quackity less likely to tolerate conflict involving Dream? Absolutely, but I don't think avoiding such a conflict is his primary reason for acting the way he does here.

My current theory is that it's a combination of #1 and #3 - Quackity seemingly enjoys implying that he's been torturing Dream, but rarely talks about it outright unless it's with Sam. I can't think of many examples of him discussing the torture openly with other characters. I think it's not a stretch to say he enjoys the power of suggestion, he likes making people wonder, he likes making people scared, but he's not really prepared for someone to bring it up so boldly and directly the way Tommy does here. As for why this bothers him, my best guess is that the torture is actually kind of...difficult to talk about with people who aren't directly involved (i.e. Sam and Dream.) It's an incredibly demanding habit that takes up much of Quackity's time and energy, not to mention it's insanely intimate. Like I just don't think it's a stretch to say that Q probably just straight-up doesn't know how to talk about it in a way that's upfront, rather than gloating or flaunting or vaguely implying. Another reason it's likely difficult is that, based on the interactions we've seen, Q probably isn't used to other people bringing it up at all. Tommy's remark catches him off-guard in a very literal way.

The "Don't say that, not even as a joke," really gets me though, because it's such a defensive thing to say, coming from a guy who up until now has been very clear about how little interest he has in defending the indefensible. Is this comment a sign of remorse on Quackity's part? Fuck no, but I do think it's an admission of something. Keep in mind that Quackity's mannerisms when speaking to Tommy are almost identical to the way he speaks to c!Slime. This is evident in a number of streams from the Las Nevadas era, but especially this one: Quackity's tone of voice, language, demeanor, all of it is calculated to evoke the same kind of mentor-mentee relationship he has with Slime. And it makes sense - at this junction in the story, Q views Tommy as someone who's young and impressionable and fucks up a lot, someone who could use Q's advice, someone who's easy to manipulate.

If I were to hedge a bet, I'd say the primary reason Quackity reacts to the torture comment with defensiveness in this scene is because Tommy's remark reminds him that he needs to stay in control of the narrative. I think this is why Q brings up his visits (not the torture, but the visits) earlier in the conversation: "Tommy, you know about this, right?" He's testing Tommy to see how much he knows, and is taken aback when Tommy is prepared to bring up the nasty stuff. Q can walk around with Dream's blood on his shirt all he likes, but once the story's out, it's out - Quackity will no longer have control over who knows and, more importantly, what they think. If anything, this moment is a fleeting but noticeable admission of Quackity's insecurities surrounding the torture in specific. If he's going to properly manage his alliances, he would do well to maintain control of info surrounding, uh, how he spends his time.

#c!quackity #dream smp #dsmp meta #c!tommy #long post

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dr3amofagame · 2 months

Note

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Anticipation & Survival

woo :D was able to participate this time with a little fic, hopefully this means i'll have the time to try and write more consistently again :') hope you guys enjoy 2.8k words of c!Dream being Normal and Fine and c!Sam being absolutely miserable.

---

The prison is working out well.

Dream spins the clock. The background is mostly a sunny blue sky, with the slightest creep of dark blue rotating in along the right. The sun is a bright dandelion yellow. It’s afternoon. Maybe two, three o’clock. He’s been tracking the days by sunset, when the clock is split in equal halves of blue and navy. Ranboo visits too, to corroborate the time, but it’s a good habit to keep track while he can. It’s been seven days. A whole week.

Besides Ranboo, there’s been one visit. Tommy. He’s seen three people, since being put in here. Tommy, Ranboo, and Sam. He’s eaten twenty potatoes. Counting is mundane, but so is everything now. There isn’t much to do in prison. Just sweat, and stare at lava, and stare at obsidian when that makes his eyes hurt, and wait for Sam to come in and check that he’s not been doing anything stupid, and wait for visitors, and eat and drink and sleep. It’s not a big room. He wouldn’t say it’s a particularly small one, either. The ceiling’s a little low, and there’s not anywhere to run, of course, but there’s plenty of room to pace and sit and lie down straight and he can sit down on the chest fine without hitting his head on stone. It’s not like he’ll need much space to carry out any plans in the foreseeable future. The cell is absent of certain comforts—a cot, for one, for obvious reasons—but once you get used to that, and the food, and the heat, it’s really not that bad. It’s not like he’s any stranger to roughing it.

From a certain point of view, it’s almost relaxing. Sam is predictable. Almost more of a clock than the clock he’s given him, which is half the reason Dream throws it in the lava at all; Sam is reliable. His reactions are reliable. He gets food delivered twice a day, once in the morning, once at night. The nightly visit is accompanied by questioning, and occasionally Sam comes into the cell around midday to interrogate him too. Dream cooperates. Why shouldn’t he? He’s already spilled his whole plan to everyone on the mountain, gloated to Tommy, who has surely run his mouth to everyone within earshot by now. There’s no point to him being cagey at this point; no, better to rave and rant about Tommy and exile and his plan in the mountain, better to let Sam get all the information he wants and watch his eyebrows knit in disgust. Sam raises his voice, Dream answers his questions, Sam storms off. He’s even started watching the clock, just out of curiosity, and Sam leaves his cell pretty much the same time every day. Clockwork.

There was one day when Sam didn’t come at all and Dream had—a moment, admittedly, embarrassing enough, just a string of disconnected thoughts about what would happen if the Warden of the prison suddenly dropped dead and died—but Sam had been right there the next day, looking more miserable than Dream has ever seen him. He made a quip about skipping work that made Sam snap at him; Dream takes it as a good sign, that the man guarding him seems to be more pained about the fact that he left him alone for a day than Dream was bothered about the disappearance of the single person responsible for every aspect of his life for the foreseeable future. That’s Sam, though. Dependable. Dedicated. Never one to not take his job seriously. If Dream put Sapnap in charge of the prison, he’d probably starve to death before the first month was up, but Sam looks like he’d rather fall on his own sword than leave Dream alone for a full twenty-four hours again; Dream has it in him to feel bad that he’s putting the guy to work for the sake of his own vacation. Just, a little bit.

Back to his point. The prison is relaxing. Really. It’s boring, sure, but obviously he expected that; he’s never had so little to do before. He wakes up at night (he’s been attempting to sleep at nighttime, just because the light apparently is supposed to mess with you, but his sleep schedule has been shot for months so it’s not like it really matters to him all that much) with his brain racing, grasping for a list of tasks to do, only to come up empty. It’s a bit of a marvel. He thinks it’s funny. Yeah, brain, he’s in his—vacation arc. They’re doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like they planned. Nobody’s getting into this place to kill him, not without smacking face-first into, like, a billion security protocols, not without dealing with Sam’s workaholic Warden schtick on their ass. He’s even getting food hand-delivered to him. Full service! Or something.

He spins the clock again. Tommy gave him books to write. Sam flipped through them, asked questions, Dream answered. He’s not writing answers for them. He might throw them in the lava, if Sam doesn’t just confiscate the damn things; Dream knows he wants Tommy nowhere near him. Fair enough. Maybe he can write some long-ass manifesto about how much he wanted Tommy’s discs for Sam to chew on, if he gets bored enough. He laughs a little at the thought as he thinks it—okay, yeah, nah. He’s not at that point yet.

He lies down. Horizontal. The ground is hot, but everything’s hot, and he’s getting used to it at this point; better hot than cold, honestly. He’d rather sleep here than out in the snow. The ceiling is a plane of unbroken black stone. Dream raises his hand, splays out his fingers. His nails are starting to get long. Nothing to file them down with in here…teeth it is. Whatever. He lets his hand fall back to the ground, sighing. His eyes glance over at the clock.

Barely any time has passed. Still hours before Sam comes back. Dream bites back a low groan. Fine, fine, the boredom is getting to him. A little bit. He’s not surprised—it’s not like he’s ever done well with sitting still—but it’s still, annoying. He waves his arms and legs like he’s making a snow angel in the obsidian. Or doing jumping jacks. He should do jumping jacks, maybe. He’s got a basic workout routine to do daily—or several times a day, when there’s nothing else to do (there’s always nothing else to do, but whatever), but he’s not in the mood for it right now.

He clicks his tongue, just to hear himself. He talks to himself, sometimes, but he has to be careful what he says. Not that it’s not a good thing to keep up, though, for the madman routine. It’s much better to talk to himself when he knows he has an audience, muttering Tommy, Tommy, Tommy in those minutes before Sam enters his cell. Fun, even. Sometimes he writes out evil speeches to give in his notebooks, burning the pages in the lava before Sam arrives. He shouldn’t get reckless with it or anything, pushing the things too far past the point of absurdity, but at this point he could probably get away with saying—just about anything. He could blather on about how he wanted to keep Tommy in a cage and play his dumb little discs to him all day until he goes insane, and Sam would write all of that down in his—book with his face twisted up under his helm while Dream tries not to break down laughing and give away the whole ruse. Not that laughing doesn’t work out for him either, to be fair. He’s gotten pretty good at the villain laugh.

Dream stands up. He looks at the clock mounted in the item frame; the sliver of night sky on the right side has grown just slightly wider, enough to expose the slightest edge of one white-dotted star. Still hours before sunset. He pulls it off the wall, watching the background tick ever slowly forward. The gold gleams, polished to a mirror finish.

Sam’s craftsmanship is unmistakable, even with something as small as this. He almost feels bad for what he’s about to do.

He holds the clock up to the lava, keeping it in his hand for as long as he can handle it before the heat against his palm makes him shove it entirely under the flow, watching it disappear through strings of smoke. The crackling noise fades back into the normal hisses and pops after a few seconds; the smoke will linger for longer. Dream stands there, the lava’s heat at his face. It hurts his eyes to look at.

…whatever.

He backs away. Then claps, brushing his palms against each other. Clock’s been burned. Another item of his daily itinerary handled—not that he does this daily. Has to keep Sam on his toes, right? The crazy prisoner isn’t supposed to be the predictable one, not like the ever-punctual Warden. This is—important, he’s decided, for his image. Well, not important, maybe, but it’s calculated. Beneficial. Nobody sane takes the one thing they have in their cell and destroys it repeatedly for literally no reason. Sam’s prisoner, the crazy guy that was trying to take over the server, isn’t sane. No one questions why an insane guy tries to control everyone with a bunch of shit he doesn’t even have, why he thinks he can keep someone locked up in a two-by-one box with a couple of iron bars, why he listens to a guy threatening to kill himself when he can literally raise the dead. It’s all set dressing. Method acting. One or the other, or both; it’s not like he’s ever watched a real play in his life. All that matters is that everyone thinks he’s crazy because no one asks a crazy guy why he’s acting crazy, and crazy people do stuff like obsess over stupid pieces of vinyl and talk to themselves and destroy their own shit for no reason.

(Which probably makes Tommyinnit a crazy person, ha.)

Sam will come back. Soon. He will bring potatoes with him, and investigate the cell, and see the missing clock. He will complain. He will threaten Dream, rave about the destruction of prison property, telling him that he won’t replace it. He will question him about Tommy. And tomorrow morning, a new clock will be put in its place. Honestly, Sam would probably give himself an aneurysm if he had to look at the cell with one of its components missing. It seems like the kind of thing to bother him too much not to set straight. And tomorrow, maybe Dream will throw the clock into the lava again, and maybe he won’t. He’ll see.

He’s the one that decides, in the end.

—

Sam checks his comm again as he waits for the lava to fall, head already pounding. He’s had an on-and-off migraine ever since his night with the Egg, and the current wave shows no sign of abating any time soon. If he could have it his way, he’d be back in his bed, Fran curled up beside him, where it’s dark and quiet and comfortably cool instead of sweating half to death in a suffocating suit of full armor. Instead, he’s nursing a headache that only gets worse with every notification he reads off the log pulled up on his screen; he doesn’t even bother counting the string of [Dream tried to swm in lava] that appears under today’s date. The fact that it’s a seemingly longer list than the days previous does little to help his already bad mood.

He still has no idea what Dream hopes to achieve by doing this, besides attention. Not that Sam has even been trying to give him that, these days; he visits twice a day, once at 9 the morning and once at 6 in the afternoon, and then leaves the prisoner to himself. Sam doesn’t answer to him. He’s not going to get the same reaction he got the first time he pulled this stunt, when Sam had rushed into the cell in the middle of the night, heart in his throat after running halfway across the server, only to find Dream waiting for him in the middle of his cell with his mask smiling back mockingly. If he’s hoping to stir Sam into a panic again, he’s sorely mistaken. But still Dream continues. He’s probably just doing it to get a reaction out of him. He probably thinks that’s funny.

Dream is standing, waiting for him. Muttering to himself, he thinks he can hear. Sam pulls the lever for the bridge and steps on it, his sword in hand, wanting to get this visit over and done with as quickly as possible. He might sleep in the Warden’s quarters here, tonight, just to avoid the commute back to his base. Yeah, that sounds good. All he has to do is survive one conversation with Dream.

The prisoner has stopped talking to himself by the time Sam steps into the cell, lifting his chin as he looks at him.

“Hi, Sam.”

Sam makes a vague noise of acknowledgement, not more than a low grunt. His eyes scan the room from left to right, stopped prematurely by the sight of the empty item frame mounted on the wall. His headache grows exponentially worse in an instant, a stabbing pain hammering itself into the back of his skull. He grits his teeth.

He should’ve expected this. He knows he should’ve expected this.

“Prisoner.”

“Sam,” Dream replies, his smile audible in his voice. Sam closes his eyes, a prayer flitting across his overtaxed mind. God help him.

“Where’s your clock.” What’s the point of asking, even. Dream sways from foot to foot.

“I burned it?”

“Why did you do it. Again.” Dream shrugs. Sam steps forward, shoves him back. “Don’t be so dumb, Dream.”

The prisoner barely seems to react, his back hitting the wall. His voice is nearly sing-song. “Ohhh. I got you though.”

Sam wishes, not for the first time, that he didn’t have the work ethic that keeps him from coming into the cell drunk. Surely the prisoner cannot be any more infuriating to handle with the help of some alcohol. He holds the prisoner by his jaw and knocks his head back against the wall, gauntlet digging into the pale skin under the bottom edge of his mask.

“What is wrong with you!” Dream struggles, slightly. Sam kicks at his legs. “Don’t move. Answer my question.”

“Let go.”

“How many times have I told you not to burn the clock, Dream!” He knocks the back of his head against the wall, harder this time. The struggling stops. “Do you think it’s funny? I don’t have to replace your clock!”

Dream sounds a little dazed when he replies, arms crossed at his chest. “I just wanted to burn it. So I did.”

“That’s ridiculous. What is your problem.” He shakes his head by his jaw, once, then lets go, giving himself enough distance to swing a fist into Dream’s side, making him double over. He scoffs at the sight, anger white-hot. He knows he shouldn’t be letting the prisoner get to him. Knows that Dream is only doing this to mess with him, mess with him the same way he messes with everyone, trying to get into his head. His skull feels like it’s being split apart.

Dream stands up straight again. All Sam can see is the flat, smooth plane of his mask, that smile, unchanged. His hands, knotted into tight fists at his sides, shake. The heat pulsing behind his eyes feels like rage, and also almost feels like he’s going to cry.

He can’t do this. The realization is abrupt, but sure. Not tonight, not with this headache, not with Dream. He can’t go through the same song and dance, can’t sit here and examine the cell and give the prisoner his potatoes and go through questioning for an hour, can’t spend the rest of his night going over his words with a fine-toothed comb looking for the nuggets of truth hidden in the midst of the prisoner’s crazed ramblings. Hasn’t he done enough? For the whole server, for everyone, day after day he stands and faces the monster before him and day after day he stands strong; retreating now feels like weakness, but he can’t. He honestly, truly, can’t. He ignores the weight of the potatoes in his inventory and turns.

“Sam?” Dream speaks again when he’s reached the edge of the cell, sounding slightly winded. “What are you—?”

Sam pearls across the gap, slamming the lever to lower the lava wall as soon as his vision clears. Tomorrow, he will be the Warden of Pandora’s Vault. Tomorrow, he will stand toe-to-toe against the one he has been entrusted to keep and stand firm. Tomorrow, he will do as he must, as the one responsible for the survival of everyone and everything he holds dear.

Today, it’s just too much. He looks back to a wall of unbroken lava, only able to stare at it for a few seconds before turning away.

#my asks !!#writing !!#my writing :D #the sixteenth #sixteenthdayevent #everything is going fine. :)

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skylarinfinity · 3 months

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[male reader and wanda visit tommy at the prison]

tommy : [avoiding eye contact with male reader] what, are you disappointed?

male reader : eh no, don't worry about that.

tommy : [face male reader] what? why-

male reader : [shrugs] your mum been in prison before-

wanda : [sighs] male reader-

male reader : and it's the highest level security prisons-

wanda : [slap the back of male reader head] stop that!

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy @loving-wanda-in-every-universe

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zablife · 1 year

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Hi there. 😊 This is a request for some John Shelby fluff. How about John gets arrested in a raid and his favorite girl, a prostitute he pays well to keep off the streets visits him regularly at jail. One day the guard takes pity and money she saved and opens his cell for a little while so they can actually embrace? 🤷🏽‍♀️

Prison Visit

John x female reader

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph what have you done now?" you ask, peering between the metal bars at John.

"Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about. Now give us a kiss," he says with a devilish smirk.

Pulling back, you run your hand along the cool metal and tilt your head at him suspiciously. "Is this why you've been leaving extra the past few times we've fucked? So I'll be taken care of if you hang?" A tear comes to your eye as you take in his handsome face, imagining a noose tightening around his neck.

John reaches out, hushing you, "Hey, hey, look at me. That's not gonna happen, alright?"

"How do you know?" you sniff, jerking your hand away to reach for a handkerchief.

"Cause Tommy's too smart to let some fuckin' coppers beat us, that's why," he says reassuringly.

"John, I told ya, you put too much faith in your brother," you say with a shake of your head.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, seemingly unbothered by your lecture. John leans out as far as possible to stroke your cheek gently. "Kiss me," he implores, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and you can't deny him a second time. Pressing your face between the bars, you find the warmth of his lips, stubbled jaw rubbing against you until you let out a stiffled moan.

"That's my girl," John praises, tilting your chin toward him. "No more talk of hanging, alright?" he says looking you in the eye determinedly. Then he grins as he adds, "I'm too fucking handsome anyhow. They'd have girls rioting in the streets, wailing night and day, if they dared touch a hair on my head."

"You stupid git," you snort. "Can't stay mad at you for long. Besides I have a surprise," you say, biting your lip as you open the top button of your dress.

John's eyes blow wide with lust as he leans back from the bars of his cell to drink you in, wondering what you have planned. "What's that?" he asks licking his lower lip, suddenly very curious.

You give a low whistle and the guard appears again. John furrows his brow in confusion until he notices you dig into your bra for the extra cash you saved and hand it over to the policeman. He unlocks John's cell door, averting his eyes as you enter slowly, a warm smile painting your face.

"Thought you could use some company in here," you said, removing your coat enticingly and letting it drop to the floor.

John nods as he welcomes you into his arms, watching the guard leave silently. "Oh, I'd love some, sweetheart. How long can you stay?"

As you sink to your knees to unfasten his trousers you reply, "Long enough to show you how much I've missed you."

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #John Shelby #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby imagine #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x you #John x Shelby x y/n

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sumwan · 6 months

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/dsmp rp

This has most definitely been stated many times before, but rewatching all the prison VODs in order really puts into perspective the sheer cruelty and inhumanity that Dream faced in there.

Sam referring to Dream as "the prisoner" from the very start. Sam hounding visitors on whether Dream had said anything to them. Dream burning himself and killing himself in the lava as a source of entertainment. Dream being told to "behave" and not make Sam mad. Dream admitting he's getting fewer potatoes sometimes for burning his clocks because he wants human contact so badly. Dream admitting to Tommy that he's suffering in the prison. Visitors being cut off for arbitrary reasons. The cell being completely devoid of any kind of mental stimulation.

Then later, Dream getting tortured for not giving up the one thing that keeps him alive. Dream's one chance at escape, Techno, getting locked up with him. Techno telling Dream he needs a psychologist after Dream burns himself again. Dream thinking of throwing himself in the lava and drowning himself in the toilet after Techno wastes their wish with DreamXD. Dream telling Techno that he had no hope and was crestfallen until they came up with an escape plan. Dream getting blamed and tortured for Techno's disappearance from the cell. Dream getting told by Sam that all the horrible conditions are his own fault and that he deserves them and should be thankful for them. Dream believing that Techno would never come back for him.

The emotionless tone that Dream has when Bad visits for the first time, the silence when Sapnap visits, the terror and panic during Quackity's visits, the dejection and despair when Techno visits, the desperation when Sam finds him.

The entire prison arc is genuinely so bleak and harrowing. The almost non-stop misery that Dream experienced there is incomparable. And watching it all again while knowing that Dream later returns to a place like that is just heartbreaking.

#c!dream #dreblr #I'm editing a video and I had some thoughts

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theminecraftbox · 5 months

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pspspsp... do you have any thoughts about c!sam's initial reaction during the first moments when dream becomes his prisoner? bc i think a lot about the timeline of sam going from Kinda Normal to full on frollo. like where did he go wrong?? was there ever a time where he was normal about cdream??

I actually think a Lot about this. The development of c!Sam’s complex about c!Dream is really strange, both because it happens very quickly and because it’s not really based on prior strong feelings, yknow? I don’t think Sam had a pre-existing fascination with Dream, for instance, at least nothing that justifies how central and load-bearing Dream is about to become to his identity.

So it’s not about being weird about Dream himself right away, that doesn’t happen overnight. What DOES happen overnight is that Sam instantly gets super weird about the Warden persona. He’s been pouring himself into this build and into its importance to the server and to his place in the server. The prison is how he justifies his own existence and behavior and identity. Sam isn’t Sam anymore: Sam is someone who is protecting the server and who is essential to the community, and that means Sam is the Warden.

Sam builds this identity in opposition to Dream: Sam is the Warden because he has a prisoner. Sam says himself, it’s meaningless to be the Warden of an empty prison. But it’s also meaningless for him to be the Warden of anyone other than Dream (eg Connor, Techno) and it’s meaningless to be the Warden if Dream is dead.

In this sense, I don’t think there was ever a time when Sam, acting in his capacity as the Warden of Pandora’s Vault, was ever normal about Dream, because Sam was never normal about his job. Sam always, from the very beginning, approached this position with the kind of obsessive intensity and, most importantly, absolute moral and physical authority, that totally precluded him from being normal. It’s evident from Tommy’s very first visit. Sam is acting in a way that is extreme, and frightening, and strange.

The personal and professional spheres of Sam’s view of his identity become extremely warped. He’s a good person because he’s subduing and leashing a bad person. His morality, his job, and his identity all become defined oppositionally, and Dream is the pillar holding it all up,

So what was that first intake like? I think it wasn’t dissimilar to the attitude Tommy witnesses not much later. I think Sam was terrifyingly cold and severe, I think he was taking a great deal of comfort in setting up the definitions: he is the Warden and Dream is the Prisoner who must do everything he says, no matter what.

#c!sam #c!dream and c!sam #pandora’s vault #dsmp #dreblr

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patxhwrk · 1 year

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greetings. could u write a little imagine thing for ethoslab? watcher!reader or dsmp!reader thanks! preferably male reader. take ur time if u do write it. stay hydrated.

my fuck this is such a good idea thank you anon for being so smart

anyways dsmp reader with angst sorry about that

completely forgot u asked for an imagine so have a whole fic instead. I might write a seperate imagine for this one too tho

-ˋˏ✄— Bubbling Memories

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Ethoslab x Male! DSMP! Reader

Pronouns: he/him

"You're more home to me than any house is."

.navigation. // .hermitcraft & empires smp masterlist.

CW!!

—Mentions of character death

—Implications of self-harm & attempt su*c*de

—Blood

—Derealization(?)

Every second spent in that lawless server—ironic, considering it had been laws that started wars—was spent in the echoes of left behind misery. There was never silence in that world. If you managed to stumble upon even a sliver of quaint and quiet, you would find that it would have been better to have the ear piercing noise.

Y/n was lucky enough to have been left with one life. The last thing he remembered from the old server was the sorrowful eyes of his friends waving goodbye as he left. The portal—it vaguely reminded him of a nether portal if it was pink—shrunk as Tubbo's and Ranboo's backs turned to leave.

He hugged the blue stained yellow sweater closer to himself as he turned towards the new server—his new server—as the habitants greeted him with warmed welcome arms.

He was half afraid of building something that took effort. But one reassuring conversation with Xisuma—the man somewhat resembled Dream. Why was his mask fucking green?—coaxed him into building one of the biggest and best things he had ever created in his life. Well, it was just an "improved" Logstedshire, but it was the thought that counts, right? Building it reminded him of the time he spent with his brothers—though one had been a ghost, it was fine. He even put a bell where he and Tommy would—!

His hands stopped swinging the bell.

Tommy was dead. His younger brother had visited Dream in the prison where he was left to die. And he left his brother because he was too much of a pussy to confront the same man who had tormented him until he had a knife barely glazing at the skin of his throat.

He shook his head, running his hands through the mop he called hair as the bell ringed a final time. It silenced before it stilled. And then Y/n left his base.

Voices rang in his ear—was it his?—as he scolded himself for building something that gave him so much horrible memories more than the good ones. Why can't be just be like Ghostbur? Forgetful of the sorrows and always looking at the sun even through dark clouds.

His arms found comfort in himself, wrapping around each other as his nails dug into the skin under the yellow sweater. Wilbur wouldn't mind if he stained it, right? Wilbur would reassure him that it was fine, he was fine, it was all fine. And then he'd take the sweater and wash it. Because Wilbur was a good big brother.

No, Wilbur's dead. His brother was long dead before Philza killed him. Ghostbur wasn't like Wilbur, either.

He walked aimlessly around the server. He would have reminded himself of Ranboo's enderwalking state if he was in his own head. He watched as he passed by builds, ignoring the calls of concerned friends—friends? He had friends now?—as his feet brought him further and further from the build that he longed to blow up. Longed to tear into shreds bare handed as the memories of a pain long buried but never forgotten bubbled back to his head. Longed to feel the blood coat his fingers as his fists crashed through the shards of glass that showed the reflections of himself—a man who was too much of a coward to save his little brother. Too much of a coward to stop his father from killing the brother he looked up to. Too much of a fucking coward to just shove the knife through his chest, in the same place the sword dyed the sweater blue.

He longed to let his hands, his arms, his whole body fucking hurt. The seating hot pain that followed, the ache, the numbness, before it disappeared and he'd wake up with one less life left.

A hand was placed on his wrists. Cold, it was so fucking cold, as it pulled his shaking hands away from the yellow—now red stained sleeves—sweater.

It jolted him awake. Whether it was the cold, the tug of his arms, the way his voice called to him, or his concerned eyes searching for something—just something—in Y/n's unfocused stare.

"Y/n, hey," Etho's voice was gentle. He was patient as he tried to bring Y/n's eyes to his own. "Hey, hey, I'm here."

"I—Etho?" Y/n's voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible to Etho if he hadn't been paying close attention to him. "What—?"

Etho's arms wrapped around his midsection, pressing him against himself as his hand raised to hold Y/n's head gently. "Thank void you're okay."

Hesitantly, Y/n wrapped his arms around Etho's neck. He hadn't realized his legs were shaking until his whole weight was leaned against him. But Etho didn't complain, he was strong enough to carry Y/n if he ever needed. And he did now.

Y/n sniffled. He didn't stop the tears flowing out of his eyes as he buried his head on Etho's shoulder. And Etho let him. He buried his head on his hair as Y/n's whole body shook.

Pressing a feather light kiss on the crown of his head, Etho whispered in the quiet forest. "It's okay, you can cry. But it is never your fault. None of it is."

Y/n's eyes searched the distance, and he realized just how far he walked when he spotted the world border a distance away. He sniffled and hiccuped as Etho gently and patiently combed through his hair.

He shook off his thoughts before it could remind him of a memory long past and buried himself further into Etho's clothes. It smelled like redstone, and the glowing red dust was enough to tell Y/n that he was working on a project before hand.

"Let's get you home, shall we?"

"No, not my place. Please don't bring me back there, not again."

Etho nodded. The pain in Y/n's voice stung his heart, and he knew he had to make him feel better. He kneeled down for a short second just to hook his arms under Y/n's knees and bring him up to carry him easier. Y/n's head still nested on his shoulder as he took off to the direction of his own base.

"My place, then."

"You don't have a proper base yet, Etho." Etho felt the upwards tug of his lips. His eyes glanced down to Y/n's whose reddened eyes watched the path they took.

"Hey, it's a home to me and it'll be a home to you!" He laughed to lighten the mood. Y/n's quiet chuckles followed after him and he smiled down at him.

"Thank you, Etho."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

Y/n could take down improved Logstedshire when he felt better. Then, he wouldn't have to do it bare handed. Or alone, he reminded himself, as his eyes found dual coloured eyes.

Right now, he was just content to be with Etho.

—PATCHWRK !

#hermitcraft x reader #ethoslab x reader #etho x reader #ethoslab x male reader #hermitcraft x male reader #dsmp reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp x male reader #dream smp x reader #dream smp x male reader

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