You must stay drunk on writing

make me choose | @lindsayloveslife asked ►Pirates of the Caribbean or The Hunger Games

The Haunting of Hill House Appreciation Week

Day Seven: Free Day ↳ Parallels

Within, walls stood upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm. Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House. And whatever walked there walked alone. - Steven Sees a Ghost (1x01)

this bitch an asshole

hill house week. day one: favorite character.

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! Hurt characters! Happy ending!

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Word Count: 1681

This was something I blabbed in a bid to help rid myself of the overly self critical cloud that was hanging over my head. I haven’t posted anything in a while, so be nice and leave me some feedback if you liked it! We’ll pretend it didn’t happen if you didn’t like it! 

A business deal gone wrong leaves you injured and fighting for your life in Tommy’s arms.

Request: @tomhiddleeston I was wondering if you could do a sort of continuation of the Pregnancy oneshot where Reader and Alfie’s child is taking their first step or something at the bakery? Or Alfie takes their child to the bakery for the first time and Reader gets mad haha

“We need to give her a name… it’s been a few days, Alf”

“Blume-Gitte.”

“Alf.”

“Git for short.”

“We’re not calling our daughter bloody Blume-Gitte.”

“Love, it’s Jewish. You can’t—“

“I can and I bloody well will. No.”

“All right then, ‘ow bout Betty?”

“She’s not a middle-aged washer woman either.”

“Now that’s just rude, that is, pet.”

“Well, I’d like it if you took this seriously. Not something off the top of your head, like the dogs. Biscuit, Sherbet… Tommy.”

“Oi, right, listen. They weren’t off the top of me ‘ead, was they? They were very well thought out.”

“Hmm.”

“You tryin’ to tell me that those names don’t suit.”

You thought about it for a minute and you couldn’t think of a smart response. He was right.

“Thought so.”

for @branstark — REMUS LUPIN

anon wanted alfie/shelby!reader, inter-family drama, storming off and the like

Alfie hadn’t been home in two days. Granted, you hadn’t been home in the two weeks preceding. But Alfie hadn’t been home in two days. Ollie had been the one to pick you up from the train station, assuring you your husband would be home that evening, he promised. He just had one last thing to sort out. One last thing he couldn’t avoid.

There was half a garden in the hallway when you got home. Blooms in buckets and tins trailed up the stairs, vases bursting on every windowsill on your way up to the bedroom. Apologies in every petal that dropped and landed in the shirts he’d left strewn over the rug. You’d huffed to yourself, turned it into a reluctant smile, and set about tidying the place up.

The girls Alfie hired to look after the house left this one room to you – as helpful as they were, you still hadn’t settled into the whole ‘having servants’ thing and this space was all your own. A compromise. Alfie had said it was silly, the whole point was that he was doing well enough that you didn’t have to do anything, but you explained to him that it was the difference between feeling like it was your home and feeling like it was a hotel. You already felt out of place here, you needed this one little thing. You’d told him that it was silly of him to feel wounded about it. You’d come to a compromise. As you had with everything in your improbable relationship.

When a Shelby marries a Solomons, some ground rules have to be set. Summits have to be conducted. Paperwork drawn up and scrutinised and sent to committee. Old feuds buried. Old scores settled. Old liquor drunk.