#Tommy Nutter

[harrisonarchive]

Photos by Linda McCartney.

August 8, 1969

Tommy Nutter on dressing John, Paul, and Ringo for the cover...

“Tommy Nutter dressed three out of the four Beatles for the Abbey Road album cover. True to his non-conformist roots, George Harrison opted to dress in denim.” - The Selvedge Yard, April 4, 2012

“Well, I dressed them. George Harrison is wearing denim — he was always a tricky bugger.” - Tommy Nutter to Timothy Everest, quoted in Yorkshire Post, October 31, 2015

For George and Mal, it was then on to Regent’s Park Zoo...

“[After the photo session] George and Mal [Evans] went to visit the Regent’s Park Zoo. They spent several hours wandering around the cages and animal houses and afterwards walked around Regent’s Park. The extraordinary thing was that during the whole morning absolutely no one recognized George Harrison. Perhaps there are so many similar haircuts in London these days that no one spares a second glance for anyone with long locks.” - The Beatles Book, September 1969

* * *

“I didn’t know at the time that it [Abbey Road] was the last Beatle record that we would make, but it felt as if we were reaching the end of the line.” - George Harrison, The Beatles Anthology

[teenagedirtstache]

Arena December 1991 photos Norman Watson fashion Derrick Bradshaw

[virahaus]

Another day, another fantastic time to debunk completely delulu takes I've seen around. This one actually baffles me on a whole new level, and that people are ACTUALLY thinking it is canon it's giving me a headache.

Why, yes, on that nutter house that is twitterX (and here too unfortunately) people are now claiming that Eddie was Buck's Bi awakening in 2x01 in place of Oliver's recent interview.

First of all shall we look at the definition of Bi awakening, shall we?

"When someone, who thought or assumed they're straight, develops a crush on someone of the same gender and leads to them wondering if they are bisexual."

The key thing here is the realisation. You cannot have a bi awakening without having a moment where you are like "do I like the same gender too? Am I not straight? Am I bisexual?"

Which is EXACTLY what is happening on 7x04 and 7x05 with Buck exploring his feelings for Tommy before AND after the kiss.

There's NO bi awakening on 2x01 because Buck doesn't question in behaviour!! He doesn't have any moment where he considers his animosity about Eddie as anything more than intense dislike, jealousy and fear of being replaced.

Some of you are taking things too far. You are purposefully trying to ERASE actual canon content about a beloved character's bi awakening (something huge, especially with a 30 y/o character) just because you cannot stop for a second and not insert Buddie everywhere you like, even going as far as completely invalidating Buck's journey.

I'm not denying that in retrospect Buck may have found Eddie attractive (Oliver confirmed this as a strong possibility, yes, but that doesn't equal realisation since Oliver also acknowledged that Buck does not look any farther on his feelings on Eddie than interpreting them as personal jealousy).

But canonically Buck's bi awakening is Tommy.

You may not like it, you may not ship it, but you can't behave like this. Headcanons are all well and good, but presenting them as gospel and canon content? Y'all need to take a deep breath and actually get off the internet for a while.

This behaviour is only going to hurt the fandom in the long term. And it is not the first time or the first instance where you take something Oliver said in interviews and completely misinterpret it to suit your pipeline. Try some critical thinking, y'all.

(I'm aware not everyone is thinking like this, but those types of posts are getting over one thousand likes each. At this point it is a fandom problem.)

[zablife]

Michael's Wedding Gift

Requested by @peakyswritings for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

A/N: For added effect play "A Heart Made of Yarn" by Franz Gordon while reading.

The new Mrs. Shelby nuzzled her cheek against the course hairs of Tommy's chest, eyelids shut tight to keep in the tears that threatened to overspill. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "I don't understand why he isn't allowed to come to the party?"

Tommy moved to sit up in bed and his wife scrambled to find a place at his side. What had she done that was so wrong, inviting his cousin inside for tea when he arrived unannounced? He was the only relative to congratulate them in the month they'd been married.

As Tommy caught sight of the tear rolling down his wife's cheek, he softened. "If I'd known you wanted him here, he would have been invited, but Michael is going back to Boston in the morning. It couldn't be helped," he answered, brushing the tear away with the pad of his thumb. A deep chuckle rose from inside his chest as he asked, "What's so special about Michael anyhow? We're expecting at least fifty other guests who will be more than happy to coo at your gorgeous gown from Paris."

Mrs. Shelby sniffled as she replied, "It's not that. He was kind to me," she recalled, thinking of Michael's warm, brown eyes and unassuming nature which made her feel at ease around him. She learned that he was relatively new to the family business which gave them something to bond over. He wasn't brash, but shy and quiet like her and the kinship they forged was something she held dear despite the short time spent together.

"There will be other parties, love," Tommy assured her with a kiss to the top of her head. She held to that promise, dreading the evening before them because she understood the Shelbys could be an unforgiving lot.

--------------------------

As Mrs. Shelby greeted the arriving guests, she shifted nervously in her high heels and nuzzled closer to her husband's side. Despite the warm summer evening, there was a distinct chill radiating from the glacial stares of Tommy's friends and family. Apparently, not one found her worthy of the great Thomas Shelby, MP OBE. Sensing his wife's nervousness, Tommy gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she willed herself not to give up so soon.

As she turned to accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she locked eyes with Tommy's man Isaiah. He swaggered toward her purposefully as he deposited a key into her hand.

"What's this?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"A wedding gift, compliments of Mr. Michael Gray," he said with a bow.

"A car?" she asked incredulously.

"You must have made quite an impression," Isaiah remarked.

"I wouldn't say that, but he was understanding of my situation," Mrs. Shelby replied, staring at the key which sat heavy in her palm.

"Whatever you say, ma'am," Isaiah agreed, turning his back to her.

"Isaiah, wait. I was wondering something," she asked with genuine concern. A thought had been plaguing her mind since tea. She hadn't wanted to make Tommy's cousin self conscious asking about his obvious limp, but she couldn't reconcile it seeing that Michael was far too young to be a war veteran. "I was hoping you might know what happened to Michael's leg?"

Isaiah's eyebrow twitched with a hint of mischief and he bowed his head to whisper, "Reckon Tommy don't want you to know, but his cousin's a nutter. Blew up the wishing well in his village with dynamite when he was a boy and got caught in the explosion."

Mrs. Shelby's hand flew to her mouth in panic. Surely the man she'd been speaking with a day earlier wasn't capable of such things. "My God," was all she could utter.

Isaiah gave a nod as guests filed past them, unaware of Mrs. Shelby's distress as he continued the grizzly tale. "That's not all. He got a taste for it after that. Set fire to the little farmhouse where he lived and the family who took him in burnt in their beds," he said, lips curling into a wicked sneer, delighted by the reaction he received.

Then he added one last threat for good measure. “Stay on his good side, Mrs. Shelby. Perhaps convince your husband to bring him back from his exile in America? Michael wasn’t pleased about that,” he said ominously.

Mrs. Shelby felt her heart racing and palms sweating as she looked around wildly for Tommy. As she spied him coming closer, she grabbed for him with trembling hands, a way to anchor herself in a sea of confusion and terror.

"There's my lovely wife," he beamed. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked seeing her ashen face.

"Can we go?" she begged, desperate to be rid of the unpleasant company. "There's something I'd like to show you," she said, holding up the key.

"Of course," Tommy replied, placing an arm securely around her waist.

"Michael's given us a wedding gift," Mrs. Shelby announced, gesturing toward a beautiful new Bentley parked in the drive. "What do you make of that?"

"It's a very nice automobile," Tommy conceded through clenched teeth, shoving his hands into his pockets hastily. "Shall we join our guests now?" he urged, turning to leave.

"Tommy, is Michael...dangerous?" his wife called to him, his foot frozen on the top stair. Before she had time to dissuade herself, she ran to him and confided everything Isaiah told her.

"People like to make up stories because Michael was away for many years, but it's nothing more than idle gossip,” he explained with a wave of his hand.

"Tommy, I must insist you take this seriously. Tell me you haven’t sent Michael to Boston to punish him. That he has no reason to quarrel with you,” his wife urged, voice bordering on hysteria.

Tommy's hands clasped her face between his large palms, icy blue irises fixating on hers in a hypnotizing stare as he promised, “Of course not, it’s only business," he swore. "Do you believe me?"

She nodded slowly, placing a hand over his. Her Tommy wouldn't lie or make false promises. She had complete faith and trust in her husband in that moment. She took his arm as he offered it out to her and walked confidently into dinner, knowing he would protect her from harm.

It would be the last time she was seen alive. The next morning as she placed the key in the ignition of her shiny new automobile, the engine suddenly exploded, tearing and twisting the metal into an unrecognizable ball of flame. As the smoke billowed up to the heavens, Tommy raced to the wreckage, finding a note on his doorstep left by his embittered cousin.

"Congratulations, Tommy. I understand why you eloped with this beautiful creature and left us all to fend for ourselves. Tell me, has she ever looked more lovely than she does now?"

-------------

Tag List:

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@helen06dreamer

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dearshelby

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@runnning-outof-time

@emotionalcadaver

@thegreatdragonfruta

@flysafepapi

@the-makingsofgreatness

@noforkingclue

[beskarandblasters]

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Raider!Tommy x F!Reader x Raider!Joel

A little Halloween treat from me, @wannab-urs, and my boyfriend, David! Enjoy ;)

Summary: Raiders Tommy and Joel Miller capture you and realize they both want to fuck you. So they play a little game to decide who gets to have you first.

Word count: 800

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, dark!joel, dark!tommy, non con, fisting, mouth fingering??, creepy nicknames, restraints, this is very much a crack fic

You’re laying down, tied up in Joel and Tommy’s lair. They’re both arguing about who gets to fuck you first. After they captured you and the goods you were carrying, they both realized how insanely hot you are and how they both need to have you. But who gets you first?

“Fuck you, Joel, I saw her first.” 

“Doesn’t matter, Tommy. I’m the leader. What I say goes.”

“You can’t pull that shit every time! I have an idea.” A devious smirk forms on Tommy’s face. “Let’s play rock paper scissors.” 

Joel picks up what Tommy is putting down. “Alright Tommy. We can play your little game. I’ll even let you have her pussy.” 

Tommy pulls off your pants and spreads apart your legs. “Best two out of three or best three out of five?”

“Let’s do three of five, I wanna be real sure.” Joel moves to stand by your head. “Alright, darlin,’ open wide.”

“What?!”

“I said open wide.” 

You open your mouth for Joel and he hovers his hand by your mouth. 

“Blink once for me. Blink twice for Tommy. Blink three times for a tie.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they both say in unison. 

Joel puts two fingers in your mouth and Tommy does the same to your pussy. You blink quickly three times and they both remove their hands from you before getting ready for the next round. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Joel goes for scissors again and Tommy goes for paper, shoving four fingers inside you. You blink once to relay Joel’s victory. 

“Got you there, brother,” Joel says smugly. 

“There’s still time for a comeback,” Tommy scoffs. 

“Next round, darlin’,” Joel chuckles, smirking down at you. 

You take a deep breath and open your mouth wide for Joel again. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Joel goes for scissors again but Tommy goes for rock, shoving his whole fist inside you. You cry out at the sudden girth inside you and Joel knows he lost that round. You blink two times to signify Tommy’s win, complete with tears in your eyes. 

“Not so slick, are ya, brother?”

“Shut your trap.”

Tommy removes his fist from you and Joel pulls his hand away from your mouth. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

You try to brace yourself for what is about to come next. Joel goes back to paper, cramming four fingers in your mouth. While Tommy goes for rock again, stretching your little hole even more, something you didn’t think was possible. You blink once for Joel’s win again.

“Stop throwin’ rocks, Tommy! You're gonna ruin my prize.”

“Your prize? This ain’t over yet!”

Shit is getting real. The two brothers are at each other's throats now. One of them is going to have you first, but not before it gets ugly. 

“Poor thing is gonna be a wreck when we’re done with her.” Joel laughs darkly. 

“Got that right,” Tommy chuckles. 

They get ready for another round. Tears are rolling down your cheeks now. You don’t know how much more you can take, especially if Tommy keeps throwing rocks. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

This time Joel goes for rock, shoving his large fist in your mouth, blocking your airway with his sausage fingers. Tommy cuts you a break and shoves four fingers inside you (not much of a break). You’d let out another cry if you could, but only manage to blink twice to declare Tommy the winner of this round. 

“Lookin’ good for me!” Tommy says. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Joel says, getting a tad worried now. Joel has to up his game. 

They draw back their hands and get ready for the tie breaker round. One more round and this stupid game will be over, you think.

“Get ready, nutter butter!” Joel cheers. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!!!”

They both fucking throw rock. Are you fucking kidding?! You blink three times, fully sobbing now. 

“Well shit, Tommy. Guess we haffta go again.” Joel smirks, clearly not upset at all about it. 

“Doing okay, thumbelina?” Tommy asks, feigning sweetness. 

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t you talk back to me!”

“That’s enough, Tommy, how about we make this winner takes all?” Joel cuts in.

“You’ve got yourself a bet, brother, now let’s get this over with!!

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Tommy is fucking mad at you so he throws rock again. But Joel knows his brother and figured that would happen. So he shoves four fingers down your throat, seizing victory. You blink once and a single tear rolls down your cheek. It’s all over now. 

“See, Tommy? This is why I’m the leader. You always let your emotions get the better of ya.” 

Tommy removes his fist and groans in defeat. 

“Don’t worry, nutter butter. Gonna take real good care of ya. If Tommy didn’t ruin ya already.” 

You really are Joel’s prize after all. 

[waugh-bao]

Mick and Charlie in their shared Tommy Nutter silver pinstripe three piece suit (1973-5)

[amazingmsme]

Looking For Trouble

AN: Yes I know it’s late, but it’s a busy time so bear with me. This fic was so much fun to write tho! Wish I could’ve made it longer, but I have other fics to write, & there’s still 1 more peaky blinders fic this month! Thank @a-fluffer-nutter for the prompt, I had a blast planning things out! I still might flesh this out into something longer when I’m not on as big of a time crunch lol.

Thomas should've known something was up when Arthur waltzed into his office, but didn't say a word. He eyed him as he wandered about the shelves, studying all the odd knickknacks and accolades, before turning his attention back to the stack of papers in front of him.

Arthur started casually whistling a low tune, picking up a snow globe and turning it around in his hands to inspect it. Tommy watched him with a bored expression.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked, not so subtly hinting for him to leave his office. Arthur perked up when spoken to, turning to face him.

"Not particularly, no," he said, managing to maintain his casual facade. He set the snow globe back down, strolling over to his desk with meandering steps. Thomas watched him with a careful eye while still trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him.

"Well... you're distracting me," he deadpanned, but Arthur didn't seem to get the hint. Or rather, he deliberately ignored it.

"Am I?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that should've tipped him off, but went overlooked.

"Yes. So if you have no business, I'd appreciate some peace and quiet." When Arthur still didn't leave, he gave an exaggerated sigh, "What?"

"I never said I didn't have business," Arthur said, mustache twitching with his smirk. "Never said I didn't have business." He took a step closer. "It's just not... business business." Another step. Tommy cocked a brow, leveling him with a gaze.

"Then it doesn't concern me."

"See, that's where you're wrong." He sat down on the corner of his desk, shifting and crinkling the papers scattered about. "You're the only one who can help."

That got his attention. "Help with what?" Arthur leaned across his desk, far into his personal space and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm lookin' for trouble mate," he practically growled, and only then did Thomas recognize the mischief gleaming in his eyes.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Before he could even scoot away from his desk, Arthur was on him, keeping him pinned to the office chair. Thomas yelped, fighting him off for as long as he could, struggling to keep his hands at bay. Arthur was quick and stronger than him, and easily slipped from his grasp. He dug into his ribs, reluctant chuckles fighting their way to the surface. He tweaked his bottom rib, earning a bark of laughter before Tommy managed to slip out of the chair.

He landed on the hardwood floor, bolting to his feet before Arthur could pin him. His eyes were wide and had a wild look to them, but his smile still lingered. He pointed a stern finger at him, “What the hell was that for?”

Arthur chuckled, a deep, gravely sound. “What? Can’t a guy tickle his grumpy ass little brother in peace?” He relished in the way his jaw dropped, a dark pink blush spreading across his cheeks. He floundered for an answer before he was composed enough to speak.

“No!”

“Agree to disagree.” Arthur stood in front of him, blocking the only exit. Thomas tried to step around him, but the taller mirrored his movements. A smile twitched on his lips, arms curling in to protect himself. All it took was a flinch to the left for Arthur to strike.

He caught him around the waist, wiggling his fingers into Tommy’s sides. A strangled choking sound escaped his throat, a tight lipped smile stretching over his face despite his best efforts to suppress it. His resolve didn’t last once Arthur went for his hips, squeezing and drilling circles over the bones.

“Y’know somethin’? You’re real easy to catch off guard when you’re working. Practically have a target painted on your back!” he said conversationally, hands crawling over Tommy’s stomach.

“Ahaharthur! Knohock ihihit ohohoff!” he scolded through his laughter, but the venom was gone from his voice.

“Mmm, no, don’t think I will. Not really a sneak attack if I don’t do much attacking,” he teased, reaching a hand down to squeeze his knee, chuckling when Tommy snorted. His legs buckled and Arthur had to guide him to the floor so that he wouldn’t just collapse into a giggly heap.

Arthur used the new position to loom over him, a sinister grin in place. He wasted no time and latched onto both knees, sending him into howling laughter that turned to deep cackles once Arthur got ahold of his thighs.

In the midst of the mess that was his mind, Thomas couldn’t help but think he might need to launch a sneak attack of his own. Once he can breathe, of course.

[saintsir4n]

7

WARNINGS: PANIC ATTACKS, MENTIONS OF DEATH AND ILLNESS

___

1914

EDEN had forgiven Tommy.

But she hasn't forgotten, why? Because she doesn't have the memory of a fucking goldfish, all his misdeeds were prominent in her mind and she wouldn't forget, nor could she.

As time passed, Tommy gave her a few lessons with a gun and if she could at least shoot straight, he would ensure she carry it for protection whenever he wasn't around, despite her yelling that he wasn't her knight and saviour.

But the thing was, Eden, couldn't use a gun to save her life.

Tommy stood behind her, whilst Eden held the gun with her healed hand. Her finger curled around the trigger just as his hand moulded around hers for aid.

"Just like that. Just shoot at the bottle," he whispered to her ear, smirking at her shudder and blush at their proximity.

She missed completely, shooting in the opposite direction.

"Eden, what the fuck?!" Tommy shouted, though, thoroughly amused by her lack of aim.

"You told me to shoot."

"At the bottle, not the bloody sky!"

So instead he gave her a knife, which he bought a while ago, and even scratched 'S' on the handle. He wanted to see if she could manage a weapon.

And yes she could.

How Eden was so good at handling a knife was a mystery to everyone. Still, Tommy believed it was because she was so efficient with a needle, her fingers were nimble, rarely callous like his and his brothers, but it was only a matter of time before they would match theirs.

As of late, she strapped the knife around her garter, so all it took was one tug and she could slice the flesh of whoever threatened harm.

Looking down at the babe in her arms, Eden thought about all the things that could drive someone to harm another, what age did it start, the violent tendencies, and what was installed in them or were just born that way? How could something so adorable, so fragile, grow up to do the opposite?

"You're a natural with gettin' her to sleep," Martha commented, sounding exhausted and looking it too, "Katherine does my head in half the time, must get it from her dad."

Eden chuckled, still not taking her eyes off little Katie, "Indeed she does."

"What tune were you hummin' Edie? Need to learn it if that's all she responds to."

"You've got milk in your breasts all for her to consume, of course, she's not gonna sleep with you teasing her with it," Eden joked, "and I was only hummin' some old lullaby my mum used to sing, couldn't sleep without it or I'd be up for days."

Moonshine Tonight, was the lullaby that she also heard Jeremiah hum to Isaiah whenever the nutter kept him up at night, she even had to sing it to him whenever Finn had their shared toy, but luckily her father gifted him a new one.

Martha unclipped her hair, letting it roll down her shoulders, "Teach me it will ya?"

"Of course."

Eden stared at her friend. Martha was a natural stunner, with long brown hair, gentle hazel eyes and a shy smile. Pregnancy changed her body, widening her hips and growing her breasts. She was gradually losing the baby weight, even though Eden didn't see why she had to so quickly, but what society says, goes. Unfortunately.

Katie looked more like her mother than her dad, inheriting her dark hair and eyes, but everyone could see the teasing glint in them whenever she was being difficult, much like John.

"You thinkin' about havin' one with our Tommy?" the Shelby woman asked, smiling softly at her daughter yawning in her sleep.

Eden flushed at the thought, "It's only a been a couple of months since we've been seein' each other."

Martha giggled, "For you, he's been seein' you in his dreams for years."

Eden smugly smiled and innocently shrugged at her remark. Many people had told her that he's been obsessing over her for years despite never saying a word, only looking in her direction whenever she visited, but she felt his soft stares turn to glares when she walked the streets with a Changretta by her side.

"Shelby boys and their women," Martha chuckled, "we're right lookers ain't we?"

Eden winked, "You could say that again."

Martha slowly got out of her chair and came over, "Let me put this little one down, I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Eden already missed how Katie felt in her arms, now looking up at the mother-daughter duo. Martha was truly glowing, motherhood suited her so well, it was only a matter of time before she had a few more.

"I'll be up to check on the boys, all that sugar they won't be waking up for a few hours," the Dawkins girl said softly, sitting back in her chair.

The last time she checked, Isaiah and Finn were resting in John's room with sugar and powder decorating their faces.

Martha shook her head, "It's all those sweets, you spoil 'em."

Eden bashfully bowed her head, "They flash those toothy smiles and I'm grantin' wishes."

"Change that soon, or you'll be giving 'em that throne the King sits on."

Eden made a face, "With his health, won't be hard to."

Martha softly chuckled and left Eden to pick up her book and begin to read, getting lost in the pages, and the imagery, leading her to the fantasies that were between the words she took in.

She often pondered if she could make something up like this if she could make a piece of work so enticingly special or if she would be able to keep her name on the cover or change it to appeal to the masses. E. Dawkins... potentially E. Shelby, with the way Tommy persisted.

She was so engrossed she didn't even hear Tommy walk into the room. He leaned against the door, watching her, seeing the small smile that graced her rose-coloured lips and how her eyes lit up whenever she turned a new page. Hearing from Martha how she took care of his little niece he couldn't help but picture the family he wanted to start with her, how she would look with his child in her belly, nurturing and growing until it finally pushed from her womb.

What a mother she would be.

Finally feeling his presence, she smiled up at the man who strolled over to her, "Tommy, thought you were out all day, did something happen, Arthur get into another scrap? I'm all for stitchin' 'im up but bein' your designated nurse is fuckin' tiring."

He chuckled, "'M just hear to see you darlin'," he pressed a kiss to her lips, then another and another, missing her taste and her touch, "you missed Martha pinchin' my sides."

She teasingly pulled away from him, "And whys that?"

Crouching in front of her, he murmured, "For upsettin' you, know there's a whole league of your defenders after me when that happens."

"Be aware of my soldiers," she playfully pushed his chest, extracting a laugh from his lips,  "wanna read with me, it's a good book."

He picked it up, careful not to let go of the page she was on and looked at its contents, Peter Pan by J.M Barrie. Three years since the book was published he was sure of it and wasn't surprised that she let herself get caught up in the tales about the mischievous bandit. He was a reader, not as much as his woman but he liked to read, mainly about horses, but poetry caught his eye also.

Tommy turned to her with a strained expression.

She caught how each time he smiled or laughed, it never reach his tiresome eyes. Something with wrong, he even physically looked weak.

So she folded the corner piece of the page she was on, taking it from his grasp and settling it down on her lap before cupping his face.

"What's wrong handsome?"

He didn't bother to fight the heat creeping up his face at the compliment, too tired by the news he had received.

"Let's go on a walk."

He stood up and held out his hand for her to take, she accepted it and smiled.

"Yeah, a walk would be nice."

—

Eden quickly lit a cigarette, after seeing his fingers wrinkling together, itching to wrap them around the paper. The couple had been walking for a while, no destination in mind, but she followed his steps, waiting for him to unload the weight on his shoulders.

He spoke after taking a deep drag, "She's dying."

That stunned Eden, "Who?"

He looked away, "Greta."

Eden's lip's parted in shock. She blinked rapidly, wanting to come to terms with what she heard, it couldn't be right, could it? Maybe she misheard him, but no, the distant look on his face, teary eyes and clenched jaw told her all she needed to know.

Bringing her hands arms around his waist, she asked softly, "How?"

"Consumption." the disease of the poor, he was surprised that it hadn't killed off half of the lane.

"Oh, Tommy I'm so sorry."

He let go of the cigarette, needing Eden's comfort much more than a bunch of nicotine, wrapping his arms around her, tighter than he thought possible. Breathing the cedarwood she always smelt like, hoping that the scent would never be foreign to his nostrils, wishing it could soothe the embers burning in his chest, the pain storming his heart.

Losing one of his best friends was breaking him down, he wondered if he could ever recover.

"It's not your fault. Doctors say she's got a month at best."

He turned away from Eden, pulling out of her hold, still not wanting to come to terms with the hands on the clock ticking and taking away the life from Greta's eyes.

Eden covered her mouth with her hand, thinking back to the last time she saw the sick woman, it's a cold, the words echoed in her mind, rumbling like a train going through a tunnel.

"Tommy, why are you here? She's your best friend," she whispered, dropping her hand and coming up to him carefully. He shouldn't be here.

"I... Just... I can't look at her, not like that," she was pale and fragile, not like his Greta. His Greta was up and moving, lively and vibrant, nothing like the mummified woman he and Freddie saw earlier in the morning.

Being the ambitious man he was, Tommy didn't see much of Greta, over the last few weeks, he tried and always brought by pearl drops believing that her being under the weather was just that, nothing more.

"She needs you," Eden uttered.

"I need her alive but where's the good in that? She's fuckin' fallin' off this earth every day and I can't do a thing to stop it."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's a disease it's not in your control, or anyone's."

"You don't think I know that?" He instantly regretted snapping, after noting the frown on her face, "Sorry."

"Don't blame you, I would be on edge if it were my best friend, god forbid," she shook the thought from her mind, "what about Freddie? Where is he?"

"Gone home, he didn't say anythin' to me, nor her, he just saw her... like that and umm, left."

"He's scared."

Tommy tried not to roll his eyes at what she said, knowing she was attempting to confront him, but in turn, he was growing angrier, his best friend was dying for Christ's sake.

There really ain't a God in Small Heath.

"I knew she was sick," he turned back to her.

Eden hummed, "A cold right?"

"She tell you that?" he recalled Eden mentioning how they talked, women talk, no doubt about him and all the ways he fucked up when it came to girls.

"She looked pale when I saw her, like a ghost." her words had Tommy's face contorting.

"Why didn't you tell her to go to the doctor then?" his accusing tone had her taking a couple of steps back, wary of the crazed look in his eyes.

Eden's head hung low, "I did Tom, she's stubborn, she kept sayin' it was a cold."

"Should've forced her," he mumbled rubbing his chest, "should've forced her."

Snapping out of his trance, he turned around, realising where they ended up... the cut, the last place his mother was alive, the last time she took a breath, the last time he had two parents.

Eden gasped when he drew for breath, fighting for air to return to his lungs like some invisible force was snatching it away. His clasped hands rested on his head as wheezed.

"Tom, you need to focus on somethin', shit," she grabbed him, desperately looking around, hoping no one was around to see his vulnerable, knowing it would hate it if he could breathe. "You need to focus on...fuck."

Tears pooled in his eyes, at the thought of losing his best friend, all the moments they shared, all the years they had together were now out of reach and she was given a month, a fucking month left to live as if she wasn't at the pinnacle of health only months before. She was fine or was she? Why didn't he see it, why didn't Eden see it? No, it's not her fault, he thought... it's him, he truly believed it was his.

"Focus on me alright Tom? On my face, my eyes, look, don't think for a second. Just keep lookin' at me, keep your focus. Like you've got those fuckin' blinkers on. Just like a horse."

Those words seemed to click in his head, "Horses."

But instead of looking at her face, his eyes were drawn in by the black Madonna around her neck.

"Right horses, you love 'em," she expressed, rubbing his face. "Wanted to work with 'em since you were a boy, you did."

"Horses yeah horses," he kept breathing out, with his eyes fluttering shut.

Eden brought him into a soft embrace, "Nothing else."

He choked back a sob, "Nothing else."

"Nothing else, my love."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

jennifer jones as 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗯𝘆

decided to keep greta's consumption in the story, especially because it's canon and although it's upsetting i do believe her death had a big role in his character and will do to his and eden's relationship in this story.

also, i hope no one is too upset with how i wrote tommy's panic attack, i know everyone's experience is difference, i was just going off my own. wanted to tie in how much he also sees himself in horses, and the fact that eden knew how to bring him out of his head by mentioning them.

[murdermeprettyplease]

Good Omens Au

In the works rn, let me know if there’s a better character for the role and I might change them :) -- Still not sure if I should mix the amps or pick one haha (trying not to sound desperate for feedback but I am) 

(The relationships between characters will be very different, this is only mostly vaguely based on the good omens plot)

War- Grian

Famine- Cleo

Death- Kristin

Pollution- Zedaph

Delivery driver: Jimmy (With Scott being who he writes to)

Angel- Phil

Demon- Techno

Anathema stand in- Karl Jacobs

Newton stand in- Quackity (?)

(No romance needed, but can happen^)

Agnes Nutter: Mexican Dream (?)

Madame Tracy: Lizzie

Shadwell: Joel

Satan: Schlatt

God: Calahan

Metatron: Sam

Beelzebub: Sapnap

Hastur: Wilbur

Dagon: Skeppy

Archangel Micheal: Foolish

Gabriel: Badboyhalo

The Them:

Spawn of Satan: Tubbo(?)

1- Tommy

2- Ranboo

3- Aimsey

Warlock: Purpled

[sleepypuffpastry]

SRSLY WHAT IS UR PROBLEEEEM WHY DID YOU LAUGH IRL YOU NUTTER. if we were in a boxing ring and u heard even just a SECOND of tommyinnit’s lore breaths i think u would simply crumple to the ground before i could even throw a punch .

R U TELLING ME U DON T CRY OR CRIMBLE CRUMBLE TO THE GROUND WHEN C!TOMMY LITERALLY UTTERS A SINGULAR WORD. BITCH WE WOULD BOTH BE ON THE GROUND CRYING IF TOMMY DID A LORE BREATH

[newptolemy]

Quentin and me with good friend David Nutter (brother of Tommy, far right) New York, Christmas 1982

[antonio-velardo]

Antonio Velardo shares: Edward Sexton, Bespoke Tailor of Rock ’n’ Roll, Dies at 80 by Penelope Green

By Penelope Green With his partner, Tommy Nutter, he outfitted London celebrities at the tail end of the Swinging Sixties — and beyond — in suits with swagger. Published: August 1, 2023 at 05:41PM from NYT Fashion https://ift.tt/nVmSLOI via IFTTT

[teenagedirtstache]

[creatureswallows]

ITS THEE TOMMY NUTTER JACKET!!!!

[misspeelpants]

Made to measure by Edward Sexton for Esther De Deo

Made to measure by Edward Sexton for Esther De Deo at Nutters (Tommy Nutter). In oyster gabardine. Shirt and stock, to measure, by H. W. Brettell. Hair by Ann at Stafford & Frieda. Scanned from Vogue, June 1977.

[autumnalreaper]

oh god what did tommy do this time. ew

posted his old man nutter butters on twitter