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everythingelseisextra · 10 months

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My Body Is Here

Part Five: Give Yourself A Reason

Part Seven: Lingering in Doorways

Description: A brutal accident leads to a revealing conversation. Warnings: Mention of trafficking, mention of guns and shooting, references to being drugged and withdrawal, skull being cracked (like in canon), references to sexual assault, panic attack, language, use of the word Gypsy for Roma people Word Count: ~3000 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @zablife @weaponizedvirtue @ttaechi @majesticcmey @optimisticsandwichgladiator @princesssterek @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul Author's Note: This is unedited. I have a headache and don't have the energy to go through and fix it. Hope it's not terrible.

You walk out of your house at two in the morning on Friday. You try to separate your thoughts, move through your work as though nothing unusual is happening. In the dark, you exercise the horses, and in the dawn, you return to eat and dress and make yourself presentable. Dressed to impress, with clean jodhpurs and a white collared shirt, you sit to wait for Tommy to appear.

The horses eat their hay, silent in the warm morning air, and birds sing faintly in the few trees that dot this barren countryside. Time trudges past, and you glance at the clock, brow furrowing. He’s usually early like you, greeting the day before it even fully awakens. At eight, you stand and start to pace, worry rushing through you. You haven’t heard from him since the call, and your mind jumps to the worst. You know how pain can feel like pleasure when the blade is sharp enough, and you know how exhilarating the finger on the trigger can be. You pause, take a breath, and try to convince yourself that you’re catastrophizing.

At nine, you pick up the phone and call him. The line rings, and you stand in trepidation, heart in your throat. Just when you think no one will pick up, the ringing stops, and a female voice speaks.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” You release a breath. “Is this— who is this?”

“This is Ada Shelby.”

A spike of relief jolts through you and you speak a little too fast. “Tommy was supposed to meet me this morning. Is everything okay?”

“Who is this?” Ada grows suspicious, her voice losing the warmth it had when she first picked up. “One of Tommy’s women?”

“No— I mean— I guess, technically— but it’s not— we’re not—” You sigh, frustrated. “I’m a friend. That’s all. We were going to go look at horses.”

“You’re the one who sprayed him with a hose.” She softens, and you hear a weak smile in her words. “Right, okay. Well, he was certainly looking forward to it.”

“What happened?”

“He got in a fight and his skull got cracked.” She sighs. “Poor Tom. Used cocaine to get him through the day.”

“What?” Your blood goes cold, your eyes widen, and you feel yourself step back from yourself, an observer of your own reactions. Numbness flows, and you sigh, closing your eyes and tensing your muscles for a moment, working yourself back into your body. Something like panic shoots through you, simultaneously hot like fire and frozen like ice. You wrap your arm around yourself and take a shaky breath.

“Scared the shit out of me. He could barely keep his head up.”

“Is he okay?” Your voice shakes. Your hand clenches around the handset.

“Any longer and he would’ve died, but the doctors say he’ll make it through. Just had surgery on him yesterday. I’m taking care of Charles at the moment.”

“Who’s Charles?” Your mind latches onto the least awful thing, trying to sort through all the information you’ve just been given.

“He’s Tommy’s son.”

“He has a son?” You shake your head. “Sorry. Sorry, but— Jesus Christ, he cracked his skull and made it through a day after?”

“Yeah, well, you know Tom. If he’s made his mind…”

“Fuck.” You exhale the word, trying to remind yourself how to breathe, how to make yourself calm. “Fuck. Okay. Will they let people visit him?”

“No, not until later. He wouldn’t even know who you were if you came now.”

You run a hand through your hair, trying to sort out the next step, some way to move forward knowing this. You can’t go to the track without him. You can’t.

“Okay. Okay, I— I don’t live in town. I need— how can I get to him? What hospital? I can’t ride there, not to a hospital, not now.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I don’t have a car.”

“And you’re… his friend.” She says the word like she’s never heard it in this context before, like it’s completely new to her. “Just his friend.”

“Yes. Just his friend.”

“You can take a cab into Warwickshire and I’ll meet you there with Arthur and John.”

“I don’t have…” To Warwickshire is several hours of driving, and you don’t have the money to pay for it.

“What? What don’t you have?”

Shame bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down and speak up. “I don’t have the money for that.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure Tom won’t mind if we cover it.”

“I don’t want to be indebted to you.” You shake your head. “I guess I can—”

“No, you won’t be. To be honest, love, I don’t think he cares about that amount.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

She’s quiet for a second, then, quietly; “His house has a name, if that gives you any idea.”

“You’re kidding.” You rub your forehead, completely nonplussed.

“Come to Warwickshire. He’ll need a friendly face when he comes out of it, and he’s not too keen on us at the moment.”

“Um— okay.” You nod to yourself. “Okay. If he wakes before I get there, tell him I’m coming. Please.”

“I will.” She clears her throat. “See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

The hospital is a cold, concrete building, built more like a prison than anything else. Cave-like hallways flicker with uneven light, and your footsteps echo through them with each step. Around you, the sobs of patients and the creaking of cots consume the frigid air. The faint smell of rubbing alcohol burns your nostrils, and you close your eyes as the nurse leads you down the hall of thick, unforgiving doors.

John and Arthur and Ada had all gone in before you. They came out thin-lipped and quiet, heads bowed as if at church, like something holy had sent them off. Ada murmured to you not to expect much, and you nodded, sharp anxiety pressing into your chest. Now, the nurse knocks sharply on the door, then opens it.

Her voice echoes around the square, freezing room. “Here she is, Mr. Shelby.”

She nods to you, then turns and walks off, hard-soled shoes clattering on the stone floor. You stand in the doorway, heart in your throat. He’s lying on a cot, and, at the angle, you can see the stitched wound in his skull from the surgery. His head turns slowly, and hazy blue eyes stare over at you, then look away again.

He speaks to the rest of the room, apparently unable to shift his head for too long, letting his words echo over to you. “Don’t stare.”

“Sorry.” You blink out of your horrified spell and step inside, closing the door behind you. As quietly as you can, you walk over to sit down on a wooden chair next to him. His eyes are surrounded by pale purple, his skin pale and pallid.

Inexplicably, you want to reach out and touch him, give him some sort of comfort in this cold, all consuming room. He’s talented at communicating in silence, and, right now, you simply don’t have the words to put your thoughts into, don’t have the ability to explain everything you’re feeling. When you were younger, when everything was twisted and terrible, you never knew if you were real unless you were touched. You never knew if you existed to other people until they put their hands on you.

So, in silence, you reach out and place your hand on his. His skin is cold, calloused in places but fragile in others, and, for a moment, you’re not sure if he’ll respond in kind. His fingers twitch under yours, and then, slowly, he turns his hand and laces his fingers into yours.

You stay like that, two specks of warmth in a cold, dark place, and you watch his bare chest rise and fall, watch his eyes close. There’s a half-full bottle of morphine on the bedside table, a spoon laying next to it. In this moment, neither of you are whole. You do not complete each other. You are separate, but syncopated, two notes that harmonize. And, for the first time today, you feel calm.

“Will you come back?” His voice is gravelly as always, but slightly slurred, no longer sharp and commanding.

“I’ll try. I have the horses, but… I’ll try.” You gently squeeze his hand. “Don’t need you going crazy in this jail cell.”

He squeezes back, weak, his only response. You lean back and close your eyes. Your mind swirls absently, flickering with memories you can’t place your finger on. Moments of intimacy with other people that you never knew the names of. The touch of another that you trust, gentle, loving, a comfort against the world’s atrocities. His hand warms in yours, the touch of skin against skin battling against the frigidity.

“Thought I would die,” he says quietly. “Thought I would die and the last thing I’d see is that priest’s fucking face.”

“I’m sure your siblings have said this to you, but, if I could, I would kill him myself.”

“No. Don’t get mixed up in all this.” His eyes remain closed. “Fucks with your head.”

“You think it’d be the first time?” You smile faintly.

This gets his attention. His eyes open and flick over to you, waiting for an explanation.

“It wouldn’t. I know what it does to a person.”

“If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from me.”

“Tommy, you just asked me to come back and see you.” You shift forward in your chair to meet his eyes. “I’m not staying away from you. We’re past that.”

He blinks, and when his eyes open, he’s looking away from you. “I want you to stay.”

It must be hard for him to admit that, when he desperately wants to keep you at arm’s length. When his instincts say to separate and protect and avoid, but he truly needs something else, something different.

“I can’t. The horses need feeding. I can come back, though. I can probably even stay the night and leave in the morning, if you want.”

He pulls his hand away from yours and nods. “Go take care of your horses, then.”

You stand, the echo of his hand in yours tingling faintly. “I’ll see you, okay? And, once you’ve recovered, we’ll go get that racehorse.”

His eyes slide closed and he nods faintly. You turn and leave the room, stepping lightly to avoid announcing yourself to every patient in the entire building, and walk back down the long hallway.

“You have a son.”

At night, the hospital room seems to freeze over. You curl into yourself on your wooden chair, trying to preserve your warmth and keep yourself from shivering. Pale moonlight shines in from the high windows, impossible to open but insistent on allowing in the cold air.

“Yes. I have a son.”

“You never mentioned him.”

He shrugs. He sits up in bed, arms crossed over his bare chest, and he looks down at the blankets covering his lower half, not at you.

“You also didn’t mention that you have more money than most people know how to do with. You came and looked at my little house and thought— what? What did you think?”

“I thought nothing. Your money is spent elsewhere.”

“How could you think nothing? Is that why you wanted to buy Draco? I’m not a charity case, Tommy.”

He’s quiet.

Irritation heats up in your chest. “I asked you a question.”

“I grew up a gypsy boy with too many brothers and not enough to care for them.” His words are quiet, more refined than a few days ago. “Saw a man beating a horse and went after him with a stick. That man had friends. So, they said, ‘Go away to the war and come back with something.’ Came back with nothing. Built my way up from there. I don’t give a fuck about your earnings.”

It’s the most he’s spoken in days. You cross your arms, mirroring him, brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me, then? Not about the money, I get that, but about your son?”

He glances at you, then looks back down. His skin has more color in it before, the almost-invisible freckles across it showing in the moonlight. “I wanted you to give me a chance.”

“A chance at what, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes shift to you, those careful, bright eyes flicking over you, as if begging you to read his mind. You can’t.

“Always the mysterious one, aren’t you?” You shake your head, gently pushing his shoulder. His face remains stoic.

“I looked into you. Asked everyone I knew in France about a girl at a boarding school from America. No one knew you, no one had heard of you. I need to know.” He speaks softly. “I need to know.”

You look away. “Why, Tom? Why do you need to know? It’s not who I am anymore. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

“I need to know who you are.” His head tilts, his eyes still fastened resolutely to his legs. “I’ve told you who I am.”

“It’s different.”

“Tell me how it’s different.”

You bite down on your lip, looking up at the ceiling. “Please, can’t you just trust me?”

“I need to know.”

“Okay.” A lump forms in your throat, and you don’t even try to swallow it down. “Okay. I’ll tell you. You have to promise me something first.”

He nods.

“Promise me you won’t treat me different. Promise me you won’t treat me like a bomb about to go off.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes, a faint burning sensation behind them. “I guess… It starts with my mom and the man who got her pregnant. I don’t really know what happened. I just know he kept women, rented them out to other men, sent them to other parts of the world.” You glance at him, waiting for a reaction and not getting one. “After I was old enough, which, to him, was when it wouldn’t cause permanent damage, he sent me off to France, where I was kept as… well, I was kept there to be used. There were other girls. One of them taught me how to shoot. I fell in love with her.” Your throat closes and your words grow choked. “When I was fifteen, one of the men that kept control of us beat her to death. I shot him, and I ran. I made it to the streets, hid in alleyways and basements, spent my time half lucid. They kept us drugged, and the withdrawal almost killed me.”

Your lip quivers. Memories drip slowly through your mind. Darkened hotel rooms, the taste of alcohol on your lips, the feeling of your body being broken over and over again, the fogginess that kept you alive, kept you able to do your work. You remember her icing and dressing your wounds. You remember her brushing through your knotted, wild hair. You remember her touch, so gentle compared to a man’s, saving you from your own mind.

“I ended up working at a racetrack. They barely paid me, and it was hard work, but I was good at it. That’s how I ended up where I am now.”

“Why did you leave France?” His voice stays quiet and even, but not quite unfeeling. There’s a respect to the way he speaks to you now.

“They found me.” A silent tear drips down your cheek. “They found me, and I had to run again. You can’t find any information about me because there is none. I existed in underworlds and living nightmares, and then I was nobody. I’m no one. I’ve never been myself, I’ve just been the things other people want me to be. You can’t find out who I am because not even I know who I am.”

“You’re not.”

“What?”

“You’re not no one.” He turns to look at you, blue eyes clearer and softer than you’ve seen them in the last few days, or maybe even since you met him. “You’re someone to me.”

You scoff, wiping another rogue tear from your face. “You barely know me.”

He swings his legs off the side of the bed, one of his knees between yours, and leans forward to meet your eyes. You grow still, the intensity of his attention freezing you.

“I don’t waste time, do I?” His eyes flick over your face, trying to read you. “Don’t waste time on nobodies, do I? You’re not nobody. Don’t give a shit what happened to you, or who you think you are, or whether you have fucking money or not. You don’t have to hold your head up so high that you forget who the fuck you really are.”

You sniffle. It’s too much. Your heart pounds in your chest and you find yourself unable to breathe. You shake your head, pushing your chair back from him and standing. “I need to go.”

“No, you don’t. You can—”

“Thomas!” You gasp for breath, tears spilling from your eyes. “If I say I need to go, I need to go.”

Before he can speak, you’re gone. Head bowed, body trembling, throat closing and lungs on overdrive, you try to silence your panting as you walk down the hallway. You’re fading in and out, failing to pull yourself out of your own head. There are hands on you, gripping at your flesh, trying to hold you. Pandora's Box has opened, and you’re caught in the stream of terror coming from it, stuck, light in the head. You leave the hospital, closing your eyes and repeating to yourself, over and over again.

My body is here and I am inside.

My body is here and I am inside,

My body is here and I am inside.

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look-at-the-soul · 1 year

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Collecting moments, not things.

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader (one shot)

First story of 2023! ✨🎉 can’t believe it… hope you all celebrated the holidays and had a good time with your loved ones 🥰 I want to take a moment to thank every single of you for all your support during 2022…

Now *drum roll* I wrote this story to celebrate @gypsy-girl-08 3,000 followers!!!! Inspired by our beloved “Blind date” couple that I simply adore and can’t enough of. Liv I can’t thank you enough for being an inspiration, you already know this but you are one of the very first tumblr fan accounts that I found here when I googled “Tommy Shelby fanfiction”, thank you because of your work I got the chance to start day-dreaming again, to imagine, to distract me from the daily stress, to really enjoy a moment to myself, and that lead me to write again, and the rest is history… ♥️

⚠️ Ah! I almost forgot, smut at the beginning then fluff 🔥🥰

This is set between those days after Christmas and before NYE, and of course, Charlie has my heart 🥰

Your fingernails would probably leave marks on Tommy’s back from the force you were applying, but as his lips sucked hard on the skin of your left shoulder, you couldn’t keep down the moan that came out from the deepest part of your soul.

He was buried deep inside you as you moved up and down on his shaft, his strong hands making sure you were close to him.

But soon, he switched positions in a swift motion and now you were laying on your back, with his weight on top of you as Tommy slammed all the way back in and out of your body with a pace that made you think you wouldn’t be able to walk in five days.

Feeling him pull out from you completely and your eyes snapped open, you were in route to orgasm-road and now you felt empty. But before you could protest, you saw him kneeling in bed between your legs and his hands sneaked under your body at the small of you back level, he lifted that part of your body and with most of your back still touching the mattress, he entered your body one more time.

Tommy started moving your lower body to meet his thrusts. He was in charge of the pace and speed, you were lost in pleasure, your hands moved up your own body, until your fingers found your breasts, with your middle finger, you barely fanned over your nipple, causing Tommy to stop momentarily, he leaned on his heels as you added extra pleasure to what you were already experiencing. Resuming his movements a few seconds later, he was insatiable that morning.

“Ahhh!” You moaned.

The new angle, seeing him above you, broad shoulders, strong and toned biceps contracted by the effort he was applying, looking up, you found Tommy biting his lower lip, his fringe hanging against his forehead as he hit your g-spot over and over, it was all too much.

Time stopped and soon you felt a pleasure you’ve never felt before.

Ecstasy hit you hard, one wave of pleasure after another as Tommy was still holding your lower back up in the air, throwing his head back he reached his own climax as his load was released inside you.

Carefully, he placed your lower body back down in the mattress, bodies still connected as he tried to catch his breath.

“Jesus fuck, woman, every time I’m inside you is like you plug in my cock in the fucking outlet.”

You chuckled at his comparison, running your nails through the shorter parts of his hair, sighing as he rolled on his back pulling out from you to have some rest. Desperate for a cigarette, he just rubbed it against his lips, without lighting it… out of habit, he couldn’t smoke around you anymore.

“You know, I like having another Christmas dinner, even though is no longer Christmas.” You admitted walking naked towards the en-suite bathroom, his eyes taking in your figure. A few seconds later, he heard the shower running.

***

Tommy watched you from the bed as you took something from your jewelry box. Fuck you looked like a bombshell in that green cocktail dress and nude shoes.

“You’re so quiet.”

Your words brought him back, walking towards you, he took the delicate necklace in your hand, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder as you moved your hair to the side.

“Just thinking.”

“I get scared when you do that.” You chuckled and found his eyes looking at you through the mirror.

Tommy clicked his tongue, a playful look back in his deep gaze as his hands roamed down your body. “You should Y/N, you should.”

But the moment was interrupted by a desperate small voice storming into the bedroom.

“Daaaaad, Y/N I arrived earlier!” Charlie rushed to both of you, a huge smile on his face, showing off a couple of missing teeth.

“Oh, hi Charlie!” You welcomed him as his arms wrapped around you.

Tommy looked at you, worried. “Hey son.” But he was genuinely happy to see his child.

“Mum said she could only drive me for lunch, so I told her OK!”

Clearing his throat, Tommy crunched down to his height, to look Charlie in the eyes. “Listen to me, this is your house, ey? You come and go as you please, you don’t have to ask.”

Charlie seemed to process his father’s words for a couple of seconds, only to nod eagerly after throwing himself for a hug. Tommy groaned at the contact, he wanted Charlie to feel he had a safe place there. People who loved him deeply.

“Happy belated Holidays Charlie.” You said caressing the back of his head.

Tommy had barely released his son, only to pull the kid back for another hug, wishing him a Merry Christmas.

“You two are disgustingly cute, can I join the hug?” You joked, adored to see Tommy interacting with his son.

“What do we do in these circumstances?” Tommy asked Charlie, with his eyebrows raised.

A huge grin decorated his features. “Sandwich!” He ran off to hug you from the front while Tommy positioned himself strategically behind your body.

“Ah, best group hug ever, but I need to breathe.” Your whole body tingled, by feeling Tommy’s body against yours, his deep laugh in your ear.

“Do you know if Father Christmas stopped by Y/N?” The boy then asked pulling your hand.

“Oh! I saw a couple of presents left under the tree, but I didn’t look at the tags…”

His little face lighted up. “Those must be mine!”

And he didn’t wait another minute to find out, before you could say anything else, Charlie was gone.

He had spent Christmas with Grace, and he would be with the Shelby’s for New Year. It wasn’t the best or ideal, but it was better than nothing. Co-parenting is never easy, there are a lot of ups and downs, bitter moments, irritating phone calls and discussions back and forth. But the most important thing, at least for Tommy was making sure than Charlie was happy.

“What do we do with the orphanage celebration?” Tommy asked you looking for advice, his son was supposed to arrive for the belated Christmas dinner the family organized after having lunch at the orphanage and giving them the Christmas presents they got for the kids. But since he arrived way too early, he didn’t know how to make the logistics work.

“Ask him if he wants to go with us? I’m sure he would love to.” You replied running your hand up and down his back, knowing how tense he was.

“You think so?” But before you could answer you did, Charlie called out for you.

“Look at all of these presents!” Charlie moved around faster than a tornado, checking out all of the wrapped boxes. “Aunt Pol, uncle John, Katie, Frances…” He read out loud.

“I think I heard Father Christmas hiding a couple of presents…” You winked, taking the couch.

“Before you burn down the whole house looking for ‘em, I need to ask you something.” Tommy sat next to you and beckoning his son to come close, he helped him up to sit on his lap. “You remember we have an orphanage?” Watching Charlie nod, Tommy placed his hand on your knee. “Every year we go over there and give the kids presents,-”

“Father Christmas is a little bit busy, so the company, we’ll your Daddy here volunteered as Santa’s helper.” You interrupted, running one hand up and down Tommy’s back.

The look on Charlie’s face was priceless.

“You help Santa?!” His little mouth hung open, wide eyes looking at Tommy.

Tommy didn’t know how to react, he was out of words, you had never seen him like that.

“That’s so cool Dad!”

Tommy chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah…”

Charlie’s eyes lightened up. “You’ve seen him?”

“No, no… we can’t see him, he just asked for a little help.” You explained, but before Charlie could keep the interrogation going, you asked him; “would you like to come with us? We don’t want to leave those kids without their presents, but we don’t want to leave you alone either…”

“And everyone is coming back here after we finish.” Tommy stated.

“So, this is the plan,” you started, “we go over there, give the presents to the kids, we also got some food for them, then we come back, have dinner and open the presents Father Christmas left?”

“Yeah!” He jumped up happily from his father’s legs, but soon more questions invaded his mind; “Why are they in the orphanage?”

Tommy looked at you, trying to find the right words to say.

“Son, some families have to leave the kids at the orphanage because they can’t take care of them, they can’t give them food and pay for school.” Tommy cleared his throat after explaining the first thing that came to his mind.

Extending your hand to Charlie, you then added; “another times, when the parents pass away, they have to take the kids there, so they can be safe.”

“So they celebrate their birthdays and Christmas there? Alone?” You could see his little mind speeding up, trying to comprehend the new information.

“They’re not alone, Charlie, there are other kids and the adults responsible for them.”

“That’s why we are bringing the presents, to help put a smile on their face.” You could feel the lump in your throat growing, making it hard to speak. Tommy was looking at the floor.

“If you don’t want to go, is fine Charlie, we’ll stay here… I will ask Aunt Ada to cover me.”

Shaking his little head, you saw him walking out of the room. “Wait for me!” He demanded from the stairs.

“You made it sound so easy.” He squeezed your thigh.

“What was I supposed to say? Some parents don’t want their babies and they just leave them there? Or they grew in an abusive household and are taken away?”

“Do you realize I was supposed to end up in a place like that?” Tommy looked at you intently. “If it wasn’t for Pol…” His eyes watered.

You touched his face, hurt by his words. “Don’t say that, everything you went through made who you’re today. Made you stronger.”

“Sometimes I wonder where would I be if some things were different, easier.”

He was trying to be a good father for his son. You knew how hard he worked for him.

Charlie interrupted what you were about to answer.

“Can I give those kids these too? I never opened them and I got plenty of toys!”

Tommy was completely speechless by his son’s actions. Surprised by his kindness and selfless act, he nodded.

“Of course honey, let me wrap them quickly.” You smiled at him and then looking back at Tommy, who was leaning on one of his legs, you gave him a cute pout. “I heard aunt Ada left some Christmas cookies for you, why don’t you ask Frances to give you some?”

After Charlie was out of sight, you walked back to Tommy, he still had a surprised expression.

“When did he grow up so much?”

“He’s smarter than we think.” You moved his arm to the side, to sit on his lap, his hands around your waist in seconds. “And kind,” you kissed his cheek, “and generous…” you kissed then his jaw, “just like his Dad.” You added then, kissing the tip of his nose.

“All that?” He joked not fully believing all those compliments.

You felt him relax under your touch and when you moved back a little, you found him with his eyes lids closed, a smile on his lips.

So tempting, so inviting… leaning forwards, your lips found his and a deep groan vibrated through his chest.

But before he could deepen the kiss, your hands pushed away his shoulders a little, to stop him.

Your fingertips touched his lips. “Charlie could walk in any minute now.” You stated adjusting the red tie with gold circles you gave him for Christmas, along the vintage pocket watch you found at a vintage store.

As Tommy rested his head on your shoulder, he asked you a very important question; “when are we telling him?”

“Tell me what?” Charlie questioned holding two cookies in his hands.

Oops, you thought trying to come up with an excuse, looking at Tommy silently pleading for him to sort the situation. But the spark in his eyes told you that he wouldn’t even try it.

“Charlie? We need to talk to you about something.”

Charlie’s face changed immediately. “I didn’t do it.” He defended himself clasping his hands behind his back.

“What?” Tommy squinted his eyes at his son. “No, I mean we have some news to share with you,” as he saw his son relaxing, Tommy’s guard started to build up. “What is it you didn’t do?”

“Some of my classmates said they would be staying up late during Christmas Eve to see Santa , they wanted to caught him leaving the presents… but I didn’t do it, I swear Dad.” He was so mortified that you couldn’t stand the worry in his eyes.

“Is alright Charlie, we know you didn’t.” Standing up, you went to take his hand and walk with him to the couch, making him sit between Tommy and you.

“You know what happens when you sneak and catch him, ey?” Charlie shook his head, waiting for an explanation. “That’s when the magic ends, there’s no going back, he won’t be taking any more letters, he won’t stop by to eat cookies and have a glass of whiskey.”

“Dad! You can’t give Father Christmas whiskey!” Charlie stated shocked. “He’s supposed to be driving the sled.”

Tommy looked at you this time pleading for you to rescue him from the crave he just got himself in.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, it was just a sip, he was thirsty.” You tried to explain.

“And he’s got immunity worldwide, the police can’t touch him.”

Thinking how you just praised him for being a good example and now Tommy was portraying Santa Claus as someone who liked to drink, you preferred the previous discussion.

“So… Charlie, the news we wanted to tell you earlier…”

“You’re going to have a little brother or sister, Y/N is pregnant.” Tommy confessed with a smile.

Charlie’s face lighting up, he started running around squealing in happiness, he couldn’t believe the good news, but he walked to you for another “sandwich” hug, excited to have a sibling. At the beginning you were afraid of how to tell him, or how he would react, after seeing the smile on his face, you knew it would all be alright.

You were so happy, the pregnancy was unexpected but you loved each other and it would have happened eventually.

Charlie was so excited that he almost forgot about going to the orphanage. Luckily Tommy reminded you and the three of you headed out to the car.

“Y/N let me open the door!” Charlie requested, after watching his father do that every time you went out, he was starting to mirror a couple of his actions.

Tommy stopped on his tracks as he heard his son say that, looking through his Ray-Bans at the blonde boy rush to take your hand, he was surprised one more time.

At the orphanage, it couldn’t be any different, Charlie immediately ran off to play with the kids and help you and Tommy give the presents, he also volunteered to serve the food and cupcakes you brought, showing by his actions that he had a kind heart, he was a pure soul. And even showing leadership skills as he was making sure all the kids got a present, informing them that Santa didn’t forget about them.

Looking around, you couldn’t find Tommy, it was time to leave unfortunately, but you had to be back home for dinner with the Shelby’s, turning in your heels, you found him kneeling in front of a girl who was crying inconsolably, her little face turning red, maybe you got the wrong presents list and you missed hers? Charlie wrapped his arms around her as Tommy took out from his pocket the handkerchief to wipe her tears away.

And you saw it clearly, the man he really was, to you, it wasn’t really a surprise to see Charlie doing things his father usually did, or repeating his words or mannerisms, they were like look-wise both on the outside and the inside, and that’s the thing with kids, they’re always watching.

Tommy tried to make everyone feel scared of him, his family, his employees, his enemies… but at home, he was just your Tommy. You could feel emotions building up as you thought how Tommy would be a great father to the kid you were expecting.

Charlie still had a lot of energy as you all got inside the car to go back home, it was hard to make him stop playing.

“Why was Rebecca crying?” You questioned turning in your seat to see Charlie.

Tommy took your hand and placed both on his lap.

“She was sad because her birthday was on Christmas Eve and she didn’t get anything.” Charlie explained rubbing his eyes.

“Oh!”

For a couple of minutes, the drive was made in complete silence, each mind thinking of the events of the day in their own way, until Charlie spoke again.

“Dad?…” Tommy looked at his son through the rear view mirror, blue eyes reflected. “Can we go back to the orphanage to celebrate Rebecca’s belated birthday? I could buy her a big balloon with the money you give me for lunch.”

Tommy stopped the vehicle at the red light, looking at his side, he found you looking at him already, a genuine and beautiful smile on your lips.

You can’t make kids say things like that, those come from the heart, from what they see around them.

The monster of business, the shark of trouble, the king without a crown, was surprised by his five year old boy. You knew he was lost for words, so you decided to intervene.

“I think that’s a great idea Charlie, how about we go once a month and celebrate every single kid who will be celebrating their birthday that month?”

As Charlie answered enthusiastically at your proposal, Tommy could only squeeze your hand tightly, his heart exploding of love as he stopped the car outside his house, Polly and Ada’s cars already parked, they were unloading wrapped presents.

“From now on, we will do that Charlie, on Saturdays, so you can go with us.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You looked back at him again.

“How did you and my Dad meet?”

A soft smile played on Tommy’s lips at the memory.

Clearing his throat, Tommy turned in his seat as well. “Sometimes, son blind dates go wrong, that’s when you take your chance and get the girl.”

Winking at you, he was pleased by the way that night turned out to be.

For the first time, Tommy felt that he was collecting moments, not things.

***

A/N: Even though this was based on the couple of Blind date, I added a couple of things of my own (like the pregnancy), but this was made with all my love and respect to the original writer 🥰♥️

Master list

Tag list:

@lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @lespendy @zablife @gypsy-girl-08 @cillmequick @onlydeadcells @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @forgottenpeakywriter @esposadomd @stevie75 @strayrockette @the-forest-witchh @fastfan @elenavampire21 @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @peakyscillian @heidimoreton @ange-thoughts @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cutecurly-hair

#That’s what Cill said #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #modern peaky blinders #modern tommy shelby #modern Tommy Shelby imagine #tommy Shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #Tommy Shelby smut

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theoutcastrogue · 2 years

Video

youtube

The Elizabethan Session - Shores of Hispaniola

Background: In 1562, John Hawkins set out on a voyage that would mark the beginning of the English slave trade. He left Plymouth to capture Africans along the Guinea Coast and sell them in the West Indies as cheap labourers on sugar and tobacco plantations. Some enslaved Africans were also sent to England. Queen Elizabeth personally supported Hawkins by lending him her 700-ton vessel, Jesus of Lubeck, for his 1564 slaving voyage.

Nancy Kerr wrote this song as part of the 2014 project, The Elizabethan Session, supported by the English Folk Dance and Song Society and Folk by the Oak. It imagines the grief and rage of a woman grieving for the captured father of her children. (source: Auntie Shanty)

They came in the night and their ships were as black as the ocean. It was Hawkins the dread privateer and all of his crew. They had whips they had shackles and cannons to serve Gloriana, And they’ve taken my love to the shores of Hispaniola.

My love he was strong and he looked to his land and his children. Proud, unfettered and free, he walked in the sun. Now he’s bound for the darkness of England to serve Gloriana, Or to spill out his blood on the shores of Hispaniola.

Well, Albion’s sailors are nothing but thieves on the water! They have riches and gold in great store, but it’s none of their own. They have saffron and sumac and rubies to feed Gloriana, As red as the blood of the slaves on Hispaniola.

A curse on the pious and holy of glorious England! You masters and martyrs attending to Albion’s soul, Your vestments and sacraments sanctioned by fair Gloriana, They are washed in the blood of the slaves of Hispaniola.

And I pray that the poor and the lowly of glorious England, Your Turks and your vagabonds, Gypsies and masterless men, Will tear down the walls of the castles of fair Gloriana, That are built from the bones of the slaves of Hispaniola!

#contributions #thanks probablyfunrpgideas!#prison ballads #The Elizabethan Session #Nancy Kerr #Shores of Hispaniola #big thief little thief #the phantom of liberty

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theoriginalmattresstester · 4 months

Text

#10K2024 1-16-24

1404. Another Town, ANother Train-ABBA 1405. Disillusion-ABBA 1406. People Need Love-ABBA 1407. I Saw it in the Mirror-ABBA 1408. Nina, Pretty Ballerina-ABBA 1409. Love Isn't Easy (But It Sure is Hard Enough)-ABBA 1410. Me & Bobby & Bobby's Brother-ABBA 1411. He is Your Brother-ABBA 1412. She's My Kind of Girl-ABBA 1413. I AM Just a Girl-ABBA 1414. ROCK N ROLL BAND_ABBA 1415. Merry-Go-Round-ABBA 1416. Santa Rosa-ABBA 1417. Ring Ring (German) 1418. My Way-AVA MAX 1419. The MOTTO_AVA MAX/TIESTO 1420. Into Your Arms (feat. Ava Max)-Witt Lowry 1421. Not Your Barbie Girl-AVA MAX 1422. Sweet But PSycho (Acoustic)-AVA MAX 1423. Make Up (Feat. Ava Max)-Acoustic-VICE/Jason Derulo/AVa Max 1424. Salt (Acoustic)-AVA MAX 1425. Kings and Queens Acoustic-AVA MAX 1426. My Head and My Heart Acoustic-AVA MAX 1427. ON ME!- Ava Max, Kane Brown, Thomas Rhett 1428. Slow Dance (feat. Ava Max)-AJ Mitchell 1429. Make Up (Feat. Ava Max)-Vice/Jason Derulo/Ava Max 1430. Sad Boy- R3HAB, Jonas Blue, Ava Max, Kylie Cantrall 1431. Blood, Sweet and Tears-Ava Max 1432. My Head My Heart-AVA MAX 1433. H.E.A.V.E.N.-AVA MAX 1434. Kings and Queen-AVA MAX 1435. Naked-AVA MAX 1436. OMG WHAT'S HAPPENING_AVA MAX 1437. Tatoo-AVA MAX 1438. CALL ME TONIGHT-AVA MAX 1439. BORN TO THE NIGHT_AVA MAX 1440. Torn-AVA MAX 1441. Take You to Hell-AVA MAX 1442. Who's Laughing Now?_AVA MAX 1443. Belladonna-AVA MAX 1444. Rumors-AVA MAX 1445. So AM I-AVA MAX 1446. Salt-AVA MAX 1447. Sweet but Pyscho-Ava MAx 1448. Weapons-AVA MAX 1449,. Million Dollar Baby-AVA MAX 1450. Sleep Walker-AVA MAX 1451. Ghost-AVA MAX 1452. Maybe You're the Problem-AVA MAX 1453. Hold UP (Just Wait a Minute)-AVA MAX 1454. Diamonds and Dancefloors-AVA MAX 1455. In The Dark-AVA MAX 1456. One of Us-AVA MAX 1457. Cold As Ice-AVA MAX 1458. Dancing's Done-AVA MAX 1459. Turn off the lights-AVA MAX 1460. Get OUtta My Heart-AVA MAX 1461. Last Night on Earth-AVA MAX 1462. Clap Your Hands (Feat. AVA MAX)-Le Youth 1463. Freaking Me Out-AVA MAX 1464. ON Somebody-AVA MAX 1465. Tabu-Pablo Alboran, Ava Max 1466. Every Time I Cry-AVA MAX 1467. THE FOX (What Does the Fox Say?)-Ylvis 1468. Dragostea Din Tei---Ozone 1469. Heaven-DJ SAMMY, Yanou, Do 1470. OMG-Suki Waterhouse 1471. TO LOVE-Suki Waterhouse 1472. ...Japanese LEtters... Yoko IShida [not a sailor moon song] 1473. Intro-Neon HItch [Seasons Album] 1474. More Than Okay-Neon Hitch 1475. Head-Neon Hitch 1476. Trust Me-Neon Hitch 1477. Problem-Neon Hitch 1478. I KNow You Wannit-Neon Hitch 1479. E-Neon Hitch 1480. 1969-Neon Hitch 1481. Welcome to Try It-Neon Hitch 1482. One Step Away-Neon Hitch 1483. Worth It-Neon Hitch 1484. Like Fruit-Neon Hitch 1485. Easy to Love-Neon Hitch 1486. Ghost-Neon Hitch 1487. Bendin' Backwards-Neon Hitch 1488. Intro-Neon Hitch [Anarchy Album] 1489. Neighborhood-Neon Hitch 1490. Grade and Liquor-Neon Hitch 1491. Anarchy-Neon Hitch 1492. Why-Neon Hitch 1493. Razorblade-Neon Hitch 1494. RDLN (LINES & LUST)-Neon Hitch 1495. Dear Mr. Jesus-Amy Nieves 1496. Here We've Been-4Troops 1497. Cuando Un Nino Nacio-Amy Nieves 1498. World Burn-Renee Rapp/Cast of Mean Girls 1499. Baby Baby-Amy Grant... with Jr. Asparagus 1500. Fried Chicken at Night-Neon Hitch 1501. Boom-Neon Hitch 1502. No. 1 Lady-Neon Hitch 1503. Let Dem Go-Neon Hitch 1504. Fire Tiger-Neon Hitch 1505. Please-Neon Hitch 1506. Freedom-Neon Hitch 1507. Saturday-Rebecca Black, Dave Days 1508. Aura-Lady Gaga 1509. Venus-Lady Gaga 1510. G.U.Y.-Lady Gaga 1511. Sexxx Dreams-Lady Gaga 1512. Jewels N Drugs-Lady Gaga, T.I. Too Short, Twista 1513. MANiCURE-Lady Gaga 1514. ARTPOP_Lady Gaga 1515. Swine-Lady Gaga 1516. Donatella-Lady Gaga 1517. Fashion-Lady Gaga 1518. Mary Jane Holland-Lady Gaga 1519. Dope-Lady Gaga 1520. Applause-Lady Gaga 1521. Gypsy-Lady Gaga 1522. Eagle-ABBA 1523. Take a Chance on Me-ABBA 1524. ONE MAN, ONE WOMAN_ABBA 1525. The Name of the Game-ABBA 1526. Move On-ABBA 1527. Hole in Your Soul-ABBA 1528. Thank You For the Music-ABBA 1529. I Wonder(Departure)_ABBA 1530. I'm a Marionette-ABBA 1531. Thank You the Music (Doris Day Mix)-ABBA

#music #lady gaga music #lady gaga #musc #spotify #10k2024 #amy grant #neon hitch #artpop #10K2024

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tilbageidanmark · 4 months

Text

Movies I watched this week (Year 4, week 2)

Napoleon, Ridley Scott's new sweeping epic. It's assumed that when a megalomaniac filmmaker (Abel Gance, Kubrick) becomes obsessed with the myth of "The Great Leader Napoleon", it's because they themselves are inflicted with delusions of grandeur of some kind. So it's not very interesting or relevant to us mortal people.

This is a beautifully-shot, rich with gorgeous tableaux showing the senselessness and chaos of war. The best thing it did was making me read about the history of French history in the first half of the 19th century. 4/10.

🍿

2 tight French thrillers by Yann Gozlan:

🍿 I feel bored at the moment, and was looking for an intelligent thriller to break out my film lethargy. Somebody on r/truefilm suggested Black box, a French conspiracy thriller, similar to 'Three Days of the Condor' and 'The Parallax View'. I started watching it at 4AM, and gulped it all in one fell whoop. A sharp analyst at the French NTSB discovers small inconsistencies while investigating a plane crash. Terrific! 9/10.

🍿 Burn out was a more traditional crime action story about a semi-professional bike racer who gets involved with a gypsy cartel of drug-dealing goons. 5/10.

🍿

Another thriller, Black Mirror's longest (feature-length), and my most favorite and re-watched episode, Hated in the nation; "The attack of the killer ADI Bees". I knew that it was based on a personal experience that Charlie Brooker himself lived through. "Today I learnt" it was after a 2004 article he wrote, calling for the assassination of George W Bush. A perfect film! 10/10 for the 10th time.

🍿

George Carlin: I'm Glad I'm Dead, my first AI-generated movie! (or rather a stand up). As a long time big fan of St. George, I was very skeptical, and it did take some getting used to. The uncanny valley incongruity of a not exactly right voice, not exactly sharp words as the dearly-departed political genius (Jesus Christ, had it been 15 years already!)

But as weird as it is, you could eventually ease into the rant, and imagine that this - more or less - is how he would respond in 2024 to today's wretched times. F. ex., his descriptions of the Shitting Trump (at 12:00) is right up there with the best of the Real Carlin. If this up-to-date artificial facsimile of his voice, attitude and opinions is all we can get today, I for one am grateful. (AI-generated Photo Above).

Actually, this experience was so unsettling, I had to watch it twice. And to even it out, I also listened again to his Complaints and Grievances from 2001, as well as some 2.5 hours 'tribute mix' of Carlin 'Top Hits', just to make sure...

🍿

I need more Jean Renoir in my life! A Day in the Country is a perfect start. A light tale, based on a Guy de Maupassant story, which feels like a black & white painting by his father, Auguste Renoir. An innocent seductions one afternoon on the banks of the river Seine. So delightful, so nostalgic. 8/10.

🍿

Jacques Demy X 2:

🍿 "We are a pair of twins / Born in the sign of Gemini..."

Another delightful re-watch: Demy's dreamy musical The Young Girls of Rochefort. Colorful tunes by Michel Legrand, and pastel dance numbers performed at the quintessentially romantic square of this fantasy town. The inspiration to La La Land. 9/10.

🍿 Demy's only American film, Model shop, a testimony to his love for Los Angeles, opens in Huntington Beach and follows aimless, young Gary Lockwood, so broke that he drives around looking to bum 100 bucks from somebody, to avoid his old MG convertible from being repossessed. It's considered a minor masterpiece, about two lost souls looking for love, but I found it dull and empty, and devoid of all magic. 2/10.

🍿

“You’re a good man, sister…”

Re-watch, just for fun: John Huston Tough Man fantasy The Maltese Falcon, the original Film Noir. With Gutman "The fat man" as an early study for Noah Cross, and beautiful Femme fatale Mary Astor. The only strange role is Elisha Cook Jr. who didn't look like the Heavy, "Your boy here", under any circumstances.

There were two earlier adaptations of the story, which I haven't seen yet, but I will.

🍿

Re-watch: Wallace and Gromit: A Close Shave, a happy Oscar-winner Aardman studio classic, which first introduced Shaun the Sheep. I've forgotten that Gromit, Like Teller's, never speaks. 100% score on 'Rotten Tomatoes'.

🍿

Coogan’s Bluff, the only (?) film where laconic outsider Clint Eastwood plays a fish-out-of-water in NYC, and the inspiration to Dennis Weaver's McCloud. Half-sheriff, half-cowboy from Arizona, he's sent to bring back an extradited convict. Not as misogynistic and reactionary as Dirty Harry, he's still a sexist He-man, always horny and creepily pushes himself on any skirt around, whether they like it or not. This being Don Siegel, they love it. 2/10.

🍿

2 music documentaries:

🍿 "..You probably wandering why I'm here / And so am I, so am I..."

I was a big Zappa fan since the outrageousness of 'Freak out!' in the late 60's. I even started a Zappa side-blog in 2003 on 'Grow-a-brain' [where most of the links are dead today]. So Alex Winter's moving Zappa documentary was right up my alley. Groundbreaking avant-garde experimentalist, a committed modern composer, who was so beloved in the Czech Republic. 8/10.

🍿 On the other hand, Greenwich Village - Music that defined a generation was bland and uninspired. The story about the part of 60s music that wasn't Laurel Canyon. Based on the memoirs of Bob Dylan's girlfriend, Suze Rotolo, and including snippets of performers, from Phil Ochs, Tom Paxton, Richard and Mimi Fariña, Kris Kristofferson, to Judy Collins, Arlo Guthrie, and dozen others. 2/10.

*Woman Director

🍿

"This is nuclear war!"

The 1967 documentary Oscar winner, the BBC-produced The War Game was more of a Mondo mockumentary. Like 'Threads' which came 2 decades later, it brutally describes the horrifying effects of a hypothetical nuclear attack on Britain. Its bleak hopelessness caused so much "mayhem" in the British government, that it was promptly withdrawn from broadcasting screening. Unvarnished horror, total devastation, destruction & misery, undiluted.

🍿

Always interested in good stories about the 'End of the world', I thought I’ll also try the new HBO series The last of us, knowing full well that I'm not big on zombies, and also never having played 'any' computer games. I soldiered through the first feature-length episode, but found it so uninspiring and mechanical, so devoid of any real emotions, I had to bail out before continuing. An adaptation of a video game, with all the depth of a stupid comic book? Or simply not for me? 1/10.

🍿

4 shorts:

🍿 Krzysztof Kieslowski's Talking Heads, in which he asks a baby: 'What year were you born? Who are you? What do you most wish for?' The baby doesn't answer, so he keeps asking other people, each older by a year or two, until he ends with the answer of a 100-year-old woman. Simple and profound. 9/10.

🍿 The hand, a classic 1965 Czechoslovak stop motion puppet animation film, an anti-totalitarian parable.

🍿 Never Weaken, Harold Lloyd’s last 3-reeler before he moved on to feature length production, and another of his comedies where he dangles from high buildings.

🍿 The babbling book, my first (?) formulaic short with George Burns and Gracie Allen. I guess they were all structured like this, the two meet in a certain locale, (this time in a bookstore), exchange jokes for 10 minutes, she talks fast and delivers all the zingers, and he plays the straight man. M'eh.

🍿

David Ehrlich's annual The 25 Best Films of 2023: A Video Countdown. So far I've seen 12 of them, and was planning to see 6 more.

🍿

3 movies I couldn’t finish:

🍿 Vox published a relevant article this week about Leon Uris's bestseller 'Exodus' (and the 1960 Paul Newman adaptation of it). How influential it was in shaping the views of Americans in regards to Israel and the middle east. I have vivid memories from when I was 8 staying at my grandmother's tiny apartment in Haifa. She listened to the Adolf Eichmann's trial on the radio, and she used to read to me excerpts from 'Exodus', which she received as serials in thin pamphlets printed on cheap newsprint paper - in Yiddish.

So that prompted me to try and watch this 3+ hours long piece of Zionist Agitprop Cheese about the founding of the state of Israel. But even after 3 attempts I could only get 26 minutes in, before having to give it up.

🍿 From the few roles I've seen him, I developed a physical dislike to actor Jake Johnson, but I love Anna Kendrick, so I gave his new Self Reliance a shot. The trailer opened with an amusing scene where Andy Samberg invites the loser Johnson to join him for a limo ride. But that was the only cute or interesting scene in the whole first half of that unfunny 'comedy'. Pass!

🍿 The Diary of a Teenage Girl, an explicit story about 15-year-old girl who becomes sexually active by starting a relationship with her mother's boyfriend, Alexander Skarsgård, made by all-female team. But I went back to it 3 times, and could not watch more than 20 minutes.

*Woman Director

🍿

Throw-back to the "Art project”:

Zombies Adora.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies #AI #george carlin

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vomitnest · 6 months

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To Ludwig the cocotte

Your leg hangs over me like a crescent moon all clear: Your breasts breathe two small animals behind the most exquisite Brussels lace hey garçon: Café au lait – le matin please and a glass of water Basically you are like your sisters who with bobbing bellies creep along the sewers anxiously listening for the vice squad whistle and meat-eating pimps The cattle dealer whose pants and alligator leather wallet you stole has taught me everything about your soul hey – old pig: you've turned fifty but the high school kids are still dreaming of you lots They dream: you approach silently with the elastic cane teaching their behinds what their heart desires hey you old lechers and white slave traders you gypsies and hotel thieves pray pray if you like that Or drink yourselves stinko up the houses break open the gutter let the fire brigade thunder flush the rivers out of their sleep old scum I walk towards you bottle in arm you crazy

specter Is it you again delicious pig has the surgeon spied your belly yet grapnel brandished torch and chloroform Dada! Dada! only you are alive sweet love

(An die Kokotte Ludwig)

The evening comes the lambs flock home

Big stone balls celebrate their midday meal The fleas will emigrate once the bets are placed Then the country will be empty Many more people must die of

starvation Take the executioner's sword and pierce the piss pot Take the sun and shake your trouser leg Everything needs to be thought over carefully Unexpectedly the lions landed in my fireplace Unexpectedly my head dropped onto my butt Tarammtata rammta The fatherland we shall love the great cheese cake And the moon old Bismarck And the ships skirting around the mashed potatoes at midnight

(Der Abend naht die Lämmer ziehen heim)

The cylindrical gable

for John Heartfield

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graemepark · 1 year

Text

THIS IS GRAEME PARK: LONG LIVE HOUSE RADIO SHOW 06JAN23

LONG LIVE HOUSE RADIO SHOW 06JAN23

Come on then!

I'm back for 2023 with my weekly eclectic selection of big tunes, new tunes and classic tunes too.

In this week's Long Live House Radio Show...

Gabriels

Funkadelic & Soul Clap feat. Sly Stone

Rose Royce

That Kid Chris

Cheryl Lynn

Musique

Double Exposure

Third World

Jungle

Whitney Houston

Crystal Waters and more.

THIS IS GRAEME PARK: LONG LIVE HOUSE RADIO SHOW06JAN23

Title (Mix), Artist

A Message Of Love, Beatconductor

Turnaround, Lovetempo

Love & Hate In A Different Time (Greg Wilson & Che Wilson Remix), Gabriels

Let's Do It, Tuccillo

In Da Kar (XL Middleton Remix), Funkadelic & Soul Clap feat. Sly Stone

I Am One, I Am Many (T.U.R.F. Rejack), James Curd

Sweat, Majestic & Karen Harding

Car Wash (Broken Blues PDM Mix), Rose Royce

Let's Hold Our Hands Together If We Wanna Get There (Lipelis Disco Mix), Kito Jempere, Adam Evald & Antoha MC

The Beef, That Kid Chris

Jesus Is (AJ Mora Vocal Remix), Zona feat. Chellena Black

Encore, Cheryl Lynn

"Little" Louie Anthem Part II (Factory Bar Mix), The Untouchables

Nuthin' Goin' On, Dr Packer

Keep On Jumpin' (Can't Stop The Jump Edit), Musique

Everyman (Late Nite Tuff Guy Rework), Double Exposure

My Love Is Free (The Reflex Revision), Double Exposure

Now That We Found Love (M+M Mix), Third World

Back In My Life (David Morales Classic Mix), Joe Roberts

Keep Moving (Dave Lee Jungle Boogie Mix), Jungle

Love Will Save The Day (Loveface Demix), Whitney Houston

Gypsy Woman (DJ Teddy Douglas Re-edit), Crystal Waters

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hurricane-hail21 · 2 years

Text

#me #hurricane hailey #my face #my-jesus-and-gypsy-soul #cute girl

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unspoken-words-fromthe-storm · 5 years

Text

I wonder what it's like

To curl up in the their arms

Every single night,

And with each rising sun

To open my eyes

To the same beautiful face.

Knowing I never have to worry

About broken hearts

Like shattered glass

Or empty promises

Strung up on a line.

Love is so powerful

It will make you hold

The universe in your hands,

But it can also force you down

To your knees.

All I have ever wanted

Was that kind of love

Where you dont need

To question any part of it

Where there is no fear

No hesitation

No worries.

I hope I have it.

But for now

I'll be falling asleep

In an empty bed

Alone.

#my-jesus-and-gypsy-soul #personal #hurricane hailey

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samantabrzozowska · 4 months

Text

"Meet a modern flower child"

~ Sam

YOU CAN DONATE ME AND MY ART HERE!

https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/samchildofparadise21

#me #myself #my self photos #my art blog #artist #child of paradise #flower child #hippie girl #jesus lover #child of god #gypsy soul #free spirit #childhood dreams #spirituality of the eternal child of paradise #fairytaleliving #big kid #never grow up #be like a child

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missymurphy1985 · 2 years

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There's Something About Kate (Cillian Murphy X fem!OC) - Part Sixteen

Warning - plotless smutfest alert.... And some fluff

More Here

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @jardinsecos @bitchwhytho @gypsy-girl-08 @queenofkings1212 @look-at-the-soul

Kate's address, luckily, wasn't too far away as he drove out of Kilburn and into Queens Park.

She led him up the steps of Rose's townhouse and turned around suddenly before she slotted her key in.

"I need to know I'm not making a mis- " he silenced her by pressing his lips and body firmly against hers. A gentle, bit passionate kiss that took her breath away as she melted into it.

"We take this slowly, just you and me with no drama, no bullshit, just us. I've missed you too much to lose you again."

"Cillian, I'm all for romance and the wining and dining malarkey, but I've waited six months for this and I'm not waiting a second longer. Are we clear?"

His eyes were as large as dinner plates, his eyebrows potentially stuck at the top of his forehead, and all he could do was nod.

"Crystal. Open the door before I break it down, yeah?"

She giggled and turned to unlock the door, both of their bodies crashing into each other as they fell through the doorway and he pinned her against the wall. Her hands running through his long hair, his hands over her waist, pushing his erection against her groin as she lifted a leg over his hip. One of his hands running over her thigh, squeezing the flesh as he ground his hips into hers.

"Upstairs..." Kate managed to groan between frantic, passionate kisses, and she led him up the stairs. Pushing her bedroom door open and internally punching herself for not tidying up that morning, she turned to him to find him not even noticing. His blue eyes were too busy devouring her from top to bottom. He held her at arm's length and gazed down her figure, before smiling.

"What?" She laughed, nervously.

"You know how long I've dreamed of this very moment?" He walked her over to the bed, his eyes burning into hers.

"Tell me..."

"Most nights."

"Most?"

"Well some nights Maggie Gyllenhaal made an appearance ya know, hard to refuse..."

Kate laughed and slapped his shoulder, before being pinned underneath him on the unmade bed.

His mouth was on her neck, his knees parted her legs, his body snaked down hers. The jeans she was wearing were pulled off her legs, leaving her in her black t-shirt and underwear as he admired her again from above. His eyes drinking in every curve, every inch, as if committing it to memory permanently.

"Perfection, Kate," he licked his lips as he pulled her underwear from her body, parting her legs wide to gaze upon her most intimate features. The pulsing of her clit was difficult to ignore as his fingers slid over her folds, her hips writhing upwards to get him where she needed him.

"Nah uh, I said we take it slow, didn't I?"

"Don't make me slap you again..."

"Kinda like this aggressive side of you," he grinned, sliding two fingers deep into her heat, rutting them upwards, making her eyes roll back in her head and her voice deepen into a groan of pure pleasure.

He plunged his fingers into her soaked core over and over, watching her breathing hitch in her throat as he stroked over that spongey button deep inside her, feeling her walls flutter around his digits.

Pulling them from her, he licked them clean, groaning at the sweetness.

"Still tastes like my favourite meal," he smirked, before leaning down and clamping his mouth over her, her back arching as his tongue flicked over her clit, sucking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it. Her hands gripped his hair, the perfect length for this very purpose, as she felt her defences fly away.

"Fuck... Cillian... Jesus..."

He groaned against her clit, relishing the sounds she made as he lapped at her core. Her juices coating his chin. Every tug of his hair sent a throb through his cock, now painfully straining for freedom against his jeans. Reaching a hand down, he unbuckled them, sliding them and his boxer shorts down his legs as he licked her pussy like it was his last meal.

Kate's orgasm was so close, he could taste it. He recognised the sounds of her coming undone and lifted his mouth off her, delighting in the anguished cry from her lips as she glared down at him.

"I swear to god Murphy..."

He chuckled before resuming his ministrations on her clit, pushing his two fingers back inside her. Her body was quivering underneath him now, desperate for release which he happily granted her with a deep groan directly on her clit, arching his fingers back at her warm g spot as she came hard over his lips.

Easing her through her high, he lifted his mouth off and moved quickly back up her body, hooking his elbow under her knee and sliding his swollen cock home easily with a single thrust.

A missing jigsaw piece slotting back in its place.

The grunt that left his chest fuelled her orgasm further, her walls clenching him tighter as he bottomed out fully, his balls flush against her ass as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist.

Cillian rested his forehead against hers, his nose brushing against her nose, their breathing almost synchronised as they got used to the feeling of each other again. Locked back together after six months, they fit together perfectly.

She opened her eyes and bit her lip, before pushing him onto his back - rolling with him, the connection never breaking. He pushed himself back towards the headboard, bringing her with him as he sat upright against it, her legs either side of him. Their lips met again as she found a rhythm on him, working her hips round in circles, up and down, finding the perfect tempo.

"Feels good.." he gasped as he felt his cock hit deep, the movement of her hips dragging her walls over him perfectly. She leaned back slightly and allowed him to remove her t shirt and bra, his checked shirt following suit. Her breasts on full display for him now as he groped one firmly and sucked the nipple of the other.

"That's it, riding me so well Kate..." He groaned against her neck, his abdomen clenching as she rode him harder.

Her hands held his shoulders as she leaned back a little further, rocking her hips just right to get the angle perfectly placed. His hands moved to her waist now, giving her extra support with her movements, but she didn't need it. Her need took over full control of her body as she rocked against him. His cock now completely devoured by her pussy, throbbing inside her, desperately close to release.

"Play with it, need you to cum," he panted, holding back as best he could. Bringing her hand down between them, he slid her fingers over her clit and watched her tease it, stroking over the swollen nub, edging herself closer to her climax.

"Oh fuck... I'm so close..." She stroked harder, grinded her hips a little faster. He bit the inside of his lip to prevent ending this too soon, the temperature in his abdomen at s fever pitch.

"That's my girl, fuck.. that's it, that's it..." He felt her walls flutter again, her mouth hung open with small gasps of pleasure interspersed with his name - pure nectar to his ears.

"There you go, I've got you baby, I've got you..." His words shattered through her senses, leaving her a shaking mess as she came over his cock, her legs quivering either side of his. He held her hips steady and pounded up into her, feeling her orgasm leaking down his thighs, her cries of ecstacy sending him soaring into the abyss as he felt his balls tighten.. his cock pulsate..

"Gonna cum... Need to.. oh fuck yes..."

Several ropes of cum lined her walls, emptying inside her, coating her insides as he released into her with a cry of her name, his fingers squeezing her hips tight enough to definitely leave his mark on her skin. She fell forwards into his waiting arms, his seed dripping out of her over his thighs. His arms stroked over her back and neck, his lips kissing her head softly as he held her gently.

They stayed glued together for a while, breathing in the other as they relaxed - all previous tensions forgotten, all past issues thrown to the wind.

"I won't let you go this time, Kate. I promise," he whispered, his lips pressed to the side of her head. Her body wrapped tighter around his, snuggled into his his chest.

"You're going home soon.."

"We'll make it work."

"We could make the distance shorter?"

He looked down at her, and she leaned back.

"What do you mean?"

"This was just a temporary move while the dust settled."

"You'd leave everything here and come home?"

"If you'll have me?"

He chuckled and pulled her close again.

"Looks like I'll need another plane ticket then, doesn't it?"

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x smut #cillian x smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x requests

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peakascum · 4 years

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Reunion

First of all, thank you so much for the feedback on my first fic! Second of all, I am still trying to make the masterlist but Ia m new to this so it will take time. In the meantime, I will put a “peakascum” tag on every imagine so you will be able to find every writing under that tag on my profile. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Polly had smoked half a pack of cigarettes since the beginning of the family meeting. She had come in and sat at the most far out corner and stared aimlessly at the floor. Skin pale as ever, but her eyes held a whirlpool of emotions. She had a look of confusion, perhaps terror. A look the boys had only seen twice in their lives. The first time being when she bid them farewell at the train station before the war, the second time being when she learned the fate of her children.

Tommy concluded the meeting, dismissing everyone to go about with their work and stared at her intently. “So are you going to tell me,” he paused to light his cigarette, “or am I gonna have to wait until you reach your breaking point?” Polly looked up at him and stood up, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It’s nothing Tom. Just stress.” She said, barely meeting his eyes. “Polly,” he started, clearing his throat, “we both know how you get when you bottle everything up. Now, I’m already stressed enough dividing everybody's jobs and calculating our next move. If this is about our rivals, you have nothing to worry about, but if-“ she gave him a pointed glance and said, “Oh come off it, Tom. It’s not about that. It’s- it’s silly.” The room stilled for a second. Polly kept staring at the window, building up courage, adjusting the words in her mind as to not sound completely delusional.

“I was at the market buying the essentials. Had to go all the way across town for that new tea that Ada likes- and I swear to God Thomas I am not on pills anymore- but I could've sworn I saw Martha.” She looked up at him, the first time since the beginning of the meeting. They both chuckled at how bizarre the idea sounded. “Martha? Our John’s dead wife Martha?” He had to say it out loud. The tone in his voice acknowledging how ridiculous it sounded. “I told you it was silly.”

But it wasn’t. To them, it did sound as if Polly was back on the self medication journey she went on since almost hanging. That was years ago. Since then, John had died, Michael had come back from America, they had moved up to high society, and had struck up new rivals on various spots in England. Life had changed. Clouds no longer lingered on the streets of Birmingham, everything started to matter a little bit more. They all missed John. Polly would pray for his soul every morning and every night. She would pray for his kids, the ones Esme took, pray they were safer and that somehow she would be able to see them again.

The next family meeting had taken place in the small room at The Garrison. It was a quick one, more so to catch up on the day’s events. Arthur had come in around, whisky glass in hand, stumbling over his words, “So Poll you seeing ghosts now, eh?” He screamed, making the whole room chuckle and look at her expectantly. “That’s enough Arthur. Just an honest mistake.” She said, a grin painting her face, yet it did not reach her eyes. She knew it was silly, but it wouldn't be the first time she had seen the departed.

Finn stood near the door, facing Arthur’s back, laughing and mocking Polly with the rest of them. “I don’t really remember Martha well, but I don’t think you're delusional aunt Poll.” He said in a confident voice. The room kept ignoring his words, busy with roaring laughter and the sound of their aunt’s voice scolding them all. Finn kept his posture and continued, “Besides, thought I heard John’s laugh the other day,” he mumbled. The room quieted for a moment. Finn looked up realizing they heard him and continued, “but it wasn’t, eh? Obviously. I-I’m not Polly, don’t have any of that gypsy crap with me.”

Polly, furiously but steadily, stood up, “First of all,” she said making her way over to Finn, “it is not gypsy crap or gypsy bullshit, do not disrespect your roots.” She said as she smacked him in the head. “Now look at me and tell me what you on about boy.” She grabbed his young face in her hands. “It’s nothing aunt Poll. Just like Martha. It’s nothing. Besides, it was a woman laughing Poll,” he stammered and ripped his face from her grip. Polly stared at him, then at the whole table full of very confused Shelbys.

“I knew it. I can feel it,” she started, earning a deep glare from Tommy.

“Do not mock me. I can feel when the air shifts. I know what I saw.”

“Okay, that’s enough Poll,” said Arthur, no longer laughing.

The Shelbys had not made another sound, looking at each other, wondering who would be the first to speak up. Their aunt’s statement had steadied them into a haunting lullaby, reminding them of the many gypsy traditions that they secretly carried with them. The good omens, the way the wind suddenly stilled into an ominous glare that same morning; and in a drastic turn of events, the way the hairs on the back of young Finn Shelby’s neck stood up at the sound of what he mistook for John’s laugh.

____________________

A week had passed after the eerie conversation at The Garrison. They carried on with their business, with bets and the rival gang that had pestered Tommy for months now. They were closing in around corners of Small Heath, leaving threatening notes on their doorsteps and even going as far as killing a Blinder and leaving him on the betting shop’s entrance. This caused the family to carry trinkets of good luck and repeating gypsy mantras to calm their superstitious beliefs that came with their Romanian blood.

It had all led up to the current position they all found themselves in. Thomas had a gash on his brow, causing blood to adorn his features. His gun pointing at the enemy’s face. The Weston’s were known for their brutality, even worse than a Blinders wrath. Arthur held an already dead man in his arms screaming like a maniac, threatening others who would dare come for them. Finn, Isiah, and Michael incessantly beating and battling the other men, all in a row of punches and blood and gore. A scene so obscene that would have made any person queasy. But these were no ordinary people. They were Shelbys. Polly peaked her head through the small room’s door, enough to see the violence unfold. They had been attacked by surprise at their own pub, and she feared for her nephews lives, more so now than any other time. Never taking her eyes away from the scene, she ferociously prayed for a miracle, a gift, a second chance.

The men grabbed Thomas by his arms, dangling him whilst another pointed a gun to his face. “Mr. Shelby, always have the upper hand,” said one of them with a tantalizing smirk, “but it seems your reign is over and your crown is mine.” The men chuckled and cheered, seeing their enemy half dead in their hands. Tommy looked up and smirked, which turned into a manic laugh, making the Blinders pause their movements. “Brother?” Arthur asked, gulping at Tom’s actions. Tommy looked at them still laughing, “You think you’ll defeat me? Whenever you think you have the upper hand, I will always be one step in front of you,” he paused to spit, and continued.

“It’s my legacy, it’s my family’s legacy. And you have the nerve to barge into my territory and declare war on me?” His smile never leaving his face, blood covering his teeth. All of them looking upon him in confusion.

The doors to The Garrison opened letting in dust and a cold wind meddle its way in. Footsteps echoed through the current silent pub. Arthur dropped the man that he held between his arms. Finn’s eyes flashed a look of confusion, recognizing the presence that made its way into the pub. Polly’s hands shook against her sides, too numb to move them. The footsteps grew louder, yet the pace never changed. Tommy looked at the men as they noticed also and chuckled, “Do you you really think I would have left my pub unsupervised for you lot to take?”

There in the middle of the room stood a group of men led by a girl, a girl that was perhaps younger than Finn. Her dark hair gathered loosely by a ribbon, freckles adorning her face and piercing eyes that matched her posture, determined and hard. Their saving grace. Their hail Mary pass.

“Y/N?” Whispered Arthur.

In a split second the Blinders ducked behind chairs and the other side of the bar. Their guns cocked and immediately erupted in a song of metal and flesh and screams. The girl’s face never changed, her body unbothered. Each and every men dropped to their knees with multiple bullets to their bodies.

The noise suddenly stopped. The Weston’s Leader remained standing, too embarrassed and in shock to move. Y/N made her way over and pointed her gun to his face, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” immediately putting a bullet between his eyes.

“Holy Jesus,” Polly said as she stumbled out of the room, “Y-You look just like her.”

Y/N turned around and smiled at the woman that stood there, pale as snow, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Hello aunt Poll.”

Tommy stood up with the help of a perplexed Arthur. “Who is she?”, Michael asked breaking the tension in the room.

“I don’t think any of you remember me clearly, I was just a girl when I left.” She said, a small smile appearing on her face. “This is Y/N, John’s daughter,” piped Tommy, looking at her tenderly.

“You weren’t delusional Polly, I just couldn't give her cover away.”

Polly made her way over to Y/N and cradled her face her hands. “I knew it,” she breathed out, “I knew it, didn't I? I knew that it wasn't a ghost. You look just like your mother.” Polly breathed out in a shaky voice causing the girl to smile widely.

“I reached out to Tommy. Wanted to be a part of the business, reunite with my family.” She said looking around the room excitedly.

Polly took the girl in her arms, allowing herself to sob freely. The room warmed up with the Shelby’s smiles. It wasn't Martha, It wasn't John, but it was their niece. A living, breathing piece of John’s heart for them to hold and treasure.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #finn shelby imagine #Michael Shelby imagine #polly gray imagine #arthur shelby imagine #peakascum #platonic reader #the garrison

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tcm · 4 years

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Hayley Mills: The “Every Girl” By Susan King

Hayley Mills wasn’t the typical child star. Unlike picture perfect Shirley Temple and Margaret O’Brien, the British actress was a bit of a scruff, a gangly, wild colt. Though cute, she certainly wasn’t adorable. But the daughter of Oscar-winning actor John Mills and author Mary Hayley Bell and baby sister of actress Juliet Mills definitely had the undefinable star quality. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her. And she had a naturalness and ease on screen. She was an “every girl.”

And that’s one of the reasons baby boomers fell madly in love with her in POLLYANNA (‘60), the first of six films she made for Walt Disney and for which she won the last Juvenile Oscar handed out by the Academy for her endearing turn as the eternally optimistic orphan who changes everyone’s lives. She just seemed like one of us. We all wanted to be her friend. And, as she got older, her young female fans wanted to be her; and boys wanted her to be their girlfriend. Even now, a smile lights across the faces of boomers whenever you mention her name.

In fact, when I recently posted on Facebook that I was watching her hit comedy THE TROUBLE WITH ANGELS (‘66) for the first time since it was released, people came out of the woodwork expressing their love for the movie and Mills, who is now 74.

Before she became POLLYANNA, Mills made her first credited film debut in J. Lee Thompson’s acclaimed black-and-white thriller TIGER BAY (‘59). She plays a tomboy named Gillie, who lives with her aunt in the poor and racially diverse Tiger Bay district of Cardiff. Gillie witnesses the murder of a woman in her apartment building by her young Polish sailor boyfriend (Horst Buchholz) in a moment of rage. Though she initially fears for her life when Buchholz tracks her down, these two lost souls end up developing a strong bond. Her father John Mills plays the police superintendent trying to find him and is thwarted every step of the way by Gillie, who lies constantly to keep the detective away until the young man leaves the country.

Again, she gives such a natural “coy”-free performance, you feel that Thompson had plucked a young ruffian off the streets of Tiger Bay to play Gillie. The first time I saw Mills on screen was in 1961 in one of her biggest hits for the Disney studio THE PARENT TRAP, a trippy comedy about twin sisters who meet at summer camp after their divorced parents (Maureen O’Hara and Brian Keith) had divvied them up as babies when the marriage ended. (One has to admit in this day and age, it’s more than a bit creepy and cruel that parents would do something like this.) The twins decide to play a trick on their parents, while plotting a way to get them back together, by switching places after summer camp.

Not only did the movie prove Mills could handle comedy with great aplomb, THE PARENT TRAP also turned Mills into a singing star. Not that she could really sing, but Richard and Robert Sherman penned Mills the catchy “Let’s Get Together” which became a hit tune.

Her next film for Disney IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS (‘62), an adventure based on a Jules Verne story, was the weakest of her Disney films. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for her follow-up movie SUMMER MAGIC (1963), a nostalgic comedy with the Sherman brothers once again supplying the songs. She was 17 when she made THE MOON-SPINNERS (‘64), a mystery thriller set in Crete based on a Mary Stewart best-seller. This time around, she is paired with the handsome British actor Peter McEnery as her love interest. Every girl in the audience also wanted McEnery as their love interest. Reviews were decidedly mixed, but Bosley Crowther in the New York Times stated the actress was growing up, noting “the ripening attractiveness” of Mills.

Mills ended her time with Disney with the blockbuster That Darn Cat! (‘65), an entertaining comedy about a mischievous Siamese cat named DC owned by Mills that ends up helping the FBI in solving a robbery and kidnapping. While she was under contract, Mills also made films in England including the lauded WHISTLE DOWN THE WIND (‘61) based on her mother’s 1959 novel of the same name. Directed by Bryan Forbes, the family film revolves around three farm children who find a bearded fugitive (Alan Bates) in their barn. Because he utters “Jesus Christ” when he is found, the three believe he really is Jesus. Mills received a BAFTA nomination for her charming performance.

Her first post-Disney film after GYPSY GIRL (’66) was the heavenly comedy THE TROUBLE WITH ANGELS (‘66) directed by Ida Lupino. I loved it when I first saw it and adored it when I revisited it recently. Mills and June Harding play the best of friends at a Catholic girls’ school and in between studying get into all sorts of trouble much to the chagrin of the Mother Superior (Rosalind Russell). Attending Catholic girls’ school for nine years, there’s little wonder TROUBLE WITH ANGELS is my favorite Mills film. TROUBLE WITH ANGELS also would be the last Mills film I would see in a movie theater.

THE FAMILY WAY (‘66), was her first grown-up role and marked her first nude scene. Not only that, Mills created a scandal when she had a romance with the film’s director Roy Boulting, who not only had children, but he was nearly 33 years older than Mills. The two would marry for six years in the 1970s and a have son, Crispian. Most of her films during that time certainly weren’t for her young fans and frankly weren’t very good.

Mills took a six-year hiatus and returned in the acclaimed 1981 miniseries The Flame Trees of Thika which aired on PBS’s Masterpiece Theatre. She’s been going strong ever since, even touring Australia in the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical The King and I. Mills returned to the Disney fold doing several projects including the Disney Channel movie THE PARENT TRAP II (‘86), for which I got to interview her in person, and the Disney Channel film BACK HOME (‘89), for which I interviewed her for the Los Angeles Times.

I asked her—and yes, she was charming—in 1990 if it was different being a child star in Hollywood versus being one in England. “Quite different,” she noted. “As far as my own life was concerned going over to America was a most wonderful holiday. It was like going to Disneyland. America was a playground, and everything was larger than life. The sun was always shining, and the cars were always clean and shiny, and everyone said, ‘You’re welcome.’ It was rows and rows of comics, ice cream sundaes and endless channels on the TV. I was very well looked after. All I was expected to do was learn my lines and get on the set. Of course, when I came back to England I came back to reality and had to go to board school and behave myself!”

#Hayley Mills #Tiger Bay #Parent Trap #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Pollyanna #TCMFF #child actor #Susan King

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