For Drabbles: More Tommy And Maria? You Gave Them Such A Cute Family And I Want To See More Of That!

for drabbles: more Tommy and Maria? you gave them such a cute family and I want to see more of that!

I'm actually working on a one-shot (tentatively titled Stand on the Rock) about them, which fits into my People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse series. It takes place a year after the events of Go Your Own Way, and about two-and-a-half years before As Long as You Follow. Again, have a (long!) snip!

A crash resonated from somewhere within the house – downstairs, judging from the overall distance that seemed to carry it – and then a shout quickly followed. A second later there was another sound, and a far more terrifying one at that: the shattering of glass, followed by a young voice yelling out in surprise and then a more feminine tone screeching out, “you asshole!” 

“For fuck’s sake –” Maria turned her head, moaning this into her pillow. “Tell me I didn’t just hear something glass break.”

“You didn’t hear somethin’ glass break,” Tommy grunted. Still, they didn’t move, seemingly frozen in place. A deep sigh left his lips, his forehead pressed against her braids. “Maybe we can just…lay here, pretend like we didn’t hear nothin’.”

“Mama!” The sheer desperation of the cry made them both groan, and that was that – all hope was lost. Within seconds, their – thankfully locked – doorknob was rattling, twisting back and forth and shuddering as a small fist pounded against the painted wood. “Papa! Let me in!”

“You want broken glass, or the three-year-old?” Maria pulled herself away from him with a groan, leaving him suddenly feeling rather cold even under the warmth of their duvet. She slid out from over the covers and sat up at the side of the bed, stretching herself long, her feet on the ground and her head tilted back as her hands grasped at the back of her neck, working out the knots in her muscles. 

“I want you to get back in this bed, cariño,” he grumbled, reaching his arm out long just to tug at the bottom of her sleep shirt. “Whatever’s broken’ll still be broken in five minutes.”

“Five minutes, huh?” She twisted around to look at him still laying against his pillow, one eyebrow arched toward her hairline. “What girl could possibly resist an offer that enticing?” She rose to her feet as he chuckled, opening her dresser drawers and grabbing a clean pair of underwear and some jeans, both of which she wrangled over her hips with impressive speed as she hopped her way to their bedroom door. There was still a small pair of lungs bellowing for mama and papa on the other side, but as soon as it was unlocked and Maria pulled it open, the little face that was there to greet them switched from abject misery to pure joy almost immediately.

“Mama!” Artie threw hands in the air, jumping up and down on his tip-toes expectantly. Maria acquiesced immediately, sweeping the boy up in her arms and holding him securely at her shoulder. “Teo and Cece broke something!” he informed both of them chirpily, and Tommy snorted even as he covertly pulled his boxers back over his thighs, still under the protection of the blanket.

“My son, the narc,” he said, holding his hands out.

“My son, the state’s witness,” Maria corrected him, pressing a sloppy kiss on the boy’s cheek before dropping the giggling bundle of curly hair and fire engine red pajamas on top of the covers, where he immediately made a beeline for his father’s waiting arms. “All yours, Casanova. I’m going downstairs – see what the other two have managed to destroy. My bet’s on a window.”

“Don’t be a pessimist, mi vida,” he chided her, and she paused in the doorway, “we also got a TV, some mirrors – I mean, the possibilities are endless.”

She didn’t even bother replying directly to him, letting the shake of her head and a few mumbled words do it for her, and he listened to her feet stomping down the stairs while Artie pushed himself into his arms, pressing his face against Tommy’s chest.

“Do you know what they broke, cachetes?” he whispered to the toddler, brushing some of his curls away from his eyes. The boy shook his head, though his smile only grew. “No? You were in bed?” Artie nodded this time, and Tommy laughed. “Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second.” 

Artie said nothing to this, but he giggled again, reaching up to tug on the collar of Tommy’s t-shirt so he could pull himself closer to the man’s chest. He nestled in, a small, warm body curled against his father, and Tommy welcomed the embrace, more than willing to steal a few extra moments of rest so his heart could find some calm before the demands of the day began. He knew well enough that this was all very temporary – that someday Artie would decide that he was too old to start his mornings this way, that eventually he wouldn’t even want Tommy to hold his hand while they walked through the streets of Jackson. He still remembered the sting of it, the first time Sarah surreptitiously pulled away from him before they could cross an intersection together, barely seven years old but already convinced of her need for independence. 

“It’s just you, me, and the alborotadores today,” he said softly, palming one of Artie’s comically rounded cheeks. It was almost disappointing that they were beginning to diminish; that the boy was growing into his looks, stretching taller by the day and developing a leanness to his limbs that was propelling him out of toddlerhood faster than Tommy expected or wanted. “What d'you wanna do?”

When Artie smiled he was all Tommy, his nose wrinkling out of habit, a wide grin stretched over his teeth. In moments of tranquility Maria's influence on his features became more evident, his dark eyes just as wide and observant, his nose, when settled, more rounded at its tip. His hair seemed to darken more and more every day – and it was the hair that always gave Tommy pause, so reminiscent of the cousin he would never get to meet, tightly-coiled and springy and barely able to be contained under a hat when the weather turned cold. It was the hair that always caught his uncle’s attention, too; where his eyes always lingered for a little longer than he meant for them to, his expression carefully neutral until the child’s attention was upon him and he would remember to immediately force a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“Pancakes,” said Artie now, “with syrup.” 

Forget the syrup one goddamn time, and Tommy was certain he would never hear the end of it. Still, he smiled down at the pair of eyes that were now carefully watching him, a young face that brightened considerably when he nodded in agreement. “Pancakes it is. Gotta go to the dining hall for it, though. You’re gonna have to get dressed – no pajamas allowed. You wanna get started, and then I’ll come in and help?” “Okay!” Invigorated by the promise of pancakes, Artie sprang up at once, crawling over his father and not even noticing the sharp ‘oof!’ pushed out of Tommy’s lungs when one of his small knees connected with sternum, dropping down on the other side of him and then wiggling down the side of the bed until his bare feet touched the cold hardwood. “Hurry!” the boy yelled, already dashing into the hallway. Tommy sat up slowly, one hand rubbing at his aching chest, a deep sigh leaving his throat.

He’d been awake for less than ten minutes, and already he could tell it was going to be a very long day.

I feel extra attacked that the girl in the comic even has the same color hair as me. 😒

Chapter 15 of As Long as You Follow is done. I still need to edit a bit, so I won't post until tomorrow (and if not tomorrow, no later than Monday; I'm going to be out of town all weekend) but the word count as of right now is at 30,122, so hopefully that makes up for it taking longer to get this chapter out than I said it would. Have a snippet (beware - spoilers):

It was as though the universe had slowed itself, just for her. The clouds hung low, the sunrise reduced to a muted struggle between crimson and encroaching gray. The air was now warm on her skin, dizzying against the bite of the ocean, every wave that gently lapped against her chest bringing with it fresh goosebumps. She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, staring out at the horizon – at nothing, really, the fog and the haze threatening to envelope her wholly. 

For a fleeting instant, a blissful numbness took hold. The world receded, the seagulls' cries and the soft hiss of the waves fading into the background. She felt weightless, adrift in a sea of muted gray where even the burden of her thoughts seemed to dissolve. She clung to it desperately, this ephemeral nothingness; a wall that was nevertheless crumbling against the realization that it was all over – she was done; that her life was her own now, her future, once a terrifying void, now stretching in front of her as infinite and uncertain as the hazy fusion of ocean and sky.

It felt impossible that it should all come to an end here – quietly, slowly, everything that had lead her to this point still a deafening scream in her memories; dancing with Riley in a yellow glow, the weight of the gun in Ellie’s hand; Marlene, unwavering and unflinching, looking Ellie right in the eye as she sent her off to her death; Sam’s guttural shrieks as he scratched and clawed at her skin, the utter determination on Henry’s face when he pulled the trigger for the last time; Joel, ashen and still on that dirty mattress, his skin burning to the touch – his eyes searing into her in the rearview mirror, his lies, his love; David, framed by flames, ‘There’s no fear in love,’ Benny, melted to her knees and screaming on the church altar, her hands stained with her father’s blood –

– Tommy’s hands, usually steady but now trembling slightly, sweeping her hair out of her eyes because she couldn’t, her arms full of needles and tubes, his voice reminding her over and over again, ‘You don’t gotta do this – no one is gonna make you do this – we can wait –’ because he, like most people, didn’t understand that she’d never had a real choice – that this was always what she was meant to do, this mission that had been thrust upon her at age fourteen quickly becoming her life’s purpose. Now, at twenty-one, it was finally complete.

And she had no idea what came next.

“Ellie!”

She turned, startled, shifting on her hip so she could look back at the shore – to Joel, his edges undefined in the haze, hands fisted on his hips. He waved an arm at her, gesturing impatiently for her to return to dry land. She grinned, shaking her head – only because she knew how much it would irk him, which, judging from his deepening frown, it clearly did. "You tryin' to get eaten by a shark?" he called out, his voice laced with mock concern – and she laughed, the sound almost seeming to echo back at her in stillness and fog; and oh, did it feel good to fill her lungs with salty air and exhale it with that laugh. She sank her feet deeper into the submerged sand, digging her toes in to anchor herself against the playful tug of the waves.

Chapter 15 of As Long as You Follow has been updated!

I originally intended for this fic to be ten chapters or less, and maybe half the length of Go Your Own Way (which, at 233k words, was ridiculously long), but we're coming in at 227k words already, with two chapters to go, so...oops.

Hope ya'll like it, and if you don't, please don't tell me, I'm fragile.

This is filling up! (If you've submitted a prompt via my inbox, I won't reply to it until I am ready to post the story, just fyi.)

My priority continues to be As Long as You Follow, so I'll work through these prompts as time allows (aka, slowly).

Good Things Happen Bingo

Many thanks to @two-birds-alone-together for sending me this! I don't know how quickly I may or may not fulfill any requests, but I keep thinking that it might be nice to have something else to work on when I need a break from my mammoth WIP, so - have at it, Tumblr.

Shrugging Pedro = Already requested. Knifey Joel = Completed. I'm really only writing for the TLoU fandom right now, with a focus on Joel, Ellie, Tommy, Maria, and the usual Jackson community characters, but I am open to requests featuring other characters (including Tess!) and any of my OCs as well, or AU scenarios. Completed Fics: Prompt: Butterflies, requested by @march-flowerr. Fic: Sunny Side of Heaven

Found on pinterest. The artist is FlyingRotten@CamilleCailloux on Twitter.