The Usual Summer

Things weren’t going well. In fact, things were going very, very bad. He’d spend the last hour hanging over the sink, trying to stop the blood that was flowing freely from his nose. His jaw was hurting with the bruises that had formed and he could hardly open his left eye.

He’d managed to keep the door locked, even through the abusive torment that raged from the other side of it. It was a good thing he never was without his phone, as he was certain his fit of complete panic would have been even worse without being able to contact someone outside of this godforsaken house.

[TEXT] Sorry to bother you, but I’m in trouble. Might possibly have broken my nose.

Dire Situations

By the time they arrived on the scene police cars were already there, their lights flashing. It was clear they had only just arrived.

Bradley’s heart was racing, it had been since he’d talked to Ben, it had been since he’d learned what was going on and the moment he could, he left the car and ran onto the scene, being met by a police officer’s hand. He had already forgotten he had felt bad at all over the past days. “Tell me what’s going on, please.”

"There’s a problem regarding a gang, sir, better stay back," he spoke and as Bradley looked up he could see that police officers were still fighting to get the ‘gang’ cuffed and into the cars. Searching around more, his eyes suddenly fell on Ben, who was lying on the ground, officers kneeling beside him. What was happening? His heart sunk—

Tom joined him and Bradley pointed at Ben. “That’s my friend, I need to get to him,” and with that he pushed through and ran into the scene.

4

AU- Tom Hiddleston as a grown up Stormageddon (Inspired by the Wonderful Becky) finally gets his chance to travel with the Doctor.

Doctor: because I am the Doctor, I always travel; I am a well-known figure in all time and space. You are not the only one who has heard stories about me
Stormy: this leather Jacket is quite uncomfortable, why can’t I wear my normal cloths and say I travel with you?
Doctor: you have to admit, this is more fun! 

Hungover

It took ages for him to finally have the courage to sit up in bed and when he’d accomplished it he found that his pounding headache and protesting stomach weren’t all just an aftermath of a bad dream, but a very real consequence of having been drunk out of his mind.

He had kissed Bradley carefully, before getting up to get to the shower. He felt disgusting. He ended up sitting down in the bathtub while showering himself and washing as properly as he could with the little energy he had. Drying off took him nearly twenty minutes and with the towel wrapped around him he dressed in Bradley’s room, where he stole one of Bradley’s shirts. His own was unfortunately covered in vomit.

Somehow he’d ended up in Bradley’s bed, but the memory was only slowly recollecting.

"I’m going downstairs," he whispered softly to Bradley, who was still sleeping. Colin didn’t have the heart to wake him up, in case he was feeling even half as bad as Colin was. He figured he was used to feeling nauseous and he was certainly used to headaches. He had his medicine here, anyway. Tom had told him that he shouldn’t have to bother with carrying it around everywhere and he should just put some in the bathroom here, since he was spending so much time here anyway. Colin was thankful he’d listened or he would’ve been without.

Once downstairs, after taking a substantial amount of painkillers and throwing one of Bradley’s thick jumpers around him, against the shivers, he looked around. It was silent, but when he peeked into the living room he saw Tom, reading some kind of book.

"Morning…" Colin muttered, perfectly aware that it was two o’clock in the afternoon.

Lies for the Liar

He wasn’t too happy with the response from Ewan, upon hearing he had been promised a broken arm, as he was lying. Still, it might buy them time to get to Jude and have a moment without Ewan interfering.

He followed Tom to the door, wondering if Jude was going to open up for them or not. Luckily, he did, although he seemed to have trouble standing, as his leg was bloody and looked painful. So… what had happened?

Jude immediately started crying and talking at the same time, which resulted in nothing but mutterings.

Tom awoke to the feeling of discomfort, inducted by the feeling of hardness against his back and a coldness against his skin. His eyes opened and they blinked.

He felt hazy, almost as if he had been drugged, but the fright the sight of a seemingly endless forest had given him was enough to jolt him out of his haze and push himself up.

Even though he had no clue how he had gotten there, he knew — as if a voice in his mind told him — what he was doing there. He was fighting, he was surviving. His clothes told him that. The feeling of being watched told him that. The flask, knife, rope, sleeping bag, nutrition bars and blanket told him that.

Rising, he scanned the environment. What was he fighting? What was he doing? What was going to happen to him? Was he alone? — His questions were soon vaguely answered by a voice, sounding much like a TV game-host, who explained that there were many in here and only one coming out. Death was going to be the thing stopping them.

He walked after that news, he walked for what seemed like hours and he only had the sun to tell him what kind of time in the day it was, which terrified him. He could scream as loud as he wanted now, but he had no voice. He had no say. Nobody would listen. He didn’t even feel like he had time to crawl up in a ball and cry now, though, even though that was what he wanted. He wanted Chris, Ben, Jude… he wanted everyone close to him, he wanted to be told he was going to be alright— A sound seemed to echo through the trees, different to the one that had sounded overhead and had turned out to be the voice, the host of this sickening play— and it had his heart racing and suddenly his feet were picking up speed, running directly away from the sound he had heard. What if that was the first thing trying to get him? What if someone was trying to get him.

Sick

He was glad when the car ride was over and he could finally sit down on Tom’s sofa. He was completely exhausted, but at least he didn’t have to be sick in an empty house.

"Thanks," he said softly, while slowly lying down on the couch and attempting to calm down. He needed a shower, and a fresh change of clothes, but he couldn’t be asked right now. First he’d sit through this wave of exhaustion.

chestercats said:

Paint Me (Tom)

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

It was Tom’s birthday and Jude wanted to do something special for the birthday of his best friend. He’d struggled for a long time, to think of something he could buy him, but nothing seemed to be good enough. So, he needed to make him something. That wasn’t really as easy as it might be for any other art student. Jude wasn’t good at these kind of things, but he was desperate to make it work.

He wanted to make a portrait of Tom and him together, so Tom could hang it in his room and always think of him. That would be a very, very good thing, Jude thought.

So, he set to work on the newly bought canvas. He had printed one of his favourite pictures, on which he was jumping on top of Tom’s shoulders and they were both laughing happily. Surely painting couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

He set to work, first tried to paint Tom and then himself. It looked like nothing. It was absolutely ridiculous. So he tried to make it better, but it only started to look worse and worse. A mess of colours and nothing like two people being together happily. At some point he managed to define two faces, but it was incredibly unclear. Only someone that knew the picture well would be able to tell it was that picture at all…

It wasn’t good enough for Tom, who was the best, best, best friend anyone could ever have!

Jude got angry.

And he ruined the whole thing. He cut through the canvas and ripped it all apart. That night he cried himself to sleep and when he woke up, realized today was Tom’s birthday he was in a panic. He ran through the house screaming, before he entered the room in which lay the massacre of the painting. He had to make it, otherwise he wouldn’t have anything!

He was still covered in yesterday’s paint, but that was alright. He got tape and started to paste the canvas back together. Luckily the tape was see through so it didn’t cover too much of the image. It still looked really ugly though…

He took it to Tom anyway, feeling embarrassed for the crappy thing, while everyone probably had brilliant gifts. Why did he have to be so stupid? Now Tom would never believe that Jude loved him more than anyone else ever could love anyone in the whole wide world!

Tom had to know! And all Jude had to show for it was a crappy mended painting… Though, he had to admit that this was somehow a strange metaphor for how they always got back together…

"Tom, Tom!" he exclaimed then, after realizing that. "This is us! Look! Look what I did!"

manchestercats said:

△ with Tom

△ a quickly spreading fire!

He hadn’t expected something so typical to actually happen now he decided to actually go with Chris to Australia. His fear of getting stung by creepy crawlies together with his immense fear of snakes was forcing him to turn down every offer Chris gave him, until this summer, he finally said yes.

They’d been together for a year and a half now and Tom felt amazing. Every hand that he felt tug around his waist felt perfect, as did every single kiss, very touch, every fuck.

Somewhere along the lines of him going along, Chris had forgotten to mention that they’d go camping out in the bush. Mind you, with good tents, sleeping bags and bug sprays, but still, camping in Australia was hardly a dream of Tom’s as the cons really tended to outweigh the pros, but Chris wasn’t having it and so then ended up together in their tent.

"I can’t sleep, I really… what if there are beasts in here that are going to kill me?" Tom asked, making Chris laugh, who had rolled atop of Tom.

"I checked the tent. There’s nothing in here and no way of getting in here. I put bug spray all over this and there are scented rods all around this tent that bugs won’t like, so trust me, you’re not going to die," Chris reassured.

"Not even a little bit?" Chris had to laughed at that and shook his head.

"No, I’ve done this year in year out and only ever been bitten once," Chris said, figuring that showing the scar wouldn’t be the best thing to do right now.

Tom nodded a little, sighing and ushering Chris to lie down again to lie against Chris. “No, no,” Chris then spoke, moving his hands between them, their sleeping bag being a double one. He moved his hands down the front of Tom’s pants suddenly, which made Tom moan out softly and relax immediately.

Tom was soon leaning back into the feeling of Chris’ two hands working him down there, moaning out softly, shuddering a little as he made things feel sensitive.

Long, low moans Chris pulled out of Tom over and over again and he thought he might be getting close, when suddenly he begun to smell something.

"What’s that?" Tom asked, ushering Chris’ head out of his neck to smell too. Chris’ eyebrows suddenly raised and he frowned.

"Shit, get up, we have to go," Chris said, pulling himself out of the sleeping back and grabbing quickly what they needed, shoving it into a bag, while putting his feet in his shoes. Tom quickly got his pants back up and did the same.

"What’s going on?" Tom asked as he got up, pulling himself out of the tent but as he did that, his question didn’t need to be answered. "Here I was, afraid of creepy crawlies and then this happens," he said, looking at the smoke that was clouding in the distance. "Do we need to run? What do we need to do?"

"Grab your things and run, yes," Chris said, grabbing hold of the bag and pulling the airbed out of it. The fleece sleeping bag would be too flammable to keep with them, but within only a few seconds the tent was back in the bag (it was one of those pop up ones that was brilliant for lazy campers). With their shoes on and their bags gathered together, they started to run as fast as they could.

"This really… can’t be happening. Is this real life?" Tom asked as he followed Chris through the burning forest. He was running as fast as he could, even though the fire had not quite caught up with them yet. They were slightly faster than the fire was and they had a head start.

"Helicopters will be here soon," Chris said, knowing how these things went. Australia was famous for bush fires, after all. "I bet I’ve scared you out of Australia then," Chris panted as he ran.

"No… just forests, bushes, everything really. You’ve… yeah you’ve scared me out of Australia," Tom replied, still running for his life.

hiddlestormed:

"Cold hearted?!" Tom’s hands were clenched into fists. If only he realised now he’d had too much to drink and it’d taken a wrong turn with him. “I’m not fucking cold hearted! I’m just done running after everyone all the fucking time!”

     Ben was silent for a moment, not for lack of having something to respond, but he wasn’t very good at upholding his end of the conversation when the other end included shouting.

     ”Then don’t run after me.” Ben pulled his coat tighter around himself, before heading towards the door.

Fancy meeting you here | Prison AU

It couldn’t have been too big a surprise that things ended up like this. It was always bound to happen. Numerous statistics had been pointing it out to him all his life. He’d had enough time to prepare, so to speak.

The only thing unfortunate about the whole situation was that he was really, incredibly and utterly bored in this place. Every person in here was as dim as the next and all the more interesting types were kept in isolation. He never got to see any of them…

Well, at least more prisoners would come in today, which meant that he’d have at least three minutes of distraction while he analyzed them. Who knew, though, who would enter?

            “My suitcase broke,” Ben spoke, upon entering the student home. He had seen Tom sitting in the living room, when he’d passed the window. He came in from the hall a moment later, to confirm Tom was still there. “I had to carry it all the way here from the station.” One of his hands moved to his shoulder to squeeze it, as it was obviously sore.

            Tom got up to give him a hug, before pulling him to the couch to sit down. “I’ll make you a cuppa,” he said. Ben smiled thankfully. “How was your weekend?”

            “It was great!”

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