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#bookhouse boys
houseofhurley · 11 months
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I’ve been digging in the wayback machine for some vintage Twin Peaks fan sites. This is an interesting one, essentially text roleplaying the visitor through the site. Most of what’s here at The Bookhouse seems recoverable.
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thepigpatch · 9 months
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Twin Peaks Bookhouse Boys Iron-On Embroidery Patch
Available on Etsy: Twin Peaks Bookhouse Boys Iron-On Embroidery Patch
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twinpeaksarchive · 5 months
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Paradox by BOB, pg. 150-155
Wild Cards #4, pg. 151-156
Content warnings: explicit, period-typical transphobia/homophobia
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rastronomicals · 2 months
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2:12 AM EST January 25, 2024:
Angelo Badalamenti - "The Bookhouse Boys" From the album Music From Twin Peaks (August 31, 1990)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
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blue-nebraska · 1 year
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Day five: The Bookhouse Boys
I wasn’t sure what to do for this piece, and finally decided on a more elaborate insignia for the secret society based off the pine tree and sword design on the patch Harry gives Coop in season 2. I love the resulting image a lot more than I thought I would, I’ll probably do another version in color (or maybe a linocut!) once Inktober is over.
ID: A black and white pen drawing with a square composition. In the center is an upside down sword over a pine tree. The tree’s roots reach upwards and wrap around two branches that form the right and left border of the piece. At the bottom is an image of two hands clasped around one another flanked by maple leaves and seeds. In the background are two mountain peaks with rays of light behind them, which transition into a black sky with white stars and sycamore trees. End ID.
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hehe coop
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innervoiceart · 1 year
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The Bookhouse Boys (Instrumental)
· Angelo Badalamenti Soundtrack From Twin Peaks 
℗ 1990 Warner Records Inc.
Clarinet, Flute: Al Regni Tenor  Saxophone: Al Regni Piano, Producer, Synthesizer: Angelo Badalamenti Unknown: Art Pohlemus Mixer: Art Pohlemus Producer: David Lynch Clarinet, Flute: Eddie Daniels Electric Guitar: Eddie Dixon Drums: Grady Tate Masterer: Howie Weinberg Vocals: Julee Cruise Synthesizer: Kinny Landrum Electric Guitar: Vinnie Bell Composer: Angelo Badalamenti
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mylprecordsncds · 3 months
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The Bookhouse Boys - I can't help myself
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loudmound · 5 months
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seeing dale and harry interact makes my teeth rot out of my face i'm so SICK of them and i say this with all the love in my heart
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vertigoo · 1 year
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Tracklist:
Twin Peaks Theme • Laura Palmer's Theme • Audrey's Dance • The Nightingale • Freshly Squeezed • The Bookhouse Boys • Into the Night • Night Life in Twin Peaks • Dance of the Dream Man • Love Theme from Twin Peaks • Falling
Spotify ♪ YouTube
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Time After Time  |  Chapter Six
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character
Summary: Tommy takes you on an impromptu trip.
Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, fluff, tommy is a soft boi, next chapter will have lots of plot dev i promise
ao3 Link | Catch up on tumblr here
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Chapter Six: Dismantle. Repair.
Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you. Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through. — Dismantle. Repair., Anberlin
“A wagon?” Your sleepy brain was still in a haze, and you weren’t even positive what you were looking at was real. “Where did you even— what the hell is this, the Oregon Trail?” 
Tommy grabbed your bag and climbed into the seat, securing it in the back before offering his hand to help you up. “Come on now, get in.” 
“Is this the part where I ‘go for a ride’ and you leave my body in a ditch somewhere?” You asked sarcastically, taking his hand and letting him pull you up. 
If you’d had your wits about you, you would have taken note of how easily he’d lifted you, how tight his hold on you was, and how he’d pulled you right up against his side. But you could only grumble out of sleepiness and revel in the warmth of his body heat. 
“Not this time,” he chuckled softly, obviously amused by your less-than-filtered state. “Secure?” He checked to make sure you were seated comfortably next to him before he flicked the reigns. He instructed the horse to walk on. “Not a morning person, eh?”
“Morning?” You scoffed. “This is rolling into bed after a good night out hours.”
It was still dark when you’d heard the knock at your door. 
You used to be the deepest sleeper — you could have slept through a hurricane (you had once as a kid, your dad told you). But since you’d woken up here, you hadn’t had one decent nights sleep. Your anxiety levels were always on high and the noise outside was nonstop. The train, the boats, the constant fire balls bursting into the air down the lane. 
Most of the time, sleep found you out of exhaustion, when your mind couldn’t run any longer and your body began to shut down from the physical and mental labor of it all. 
Last night was no exception. 
You spent the rest of the evening in the office. Despite the bookhouse being closed for the day, the house itself was bustling with activity. It was then that you realized something you hadn’t thought about in years. 
Family hadn’t exactly been something that you’d had much experience with in your life. 
Your father had very little of it — his parents had died before you’d been born, and his younger brother had moved to different parts of America some time after he’d enlisted. Your uncle had found himself on a different life path than your father, always finding himself in trouble one way or another. It wasn’t until your father died that you even heard from him — a weird and uncomfortable phone call from a family member you’d never met, crying over guilt. After that, you never heard from him again. 
Your mother, on the other hand, had no family. At all. She refused to talk about it with you, even as you got older. The only reason you knew the fact you had about her blood line stretching across Europe but possibly starting in Greece was after you begged insistently so that you wouldn’t fail a genealogy assignment for class.
After your mother’s death, you fell into a bit of a spiral — isolating yourself from the friends you’d made over the years. Eventually, the only people you’d started interacting with were people you met through work.
But every night, even when you were seeing someone at the time, you felt a sense of isolation, of loneliness, of non-belonging.
The feeling only intensified when you woke up in 1918, obviously accompanied with newer feelings of confusion and anger and feeling completely out of control of your life.
After meeting Ada and Harry, you were surprised when you realized that those feelings had started to lesson. It was still prevalent, but gradually, as you started spending more time at the Shelby household and with the patrons at the Garrison, you began to feel a deeper sense of camaraderie and acceptance.
Even if you were still keeping the fact that you were a time traveler from the future a secret. That was just, ya’know, details.
As you wrapped up your (second) first day with the Shelby business, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like growing up in the Shelby family. All those siblings, their parents, their aunt, and what sounded like loads of friends of the family that you still hadn’t met. Their bond seemed iron clad, especially with the defensive way Arthur acted when he felt that stronghold was being invaded by an outsider.
You didn’t blame him, either brother really, even if they had been hugely rude and sexist. It was nothing you didn’t hear at the pub on the daily.
The sad part (or the only child, people pleaser, desperate for family love part) was that you really wanted John and Arthur to like you, in the same way you’d been hellbent on gaining Polly’s respect and affection.
Arthur spent the day completely avoiding you. When your paths did cross, like when you went to find Polly to ask a clerical question, he simply grunted at you. But you took that as an improvement from calling you a whore, so you took it.
John was running around with his kids, apparently his wife was feeling a little sick lately. He actually stopped and talked to you for a little bit when you asked how she was doing. He seemed concerned, but Polly reassured that the doctors were taking good care of her and she’d be back on her feet in no time.
In the evening, Ada brought you some stew Polly had made and sat with you at the table as you both ate. It felt like old times — well, old in the sense of like a month ago.
The first thing you made sure to ask was about Freddie. You were careful not to use names, even after she shut the door to give the two of you more privacy. She’d happily informed you that the two of them had reconnected successfully — that while he wasn’t the same Freddie that had left Birmingham, they were learning how to be each other again.
You asked how long they were planning to keep things a secret, to which she didn’t have a solid answer.
“He thinks it’s for the best for now,” she’d added, hinting that there was some disconnect between his friendship with Tommy.
He’d gotten into politics, Ada had told you, sort of shrugging it off and claiming that it was just fun listening to him talk so passionately about something. That it made her want to be passionate about something too.
“So, you and my brother,” she’d suggested after finally catching you up.
You rose your brow as a counter. “And what exactly are you implying?”
“You keep surprising me, is all. I thought for sure Harry was going to toss you on your ass, but you got that job. Good thing I didn’t bet on this as well, ‘wise I’d lose again!”
Your mouth dropped dramatically as you gave her a playful shove. “Hey! I thought you liked me?”
“I do!” She laughed as she shoved you back. “I got you this job, remember? It’s just—“ her face fell as she looked down at her spoon, “you remember how the boys our age were before the war.”
You didn’t.
“Tommy was just like the lot of ‘em. Protective and determined as hell, but still, he used to laugh — used to make us laugh.” Her eyes shined a little at the memories behind them, but then dropped. “Since he’s been back, he hasn’t— he just— it’s like he’s been a stone. Out of all of ‘em, he’s been the one Pol and I ‘ave been worried about the most.”
Ada closed her mouth quickly, obviously not completely comfortable sharing this more intimate family discussion. You remained silent, not pushing the subject but not dismissing her either. She cleared her throat before she went on, managing a smile in the process.
“All that to say, you’ve managed to charm him,” her brow rose as her smile turned into a smirk.
“Nothing is going on,” you insisted, rolling your eyes at her.
She feigned insult, “Did I say there was?”
“Your face did,” you countered, pointing at her in emphasis.
Ada waved you off, “Fine. I’m just saying, it’s nice to see this side of Tommy again.”
She dropped the topic and left you to finish your work. Apparently she’d been warned by Tommy as well not to take up too much of your time.
As you were making your way out at the end of the day, you were trying to ignore the pang in your chest of not seeing Tommy again since he’d left that afternoon. You know what he’d said, but part of you hoped he’d come back. Maybe walk you home again.
Maybe give you another chance to ask him the question you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, but for the life of you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him that morning.
You had no idea why you’d been so nervous about it. He’d told you he’d dreamed about you, obviously he wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t expected you to have some follow up questions, right?
So why did the thought of actually asking him about it terrify you enough to act like it’d never happened?
Part of you knew you were scared of his answer. That him having this weird connection meant that this whole crazy, time travel, vision nonsense extended outside of just yourself — and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you were ready to live in that kind of reality just yet.
Apparently, your brain had a fantastic capacity for denial and compartmentalizing than you’d ever realized.
Again, that night you only got a couple hours of sleep before the knock at your door. You’d been suspicious and surprised to see Tommy on the other side, and then annoyed and cranky when he let himself in and began packing you a bag. Too tired to physically fight him on it, you let him do whatever it was he wanted, hoping he’d leave soon so you could go back to sleep.
But when he was done, he instructed you to follow and lock up behind you, throwing his coat to you.
And that’s how you ended up here, still half asleep, riding in a wagon next to a Peaky Blinder before sunrise.
“I’ve never been in a wagon before,” you mused, your brain still catching up with what was going on. “I’ve never been in a carriage before, actually. Not even one of those cute, kitschy ones that they have in some tourist cities.”
Tommy’s brow creased as he kept his gaze forward, letting you continue.
“I rode a horse once, but it was in the mountains and they were trained.” You chuckled, letting the memory come back, “They told us not to let the horses deviate from the trail and eat the plants on the edges. That if we gave the reigns a slight tug it would keep them from doing it. But my horse — Ginger Spice was her name, which was great because I loved the Spice Girls — I’m pretty sure she could sense that I was a pushover because she would not stop eating no matter how much I tried to direct her not to.”
Your eyes were still heavy as you chuckled to yourself, the scene playing like a movie behind your eyes.
“And then finally, when I could get her to fall in line with the others, she’d run me into tree branches or push me up against the other horses. She was such an ass.” You shook your head, still laughing at the memory. “But then at the end of the ride, she let me pet her and feed her carrots. My dad teased me that Ginger wanted me to take her home just so she could live a spoiled life with me.”
Your memory grew somber as you got to the end of the memory.
“That trip was the last time I remember my parents being happy with each other. Mum had laughed so hard at me trying to get the horse to turn around — it might have been the hardest I’d ever seen her laugh in my entire life.”
Tommy chanced a glance toward you, but you were still staring forward at the horse, your smile falling.
“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, the sleep fog starting to finally lift. “I ramble and mutter when I’m cranky. You should have seen me in school when I had to study for exams. My schoolmates made me isolate myself because I talked too much.”
“Don’t mind,” Tommy shrugged. “We’ve got a long trip.”
“Where are we going?” Your brow creased as you finally looked into the wagon behind you.
“It’s a surprise.”
You huffed, “I don’t like surprises.”
Tommy hummed in amusement. “No, I didn’t suppose you would.”
“Tommy—“
“I made you a promise, didn’t I?”
You swallowed, “We’re going to see the Delphi family?”
“Aye, if they want to see us, that is.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I got in touch with an old friend yesterday who was going to work on tracking ‘em down.”
Your brow rose, “Wow, that was fast.”
“I’m highly motivated.”
“Hmm,” you mused as you leaned back against the rest, “and it would be naive of me to believe that you’re motivated out of the kindness of your heart, yeah?”
He turned to you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’d gotten in the wagon. The sun was still making it’s way above the horizon, but you could see the softness in his eyes consider you, then harden before turning forward.
“Yes, it would.” He cleared his throat. “If you recall, you also made a promise to me. You find the answers you seek, and then you tell me everything.”
You mimicked his motion and also faced the front, wrapping the coat around yourself as the cool air finally began to get to you. “I’m not sure if you want to know everything.”
“There’s that naivety again.”
You huffed again, “I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re asking. You’ll put me in the nut house.”
You both sat in silence for a beat, watching as the city began to slowly transition into countryside.
“Why do you want to know everything, anyhow?” you asked finally.
“I don’t like surprises.”
He repeated your words, his eyes giving you a quick scan as you took a deep breath.
“Touché,” you replied reluctantly. “Then why are we in a wagon? Wouldn’t a car get us wherever it is you’re taking me faster?”
“Aye, but I’m not certain exactly where we need to go and we’re too low on petrol for guessin’. We can sleep in the wagon if we need to, dependin’ on how cold it’ll get. Brought extra blankets just in case.”
“Sleeping?” Your brow creased again. “How long will this take?”
Tommy shrugged, “A day. A week. Not certain.”
“A we—“ you took a deep breath. “Harry is gonna kill me, Tommy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m tellin’ ya now. And I already informed Harry—”
You rolled your eyes. “Dammit, Tommy. Harry is my boss, working at the pub is my job, a job that I like!”
“Y/N—“
“I get that Harry also works for you or pays you, or whatever the hell kind of set up it is — but you can’t keep taking my agency away from me like this,” you pushed on, ignoring his attempt to pause you. “Harry will lose respect for me, hell he might even fire me, replace me — and I wouldn’t blame him!”
“Would it matter?” Tommy’s voice rose back at you. “You work for me now, eh?! You go wherever the fuck I tell you to go. And I don’t pay you to fight me on things!”
Your mouth snapped shut. This was the first time Tommy had spoken to you like that. You’d seen it yesterday with his brothers, but it’d never been directed at you.
Tommy took a deep breath, lifting his hand to press his fingers against his forehead. “I thought this is what you wanted,” his voice softer than it’d been before.
You took a deep breath, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands before looking back toward him. Tommy was already looking at you, his face hardened as he waited for your reply.
“What I want… I want to stop feeling like I don’t have any control over my life,” you said, your voice quiet and vulnerable with the weight of just how much you meant your words.
His face began to soften slightly as his eyes searched your face for a lie, but found none.
“I appreciate your help with this, and the urgency. But you could have just told me what you had planned. I could have gone to Harry myself. I could have lied, I could have told him whatever it is you want me to tell him. Just— if you could please stop blindsiding me with things, that’d be great.” You gave a small smile, trying to lighten back the mood while still staying serious. “Communication, ya’know? They say it’s the foundation for any relationship. Even in business.”
His eyes never left yours as you spoke. His tongue ran across his lips before he looked away again. You waited a beat for his response.
“You’re like two different people,” he finally said, his position still forward. You swallowed as he went on. “The words you use, the oddities you say. It makes me feel like there’s this entire person who I haven’t met, who I don’t know if I can trust, no matter how much I watched or how much we talk.”
You stayed silent, unsure how to explain yourself. When you didn’t, he went on.
“When I first realized who you were, when I first began to watch you, I half expected to find some rich girl stumblin’ her way around pretending to be a barmaid. Maybe you’d been a runaway, maybe you’d gotten yourself in trouble — why else would a pretty, educated girl like you be in Birmingham.”
His gaze held yours as he continued.
“The first day, I watched you work your shift from the shadows of the pub and watched you pour a pint like you’ve been doin’ it for years, so obviously you weren’t lying there. But,” his gaze dropped then, shaking his head as he inhaled a breath, “you speak like someone whose afraid of what they’re goin’ to say, so you don’t say much. You’re friendly, and can match anyone in conversation when prompted, but the depth of your words were shallow with the strangers around you. Even with Harry. Which surprised me, considerin’ the woman I met by the Cut had been one of the most intriguing souls I’d ever encountered.”
You found yourself holding your breath as he spoke, surprised that he was being this open with you.
“I like the way you speak to me,” he continued, his eyes finding yours again. “You’re unafraid, of me and yourself, it seems. There’s no air of frivolous pleasantries or polite small talk. You’re blunt and unapologetic. Probably why Polly likes you so much — you remind me of her sometimes. It makes me feel real, like something I thought I lost.”
You still couldn’t find your voice, unsure what to say and partially nervous of scaring him away from continuing if you did.
“I want you to fight me on things,” he said, his voice growing softer than you’d ever heard it. “I need you to.”
“Good. Because I wouldn’t know how to turn that filter off even if I could,” a smile pulled at the corner of your mouth.
His cheek rose in amusement as he lifted his free hand up to your face. He lightly ran his knuckles against your cheek softly as he took a deep breath. “But I still don’t trust you, no matter how much my gut wants to. And my patience has limits.”
Your smile fell, but you nodded, understanding and empathizing with his point of you. 
“I don’t want to keep secrets from you,” you found yourself saying out loud.
His jaw clenched as he took in your words, “I believe you. I look forward to the day you don’t.”
He resumed his driving position as the two of you road in silence for a while longer. Your mind contemplated whether you should just tell him the whole story — maybe he wouldn’t think you claiming to be from the future was crazy?
How would you even begin to explain it? Even the idea of time travel wasn’t a common thing in today’s world. Sure, it’d been like 20 years since The Time Machine by HG Wells had come out, but you highly doubted Tommy had read it, much less even heard of it. 
And how could you prove it to him? Warn him about the prohibition? The Irish Revolution? The stock market crash? The Second World War?
No. He’d definitely think you were crazy. 
Even if this trip was a long shot, maybe there was something with this gypsy family that could answer enough for you to explain yourself. 
Maybe…
You were surprised when he announced that you had made it to your first stop, it being just mid-morning. Approaching another caravan, Tommy explained that this was his contact with the gypsy family, and if all went well, he’ll be able to lead you to their camp. 
“Johnny Dogs!” Tommy greeted as he exited the car. 
“Tommy! How the hell are ya?” A shorter man hustled to meet him, arms extended wide as he pulled Tommy in for a bear hug. 
“All the better for views of green pastures and getting city smoke outta my lungs,” Tommy replied, taking a deep breath through his nose. 
You took that opportunity to take in a similar appreciation. In the last few months you’d been in Birmingham, you hadn’t even left the city. You forgot how green the grass and blue the sky could be. You began to wonder if there’d ever be a time again when you weren’t living in the smoke of the city…
“This your first time out here since France?” Johnny asked. 
“What do you know of France you war-shy gypsy bastard.” 
He chuckled, obviously not offended by Tommy’s comment. “Bastard I am. And is this your girl?” 
The two men finally turned their attention to you. Tommy made the introductions. 
“Johnny Dogs, this is Y/N L/N. Y/N, this is Johnny.” 
“Hi,” you greeted with a smile and a surprisingly shy voice. Whoever this was, Tommy obviously trusted. You hadn’t seen him this relaxed before, not even with his own family. The thought made you feel nervous for some reason. 
“Lovely to meet ya,” Johnny welcomed enthusiastically, taking off his hat in a chivalrous attempt that made you chuckle. 
“You riding alone nowadays, Johnny?” Tommy asked, pulling his friends attention back. 
“Aye, for now.” 
Tommy blew some smoke. “Tell me, you still close with the Lee family?” 
“Oi, I’m friendly. Haven’t ridden with them in a long while.” 
Tommy nodded, “Heard they were startin’ to cause real trouble for Billy Kimber and his boys.” 
Billy Kimber — you’d heard that name before. Your brain scrambled to pinpoint the reference. 
“Think so,” Johnny replied. His brow rose, “Why, you wantin’ to start nabbin’ at his winnings too?” 
Winnings — was he a bookkeeper as well? Horse racing? 
“No. I want to nab his entire bloody kingdom.” 
“Tommy—“ 
“I have a plan, Johnny. I’m startin’ one, anyway. I won’t involve you until I absolutely have to.” 
Johnny took a deep breath, “Life of a Peaky Blinder never grows old, eh?”
“They don’t get the chance to,” Tommy took a final drag before throwing the bud to the ground. “More on this ‘nother time. We’re here for ‘nother reason.”
“Aye, that’s right.” And then Johnny Dogs began speaking in another language, looking to you like he expected you to understand. 
You knew quite a few languages — Spanish, French, a little bit of Italian, and you could even stumble your way around some Latin. But this — you had no idea. Your mouth opened, then closed as you looked to Tommy, who was watching you. 
“You don’t understand Romani?” Johnny asked, back in English, before turning toward Tommy. “Thought you said she was gypsy?” 
He pulled out another cigarette. “I said she was of gypsy blood. She was bred anything but.” 
“I see, my apologies, Miss.” 
“It’s okay,” you assured, offering Johnny a smile. “Just something new for me to learn, is all.” 
Tommy’s cheek flinched. 
Johnny went on, “I got confirmation from a cousin of the Delphi. They’re camped outside of Wales. We can make it by dusk if we get a move on.” 
Tommy nodded, “Aye, you lead the way.”
You loaded back into the caravan, you and Tommy following Johnny Dogs.
——
“Want to give it a go?”
You both hadn’t said much since starting this next part of the journey. Traveling this way was starting to grow tiresome for you — you really missed modern day cars and their gas tank sizes. At least those seats were cushioned, your butt had fallen asleep hours ago. 
Part of the reason you’d been so silent was that you were trying to figure something out. 
Ever since you’d heard Tommy say the name Delphi the other night, you couldn’t help but feel as if you’d heard it from somewhere. You were trying to comb through for the millionth time everything your mother had ever said about your gift or her family background. But everything brought you back to the same place. 
You really wish you could talk to your mother again. Get some answers — some real answers. 
And if you didn’t know the Delphi name through your mother, why was it setting off some kind of bell in your head? 
“Y/N?” Tommy nudged your arm to get your attention. 
“What?” you asked, being pulled from your thoughts. 
“I asked if you wanted to give it a go,” he repeated, holding up the horse’s reigns. “You said you’d never been in a carriage before, which is really hard to believe. Want to try driving for a bit?”
“Okay,” you answered excitedly, your previous thoughts on pause as you excitedly sat up straighter in your seat. 
Tommy pulled you closer to the middle of the bench, right up against his side. This time, your brain wasn’t too tired to notice, but you tried to keep it focused on the task at hand. 
He handed you the reigns, but kept his arms around yours, his hands wrapping around your own to show you how to hold them. He had you move the straps  between your index and middle finger for a sturdier grip and explained how that’d be more ideal if there were more than one horse. He showed you to make the horse turn left and right, what noises and commands to make it go faster and slower. 
You tried your damndest to pay attention to his instruction. Not only did you want to impress him, but you genuinely wanted to be good at this new skill. Especially if this trip were to take days to travel, it was only fair you take your turn at driving. Road trip rules still apply, even if the road was dirt and the vehicle was horse and wagon. 
But everything about this little lesson was making you grow weaker for this damn asshole. Your arms underneath his, your chin against his shoulder, his hands around yours, and his leg pressed against your leg were all one thing…
But his voice. 
It was slowly becoming one of your favorite sounds in the world. You could listen to Tommy Shelby speak absolute nonsense for hours and never grow tired. His deep voice remained soft as he gave his instructions, patient when you needed it and supportive when you accomplished the lesson. 
“You’re a natural,” he complimented, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Next you’ll be riding Midnight bareback.”
“Next lesson, yeah?” you giggled, biting your lip out of genuine giddiness over the potential. 
He peered down at you, his eyes hooded but still brilliantly bright in the late afternoon sun. 
God, he was beautiful. He felt otherworldly when you looked at him this closely. 
“So, what did you tell Harry, then?” you asked softly, your eyes moving down to his full lips. 
His brow creased slightly then, obviously caught off guard by your change in subject. “Umm. That I was takin’ you on a trip out of the city, possibly visiting the fairgrounds.” 
“There’s a fairgrounds?” your voice went up, eyes snapping back up to his, genuinely surprised and slightly hopeful of one day actually going to said fairgrounds. 
He chuckled, “Aye.” 
You considered him, bitting your lip as you dared to ask the follow-up, “So he thinks we’re together?” 
Tommy’s grip tightened around your hands, still holding the reigns, “If that’s the conclusion he came to, I suppose.” 
“That doesn’t bother you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you felt yourself turn your body toward him more. “Local pub owner spreading dating gossip on the town gangster.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a businessman,” Tommy replied with a hint of mirth. He shrugged as he responded to your point, “The town of Birmingham has been tellin’ tales of the Shelby family my entire life.”
He rose his brow, giving you that familiar look again before asking his follow-up. 
“Does it bother you?”
Your eyes met his again. “No.”
“Good,” he said, softer than ever as his eyes finally looked down at your own lips. 
Your heart was racing as you realized how close you were to him. You’d chicken out the other night, missing your chance to lean in and connect your lips in the way you’d been fantasizing about since that first night by the Cut. 
A wave of bravado overtook you, your hand lifting on its own accord toward his cheek before you could think your way out of this. Tommy’s face flashed in a moment of unsureness before he leaned down as you stretched up. You guessed whatever reservation he’d been fighting with himself had been sidelined as well for the moment, as he peered into your eyes one final time as his forehead met yours. 
Smiling despite yourself, you closed the gap between you. 
The world around you stopped for a moment. You didn’t feel Midnight pulling the wagon forward, the bumpy gravel beneath the wheels — all you felt was the gentle push and pull of Tommy’s lips against your own. 
You’d honestly been a bit surprised with the gentleness of his kiss. He kissed you softly, then politely began to pull away before the hand that’d caressed his cheek found its way toward his neck, then through the back of his hair as you pulled his head back and your lips met his again. 
Later you would over analyze this moment, think about how the women of today were proper, polite, and shy young ladies who didn’t kiss boys first. Who played hard to get and left the men wanting more. 
But in that moment, you were 21st century you. A girl who kissed boys when she wanted and didn’t hold back. You kissed Tommy with all the passion that’d you’d been feeling the past few days, feeling him respond in kind when his mouth began to move in sync with yours. A mix between a groan and a growl left his throat as your mouth opened for him, a sound that made you whimper at the thought of getting him to repeat it. Your nails began to scratch lightly at his scalp as his hands finally began moving to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him —
Midnight neighed loudly, the sudden movement of his reigns and distraction of his riders causing him to ride too close to Johnny Dog’s caravan. 
His second cry caused him to lift his front two hooves in the air and stumble around frantically. 
Tommy jumped from the seat of the wagon and grabbed Midnight’s reigns, pulling his face down to his as he began to whisper to the horse, calming him down. He pet the side of his face, apologizing and comforting him enough for the horse to stop. 
Johnny paused his own horse and wagon, jumping out as well and running back toward you two. 
“Everythin’ alright? Horse get spooked, did he?”
“Aye,” Tommy replied, sending you a quick look and smirked. “He’s calmed now. Ready to continue on.”
“Good,” Johnny nodded. “‘Cause we’re almost there! Get ready, Miss! These gypsies are not to be trifled with and don’t take kind to strangers. Best to be on your guard. If rumors are to be believed, they’ll know why you’ve come before you tell ‘em.”
You chuckled, taking a deep breath to slow your heart beat. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
>> next chapter << chapter masterlist
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promise the next chapter is going to develop the plot along! had to stop this one here, but the next is in the works! hopefully i didn’t miss anyone who wanted to be tagged, give me a shout if i did or if you want to be added. you guys have been AMAZING with your comments and response, im so glad you’re enjoying and am so not worthy, but appreciate you all anyhow!
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unhatched-skeleton · 7 months
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Anyone who tries to gotcha me by saying “oh you hate the police and the FBI but you love twin peaks!” Well first of all, I hope we are all aware that Coop is a subversion of the detective archetype. He doesn’t reason or deduct logically; he is all about intuition, being empathetic, and listening to your subconscious. His method is intentionally completely alien to everyone around him, and literally nothing to do with FBI training. And even other FBI agents like Albert, Gordon Cole, and Denise are also all written to be a complete 180 from copaganda shows, and the FBI itself. They are all complex, layered characters whose core is to be open and empathetic and non-violent. I WISH that’s how the FBI operated but we all know it’s not, and all of Twin Peaks’ depiction of the FBI is complete fiction.
Meanwhile the local police are never really shown in a positive light, especially in the return which directly addresses police corruption and brutality. They are all either loveable buffoons who can’t do their jobs or just there to provide exposition, but they don’t really have any direct effect on the investigation. They are shown to be ineffective and deficient, as neither the police in the material realm, nor the Bookhouse Boys in the spiritual realm were able to protect anyone from harm in the end. They kind of represent the limits of one-dimensional thinking, compared to Coop. To me, that’s not copaganda, it’s a critique of the police, even if on abstract terms (which is where twin peaks usually operates).
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twinpeaksarchive · 5 months
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The Log Dream by Buddy Cole, zine pg. 91
Wild Cards #4, PDF pg. 92.
Content warnings: period-typical transphobia
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rastronomicals · 10 months
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10:56 PM EDT June 14, 2023:
Angelo Badalamenti - "The Bookhouse Boys" From the album Music From Twin Peaks (August 31, 1990)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
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froody · 2 months
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Cooper asking for Harry to send his best Bookhouse Boy and Harry showing up. Be real. It’s Hawk. But okay whatever you wanted to go on a little secret mission with your boyfriend. They’re so lucky Hawk showed up anyway.
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