#and inflicting this knowledge on tommy in turn

[leashybebes]

fuck it friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard 💛

the thing i'm actually working on the most right now is just a big old bucket of angst but i can't bring myself to be sad after that episode so here's a little of my love letter to california via tommy kinard, certified LA gay

"You really love LA, huh?"

"I do. It has its issues, obviously, but yeah. Never lived anywhere I liked better."

And Buck likes LA, of course he does, but that's mostly about the people he's met here. Buck thinks he could be happy anywhere the sun shines more often than it doesn't. He lets his head drop onto Tommy's shoulder, the music from the stage washing over them. He has to admit, the acoustics are amazing, even all the way up here in the nosebleed seats.

"What do you like about it?"

"I mean it's…iconic, right? The palm trees, the Hollywood sign. We live in movie town, how's that not cool?"

"The palm trees are objectively awful, Tommy," Buck says a little more firmly than he intended. "They give no shade, they put out like, so little goddamn oxygen, they - "

"They don't have to be objectively good to be iconic, Evan."

[tuesday-teyz]

Spoilers to chapter 40 of Butterfly reign below

TW for talks of abuse

A couple days back I got a question from a friend on discord asking if I consider br!Wilbur to be br!Tommy's abuser, and I'd like to give my answer here as well to help you better understand Tommy's choice, as well as the narrational reasoning that went into the plotpoint of Wilbur's murder.

So, was Wilbur Tommy's abuser?

The short answer is yes, absolutely.

In the early years, their relationship had been more of a codependent type, with generally unhealthy dynamics but not enough that it would strike most people as cause for alarm. However, a few key details and scenes demonstrate how Wilbur's treatment of Tommy became controlling over the years. Wilbur dictated who Tommy could be friends with and interceded his attempts at forming relationships he did not approve of. Those he did allow, had to be under his direct control (Tubbo) or limited in their ability to interact with him (Techno). He manipulated Tommy into feeling guilty over wanting to have his independence and used his love to bind Tommy to his side. This is the very staple of emotional abuse.

I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty if you enjoy the sweeter and healthier moments of crimeboys interaction. In fact, I added those in an attempt to show more realistic side of abusive relationships in real life. And the reality is, they can get better. People do change. And they can remain the same but be good to other people where they weren't good to you. Once someone becomes abusive, they don't suddenly turn into this caricature of a pure evil incarnated that exists in this plane of universe for the sole purpose of tormenting a specific person. To deny that they remain human is to deny the very real fact of life that any of us could turn into the same evil for someone else.

But the consequences of abuse don't suddenly go away when the abuse itself stops. It has a lasting, often scarring effect on the person as well as their relationship with their past abuser. It is my perspective that forgivenesss or acceptance can never erase that effect and it will continue to impact whatever interaction they have, or don't have, in the future. In many cases, the victim feels like they cannot find peace for as long as their abuser is alive and is capable of hurting them.

This is the peace that Tommy seeks (aside from more practical reasons we will explore later in the story) with his decision to murder Wilbur. He acknowledges that Wilbur may not mean to inflict any harm – but is still capable of doing so by the very fact of his existence. He is endlessly haunted by the knowledge that all it takes is for Wilbur to change his mind again for things to take a turn for the worse. It is exacerbated for Tommy by their past history; Wilbur knows exactly what he needs to say or do to impact him the most, and that is the kind of power he cannot anyone have over himself. So, among other things, it is a bid for control and security in his life.

[deadendtracks]

TW:

i find a little disgusting about how tatiana as a character is viewed as "empowering" and "bad ass" in the fandom when what she did to tommy was straight up abuse and the chocking scene has rapey vibes all over it. and somehow it gets viewed as hot or as if she was sexually empowering and some weird stuff. we know tommy uses his body for business all the time. he is a whore. we know this. but the chocking scene is so uncomfortable because tommy was straight up having a mental breakdown and she still went ahead and had majority of the control in the sex scene but there was not actual consent. he was imagining grace all along. he was intoxicated and recently recovering from a head injury. but she gets turned on from pain apparently, one that wasn't reciprocated. because that scene wasn’t consensual. her whole character gives me red flags. this fandom goes off with the whole "she understood him" but she barely ever did. everyone with a little bit sense of perception could get what tommy wanted and how freedom and killing were touchy subjects to him. her interactions with him were bare minimum but the narrative makes you believe she had some sort of superior knowledge to who he is as a person. there was nothing empowering about her, her character is what steven knight decided was a powerful female character but it feels more like it comes from his own sexual fantasies. i was so so glad when she left and never brought up again because she made me uncomfortable. the actress was great but the dialogue felt forced as well, like they were trying too hard to make her deep and bad ass or a female version of tommy but it just didn’t work. it felt over the top, and this is a problem i have most of the time. that they need to make female characters too much like their male characters to claim it.

Yeah, the labeling of Tatiana as badass and empowering for what she did to Tommy has aways deeply bothered me, not only because of Tommy but because of the place where that behavior was coming from for Tatiana herself. It wasn't empowering her at all to do these things; it was a reaction to the situation she'd been groomed into by her family. A lot of people who have been abused react by hurting others, and this is what I see going on with Tatiana and Tommy in s3.

The actually empowering thing she did was to work *with* Tommy to escape her family by helping him steal their jewels.

I understand why you'd see what happened between Tatiana and Tommy as abuse. It was certainly dubiously consensual, in the parlance of fandom. I think the khlysty scene was pretty complex from Tatiana's perspective, because I got the impression she legitimately did it because she thought it would help him -- there was the implication that she knew about khlysty because she experienced it herself, after having lost someone she loved in the war. So again, it's a trauma reaction to me, to think this thing is something that would help him. At the same time, it's not only that, clearly. It's also one of her games, and those games are in part about power and risk. That's the interesting thing about Tatiana to me -- these things are not so easily separated.

But the circumstances in which she does this are not one of informed consent -- Tommy's incredibly drunk and had started to visibly break down about Grace's death for the first (and only) time we saw that season. He was very vulnerable there and Tatiana did this very dangerous thing without really giving him a chance to agree to it, if he was even capable of making that choice at the time. And at least part of her motivation had to be to try to have him in debt to her and under her control because that's what was expected of her by her family, and also she may think it will help her get free of them. This is the only form of power she really has.

If she gets turned on by pain -- and I think this is probably a valid interpretation though it's just that, an interpretation -- I think it's less the inflicting of pain on someone than a mutual sharing of pain, a sort of twisted empathy. She sees him as a mirror to herself. She seemed to identify with his pain in that scene, and in the scene where she shows up in his marriage bed and puts on Grace's perfume. At the same time, it is about transgressing boundaries, very much so -- she sees this as freedom, but she doesn't take into account whether Tommy wants to go along on that ride, whether this will hurt him, and whether this is freedom to him as well. She's both earnest about it and a little mocking, in turn. I think she heavily identified with Tommy and thought she was mentoring him in a way -- what she says that night in Arrow House, about how she will show him how to use power, basically.

But what she doesn't understand is that she and Tommy don't have the same background with power at all. She grew up literal royalty -- which doesn't protect her from abuse and exploitation from her family, but is absolutely a level of power immensely higher than that Tommy grew up with, and still even as a rich as he was in s3, didn't possess. She and her family have coerced him into working with them under threat of hanging of his family, in order to restore them to this inherited power over an entire country. She may have little choice in the matter, but neither does he. It's complex, from a power standpoint, and I think those takes about girl power and badassery ignore all of this.

I don't agree the narrative is trying to make you think she has some kind of superior insight into Tommy as a character; if that were the case, he wouldn't have shot down her line about how she helped him through the grief over his wife. I do think that she was there to be a narrative parallel to him though. She's being exploited by her family, he's being exploited by Churchill (and her family), they end up forming an alliance in an attempt to subvert these powers.

I don't disagree that her character filled some stereotypes of cishet male sexual fantasies, at the same time I think she was more complex than this and the narrative had some compassion for her situation. I understand why you feel the way you do about her as a character but I don't share that opinion of her or of the other female characters on the show.

[crypty]

DSMP as Gods AU prompt paragraphs

Dream: chaos / control

Fear him. He will sow the seeds of chaos until he is in control. He uses this control to plant weeds of distrust and fear. He turns people against each other, a puppet master with his obedient toys. A strong fighter as well, he wishes to control his strength. He was never used to being powerless. He does not intend to learn.

George: sleep / isolation

He does care, in a sterile sort of way. Detached. He would protect those he wants to so be on guard when he wakes. His apathy would scare some and intrigue others. Just remember, he wears those goggles for a reason. You will learn why he is the God of Sleep if you try to see what’s under them. 

Sapnap: fire / fighting

Fire is associated with a raging inferno, a blaze out of control. People forget how fire helped them in the past, warded off the cold, protected them from the dangers of the night. Never fight fire with fire, you will need it one day and it will never forget.  

Quackity: adaptability / opportunity

Quackity was never the strongest God. He knew he was in danger but he was nothing if not adaptable. He was smart, charismatic too. Underestimated but he would shrewdly take every opportunity he could. If he sees what he wants, he will doggedly pursue it. If he could no longer climb the ladder to the top, he would use others to pave his way. 

Karl: time / sense of self

Karl was a time traveler, he loved to explore and see the way the world developed. He saw mountains rise and erode away, rivers leave lasting scars on the land, forests bloom from a single sapling. The cost was him. He never remembered who he was. If you were at the right place at the right time, you might see a man begging to be told who he is. 

Techno: bloodshed / strategy

Techno is well versed in the art of war. Strategies, carnage, it was all child’s play. No one could beat him in a fair fight, hell, many couldn’t even beat him while cheating. Strange though, that the God of Blood is so hesitant to lose a life. 

Phil: death / life

Philza was an intimidating figure. Fluttering green robes, black wings mangled beyond repair, near unkillable. It was common knowledge that, despite being a god, Philza was never gifted two extra lives. It was whispered that he did not need them. He was alive much longer than the others, outliving even the Older Ones and the Myths. When fighting him, you can feel judgement day approaching. Perhaps that was just his sword, glinting as it tore through its next victim. 

Wilbur: music / brotherly love

Wilbur loved music. He loved the way the notes rang in the air, the way lyrics rolled off his tongue. He loved his brothers too. He collected siblings like one would shiny objects or books or rocks. Of course, once the luster of a new toy wore off, he would discard it. He always struggled to confront his faults, instead he drowned out voices with music, judgement was cut with guitar strings. Wilbur struggled to face the music. 

Tommy: sentimentality / loyalty / freedom

He couldn’t help but care. He loved his pets, his friends, his items. He doesn’t have the strength to protect what he loves but perhaps that’s what makes him so brave. The ability to love despite knowing that you can’t protect it is a strength few of his friends have. Values freedom but loyal to a fault. Never try to have him choose between his friends or his values, he will do both. He’s strong in his own way, he wouldn’t be a god if he wasn’t.

Tubbo: nature / determination

He was determined, you had to give him that. Always grinding, always trying to better himself. He kept getting knocked down again and again, he got his items stolen or destroyed but he kept gathering resources. Gathering from the land was his strength. Nature itself seemed to have a fondness for the young god, animals flocked to him and the forests would offer its finest to the boy. He knew of the laws of nature, he was well versed in them. The strong survive but the smart prosper. 

Ranboo: choice / sacrifice

Have you ever heard of Janus? They were the God of passages, transitions, past and present. Ranboo guides those who need to make choices, those who need to choose what is more valuable. He earned his extra lives when he learnt to make his own choices, when he stopped being a puppet to those he cared for. He lost those relations, yes, but it was a sacrifice he needed to make. If only he remembered what happened to his parents. If only he remembered what he did.

Bad: fatherly protection / acceptance

Bad learnt to accept the flaws of others. His friends aren’t exactly what he wanted but they are what he needs. He would protect any of them, lay down his life if he had to. He learnt his strengths and he rolled with them. And, in a way, who cares? If his friends are fighting, why must he pick a side? He’s not rejecting the ideas of his friends, he’s paving his own way. Yeah, of course that’s it. He’s doing everything to protect his friends, that’s it. He accepts what comes to him. He’s not ignoring the voices whispering in his ear. He wouldn’t. He’s doing this to protect his friends. 

Sam: authority protection / harmful self sacrifice

Sam was used to giving up himself for his cause. He protected others, he ignored the bags under his eyes, the way his heart clenched when he heard the begs. People looked to him for help, for protection. He was a good fighter, a worthy opponent, an easy pawn. Despite everything, he was an open book. It was so easy to push his buttons. It was pathetic, he sacrificed his everything to a cause that would never serve him back.

Niki: vengeance / hidden strength

There is strength in the underestimated. They may be quiet but they see. They analyze your weaknesses, what makes you tick, how to hurt you without even being near you. She was strong, even if it was hard to see at first. Firm in her beliefs, vocal with her thoughts. Never underestimate the Goddess of Vengeance. 

Fundy: tricksters / self acceptance

Not many would accept the Trickster with open arms. He was a tad jaded, he wouldn’t trust easily, but he did love. He played pranks, he grinned, he cared in his own way. If others rejected him for his flaws, he would find solace in himself. He was betrayed, he was tossed aside, he was abandoned. He knows himself and he sure as hell knows his own worth. It’s not his fault if no one else can see it. 

Eret: service / acceptance of others

Eret did truly want to help others. Their past mistakes would haunt him to the end of his days. The betrayal she inflicted on others would never loosen their grip on her life. They accepted it, just as she would accept anyone who came to beg help. Be careful, they know their limits. Never try to take advantage of him. You don’t want blank, white eyes and a glimmering gold crown to be the last thing you see.

Schlatt: corruption / poisonous pleasure

Schlatt, despite his downfall, respected the rules. He was a god because he made himself one. He was a leader, if only for a short while, because the people chose him. He could never refuse feeling good, though. He only cared for the here and now, he knew he was driving others to hating him. He knew his time was coming but he felt so good. Why stop it if it made him feel like a god? He was one, after all. 

~~~

Masterlist

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/thelullabyer12/648636590455996416

[goldenpixel]

I’m watching an old Tubbo vod of him and Dream, and Dream is so soft with Tubbo

This is really feeding my brothers headcanon

Protective big brother Dream 🥺 sweet little brother Tubbo 🥺

Big brother Dream is so protective of Tubbo because they’re all each other had for a long time and Tubbo was too young to remember most of the bad things that happened to them.

So Tubbo is this sweet, innocent little boy and Dream is determined to keep it that way, even if it means shoving down his own trauma.

But Tubbo still has his crazed, chaotic moments because Dream raised him and Dream is Dream and there’s no way Tubbo didn’t wind up with some of that chaotic energy

And there’s just so much angst that can come from them being brothers.

Dream age 9 being left to raise a 3 year old Tubbo, and trying his best but ultimately failing because he’s still just a child himself. But it’s ok, because at least Tubbo remained the sweet boy that he was before they were orphaned.

Dream’s sanity slipping as his repressed trauma claws it way out, which is why he’s so awful now and why he’s manipulating Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo.

Tubbo still wanting to see the best in his brother, in the man who raised him, but seeing the trauma he inflicted on Tommy and turning his back on Dream.

This causing Dream to slip even further into insanity, because now the one person he’s ever truly loved hates him and barley acknowledges his existence.

Tubbo not telling anyone that Dream is his brother, because he doesn’t want them to see him as even remotely similar to Dream.

Maybe Dream’s mask comes off turning a fight and there’s just no mistaking that they look strikingly similar, the same green eyes, the same curved nose, the same high cheekbones.

Tommy feeling betrayed and lashing out when Tubbo confirms that he and Dream are brothers, which causes Tubbo to seek Dream out, because besides Tommy, he’s the only other person who truly knows how to comfort Tubbo.

This reminding Dream of the man he used to be, seeing Tubbo wrapped up in his coat, watching as he sleeps peacefully, the same way that he did for all those years, ensuring that no harm ever came to Tubbo as he rested, even if it meant he got no rest himself.

Caring for his baby brother being the thing that pulls Dream back from the edge of insanity, that makes him realize that his recent actions have hurt many people. Makes him realize that his actions have hurt the one person that he swore he would never allow to come to harm.

I can’t end this with all this angst, so here’s this

Quackity finding out that Tubbo is Dream’s little brother because Tubbo accidentally calls Sapnap his uncle.

Just imagine Quackity happily announcing that he, Sapnap, and Karl are engaged and without even thinking Tubbo goes “wow, I really didn’t think Uncle Sapnap would be the first of them to get married”

And after the initial “what the fuck do you mean uncle?” Quackity is delighted at the knowledge that once it’s official, he too will be Tubbo’s uncle.

Quackity pulling out the uncle card every time he’s being annoying, “Heyyy, Tommy! Tubbo! You wouldn’t kill your uncle now would you?”

Or Quackity using the brother-in-law card on Dream, “hey Dream, mind loaning a couple stacks of netherite to your favorite brother-in-law?” “Ha! Fat chance! Besides, you’re not my favorite brother-in-law, Karl bakes for me”

[smallheathgangsters]

Victims of War | T.S.

A/N: Turned out kinda sad and angsty, but not in a negative way, at least in my opinion. I hope you all like it as well 🥰 Sorry for any mistakes I made!

Request: “I'd like to request from you're prompt list ! 20 & 34, w/ Thomas Shelby !” by @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

Tags: @tranquility-or-chaos​ @zodiyack​

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1867

Type: angst, some fluff

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

On the 4th of August 1914 you had received the devastating news about the United Kingdom’s declaration of war against the German Empire. You and your family had known exactly what that meant for your younger brother. Because he was serving officer in the British regular army, he had unfortunately been one of the first men to be sent off. On top of that, he’d been placed at the front line only two weeks into the war, making you fear for his life every single day, hoping that the next letter from him to you was still one he’d written himself and not a notice from the army about them being sorry for your loss.

Even though your brother was born a year after you, the two of you had been like twins. There hadn’t been a day in your childhood where you didn’t play together and when you got older, he was the one protecting you from any harm, not caring about himself actually being your younger sibling. When you started getting closer to the gypsy boy Tommy Shelby, it was more important to you that your brother gave you his blessing instead of your father or mother. All you wanted was him to be okay with the man you were seeing, his opinion being very important to you. Luckily, he’d let you know that he liked Thomas a lot and even began hanging out with Tommy’s younger brother John, soon making them best of friends. All that ended up in countless evenings of the four of you spending time together, having a laugh and a drink.

A few days ago, Tommy had told that he and his two brothers, John and Arthur, had volunteered to join the war as well. His confession turned your conversation into a heated discussion and eventually into a crying fit on your part. You just couldn’t understand how he had the heart to put you through that pain of letting somebody go and not knowing if they returned, again. He had witnessed what seeing your brother leave had done to you. The knowledge of him being part of the infantry and with that one of the men with the lowest chance of surviving, if they were sent to the front line, in the back of your mind. He’d also been there when your fears turn to reality when you’d opened his letter in which he had informed you about his transfer to the front line. It had been too soon for you to accept, for you to fully process.

Tommy had spent every night with you after your brother had said his goodbyes, but since he’d told you about him volunteering, it hadn’t been the same. His warm embrace wasn’t as warm anymore and his kisses didn’t give you the same comfort as they did before. It had nothing to do with you loving him less. It had been the cold fear that had settled in your chest, knowing that your days together were counted. That realisation had made it hard for you to savour the time you had left with him.

The sun wasn’t up yet when you woke. Tommy was lying on his chest, his head turned to the centre of the bed, facing you. Soft snores escaped his mouth, making you chuckle quietly at the sound and sight. You sighed and sat up. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d got a good night’s sleep. Your dreams had been nightmares ever since, forcing you to wake up multiple times and eventually giving up, making you get up and start your day. You’d always let Tommy sleep, knowing he needed to gain his strength for the war, and it wasn’t like you to make it harder on him than it already was. You knew deep down that Tommy had only volunteered because of his brothers. They both didn’t have a girlfriend, so nothing was holding them back.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and your feet came in contact with the cool wooden floor when you let yourself slide off the mattress. You padded over to the armchair in the corner of your room where your light dressing gown had been placed the evening before. You grabbed it and stuck your arms through the long sleeves, tying it together in the front. It helped a little with the chilly air in the morning, keeping your skin from immediately getting goose bumps.

You decided to go down to the kitchen of your parents’ home and put on the kettle to make some tea. That would help you relax from the exhausting night you’d had yet again and seemed like a good way to start the day. So, you headed down the stairs, past the living room and into the large kitchen. It was your favourite room in the whole house because even though your home was rather tiny, the kitchen had so much space to cook, bake or just hang out in. It used to be like the gathering place of your family when your brother was still around.

You placed the kettle with water onto the stove and turned it on, waiting for it to boil while you took out a tea pot, some tea bags and a cup. A few minutes later, the kettle started whistling irritatingly and you promptly pulled it away from the heat. After preparing your cup of tea you wandered back to the living room and let yourself fall onto the sofa. You closed your eyes and tilted back your head, trying to breathe as calmly as possible. The dreams you had had that night had been horrible. You’d seen your brother’s face too clearly, too intensely and you tried desperately to get the images out of your mind. Not because you wanted to stop thinking about him or even forget him. You loved the thought of your brother but not the ones that your sleeping brain provided you with. They were awful and all you wanted was to reminisce in memories from before the war. When everything had been alright. When life was almost carefree.

“Are you up already?”

Tommy’s groggy morning voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You lifted your head back up and gave him a kind smile. “I had nightmares.”

He sighed compassionately and came over to you, sitting on the sofa as well. He wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you to his chest. “I’m sorry you’re still having trouble sleeping.”

“It’s okay,” you said, inhaling your boyfriend’s pleasant scent. “I won’t be able to sleep until you and my brother are back. It’ll have to get used to it.”

Tommy sighed again, this time more deeply than before. “That’s not something I like to hear.”

“I know, but there’s nothing you can do about it,” you explained. He started caressing your back gently. You stayed in Tommy’s arms for a while, sipping on your peppermint tea and after you watched the sun rise and slowly peek through the windows, you got up to make him a cup as well.

“I’ll get the mail,” Tommy announced from the living room while you were working in the kitchen. Then you heard the front door open and close. A few moments later, Tommy was back inside with the newspaper and two letters in his hands. You carried his cup to the dining table and set it down. He handed you the letters, sat on the chair in front of his tea and opened up the newspaper to read about yesterday’s events. He only just flipped over to the third page when you let out a high-pitched scream.

Tommy’s head shot up in concern. “Love, what is it?”

You were holding the yellowish piece of paper in both your trembling hands, tears running over your cheeks uncontrollably. The sobs escaping your mouth were heart-breaking. You tried to finish reading the words on the letter, but the tears made your sight go blurry.

Sir or Madam, I regret to have to inform you that a report has been received from the War Office to the effect that (No.) 1563 (Rank) 2Lt …

“No!” you cried out. “No, please no!”

Tommy pushed himself off his chair and rushed over to you, pulling you into a strong hug, as though he would never let you go. You cried into his chest, staining his nightshirt while mumbling incomprehensible words to yourself.

Tommy knew from the moment he saw the pain in your eyes, that the message on your brother’s passing had been delivered to your house. You felt your knees become week and Tommy immediately scooped you up, carrying you back to the sofa and placing you on his lap when he sat down, cradling you comfortingly. He tried soothing you with sweet kisses on your hair, but in that moment, nothing was able to get you out of the dark place you were in. Not even Tommy could change that.

You wept and sobbed and screamed and hiccupped. But the pain was unbearable. You felt like there wasn’t enough air for you to breathe and the knot in your chest made it hard for you to inhale.

“It hurts so much,” you cried, your body shaking violently in Tommy’s arms.

“I know, love. I know it hurts,” he murmured, giving you a kiss on the forehead. His thumb wiped away the wetness from your cheeks, unsuccessfully trying to dry them.

You started gasping for air. “I … can’t … breathe.”

“You need to calm down, love,” Tommy said, lifting your head from his chest to stop you from hyperventilating. “Please, try to calm down. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded panicky, scared by the loss of control over your body. Tommy cupped your face gently with his hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “I love you. So much.”

You whimpered, torn between the pain the death of your brother inflicted on your heart and Tommy’s gaze, so full of love and support.

“We’re going to get through this, together,” Tommy whispered, brushing his lips over yours. You melted into his touch, closing your eyes to savour the moment.

“I can’t lose you too,” you sobbed. Tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes yet again. The thought of him leaving ripping you apart internally. “Please don’t go.”

You knew, Tommy wouldn’t stay. And he didn’t. Joining his brothers in France, digging tunnels and going mad. Luckily though, unlike your sweet, sweet brother, he returned. Alive. You had hoped the return of the love of your life would make everything okay again. But it didn’t take you long to realise that despite Tommy being fortunate enough to survive the war, something in him had died. Still, you were determined to get him back, no matter what it took. He was all you had and all you needed. And there was nothing that kept you from helping him get through the hard times after these horrible four years. You were there for him and you knew, someday the love and effort you were putting into your relationship would be returned by Tommy. Just not today.  

[lovebitesimagines]

Dangerous Love- Coffin.

Guys. We are almost at the end of Dangerous Love, my very first series. My baby. I don’t know how to feel! 

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] 

Tag list: @happyhostforsymbiotes @brianaisasongbird @crazymofos021 @lifetimeofadventue @itsmissdahliahayward @1opinionshared @arthurscarnival @thinkingsofamadwoman @shadow-of-wonder @anytimebitches @christinawxxx @biba3434 @onlythechicagoway @accio-aesthetic @mortalflower @mollybegger-blog @13frogges @queencoraline3 @dylanlover24​

@blindedbytheblinderss​

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message! x

Warnings: small spaces, implications of death, violence, kidnapping, swearing.

This is an emotional chapter. Please do not read if you believe you may be affected x

A coffin arrives at the Shelby’s door. 

TOMMYS POV. 

Tommy had done a lot of bad things within his lifetime, a lot of things he shrugged off. He was an expert in hiding his true emotions from everyone and everything, masking how he felt within countless amounts of opium. Everyone knew of Tommy Shelby as the cold hearted, calculated leader of the Peaky Blinders. Everyone thought of him as incapable of loving anyone but himself. He could no longer keep up this insensitive charade, the mask he had spent so long forming, slowly slipping. He had failed at the one thing he had promised, the singular most important thing to him.

He had failed at protecting you.           

Tommy knew that the moment he had laid eyes upon Alfie, that you were not with him. Alfie Solomons was a lot of things, but a good liar he was not. There was no possible way that he could hide his true emotions for you, Tommy knew that. When he saw a broken version of the typically hardened London gangster, he knew that he had no idea where you were. Panic rose in Tommy’s throat, tightening its grip around his pale skin. 

“(Y/N) is missing. We haven’t seen her in three days” 

Tommy could barely get the words out of his mouth, as he met Alfie’s eyes. The mans expression mirrored his own, worn out and anxious. Tommy barely flinched when Alfie shot up, an animalistic roar tearing out from his throat. He barely moved as the mans fingers locked around his throat, only to hold a hand up to stop his brothers from intervening. His eyes never left Alfie’s, watching as his grip loosened, the gangster breaking down in front of him. He held Alfie as he sank to his knees, tightening his jaw as he held back emotions of his own. 

“I fuckin’ love her Tommy” Alfie stated, the four words loud and heavy within the room. 

“I know. We’ll fix this. We’ll find her. I promise” Tommy responded; his own words weighted around his throat. Tommy Shelby had made a lot of promises that he could not keep. 

What if this, was one of those?

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

Three days soon melted into a week. Each passing day that dragged by with no sign of you, chipped away at any hope that your family had. They were no closer to knowing who you were with, where you were, if you were safe. Tommy had every Peaky Blinder and Alfie Solomons out searching for you, and he was still no closer to finding out.

He sat down alone at the dining table, sinking his head into his hands. His head felt heavy, his eyes drooping down with sleep. Yet he could not bring himself to close his eyes, because every time he did, the darkness conjured up images of you. His mind kept on turning to your childhood, and how he had sworn on that day he would protect you. Tommy swallowed hard, as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. As a result of his own selfishness, he had failed and the knowledge tormented him. 

Tommy was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps entering the room. He glanced up, the eyes of his family and Alfie refusing to meet his own. He could read their thoughts, written clear upon their faces. They stunk of disappointment, both in him and the lack of information surrounding your disappearance. Everybody was desperate to find you, frustration growing as each day passed without you. 

“Any update?” Tommy asked with a sigh, sitting up straighter within his chair. His heart sunk at the sight of his family, their shoulders drooped in despair. Arthur shook his head, his eyes briefly looking up to meet Tommy’s. 

“None. Still got Isaiah and Finn out there with the lads now” Arthur grunted in response, his eyes flickering back down to where his hands rested upon the table. Tommy swallowed back the disappointment that was thick in his throat. It was an answer he had expected, yet the bitter taste still poisoned him. 

“We can’t give up hope yet. We will find (Y/N)” Tommy stated, hoping his voice would sound optimistic within the darkness of the room. 

“It’s been a week Tommy. A fucking week. We’ll be lucky to find her alive” Pol snapped, her hand resting upon Alfie’s arm, comforting him. Her words stung, yet it was what had been taunting everyone’s thoughts. It was a scenario they had all privately prepared themselves for. 

“I’m fucking trying, alright?” Tommy snapped, casting his head back in frustration. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his fingers tightening their grip upon the arm rests of his chair. “I want to find her just as much as you all”.         

The conversation was interrupted by a loud banging, the doors slamming open, the wood panels splintering as they crashed against walls. Finn ran into the room, his skin pale as he struggled to catch his breath. Chairs scraped against the tiles, as everyone stood up in anticipation.         

“What’s the matter Finn?” Tommy asked, making his way over to his younger brother.         

“Coffin. A coffin has been delivered outside” Finn stated, struggling to get his words out in between each breath.                     

 A coffin.         

 What if this was a sign?*****************************************************************************************************

ALFIES POV         

Alfie wasn’t a good man. He had done some terrible things within his lifetime and had built up a reputation that many feared. He knew what strangers thought about him, the ways their eyes refused to meet his own speaking volumes. You were different. You had never made Alfie feel like an outcast, or that his reputation was one to be feared. In fact, you were the only person who had never shied away from him, who was never afraid to stand up to him. You had made him a better man.         

And now you were gone.         

And Alfie was lost.         

 He hadn’t slept in a week. Every time Alfie had closed his eyes in an attempt to snatch a few moments, he was haunted by the endless possibilities of what had happened to you, each image far more darker than the last. He couldn’t help but assume the worst, due to the nature of your relationship and who you were. Countless people wanted a taste of revenge.         

Alfie sat down beside Pol, the two forming a close friendship over the past couple of days. He had shared moments of grief with each member of the Shelby family, something which had surprised him. His eyes where focused upon the table in front of him, transfixed by the etches within the wood. He did not care much for conversations right now, preferring to be out on the streets helping find you. Pol and Esme had insisted that he take a few moments rest, refusing to accept no for an answer.         

He jumped up at the sound of the doors slamming open, ignoring the way that hope cruelly rose within him. What if it was you? What if you had come back?         

Alfie frowned slightly as Finn came running in, his heart sinking at the clear signs of distress the young man displayed. He was frantically trying to catch his breath, having obviously rushed to get here. Panic gripped at Alfies throat.          Whatever the news was, he knew that it wasn’t good.         

“Coffin. A coffin has been delivered outside” Finn breathed. Alfie pushed past him, rushing out to the front door, the members of the Shelby family following close behind.         

And there it was.         

Alfie sunk to his knees, unable to verbally express his despair as he became strangled by grief. His whole word had been knocked out from underneath his feet. A coffin lay in front of him, blood stains decorating the brown oak. Nails where haphazardly stuck upon the lid and the sides, the wood dented in places. You were in there; he just knew it. He felt Esme place a hand upon his shoulder, watching as the other members of the family succumbed to their emotions, instantly assuming the worst.      

He couldn’t save you.    

“Isaiah. Crowbar. Now!” Tommy yelled, watching as the young man scuttled off in search for one. Silence fell upon the family for a few brief moments, broken by the occasional heartbroken sob. Alfie hadn’t moved, his eyes focused upon the coffin which lay before him, his mind whirling back to the last moments you had spent together.         

If only he could turn back time.         

 Isaiah came back after a few minutes, silently passing the crowbar over to Tommy. He placed the tip at the edge of the lid, prizing the lid open with a grunt, the wood splintering with the force. Metal clattered against the concrete floor, as Tommy dropped the crowbar.         

What had he seen? 

*****************************************************************************************************

YOUR POV         

You hadn’t much memory of the past week, having been locked away in darkness. You had rarely heard voices, apart from the occasional few that had shouted through the door at you. You could tell that these where amateurs, not used to the business which they had thrust themselves into. That fact had brought you little comfort.         

You hadn’t flinched when they lashed out at you, inflicting endless amounts of torture in an attempt to steal information from you. You hadn’t flinched when they had plotted your death, the words floating through into your room. You hadn’t flinched when they had bound your wrists tightly together, the rope sharply cutting through your skin. You hadn’t flinched when they stuffed fabric within your mouth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of you choking. You hadn’t flinched when they slammed the lid down on the coffin, the nails digging into your skin.         

It was the end, and you had accepted that. You had nothing to live for anymore, the loss of Alfie destroying any motivation you once had to fight. You were numb, emotionless and prepared. Death would be a welcome friend, and you could not wait to fall into its arms.         

You had heard the engine start, felt the vibrations as you moved along the road. Each bump causing the nails to gouge deeper into your skin. It hurt, you could not deny that, as tears began to stream down your face, pooling in the shallows of your collarbone. You could feel your blood begin to stain your skin.         

This was how it ended.         

You cried out as they slammed the coffin down upon concrete floor, once the engine had come to a stop, the fabric pushing down further into your throat. Your eyes closed as gun shots rang out within the car, a silent prayer forming within your mind. You had never prayed to a God before, but now? Now you were desperate. You felt as if you were floating, beginning to grow numb to the pain, each breath beginning to become rare. Time was running out.         

This was how it ended.         

“Isaiah. Crowbar. Now!”.         

You heard your elder brother yell, your eyes shooting open at the familiar sound. You wanted to scream out that you were in the coffin, fighting against the urge to slam your hands against the lid. You wanted to let your family know that you were alive, that everything was okay.         

You wanted to see them, before time ran out.         

The lid splintered in front of you, wincing as the nails where sharply pulled from your skin. You blinked, adjusting to the almost unfamiliar light, the sound of metal ringing as it hit the floor. You felt arms around you, lifting you up from where you had laid, the fabric pulled from your throat. You gasped, welcoming the cool air that filled your lungs, your eyes meeting that of your brothers. You began to sob, your fingers weakly clinging onto the fabric of his shirt. Your eyes scanned over your family members, watching relief wash over them, before you met Alfies.         

He slowly reached out for you, Tommy gently passing you into his arms. You buried your head into his neck, his familiar, musky scent calming you. His arms wrapped tightly around you, as if they were afraid you would disappear if he let you go.           

“Come back to me love” he whispered so only you could hear. You lifted your head up slightly, pressing your lips gently against his own. 

This was how everything began. 

[yesloverboy]

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 3

SUMMARY: Mötley Crüe has two shows this weekend, and you’ve agreed to help your intrusive neighbor, Tommy, do his makeup properly for both. Despite how it might look to the rest of the world, you see yours and Tommy’s relationship as a really fast-developing friendship. However, as Friday draws closer, it starts to become more evident that your relationship with Tommy is headed in a different direction. 

word count: 5,191

[Warnings: swearing, mention of injury, vomit, body image, drug and alcohol mention– oh and lots of fluffy goodness.]

NOTE: I hope y’all like fluff, because I’m coming to rot all of your gorgeous teeth right out of your skull. The real question is: will the fluff last forever? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. As always, thank you so much for give this series a little bit of time out of your day. I’m considering doing imagines/headcanons for The Dirt boys in between chapters, so if that’s something you’re interested in feel free to submit your ideas/requests! I also have anon asks turned on again just in case that’s more your thing. Love y’all!

p.s. I am so sorry this is so fucking long, I don’t know what came over me.

tags:  @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier, @stevenandsam, @totallynotkaibiased, @rogertaylur, @fatheadtheroger, @secretly-a-groupie

 As the week went by, you were surprised to find Tommy was actually staying out of your hair– well, at least for the most part. No matter what you thought you expected from Tommy, he always seemed to do things in his own, weird way. Just a day after dropping off donuts at your place, Tommy’s weirdness decided to manifest itself yet again. Only this time, he wasn’t necessarily around to inflict it.

 That Tuesday afternoon, you returned home from touring your new college to find something sitting right outside your front door. From where you were standing, it appeared to be an old jar of some kind with pink blossoms peeking out from the top. Upon closer inspection, you realized that the jar didn’t just contain flowers, but a flowering cactus. The little cactus was planted firmly inside of the jar with rocks and dirt, as if it was meant to be some kind of terrarium. You picked the jar up with tender fingers, finding yourself still completely uncertain of its purpose outside of your door. Just as you lifted it up off the mat, a crumpled piece of notebook paper fluttered to the ground beneath it, resting at your feet like an autumn leaf.

 Unfurling the paper, you realized that it was a handwritten note from none other than your seemingly over-attached neighbor. It struck you as odd that Tommy would be the type to leave his neighbor a handwritten letter��� your mind momentarily forgetting that you really didn’t know all that much about him.

     Y/N,

     Mick also reminded me that people usually like to receive housewarming             gifts when they move into new places. He suggested flowers, but I saw this       little thing and figured it was more your style.  

     Although, I can’t promise it’ll make your house any warmer.

     – T.

 You could feel yourself beaming at the note in your hands. There was something utterly endearing about the thought of Tommy fumbling around with a cactus in hand just for your sake.

 Damn, Tommy still must really feel bad about the other night, just thinking about Tommy feeling guilty made you frown. Honestly, you wished he wasn’t taking the whole incident so seriously. Sure, it was definitely a weird start to your L.A. journey, but it also wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Besides, there was a good chance he would go down in the history book of your life as your first L.A. friend, and that mattered to you.

 As happy as you were to feel like Tommy was becoming something close to a friend, it also struck you as odd that you hadn’t run into any of the other Crüe boys yet. You kind of met Mick, but you hardly regarded having your soul stared into by a total stranger as a proper introduction. If the others were anything like Mick, just thinking about running into Tommy’s bandmates would be enough to make your stomach turn a little. A small part of you hoped that Tommy already told his band about you after the incident with his hand. If this ended up being the case, maybe the merry band of rowdy rock stars beneath your feet would be willing to go easy on you.

 Little did you know, you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out.

 Friday creeps up on you much faster than you originally anticipated. Since Tommy left the cactus on your doorstep, you hadn’t seen much of him around. Eventually, you attributed that to the screeching sounds of heavy metal rattling the floorboards under your feet. It started sometime on Wednesday evening, and eventually bled into all of Thursday.

 Sure, the sound of Mötley Crüe rehearsing their set downstairs was disruptive, but they thankfully never decided to take their playing late into the night. During the day, however, was a completely different situation.

 In order to find some kind of escape from all the commotion, you had spent the last few days driving around and getting to know the area. Each passing hour, you found yourself falling more and more in love with the rows of palms decorating the streets, each one reminding you of just how far you’d come. In the truck you always rode with your windows down, gladly welcoming the salty breeze as it tangled into your hair. Your mind would wander between the rays of sunshine on your skin, and you would think about all the possibilities in front of you; ranging from anything between going to a new college in the fall and the cute neighbor that you can’t seem to keep out of your head, or apartment. You always dismissed those thoughts soon after, knowing that they probably weren’t all that realistic.  

 After yet another prolonged drive and a trip to the drugstore, you return to your apartment to prep for Tommy’s inevitable visit later that evening. You knew he most likely wouldn’t have minded if you used some of your own makeup on him, but figured he could at least use some new eyeliner for when he’d eventually have to do it himself.

 Rummaging around your apartment, you start gathering an inventory of any makeup products you have. For the most part, it had been all neatly tucked away in an old makeup tote you’d had since high school. However, because you’re still freshly moved in, you end up rooting around through old boxes just in case. As you check the last of the boxes, you notice they have all but formed a cardboard tower in your living room over the past week. Deciding that the mess is getting out of hand, you think it’s probably time to make a run to the dumpster out back.  

 Arms teeming with torn and deconstructed boxes, you step into the sweltering heat and out to the back of the building. As you approach the dumpster, a flash of shadowy movement catches your eye. From what you can tell, there seems to be someone lingering over by the back entrance to the apartment building’s mailroom. Not thinking much of it, you continue to chuck boxes into the gaping mouth of the dumpster. The way you figure it, a mysterious figure hanging out behind the building in broad daylight was the least of your worries.

 As you turn to leave, a man with a mane of fluffy blonde hair steps out from behind the wall, propping himself comfortably against the bricks. His tan skin appears almost golden in the sunlight as his slightly effeminate figure bends confidently to the side. There’s something about him that you find uniquely beautiful, and the more his eyes bore into yours, the more you felt like you were observing some kind of predatory feline rather than a person. You personally don’t find him attractive, but you can’t deny that something about his presence feels magnetic.

 Deciding to break the silence, you speak first, “Uh, hey there, man. You live here?”  

 He doesn’t answer you immediately, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans instead. Pulling one out using only his teeth, he tilts the pack in your direction, his eyebrow quirking as if to ask; want one?

 Usually, you weren’t all that much of a smoker. However, you always seemed to find yourself unable to resist one when offered. It was almost like some form of social ritual that you couldn’t quite shake, especially if it had been a long day.

 Aw, fuck it. You take a few steps closer, and pull a cigarette from the pack. It rests comfortably on your lips as you wait for the man to light his own. He passes the lighter to you, and you take it with a mumbled thank you in his direction. The sparkwheel turns with ease under your calloused thumb as you breathe in deeply, lungs filling with smoke.

 “Yeah I live here, right up on the third floor,” the man finally replies, taking his lighter back from your open palm.

 Your eyes widen with the realization that the guy in front of you is none other than one of Tommy’s bandmates. Honestly, you feel a little silly for not immediately making the connection, but lately your mind has been in another place entirely.

 “Wait so you know Tommy?”

 The man laughs mockingly, “Of course I know that idiot. Kid’s a total terror–and just so happens to be my drummer.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, smirking at you knowingly. “Wait a sec–you’re that girl on the fourth floor, aren’t you?”

 Your chest tightens at the knowledge that Tommy had clearly mentioned you before. Deep down you should feel flattered, but on the other hand, god only knows what he had said about you.

 “Yep, that would be me,” you admit, silently praying he wouldn’t pry any further. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

 “I already knew that,” he extends a hand to you, “Vince. Nice to finally meet you.”

 You take his hand and shake it, wishing more than anything you could wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face. To your knowledge, you and Tommy were just friends, barely, and here this guy was acting as if he knew something you didn’t.

 “Well, thanks for letting me bum a cig, Vince, but I gotta get going,” you take one last puff before letting the cigarette fall lamely to the ground, grinding it into the asphalt with the toe of your boot. It was getting increasingly more difficult to hide your frustration from Vince and you’d much rather be back inside your apartment.

 Just as you’re about to turn away, Vince stops you.

 “Wait, Y/N! You should really come see us play, I know Tommy would love it.”

 When you look at Vince, it seems as though he’s dropped his act a little. The smirk on his face has faded into something softer, and for a moment he seems genuine. You open your mouth to speak, but Vince interrupts you.

 “You’re all he talks about, you know.”

 For a moment, it feels as though your heart might stop. He talks about me? Honestly, you hadn’t expected Tommy to talk about you in any context other than helping you move and injuring his hand. You manage to keep yourself composed in front of Vince, but on the inside your thoughts are swimming giddily. Although, you’re fairly certain Vince is talking about Tommy, your self-doubt forces you to make sure.

 “Who?” You ask, playing dumb. Knowing full well it’s an utterly ridiculous question, you brace yourself for Vince’s reply.

 Vince only rolls his eyes as if what you asked was just the same shit, different day. “Tommy, of course,” he huffs. “Jesus, if you’re that fucking stupid I’m sure the two of you are made for each other.”   

 This time, when the giddy feelings return you let them have free reign. “Well, Vince it was real nice meeting you,” you say, a smile suddenly engraved onto your face. “Make sure my friend Tommy comes over around 7:30. Okay?”

 In any other instance, you wouldn’t have allowed some guy you had just met to call you stupid and keep his teeth intact– but today could be an exception. Besides, you couldn’t really deny the fact that you’d set yourself up for it.

 Long after you had retreated back to your apartment, you found that Vince’s words were still echoing through your skull.

 “You’re all he talks about, you know.”

 Despite the fact that Vince lives with Tommy, your skeptical side can’t help but wonder if he was just messing with you earlier. Aside from Tommy drunkenly proclaiming your “beauty”, you really didn’t have much evidence to believe that Tommy would be that fixated on you. Although, you had to admit that Vince seemed pretty earnest when he mentioned it. No one could be that good at acting, could they?

 With all this thought about Tommy, you’re horrified to realize that maybe your casual crush was becoming something a little bit more. Something a lot less manageable. Sure you’ve had casual crushes on guys before, everyone does. Whether it was a nice cashier at the supermarket, or an impressively smart teaching assistant– the small crush would be there for a minute and gone in a flash.

 Somehow, Tommy was different. Everything about him that should annoy you didn’t, and the thought seeing him was always nestled comfortably in your mind. No one has left an impression on your life quite like he had, and that was worrisome to you. What if he’s just a nice guy? There was always the possibility that he really was just being friendly, and you and the rest of the world were just mistaken.

 Trying not to dwell on the matter any longer, you busy yourself with a pot of coffee and flip on the radio. You had just been able to tweak the radio antenna enough to get some kind of signal, when a knock sounded at your door.

 “Hey, Y/N! It’s Tommy!”

 Glancing over at the clock on the wall, you notice it’s only 7:12pm. He’s early, you think, a smile roseying your cheeks.

 Tommy knocks again, growing impatient. “Ya know, for the makeup stuff!”

 Chuckling, you open the door to see Tommy’s grinning face lighting up the doorframe. Rather than his usually short tee, or ratty tank top and jeans, he’s wearing tight leather pants and a short-sleeved mesh top. You notice his top is secured to his chest with some kind of harness that resembles both a dog collar and a seatbelt; it was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

 “You’re early,” you comment, stepping aside so he can walk past you.  

 “Oh, sorry about that, dude,” he lightly punches your shoulder in a playful manner, “I just couldn’t wait any longer. We finished setting up at the venue early and I’ve been bored to death.”

“Thanks for the gift, by the way,” you remark, suddenly remembering the little cactus Tommy left on your doorstep on Tuesday. 

 Tommy perks up, practically bouncing on his heels in excitement. “Wait did you really like it? The damn thing ended up giving me five splinters, but it was so worth it.” 

 “I love it,” you said earnestly, “it’s actually been sitting on my windowsill since I brought it in.” You point to your open bedroom door where the little jar can be seen soaking up the sunlight. 

 “Right on!” You suppress a giggle as Tommy actually pumps his fist excitedly. There isn’t a single person on the planet that you’ve seen express their joy so openly and eagerly as Tommy does. He was like a puppy, in a way; just stoked on everything and happy to be alive. 

 Tommy eventually flops onto a chair at your dining table, obviously drawn to the pile of makeup you had been accumulating for tonight. He picks up a bottle of foundation and shakes it, all the while holding it up to his ear like he’s expecting to hear the ocean. 

“Is this all for me?”

You take the bottle out of his hand and place it firmly on the table. “Well some of it is,” you remark poignantly and gesture to a small paper bag next to your tote of makeup. “This is what I got for you, but we’re also going to play around with some of mine, okay?” 

Tommy’s enthusiasm is unshakable. “Righteous!”

You can’t help but love how enthusiastic Tommy is about doing his makeup for the show. Sure, rockstars doing theatrical stage makeup was nothing new, but something about Tommy being secure enough in himself to want to give it a shot was admirable. 

“Ready to get started then, drummer boy?” You allow yourself to flash Tommy a flirtatious smile, figuring that, no matter what happened between the two of you, you were determined to have as much fun as possible. Let’s face it, hanging out with Tommy makes you happy, even if there’s a possibility that it’ll never be anything more than platonic. 

 “Hell yeah, man! I can’t wait ‘til you’re done, Nikki is going to be so jealous.”

 Leaving Tommy to sit at the dining table, you went to your bathroom to get a hand mirror, and some clips to pin Tommy’s hair back. “Nikki?”

 “Nikki-fucking-Sixx, dude! He’s Mötley Crüe’s bass player,” Tommy says, all the while inspecting the variety of makeup products on the table, “and probably my best friend.”

 When you eventually meet Tommy at the dining table, he’s still rambling on about Nikki. “I swear, he’s the raddest guy ever– and he always does the coolest makeup, but I’m not nearly as good. I want to be, though. Most def,” he nods decisively, his eyes sparkling with adoration for his friend.

 “He does sound rad,” you agree, “did you want me to try and do something he would do?”

 “Yeah dude! But I was thinking we could do something a little more me, ya know? Like I kind of want to look like a vampire, but, like, a punk vampire.” Tommy’s face is animated with excitement, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes his ideal stage persona. “Nikki’s more into a warpaint kinda look, but we could make that fit, right?”

 You look down at Tommy, he’s so tall that, even sitting down, the two of you may as well be eye to eye. If you were being honest, Tommy’s request is a bit bizarre, but all rock and roll aesthetics kind of are. You try to envision a classic Halloween vampire look in your head, but all you seem to come up with is the traditional hollowed out cheeks and heavy eyeliner. It’s all so pathetically overdone.

 How can we possibly make this work? Shifting your gaze from his face to the makeup on the table, a pan of fuschia eyeshadow catches your attention, instantly transforming the vision in your head. You bite your lip, hoping that Tommy will be on board with it when the time comes.

 “Okay, Tommy. I think I have an idea. Is it okay if I move your hair out of your face?”

 “Go for it, dude.”

 You pluck a barrette off of the table and place it between your teeth, leaving both hands free to twist Tommy’s shaggy layers into place. His hair is light and fluffy against your fingertips, and somewhere deep down you wish that you could find more excuses to play with it in the future. Pulling a clump of his wavy fringe back, you secure it with a satisfying snap of the barrette.

 “Ow! Y/N! That fucking hurt,” Tommy hisses, reaching for his head defensively.

 You swat his hand away mercilessly, “Beauty is pain, drummer boy.”

 “Since when?”

 “Since, I said so,” you begin pinning back the other half of his fringe, trying not to laugh as Tommy cringes in discomfort. “God, where was all this complaining when you nearly cut your hand off?”

 “Oh come on, that was so different and you know it!” Tommy’s working hard at maintaining his stubborn pout, but you can see the smile threatening to escape beneath it.

 You pick up the bottle of your foundation Tommy was messing with earlier and start shaking it up. “Alright, tough guy. I’m going to need you to start paying attention for this part.”

 Gently, you place your fingers under Tommy’s chin and tilt his head up so you can see better. You squeeze a few drops of foundation onto Tommy’s face, then use a wedged beauty sponge to pat it into his skin.

 “Do I need to close my eyes?” Tommy asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

 “Nah, not until I work on your eyes.” As you pat in the foundation, you realize that maybe your shade is just a little too light to be a perfect match for Tommy’s sun kissed complexion. It’s a little odd, but maybe it works for the subtle vampiric look he’s going for. “This is just a little foundation, alright? Really you don’t need much of it, but I think it’ll help everything else stick.”

 When you feel as though his face is thoroughly covered, you grab the pan of bright pink eyeshadow, and a large brush you’d typically be using for regular blush.

 “Okay, so I was thinking, maybe we could do those crazy, dead-looking vampire cheeks,” you begin, “but instead of using black, we use pink instead...” you trail off and hold your breath, worrying that the idea you’re proposing is too feminine for Tommy’s liking.

 Much to your surprise, Tommy looks completely stoked at the idea. “That sounds awesome! No one would ever expect it,” he gushes, “plus, I’m wearing all black so it’ll really stand out. I’m gonna look like a fuckin’ superhero.” 

 Tommy’s excitement suddenly gives you a newfound confidence in your abilities. You really appreciate the way that Tommy makes you feel like you can do anything, and wonder if other people feel the same way whenever he’s around.

 Blotting your fluffy brush, you set to work carving out his angular cheekbones with the hot pink pigment. Shockingly, it doesn’t look nearly as insane as you feared it might. It actually looks kind of cool, and reminds you of a more exaggerated version of the new wave fashion you typically hated. One thing’s for sure, Tommy was absolutely right when he said that no one was going to expect it. 

 Despite how still Tommy had been when you applied the foundation, something about the way you were applying the color to his cheeks was causing him to fidget.  

 “Jesus Christ, that fucking tickles!” he exclaimed, bursting out in a fit of laughter.

 You giggle at his sudden outburst, having to use both hands to wrestle his head back into place so you can finish. “Come on, you freak! Hold still, or you’re going to make me mess up.” If you weren’t quite literally putting pink eyeshadow on Tommy’s face, you’d dare to say he was blushing.

 When you finish hollowing out his already angular face, you hold up the hand mirror so that he can properly assess your progress. Immediately, Tommy yanks the mirror out of your hands, his mouth falling open in shock.

 “Holy fucking shit, this is so gnarly!” he’s smiling from ear to ear, and you can’t help but feel your chest swell with a little bit of pride. It’s true that you’re no makeup artist, but it didn’t really matter what anyone else was going to think so long as Tommy was happy with it.

“Alright, alright. Settle down, because now we’re getting into the hard stuff.” 

 The final step is eyeliner and eyeshadow, which is actually what you feel the most competent at. However, with the way Tommy is seated while you remain standing is going to make the process a little complicated. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if Tommy wasn’t so goddamn tall in comparison to rest of the human population.

 Grabbing a freshly sharpened eye pencil, you lean in get a good view of Tommy’s eyes. “Look up for me,” you instruct and Tommy complies.

 As you work the pencil into his waterline, you realize that you’re unable to get a good enough angle to actually apply it evenly.

 “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, clearing becoming frustrated at how terrible the eyeliner is looking compared to the rest of his makeup.

 “What’s the matter?” Tommy asks, looking up at you earnestly.

 You can’t stop a sigh from escaping your lips, “Oh nothing major. It’s just hard to work on your eyes with you being so tall– and I know sitting in a chair isn’t going to help our cause.”

 “I’m not tall, you’re just a shorty,” Tommy mocks, sticking his tongue out at you playfully. Tommy’s antics ease your frustration a little, but you’re still worried about how you’re going to successfully complete the look in time for his show.

 As you try to think of other solutions, Tommy sudden speaks up.

 “I have an idea, Y/N...but you’re not going to like it.”

 “What is it?” You find that the sudden apprehension in Tommy’s voice is making you more and more nervous by the second.

 “I’ll tell you but you have to promise you won’t get mad,” Tommy’s face is suddenly more serious than you’ve ever seen it.

 “Get mad? Why on earth would I get mad?”

 “Promise first!” Tommy insists.

 You throw the eyeliner pencil down on the table in exasperation, “Okay fine I promise, now please just tell me.”

 “You could sit in my lap,” Tommy blurts out, his words connected by a string of anxiety.

 Your first instinct is to laugh at the absurdity of Tommy’s idea, automatically assuming he’s pulling an elaborate prank on you. However, a quick assessment of Tommy’s grave facial expression makes you realize he’s dead serious.

 “Oh my god,” you scoff, “you can’t be fucking serious.”

 Tommy throws his hands up in defeat. “See! I knew you’d be fucking mad, god this is so embarrassing.” He rests his head in his hands, his fingertips most definitely making contact with the makeup job you just did, but you don’t have the heart to accost him over it.

 You consider Tommy’s proposition, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment. “So...how do I know that this isn’t just some attempt to get into my pants, huh?”

 “Listen,” Tommy starts, clearly on the defense, “I just figured because my legs are so long you wouldn’t even have to get that close to me, okay? Look, I’ll even put my hands behind my back if you want.”

 Tommy demonstrates by clasping his hands together behind the back of the chair. “See? It’s that easy,” he looks at you triumphantly, clearly believing in his heart that his logic is rock solid.

 Against all odds, you actually consider what Tommy is saying for a moment. You think about all the other guys you’ve met in your life and know that you’d be absolutely out of your mind to fall for whatever Tommy was trying to pull. On the other hand, would it really be so bad if you did go along with it?

 “Fuck it,” you say, throwing your sense of caution and self-preservation completely out the window.  

 This seems to surprise Tommy quite a bit, his wide-eyed expression hilarious against the backdrop of his half-finished stage makeup. The way you figure it, if Tommy managed to maintain his control while passed out drunk on your floor the first night you met, he most likely wasn’t trying to pull anything now.

 Approaching Tommy, you try your best to keep your cool but can’t deny the way your heart is pounding against your ribcage.

 “Just know, if you try anything I will break you in half,” you threaten, knowing full well that the only way you could kick Tommy’s ass is if he let you.

 Tommy puts his hands back behind the chair once again, this time keeping them there. “What did I tell you?” he laughs, instantly removing some of the tension that had been building up over the last few minutes.

 With a heavy sigh, you place a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, effectively using him for leverage, as you swing a leg over both of his. You gently rest the remainder of your weight onto his knees until you’re straddling him at the furthest distance possible. To your pleasant surprise, you fit in Tommy’s lap comfortably.

 Being closer to him than ever before, you can now smell the woodsy scent of his cologne in combination with the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes. To prevent your mind from wandering, you decide to put all of your energy into focusing on the task at hand.

 “Alright, I guess we’ll finish this then,” you say, swallowing your nerves and reaching for the eyeliner. Tommy only smiles back at you victoriously, completely aware that he won the battle.  

 “Ugh for chrissakes, if you keep smiling at me like that your face is going to stick that way,” you complain, going back to work on smoking out his eyeliner.

 Tommy flinches a little at the lack of warning, but quickly adjusts. “Why wouldn’t I be smiling? There’s a pretty girl in my lap!”

 You don’t want to laugh, but you can’t help yourself. There’s something about Tommy that seems to bring out the best in you.

 “Yeah well you won’t be laughing when I punch you in the dick.”

 Tommy snorts with laughter, “There’s the mean girl I know and love.”

 You ignore him, but a smile still remains firmly planted on your face. Oddly enough, Tommy doesn’t seem to mind having his eyeliner done all that much. After you’ve successfully created two smokey black rings around Tommy’s eyes, you decide to take some of the pink pigment from earlier and add it to his eyelids. You try your best to explain how you’re doing it along the way, but describing the process is a lot harder than it seemed. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, being able to sit on Tommy’s lap like this actually helps tremendously.

 Per Tommy’s request, you end up adding two solid black lines to the right side of his face so that he can look “just a little more like Nikki”. It’s obvious that Tommy admires Nikki a lot more than he had been letting on, which is almost hard to believe considering how highly he speaks about him already.

 When you finish, you unclip the barrettes in Tommy’s hair, mussing it up with your hands in an attempt to get his shaggy locks back into place. Holding hand mirror up to Tommy’s face once more, you figure that the look has to be just about done if Tommy ever hopes of being able to recreate it without you.

 “I love it! I totally fucking love it, thank you so fucking much,” he lets the mirror fall slowly onto the table, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar stare that you can’t quite put your finger on. “Can I ask for one more thing?”

 “Sure, what is it?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

 “The lipstick you’re wearing, do you think you could put some on me?”

 You had all but forgotten the fact that you’d put on a red lipstick earlier in the day, and found yourself surprised it had even stayed on this long. “Sure thing, man. It’s in my purse though so let me just go get it real quick–”

 As you move to get up, you feel a large hand grip the side of your thigh. The touch is gentle, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

 “Tommy what are you…” you try to finish your sentence, but end up getting lost his gaze. The deep blue of his eyes makes you shiver involuntarily, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Tommy could feel it.

 “I think I can get it myself,” he murmurs as his lips catch yours, pulling you into a gentle kiss.  

Part 4

Masterlist

[tomasistrill]

“Don’t look; but I Think The Elephant In The Room is Wearing An MF Doom Mask..”

By @tomasistrill

December 12, 2019

The Manifesto

“I am the elephant in the room;

bringing doom,

really soon.”

-TOMMY TRILLY

-Form & Shape

The image is sized to be square to eligantly frame my thesis of the symmetry that outlines all things asymmetrical.

Using dimensions of 1080x1080pixels gives the piece functionality & purpose as cover artwork for an important project being manifested as we think, speak & breath.

The color scheme is purposely & purely monochromatic. Starting from left to right; the viewer will immediately see that black is the dominating color of the composition.

However, dominant, is nothing less than an understatement. When working with black on this piece; I found myself compulsive, aggressive & even manic at times.

I strayed far from my initial concept of having the black fade to an almost white tone; never truly giving my viewer the graceful embrace of a pure white.

Instead; my fanatical usage of black lead me ever deeper into the enigmatic labyrinth of my subconscious & a graceful awareness of the courage to create.

-Ethos, Pathos & Logos

The toxic love affair between my creative mania & the color black conceived a scene no longer so two dimensional; contrasted with a character that will never be anything more than it’s two dimensions.

The character is depicted in the center of the room. However, because he cannot escape his two dimensional existence, the center of the room is a place he can only observe from afar. He doesn’t understand why none of the people in the room pay attention to him.

His body language communicates a lonely disposition; arms hanging at his sides, hands [possibly] in his pockets & eyes staring far into the abyss; painfully conscious of his glaze matched by the depths of true existence.

On the left & right of our self-ruminating character; reads “S†≡≡Z.”

A word meaning to have style with ease; made popular by hip-hop on the East Coast. In my meditations on the word, came to me, the most clear understanding of grace & what it means to have it.

Bruce Lee describes it as the effortless flow of water; taking the shape of whatever contains you; the body containing the mind & the mind then containing the soul.

This journey inward in search of the holy S†≡≡Z requires you to courageously be yourself purely in the face of adversity. Everytime you choose fear over courage; you’re taking steps outward & away from the S†≡≡Z!

-Spiritual Subliminals

Diving ever deeper into the art & the messages it has for us; we’ll turn our focus to how the word “S†≡≡Z” is communicated to the viewer. Using things such as; color, form, shape, symbology, typography, etc. I was able to effectively communicate ideas to the beholder, in a very visual, yet subtle way.

“S - - -Z”

The “S” at the beginning represents a wavelength that’s smooth from crest to trough.

While the “Z” at the end presents an opposite, but equal wave; this one being more aggressive in it’s frequency.

This is the inevitability one faces in making the decision to be themselves.

Sometimes the wave is S & sometimes the wave is Z, but if you know how to surf; the ride is always steezy.

“- † - - -“

The letter “T” here serves at a ✞ symbol standing for the divine power of love & forgiveness within Man.

“- - ≡ ≡ -”

The arrangement of three horizontal lines is an angelic numerical sequence “111” that tells the intuition to take action.

Encouraging you to keep following your spirit; if you see this listen to your gut/heart.

The double “EE” sequence is made of three horizontal tic marks, similar to a traditional capitalized E, but instead here we see “≡” used; one of the eight trigrams used in Daoist cosmology meaning “Heaven.” 乾 Qián ☰ Heaven|坤 Kūn ☷ Earth|震 Zhèn☳ Thunder|坎 Kǎn☵ Water|艮 Gèn☶ Mountain|巽 Xùn☴ Wind|離 Lí☲ Flame兌 | Duì☱ Lake

This rendering of “S † ≡ ≡ Z” is then contrasted across the longitude of the entire ensemble; painting a polarizing picture of the age old existential struggle of the inner against the outer.

The only usage of a true white tone is in the first occurrence of S†≡≡Z; in the darkest section of the piece. Then, almost mockingly, right in the middle of the lightest area, we see the return of darkness; in the second & final occurrence of S†≡≡Z.

This beautifully illustrates; when the world is dark, the individual will intuitively become the light he so desperately seeks.

We can then safely assume if the world becomes illuminated in mankind’s brilliance; the individual will only find peace in the shadows of his own world.

Narrative-

MF Doom:

A character/persona written by british-born EMCEE Daniel Dumile.

From his upbringing in Long Island, New York to his controversial rise to infamy; his story is trill hiphop lore. He became a man deep in the minds of millions & they don’t even know his name.

Initially, rapping under the alias Zev Love X, he formed the rap group KMD & signed to Elektra Records. Just before the release of the group’s second Album, boldly titled “Black Bastards,” the doom rapper’s late brother DJ Subroc was struck by a car & killed.

That same week the group was dropped from their label & the album was scrapped. Dumile left the industry & lived essentially homeless from 94’ to 97’.

He then left New York to settle in Atlanta, Georgia. Still recovering from his wounds; the rapper would don the iconic DOOM mask & take revenge "against the industry that so badly deformed him".

Thus the notorious villain of the hiphop underground MF DOOM was born.

He is often praised as not only one of the illest lyricist to ever do it, but also as a genius producer.

However, inspite of his immaculate discography & significant respect from industry legends, he is still widly unaccepted by the community he’s devoted his life to.

The Elephant:

Elephants are known as a keystone species; meaning it has disproportionately large effect on its environment relative to its abundance.

In fact, by simply existing; the elephant has the power to inflict change in the world it lives in. They, as all animals do, move across the earth manifesting their every desire; unconcerned with anything & everything that isn’t necessary to life.

Effortlessly laying the foundation on which nearly every other speices, within it’s domain, inevitably builds it’s existence.

They themselves embrace a matriarchal lifestyle; in which the feminine is the primary power within society.

Family Groups, consisting of mainly females & children, are led by the eldest female matriarch; with many of the males choosing a more solitary existence.

The elephant recognizes itself in a mirror; demonstrating a capacity for self-awareness found only in apes & dolphins. They also morn their dead & show signs of stress when loved ones aren’t well.

It is well known that the elephant’s memory is stone; able to recall locations of watering holes, family members, vast migration routes, etc. all over their 70 year lifespan.

Conflict:

It’s no surprise that elephants have inspired many literary, mythical & religious cultures; traditionally the elephant has been a symbol of strength, power, wisdom, longevity, stamina, leadership, sociability, nurturance and loyalty.

We see these things reflected in political ideologies of the American Republican Party; who’ve used the elephant as a mascot since 1874.

Conveying a message to undecided voters to preserve the values of the past & to have noble principle guiding your actions.

On the surface level this is honorably patriotic, but as I dived ever deeper; I found a story of people divided simply by perspectives based on how reality presented itself to the misdirected & misguided naiveté of the ignorant & innocent.

The parable of the blind men & the elephant originated in the ancient Indian subcontinent. A group of blind men, who never encountered an elephant before, all touch a different part of an elephants body & insist they know exactly what it is in front of them; based on their limited experience, they all go on to describe what they understood the elephant standing in front of them to be. The first person, whose hand landed on the trunk, said "This being is like a thick snake". Another man, whose hand reached its ear, said it seemed like a kind of fan. The third man, whose hand was upon its leg, said the elephant is a pillar like a tree-trunk. A fourth man who placed his hand upon its side said the elephant, "is a wall". Another who felt its tail, described it as a rope. The last felt its tusk, stating the elephant is that which is hard, smooth and like a spear.

In this parable; I found a moral of the subjective truths we face every day in our common lives.

All of these men share a deep common attribute of blindness & thus will cling to shallow differences in sensual experience & each man will have a different ideology for why he does so.

Man will neglect fellowship with his fellow man if, in his limited experience of reality, he finds it to be a necessary action in his life.

Unfortunately for a more modest man; life is often misunderstood by his neighbors.

Perhaps he dreamns of power, so he creates the illusion he has a higher knowledge of the elephant. Maybe he’s a coward & would rather formulate an opinion than walk away, because he fears rejection from the group.

Man has a habbit of claiming to know the absolute truth based on their limited, subjective experience. As they ignore other people's limited, subjective experiences. Which may be equally true; only ever able to justify their claims with fear or courage.

Resolve:

Courage requires immaculate moral responsibility & higher knowledge. To stand in the face of destiny with the heart of a warrior is an endeavor most men can no longer dream of.

It requires too much & so most men spend their lifetime in the same predicament the elephant himself is in; standing in a room being ignored by those whose hearts call out to him! To be the elephant in the room is a tragedy largely ignored.

The expression "the elephant in the room" is a metaphorical idiom in English for an important or enormous topic, problem, or risk that is obvious or that everyone knows about but no one mentions or wants to discuss because it makes at least some of them uncomfortable or is personally, socially, or politically embarrassing, controversial, inflammatory, or dangerous. This same sociological & psychological repression operates on the macro scale of modern society.

Should something as conspicuous as an elephant be overlooked in codified social interactions? Of course not. You are the elephant in the room.

Conclusion:

Not only has he not forgotten; but the elephant himself, in all his divine S†≡≡Z, stands in a room full of people he remembers from the beginning of time. They talk of the old days; almost every word hinting at his presence in the room, but they just go on rambling as if the elephant himself isn’t standing next to them. They’re completely oblivious to the fact that there’s a god damn eight-foot seven-inch Asian elephant with a fucking MF DOOM mask on right there. He’s tired of being ignored; soon he will escape from his interdimensional hell & bring doom.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 78

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Blue Veins

Summary: Alfie confronts Horne and sees what has happened to Genevieve. As she is known for, Genevieve takes her fate into her own bloody hands. Song is Blue Veins by The Raconteurs.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Language.Graphic Violence. Blood, Gore, Fighting. Revenge. Alfie and Gen reunited. DRAMA. ANGST. Some Shelby boys. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Alfie was a shadow of himself. He wouldn't have disagreed to the statement if someone had had the balls to point this out to him either. He was too tired and too close to redemption.

He exited the work truck from his bakery into the long and dusty warehouse with its wooden walls and contraband crates stacked almost ceiling high. The salt from the sea held it's natural tang in the air, clinging to his now red and patchy skin, as in Genevieve's absence it had bloomed fully into an itchy and red mess from stress and lack of care. He pushes back his greasy hair in an attempt to prepare himself for what he was about to see, but nothing besides the war could've helped him prepare to hold a stone face in the presence of the one thing he cared about the most being destroyed in front of him.

Cyrus Horne in all his American unearned confidence stands strong in front of the cars that brought him and his men. He sees the usual suspects behind Alfie, the Jewish boys from his bakery that served as muscle. What he hadn't expected was for the Shelby brothers to be there. Tommy stands lean and poised as always, an almost bored look on his face. The oldest Arthur couldn't have been more the opposite. His face was red and angry, mustache twitching and jaw tense at Horne and his smug exterior for what he'd done to his Genny. John acts as a wall for Arthur, ready to hold him back from bad decisions, the toothpick in his mouth almost snapping every time his teeth came down upon it in his underlying intensity, ready for a brawl.

"Where is she?" Alfie demands, stepping forward with the cane she'd given him for his birthday. He was worn down, in every way and image be damned he needed it to keep his energy up to potentially dismember the piss poor excuse for a man that stood before him.

"I brought her. Don't worry." Horne's smugness is obvious as he flicks a finger and the back doors, hidden from sight open and a bulking man carries out Genevieve's limp body over his shoulder. He moves to drop her with a thump to the cold, hard ground and Alfie points his cane at him.

"You don't fucking throw her on the ground mate or this will end before it even fuckin' starts." the veins in his forehead throbbing and spit flying with every over pronounced word.

He bends at the knee and set her on the ground, her body rolling out of his arms and onto the floor will a dull thud that he does not react to.

"There she is. See?" Horne motions with his hand towards her.

Alfie's face is held impressively still despite how he wanted to rip out Cyrus' neck with his own teeth. She was in such a state and he couldn't even see her face. What worried him was the blood. So much blood all over her torn and tattered, now filthy dress she'd been wearing at the party.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do wif 'is? She could be dead for all I can tell." he guffs out, cane still out and pointing now at Genevieve.

With another flick of his fingers, a man brings a bucket of water over and pours it down over her head. She awakes with a wheezing gasp, her hand moving up to her chest, her hair a black puddle around her head.

What she noticed first was that she was no longer bound. Her hands tremble and shake in pain and adrenaline, broken fingers and swollen joints ache as she moves to push her upper body off the ground, a veil of hair blocking her vision. She fails twice before finally locking her elbows and holding herself up. Alfie watches with a heavy heart as he sees her body shaking involuntarily. He wanted to run to her, to wrap her in his arms and sweep her away but he knew it wouldn't be going down that way.

"Now that that's established. Let's get to business." Horne says, ignoring the woman next to his feet.

She couldn't understand the words she heard, but with the eye that could still open, she saw a bright light. This light wasn't yellow tinged, it was spreading something she hadn't felt in what could've been days, warmth, over her skin. She moves her curtain of hair away from her face, the wet heaviness of it slapping against her back and the ground, revealing her face to the men who had come to save her. She raises it towards the light like a flower in the morning. Her skin the color of the iris and bluebells in her garden, a watercolor portrait painted across her, swollen and marked, showing the clear damage that had been inflicted upon her. John holds Arthur back, and he tries to hold in tears of anger.

As she heard Cyrus' voice, the babbling that her brain had stopped understanding some time ago now makes her gag. For the sound of his voice, as opposed to any of those of his men always meant the worst was coming her way. As she throws her weight to sit on bruised knees, she wheezes and holds what was surely more broken ribs. The pain was an afterthought now, it was the only thing she'd felt in so long. It could've been days, but she knew that her memories would not be reliable at this point, what with how many times she'd been hit in the head as of late.

What Alfie can't rip his eyes away from is the blood. It moves like a river, starting in her now dirty and matted hair, down from her scalp across the sides of her face, a sticky and clotted frame of the damage he could never apologize enough for.

"If I didn't know personally that she was a woman, I would say this one here was a man of most impressive strength." Horne remarks. "She withstood more than any man I've ever interrogated before that's for damn sure." he adds in an impressed tone, turning to face her.

Alfie's eyes moved down her body, the blood connected in a forked pattern and down the middle of her breasts to a thick line that ran all the way down the center of her dress, the inside of her thighs caked with clotted blood, her hands and knees leaving prints of it behind as she struggled to hold herself up.

She looks up and sees the silhouette she would know anywhere. A choked sound escapes her, as the tears form quickly now, seeping out over her filthy cheeks as she tries not to sob as the pain is too much when met with the relief the sight of him brought. Alfie was there. He'd found her. She wheezes and struggles for air, trying to focus her eyes but the bright light of the sun hurts too much after the days in the dark.

"Lucky for you. All of you." he narrows his eyes and points his finger to Alfie and the Shelby's. "She wouldn't talk. Wouldn't give up a peep about you. So I'll need to be compensated for that as well." he continues with a shake of his head.

All her loyal dogs had surely shown up to take her away from all of this. Even if it went badly, she knew they'd come for her and she wouldn't end up in a hole in a country field that would never be found. Taking these assumptions she decided to focus on the next most important thing besides Alfie, Cyrus. Although his men had followed his orders, he was the orchestrator of all the pain she'd been put through that had left her in such broken state. She had no weapons, she couldn't move fast or well, but she did know that he had to die. It's all that her mind would think and it shows on her face.

He catches the death stare she gives him openly. Out of habit, her brain disrupts her understanding of his words, she hadn't wanted to hear what was said as he touched her while she had been held captive and had taught herself to not listen. He asks something, leaning in and swiftly nodding his head her way. Glaring with a face of stone, she found a new well of rage in the knowledge that she wouldn't be fighting alone if she did attack him at this point. He puts his boot on her face slowly, giving it a hard enough push to knock her onto the floor to her side. She keeps her eyes on him as he moves, giving him no satisfaction to be found in her expression.

She knew the shuffle of Alfie's feet by sound alone. He moves closer to her and the way he comes into focus slowly distracts her from the hate in her heart for Cyrus. She sees his exhausted face, focuses solely on Horne at the moment. He knows there's the business to take care of before he got to her, and she accepted this as the way things had to play out. She wouldn't leap for him or beg for attention, that would show weakness. She would stay strong for both of them. Alfie was acting on certainty, knowing that Genevieve would want Cyrus murdered first and foremost before he tended to her. And he was right.

Shots fire off suddenly, and she doesn't know who or where they came from, but everyone hits the ground and scurries, including her. A gunshot even after all she'd been through was enough to fill her with the pain deafening adrenaline to make it behind one of the trucks on Horne's side of the line of defense. She doesn't move fast or well, and certainly not gracefully, tripping over her shroud of hair that grasped to her bare skin from the dampness of it. She ignored the shooting pain in her chest, back flat against the side of a truck with darting eyes that tried to focus and a mind that tried to concentrate despite the hard time she was facing attempting to do so. With shots now sporadic, men's voices yelling taunts from both sides, she moves to the open back of the truck she was brought in. She rests her upper body on the bed of it, searching for something to defend herself with.

She hears a familiar voice let out a call of pain, the clatter of buttons hitting the ground as she hunkers down and sees Cyrus on the opposite side of the line of vehicles. He was shot in the leg, and another wave of adrenaline spikes through her veins as she knows she's found her way in. She eyes an ax in the truck and lugs it out with her bruised and injured arms. The sound of the head hitting the ground a dull thud compared to the shots that still rang out. With both hands on the handle, she drags it behind her, her eyes with their blackness both inside and surrounding them are set with an unbreakable focus on Cyrus' face as she moves with a limp towards him. Her gate is broken and flawed, the scrape of metal against the poured stone floor a distraction to the men who were on Horne's side, giving Alfie's men opportunity to take more of them down. She can't hear the shots any longer, or the screams, she only hears her heartbeat in her ears. She lumbers forward with the ax and stands, her presence blocked by open doors and angles at Cyrus' side with the ax in her hand. He scrambled, looking up at her in the way he'd wanted her to feel while he'd exacted his revenge on her, with fear. She resembled more animal than human now, her hair a tangled mess, the blood and bruises only adding to the camouflage of her feminine self as she grits her teeth and grips the wooden handle of the ax in her hands. He pushes back with his feet to get away from her, only one leg being of much use, but it's not enough to escape her. With her stance like Athena bringing a sword down upon her enemy, her back arched and looking strong, the ax held above her head and a face that held the hell of a woman scorned, she brings it down into his body with a roar. Her lips snarled, her teeth barred and chest heaving as she brings her weapon of justice above her head again, the blood now dripping and blending with the red head of the weapon. She once again is chopping past the bones and flesh of his torso with a sickening and satisfying crunch. With a ringing in her ears, only her breath now registering as she loosely flings the ax away, she straddles his body, almost halved in her enacted revenge. She sees his face screaming, tears from his eyes, spit flying and teeth gnashing as he looked in unfiltered horror at himself, knowing his story was coming to an end by the woman who he had tried to break.

With dead checks on all of Horne's men, Alfie follows the animalistic sounds that blend with the echoing shrieks of Horne. What he sees happen before him, he was not ready for.

She kneels over him, a hand cracking his ribs as she puts her weight on the broken cage, her knees at his side and her eyes nothing but black and vindictive. As she sinks her hands into his bubbling mass of guts and organs, the men who had seen war all stop at stare at the carnage. She rips him open with her bare hands, his screams causing Arthur to cover his ears, reminding him too much of the war as he shakes his head.

Her voice is dark and raspy, barely recognizable or understandable as it raises in volume as she speaks, each statement more painful than the last. "You're screaming but I know you love it!" she says, throwing her head back and laughing maniacally at him. She digs his intestines out of his body, tearing out his stomach and liver and tossing them away. "Am I too big for you?" she asks him, leaning close to his face and working fast. "I bet I'm SO much bigger than he is. Come on now! Acting like you don’t want it only makes me want it more." her voice is now that of a banshee wail, all vengeance, and agony. "What's a broken bitch like you going to do about it? NOTHING! YOU CAN'T!" her voice sounds as if she's telling a joke, a madness lies beneath her words, as all the men that hear her know she's only reciting what must've been told to her during her time being held captive.

She sees him fading, and wants more from him. Her thumbs gouge into his eyes, sucking them out of their sockets with sickening pops as she digs her thumbs into the empty holes until he is no longer screaming, and no longer alive.

Alfie looks on in horror. He never wanted this for her. This was war. This was brutality that she should've never had to witness or perform, but because of him...here she was living this life.

"Chanah." he calls with a crack in his voice, walking towards the body and the blood that pooled around it. "Chanah." he calls out again, his voice more strong and certain. He had to put his guilt and his fear behind for her now. She was what needed all of his attention at this moment. "Chanah." he says, his shoes finding the edge of the sticky puddle of blood as she stops and wheezes, his voice finally registering to her. Her head rises slowly, hands running down his body before she holds them up and looks back and forth at them. Her adrenaline fades, her hands now shaking and trembling and pulsing in distress. She sluggishly rises, her knees giving out a few times, as he holds out his arms to her, not wanting to frighten her further or worse, have her attack him and have to restrain her. He'd seen men lose their minds on the battlefield, and he wasn't going to chance having to harm her further to keep her from hurting herself. But as she stands, stumbling and feeling his hands on her back, she moves to face him with unsure feet. "Chanah." he whispers with as much sweetness as he could muster in the face of the slaughter he was gazing at.

Her eyes meet his, the one that wasn't swollen shut was wide with fear, pupils dilated fully and as she takes in a forced shaky inhale before she squeaks out wordless sounds, her back bending and her body collapsing into a violent sob as he lunges forward and catches her at the waist. She calls out in pain and he moves, holding her as gently as he can. She was frail and pale, utterly broken as he saw the frantic nature of her eyes as she grasped at him. She reaches up for his face, finally eye to eye, the blood-soaked dress and limbs now slathering him in bits of Horne but he didn't even register it. Her hands at his face, her lips trembling and split, blood coming from her mouth and nose, her teeth pink from it, she tries to speak. "Ari." she chokes out, only seconds before her eyes roll back into her head, and she goes limp in his arms.

"Chanah!" he shouts, his hand moving to give her face a few light smacks as she lay without response in his arms.

Tommy pushes forward, his hand to her neck as Alfie shook her, each breath growing more desperate, fearing the worst.

"ALFIE!" he says holding his arm tightly. "She's alive. She's passed out. But we need to get her to a hospital NOW, yeah? She's clearly... hurt." he chokes out, the way Alfie was holding her, that look of loss on his face reminding him of losing Grace.

"Yeah. Fuck....yeah, mate. Yeah." he says with rushed words, scooping her up like a baby as he carries her to their car to take her to start the long and seemingly impossible recovery period for her.

The moment marked another chapter in their relationship, something neither had gone through before. But all Alfie thought while he kept his fingers on her pulse the entire drive was how he was going to murder everyone and anyone that had anything to do with Horne after he knew she would be alright. This day would come to be infamous in myth, but it was, in fact, a true story. And a love story nonetheless of gangsters and revenge. It would be told years down the line of the day the mad Jew almost burned down all of London for the woman he loved.

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog@brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1@ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

[freefallingforfanfiction]

Softball Pants

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Anon Requested: hello!! could u do an imagine w billy where the reader (fem) does a sport like softball or somethin and it catches billy’s eye? a lot of fluff too?

Warning: My very limited knowledge of any and all sports, tiny amount of blood

All in all, Hawkins, Indiana was a small town with very little to do. The youth of ’84 had only two options when it came to in-town entertainment: the bright, neon lights of the Hawkins arcade, filled to the brim with prepubescents with less than satisfactory hygiene, or the local theater where teens huddled in the back seats, using the feature as background noise to their make-out sessions. And even those activities, as fun as they made be, grew old, leading the towns younger residents to come up with more creative ways to entertain themselves.

One of these creative ways, founded by the male population of Hawkins High, was watching the softball players do warm ups before they started their practice. Every Tuesday and Thursday, an hour and a half after the final class let out, the Hawkins High Lady Tigers could be found on the small diamond behind the school clad in pristine white softball pants and shining emerald shirts preforming stretches before warm ups and drills began.

You were one of those girls, the eye candy on the field, standing sound in your cleats, the afternoon sun beating down on your high pony tail. From behind you could hear the obnoxious voice of Tommy H. leering at you and your teammates. Annoyed, you whipped your head around, E/C irises narrowing in annoyance at the view before you.

Tommy H. and his new found best friend and current King, Billy Hargrove, along with a few of their other cronies were leaning against the chain link fence, their fingers grasping the void spaces between the links as their hungry eyes flicked over you and your team mates, trying to decide which little bird they would be chasing after as soon of todays practice let out.

“Oi! Tommy, why don’t you do us all a favor and shut the fuck up?” you snapped heatedly after an obscene comment about the girl, April, standing beside you left his lips. April shifted uncomfortably in her place, ignoring the boys so they wouldn’t notice her strawberry red cheeks, lit with embarrassment.

“Oh, Y/L/N, I love it when you talk dirty me,” Tommy smirked, leaning his forearms against the chain link fence. Beside him Billy Hargrove smirked widely, his tongue rolled over his lips.

 “Blow me!” you called out, turning your eyes back to the field as the boys howled with laughter, “Bastard,” you grumbled under your breath as you fixed your gaze on the backs of their girls in front of you. You rolled your shoulders and leaned your neck from side to side, cracking it in a motion that sent your H/C locks swinging from side to side before your team caption called your attention back to practice.

Normally, the observing males hanging out on the side of the fence didn’t bother you. It usually just involved catcalls and chatter amongst the groups that came to watch and the occasional idiot attempting to pick you up afterwards. Today though, Tommy H. was being obscene, and you had a feeling it had something to do with Billy’s sudden interest in coming to the field. Billy, unlike the group of boys he hung around, usually didn’t frequent afternoon practices to watch you and the girls. You would like to say it was because of his good character and the fact that he didn’t want to objectify women, however, for Billy, it was simply that he always had a girl on his arm to keep him busy. They flocked to him, eager to get him naked against their bed sheets, Billy never had to do much to get a girl, which was why you were surprised to see him on the field today.

Billy’s presence distracted you all through practice, even now as you were pitching. From the corner of your eye you could see that the vast majority of the onlookers had dispersed, leaving only Billy and Tommy at the fence and a few scattered in the bleachers, puffing away on cheap cigarettes. Tommy’s misogynistic comments has slowly died down as Billy’s anger seemed to grow. You could tell by the look in his eye that Billy was annoyed with his companion, you just couldn’t place why. It couldn’t be the comments, knowing how Billy treated most women, but what else could be wrong? He and Tommy typically got on pretty well.

“Hey, Y/L/N,” Tommy H. called, a hand cupped around the corner of his mouth. You turned your head over slightly to look at him, “That’s a nice view you got going on, but it could use some improvement. Why don’t you just finish cutting the buttons loose?”

Your eyebrows knitted together out of confusion, wondering what the bastard was on about before your eyes slowly trailed down to your breasts. You cringed when you saw what the freckled boy was hinting at. The shirt you had grabbed in a rush as you left for school that morning happened to be the one that your mother had accidently shrunken in the dryer which had slowly started unbuttoning due to the movements practice had required of you.

Suddenly, Billy snapped. With cat like reflexes he shot out, snatching Tommy up by the collar of his shirt and then tossed him back a few feet. Billy jabbed a finger at Tommy, his voice was loud but not clear, making you miss the topic of the heated argument.

You watch as Tommy stormed off, your mind wondering to what they could possibly be arguing over, when you let the ball slip from your hand, sending it speeding towards Martha, the newest girl. She was very timid when it came to batting, especially if you were pitching. She let out a yelp as the ball soared towards her, Martha dropped the bat and ducked, tucking her hands over her helmet as she crouched down in the dirt. Unfortunately for a distracted Billy Hargrove the ball Martha failed to hit rapidly approached him before slipping through the jagged hole cut in the fence by Jenny Langley’s boyfriend (for the practical use of making out while she wasn’t busy during games) just as he turned his head to face their field again. The ball make contact with his eye immediately after that, sending the tall boy stumbling back a few steps out of shock.

“Oh my god, Billy!” you cried, panic taking over your being as you slung your helmet to the ground along with your glove before you raced over to the injured boy.

“I am so sorry,” Martha apologized in a shrill voice, “I didn’t think you were about to throw the ball.” You brushed Martha off with a wave of your hand, not blaming her for the situation at all.

“Billy!” you gasped as you reached the boy. His face was scrunched in pain, one of his large hands was placed over his eye, rubbing it as if that would erase the pain. The florescent soft ball rested beside his boots, nestled snugly in the long grass.

“I’m so sorry, I was doing a fake out on Martha like Constance wanted me to, I really didn’t mean to let the ball slip.”

Billy chuckled, causing a small gasp of surprise to leave your lips. You had expected him to be furious, to yell at you, maybe toss you up against the fence like anyone else who angered him, but instead, Billy Hargrove had just laughed at the fact that you had damaged his beautiful face. Billy took his hand away from his eye and met your E/C gaze, you could already see the bruising setting in from the force of your throw, yet they boys lips were still tilted upwards in a smirk.

“Well if that was you not indenting to hit me, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of a throw you meant, Kitten.” Billy Hargrove let his tongue run over his lips before allowing a charming smile to settle on his lips, though his blue eyes were the hue of ice, they surprisingly radiated warmth.

“Kitten?” Your cheeks flushed at the pet name. You hadn’t exchanged words with Billy outside of the causal answering of a question in class, you were curious as to where he picked up a pet name for you so fast.

“Yea,” Billy said as he shifted his body closer to yours, he picked up a lock of your H/C hair that had fallen out during practice and twirled it around his finger as he smirked down at you, “Cause your cute, like a kitten, but also feisty.”

“Hmm,” you hummed out slowly, batting your eyes up at the taller male, “I’m not quite sure where you got that impression,” you smiled cheekily.

Despite the fact that Billy a was notorious womanizer you couldn’t help but flirt; he was hot, what else could you say?

“Oh, I’m very observant.” Billy grinned as bit the corner of his bottom lip.

“So, you picked that up from watching me once on the softball field?” you tilted your head to the side, your voice was smooth and low.

“Who said I only watched you once on a softball field?” Billy’s grin only widened as your own eyes did; you quickly erased the evidence of shock from your face and Billy leaned up against the fence, it dipped slightly under his weight but if he noticed he didn’t seem to care.

“You stalking me or?” your voice drifted off playfully.

“Oh no, that would be creepy,” Billy smiled his breathtaking smile momentarily before wincing in pain at the crashing of his eye.

Your smile dropped suddenly in exchange for a frown. You brought your hand up to touch the wound you had accidently inflicted, “I’m sorry,” you apologized again, “Its going to leave a nasty bruise.”

“Don’t worry about it, kitten,” Billy chuckled and he grabbed your hand in his. He lowered your hands down but kept them intertwined, causing a pink to dust your cheeks. “I’ve already thought of a way you can make it up to me.”

“Oh yea?” you asked, although unlike your previous tones, this one lacked the flirtatious manor and teetered on the edge of nervous.

“Yea,” Billy smiled, and to you it seemed genuine, “Let me take you out for a milkshake, then afterwards you can teach me how to throw like a bad ass.”

A smirk lit up your features, “Interested in switching sports Hargrove?”

“No,” Billy smiled, moving closer to you, tucking his hand under your chin and letting his thumb rest just below your bottom lip.  Billy smiled gently down at you, his face inching closer to yours, “but I’m interested in everything about you. So, what do you say?

You smile was brilliant as you gazed into his blue irises and responded, “I say yes.”

[creativerogues]

Roleplaying A God...

MEETING A GOD

When player characters meet a deity, they’re meeting a being with senses that extend for miles. 

A deity merely has to think of or desire something to have it. 

Its awareness of its portfolio covers vast areas, and its control of the building blocks of matter, energy, and life makes it the master of most situations, particularly on the Material Plane. 

The awesome presence of a deity cows most mortals, and may drive them from the deity in fear. 

Gods seek out mortals who do great deeds that favor the gods, as well as those who threaten their power, primacy, or existence. 

Even when a god graces a mortal or a group of mortals with its physical presence, that god’s attention is effortlessly in several places at once. 

Mortals who reach the home of a deity irritate that power with their interruption. 

They can expect a much cooler (or hotter, depending on the deity and the plane) reception. 

As the Dungeon Master, you manipulate the experience of meeting a god to suit your campaign. 

You can frighten the player characters or welcome them, depending on how you want the characters to feel about their deities, and how much you want the characters to interact with them. 

Depending on what kind of pantheon you have, you may be able to draw inspiration from elsewhere.

Historical Pantheons

Myths and legends portray pantheons from around the world. 

For instance, it’s easy to find out how Zeus acts by reading Greek mythology.

Fictional Pantheons

If you’re basing a campaign on a setting described in books, consider carefully whether you want to use the deities as portrayed there. 

Novelists write what’s necessary to tell their story, and they’re right to do so, but the needs of a story and a game setting sometimes differ. 

If you like a particular quirk or personality trait from a novel, use it after considering how it will work around the game table. 

If you’re using a pantheon that only exists in books, then the novels are all the information you have. 

Think of that situation as an opportunity. 

You can expand on the novels and add information the writer may have thought irrelevant, or for which there simply wasn’t space.

Your Pantheon

When developing your own pantheon, consider giving it a specific flavor. 

Your gods might resemble those of the Greeks, with exaggerated character traits, mortal foibles, and contradictory behavior. 

They might be humble, wise, and sympathetic. 

They might instead have alien mindsets because their powers and senses let them approach the universe in ways mortals cannot understand.

How Deities Behave

Here are some suggestions for acting the part when your player characters meet a deity.

Spoiled Brat: Gods get their own way. If they desire something, it appears with little or no effort. Instant gratification is normal for deities. 

They have little or no appreciation for the challenges and difficulties mortals face. 

They pass out quests and tasks with no regard for difficulty and then become wrathful when mortals object. 

Deities who deal directly with living things usually show understanding, but even for them there is a line between reasonable concerns and thwarting their will. 

When you portray such a deity, dismiss player character concerns as trivial. 

Get angry when they can’t do what you want immediately, if that’s appropriate. 

Otherwise, be patient but insistent, and don’t negotiate.

Immortal: To a deity, mortals (even elves) have the life spans of gnats. 

What seems crucial to a mortal may be meaningless to a deity that can out-wait any mortal problem. 

Gods may act rashly or with haste, but generally do so over their own concerns. 

Such deities take the long view with player characters and remind them that they are mortal, and therefore their problems will pass.

I Saw That: Not only can gods perceive events miles away, but they can perceive their priests, temples, and portfolio elements across the planes. 

Assume that a deity notices any trick the characters try to pull, including slipping away to steal under cover of a diversion. 

In addition, an immortal being has probably already seen every trick the characters can think of and prepared defenses against them. 

You don’t have to plan for every possibility; just assume the deity is ready.

Power Incarnate: Gods can do more, and do it faster and more accurately than any mortal. 

Any arcane spellcaster can make something appear from nothing. 

A deity can make impossible amounts of material appear instantly and without effort. 

They do it without obvious verbal, somatic, or material components. 

Walking up a rainbow or transforming an annoying character (annoying to the deity, anyway) into a turtle for the duration of the contact are minor manifestations of a deity. 

A deity might cure an incurable infliction, turn the shards of an evil artifact into flawless diamonds, or strike an obnoxious character dumb until that character makes an atonement. 

Whatever a wish can do, a god can do more.

The Masked Man: Odin often wandered the mortal realm disguised as an old man. 

Zeus came down from Olympus in many different guises. 

Player characters may meet a deity and never realize it (though most deities can’t resist showing off as they leave...).

Condescending: The powers of a deity are far beyond those of mortals. Deities may express their sympathy and compassion as pity. 

Less sympathetic deities may dismiss mortals as worthless or unimportant. 

It takes a great deal for mortals to get a deity to take them seriously. 

Combined with immortality, this attitude means deities tend to ignore immediate mortal concerns unless something threatens their power, portfolio, or very existence. 

Reward players who have their characters phrase requests in terms that catch their deities’ interests.

Going Too Far: Playing a deity means you can overact, chew the scenery, and misbehave without consequence. 

Movie villains are often great examples of this kind of behavior, though not all deities are villains. 

Jack Nicholson as the Joker in Batman and Tommy Lee Jones as Stranix in Under Siege are two excellent sources. 

If a deity is proud and irritable, roleplay this attitude by refusing to look at your players and taking offense at everything they say. 

If a deity is warm and sympathetic, put your hand on the shoulder of the player whose character the deity addresses and look that player directly in the eye.

Divine Aura: Gods use their aura to induce the proper state of mind in those they approach. 

Characters may be able to resist the urge to fall down on their knees and worship, but even if they can, it’s a tremendous struggle. 

Remind their players that the characters’ knees tremble with the effort to resist, and every time the god’s gaze turns to a particular character, he or she feels the urge double (though no rolls are required). 

Whether a divine aura is frightening or inspiring, it is an experience few will ever forget.

Divine Wrath: Deities wear their emotions on their sleeves. 

Whatever they’re feeling, they show...

If a few mortals get stepped on, burned to cinders, crushed under falling buildings or mountains, or thrown a hundred miles by a gust of wind, a deity may not notice in the excitement—particularly if it can resurrect such mortals later. 

Questioning a deity’s knowledge or power or disagreeing with a deity are sure to trigger its wrath. 

If your player characters spend a lot of effort contacting deities, a few doses of divine wrath could change their behavior...

Self- Centered: Deities focus on maintenance and expansion. They act to preserve their power (both personal and portfolio) and to eliminate threats to those concerns. 

At the same time, deities usually have an agenda for gaining further power and influence within their pantheons. 

Mortals are seldom powerful enough to be a distraction from these two priorities.

Perhaps the biggest challenge after contacting a deity is shifting that deity’s attention from personal concerns to those of mortals. 

Mortals who assist a deity in a way that’s meaningful to an immortal, incredibly powerful creature are more likely to gain divine assistance.

[abbus-r-us]

Disclaimer: I definitely don’t think Wilbur’s straight up evil or completely at fault for everything he has to do with!! I’m just focusing on the effects of his actions on the characters that he’s close with. (And I hope I’m not hijacking your post in any way, OP!!)

On one hand!! There’s the fact that they could rebuild and improve aspects of L’manberg. It’s like he cut L’manberg’s split ends + a few extra inches so it can grow healthier (and be more healthy when augmented). They now have a theme for their buildings which improves unity; they can sort of hide and forget some unfortunate past events associated with various landmarks; and there’s also Ghostbur! Who’s doing his best with his childish ignorance to pretty up the place and enjoy his afterlife.

But... on the other hand, there’s what you mentioned. I’m sure somewhere in him, he hoped L’manberg would still be able to grow and prosper for his loved ones (see: Ghostbur. He’s trying to build cute builds and have fun with the citizens of L’manberg since he’s not burdened with Alivebur’s insanity). Despite that, he really has left some devious consequences. Legit everyone’s traumatized from that whole ordeal (who wouldn’t be?)

Techno’s probably somewhere alone, probably with the knowledge that Ghostbur doesn’t even exist. (I’m assuming) he doesn’t have anyone with him that can support and care for him. He could be grieving for Wilbur and his other younger brother’s well-being. Being asocial for a few days is tough on a lot of people already, but isolation? That’s on a whole other level.

And Fundy!! God, there’s so much with Fundy. Watching their already strained relationship turn sour felt like eating a thousand needles. Wilbur probably neglected Fundy heavily when the war started/when he founded L’manberg (a nation is not easy to grow and run). I have no doubts that he had his good moments, but being a single parent while also being under insane amounts of stress aren’t good combos for the child being raised. Iirc, he also really babied and patronized Fundy (ex: the crayon colored suit, “My little champion”, etc.). That would stunt his growth and ruin his self worth and esteem.

Plus, his worsening mental state as the story progresses really hurt as well. It’d hurt to see anyone you cared for’s health deteriorating like that. But imagine them being your parent. And someone who’s inflicted lifelong trauma unto many people? Ow. I’d be frustrated at the very least. Plus, iirc, Wilbur’s last words to Fundy were, “I despise you”. And then he went off and blew up the nation he promised Fundy (the nation that would be his, the nation that was made to protect him, the nation that was meant for good) but given to 2 other people. That’s like, a killer combo for making someone feel like that their care for that person is in the negatives.

(Damn I really had a lot to say about Fundy hUh AHAHAHA. God I need to go to sleep)

Then there’s Philza, who’s burdened with the guilt of having to kill his son (who he no doubt feels he failed + was too late to save) and having to pick up the pieces of what he left. Philza is a stellar support for Fundy!! But it’s so goddamn tragic that he has to raise and remedy the trauma his grandson sustained because his son failed his job as a parent. “What went wrong? How could I have raised my little poet to leave such a terrible impact on his family??” He’s tryna help his grandson while helping his other sons, who are also on opposing sides of an argument. And, forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Tommy disown Techno or something? Wild stuff

I could go on and on about them but it’s 4:30 am, a school night, and I desperately need to sleep if I know what’s good for myself JAHSHSHS. If anyone read this, I’d like to thank you for getting through my sleep-deprived ramblings on this silly little blockman RP

Thinking about how Wilbur’s parting gift to ensure L’manburg’s doom wasn’t just eleven and a half stacks of tnt. Sure the tnt scarred L’manburg, sure it left craters and a gaping reminder of what had been. But it wasn’t the end - the rebuilt, they made the country look better than ever because of the craters left behind. 

No, Wilbur’s final gift to L’manburg was putting a sixteen-year-old just as scarred and damaged as the country in charge. And of course Tubbo would make Tommy his second - Wilbur put the two youngest and most damaged (apart from maybe Fundy) citizens of L’manburg in charge of the country. No wonder everything is falling apart. 

Wilbur did everything he could to ensure the death of his nation. If he can’t have it, no one can. 

[ihorrorvixen]

[Originally written almost two years ago & reposting because I still have so many thoughts & theories as to how this particular sequel could have been so much better while still using The Curse of the Thorn theory.] Thought on Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers Ok, so I have some thoughts about one of the sequels to my favorite horror movie franchises: Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers. This sequel happens to be notorious for a lot of reasons, one of which being the only film in the franchise to have different versions of it; versions we’ve all seen by now.   Years ago while perusing the web looking around for various things I somehow ended up stumbling on a few websites that brought up an alternate version to the theatrical version released in theaters. Talk about mind. blown. . .seriously. I had no idea until then that there were alternate scenes to one of the best sequels in the franchise, so needless to say, I went to work looking around for ways to find what is known as the producer’s cut. It took me years to be able to actually see it before purchasing my own copy but until then all I could hear was people saying how much better the producer’s cut was. When I finally saw it I understood what they were talking about.   While I’ve always thought the theatrical version was badass, there were certain aspects that I never did like and there were other parts to the plot that were better explained in the producer's cut. Plus, the producer’s cut told many of us exactly why Dr. Loomis, played by Donald Pleasence, was screaming at the end of the film while the theatrical version kept us in the dark about that. I mean, was he screaming because he discovered Michael Myers had disappeared? Was he screaming because he suffered some kind of psychotic break after years of chasing Michael Myers for the sake of conquering evil? Was he screaming because alien pods somehow took over his body and the ring leader of the pod people was in fact Michael Myers?   *cue dramatic music*   No, he was screaming because the thorn symbol appeared on his wrist like the dark mark, indicating he was destined to lead the druid cult, taking over for Dr. Wynn. That was so dumb. I hated that with a passion.   Anyway, it was satisfying seeing some of these questions answered in the producer’s cut or at least seeing it further explained in order to get a firmer grasp on it. Now, I want to get to what else I didn’t like about either version. The curse of the thorn theory explained exactly why Michael Myers became evil and began killing the members of his bloodline. I’m sure there are a lot of people who could care less about an explanation as to why he began killing as they saw him as “scarier” if there was no explanation whatsoever. But I’m different. Things are simply not more scary to me because something wasn’t revealed. In fact, I would like to see more of what makes a person like Michael Myers kill and why he seems to be invincible no matter how many times you kill him.   And the curse of the thorn theory was brilliant.   It explained a tradition in which druid priests would choose a child from a specific tribe and inflict this child with the curse for the sake of blood sacrifices on the night of samhain. I’m not Tommy Doyle. I don’t remember what was said word for word, but hey, you’ve seen the movie. You get the drift. This aspect of the curse of the thorn theory was good, as well as the portion where Tommy revealed in the producer’s cut that the evil could be canceled out by using runes of light, however, this should have been left as is. To me the plot was ruined by the inclusion of the druid cult, not to mention the fact that the leader of the cult was none other than Dr. Wynn, a former colleague of Dr. Loomis. . .really? Dr. Wynn? How. Fucking. Stupid. Was. That???   I have no idea what the writers were thinking when they came up with that aspect of the story but I’m just gonna say it -- it was fucking stupid. Sure, the curse of the thorn theory was a great explanation as to why Michael Myers became what he is, but it went too far with that stupid cult that included not just Dr. Wynn but most, if not all of the staff of Smiths Grove Sanitarium. It was also stupid how these “doctors" used their females patients for artificial insemination experiments to create the perfect evil offspring. Come on, now. Slow it down -- let’s rewind it a bit and go back to using non-ridiculous plot points. There was no need to bring in a stupid cult that turned out to be the equivalent of medical Charles Mansons. (seriously, I couldn’t think of a better analogy than that.) Even with the explanation regarding the thorn, a lot of that other shit could have been left out, thereby, still maintaining enough of that mystery that we all love. Don’t even get me started on that old nut, Mrs. Blankenship, who was supposedly babysitting “little Mikey Myers” when he heard “the voice” telling him to kill, which is the night he killed his sister, Judith Myers. Her character, while intriguing, did not need to be embedded that deeply within the story, either.   Now, let me go in on the producer’s cut. The producer’s cut went a little further into the curse of the thorn theory and even included Dr. Wynn trying his best to persuade Dr. Loomis to join their cult. . .   *head desk*   Yeah. . .anyway, that’s not even the worst. It went beyond dumb when it was revealed Jamie Lloyd’s baby daddy was. . . . . .Michael Myers.   *second head desk*   Why. . . . . .WHY???   Fuc. King. Dumb.   If those aspects that I just mentioned were eliminated and the entire curse of the thorn theory was executed in a much better -- entirely different -- way, the film would have been more of a success regardless of which version you’ve seen or prefer. Still, despite these dumbdified plot aspects it was still a good sequel. Ironically the Lord was truly with the makers of this film for it to have stupid plot points and plot holes and yet still be enjoyable to watch. More ironic is that it’s one of my favorite sequels of the franchise. But even being a favorite didn’t exempt it from having things about it I didn’t like. I’m sure I’m not the only person who feels this way.   I still hate that Danielle Harris wasn’t in it as Jamie but I agree that if they were going to kill off her character so soon, or at all for that matter, I wouldn’t want to come back to do that sequel, either.   So, there you go. I just wanted to talk a little bit more about my thoughts on this sequel. I spoke briefly about it in an older blog but I thought now was the time to write a more updated blog on it. I think I’ll write more thoughts on other sequels in the franchise, the remakes, fan fiction, as well as the new Halloween that will be produced by John Carpenter himself. Still ridiculously excited about that.   Until next time, stay scared, fellow vixens. . . UPDATE - 11/15/16 I want to add something to this blog that I'd forgotten about before writing it, explaining in more depth the plot hole issues. I want to reiterate that Michael Myers began killing because he was inflicted with the curse of the evil rune, thorn, by the druid cult, who is also the majority of the staff at Smiths Grove Sanitarium. But what I want to know is why, as a little boy, would any druid cult want to inflict him with any curse in order to kill? When Tommy Doyle was explaining the origins of the curse, he also mentioned that a child from a specific tribe was chosen to be inflicted with the curse of the thorn to sacrifice members of their own family for the sake of saving many others in the tribe from sickness and death. To my knowledge there is no documentation presented in this portion of the plot that suggested any accuracy of the thorn's history, and therefore, isn't truly known if what these druid priests had done was based on fact (likely not) or their beliefs based on the myths about thorn. The only thing that attested to its truth was thorn appearing in a constellation of stars from time to time on Halloween night, which is about the same time Michael Myers came back to Haddonfield to kill. That's about the only thing that makes sense to me. And if you ask me I think this could have been incorporated within the story without that stupid cult. But what Tommy Doyle was referring to when explaining what the curse of the thorn signified was based on Celtic legend. And we all know legends are often based on nothing more than folklore. Which brings me back to the members of the druid cult. Because of the explanation in this particular sequel about the reason for Michael Myers' killing spree, it would stand to reason that this cult existed back in 1963 and caused him to fall under the influence of thorn when he first killed his sister, Judith. And that's where I can't help but wonder how this druid cult knew about Michael Myers in order to inflict him with this curse to begin with? And more importantly, why would they want to? I know they were into the whole evil thing but it still doesn't make sense. This cult inflicted Michael Myers with this evil rune for the sake of evil, so their motives are different than the motives of these ancient druid priests. Still, how did they know of this presumably innocent six year old boy to inflict him? And I ask again, why? Why do that to a six year old boy? One plot hole takes me to another plot hole, and then another, and so on. And I know I'm just doing useless rambling on a movie that's all in fiction, but I can't help but wonder, you know? There's so many ways the filmmakers went wrong when it came to the plot. Which is why I was saying that mentioning what influenced Michael Myers without involving this stupid druid cult led by Dr. Wynn would have been so much better than how it was executed. Hell, the more I attempt to explain this, the more confused I get so if you get confused I don't blame you. I can't tell you how much I wish I was in one of these movies, but more than that I would love to be part of the making of it. I hate the H20 sequel because they eliminated the Jamie Lloyd storyline, thereby, eliminating the curse of the thorn storyline. To me, it was just disrespectful and beyond stupid. So what I would love to do is a film in this franchise that brings back these storylines but do a sort of slight retcon that eliminates the druid cult while leaving the curse of thorn theory intact as best as possible. But that's a dream that might never come true. I've wanted to be in a Halloween film for years, so one day I hope I can work something out. We'll see.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

How To Wear The Men’s Logo Fashion Trend

http://fashion-trendin.com/how-to-wear-the-mens-logo-fashion-trend/

How To Wear The Men’s Logo Fashion Trend

At the turn of the decade, a glut of opinion pieces decried the death of the subculture. Mostly white, middle-aged rock journos moaned that there were no proper ‘scenes’ anymore. That fast fashion and Spotify had killed youth movements. That everyone dressed the same, in some version of post-Libertines skinny jeans and tees. That individuality had died in the 1990s with Britpop.

Roll on eight years and the NME’s dead, the kids have never dressed more disparately and, like a renegade master, the nineties are back once again (if you get that reference, you’ve probably already got the look in your attic). Where once you needed some knowledge to pick your Blur fans from your Oasis fans, today’s style tribes come pre-branded.

By embracing logos in a way not seen since the days when Tommy Hilfiger sold in shops other than TK Maxx, it’s easy to pick the skatewear kids from the high-fashion set, the wannabe grime MCs from the Rafsessives.

All of which makes logomania at once a trend that anyone can jump on, and one that’s fraught with peril. Unlike in the nineties, when logos were a slightly less gauche way to flaunt your wealth than wearing a coat made of cash, this time around they embody a convoluted blend of irony, status, lack of status, in-joke and fashion knowledge. Get it wrong and you’re your dad in the Supreme queue. Get it right and you’re Jonah Hill in Palace, quietly breaking the internet.

Here are four key ways to be the latter.

Wear It Loud And Proud

The OG logo move, both back then and right now, is the branded tee. “Gucci kick-started this trend [in recent years] with its logo T-shirt,” says Luke McDonald, a stylist at online wardrobe service Thread. Though street- and sportswear brands have never abandoned their graphics, the luxury brands had steered more minimal since the noughties as customers preferred a subtler display of wealth.

“But that doesn’t translate well to Instagram,” McDonald says. “Logos do.” Gucci’s tee, while still nosebleed expensive, let consumers buy into the hottest brand in fashion without shelling out four figures. Plus, everyone could see what you’d bought and where it was from.

Labels high and low followed suit. “At the moment, you can’t have too much,” says Nick Eley, head of men’s design at ASOS. “There’s a real trend for all-over or huge, oversized logo prints.” These are not for wallflowers. You are, in essence, paying a brand to act as their advert, so make sure your go-to is more than a pretty picture. “You should pick a label that feels authentic to your style and lifestyle,” says McDonald.

Logo clashing is doable, but tricky. It’s better to give your chosen brand the spotlight unshared. “I would treat logos in the same way I treat prints,” says Chris Hobbs, menswear fashion editor at MatchesFashion.com. “One at a time, otherwise your outfit will start to wear you.” If you look like an F1 driver, dial back.

As A Subtle Wink

There are always ways to dip a toe into any fashion trend, even one that’s as look-at-me as this. On the high street, the approach tends to be OTT – the logos themselves have less clout, so their owners need to go big lest the punters go home. But among the labels with more cache, even those that have long been logo-shy have leaned into the trend. Albeit gently.

“The subtlest way to approach logos is to pick a label that doesn’t visibly brand their product,” says Eley,” but which has a particular sign-off or print that is immediately distinguishable.” Think Burberry’s check, recently reintroduced after being binned in the noughties because of its popularity among the less-well-heeled, and Margiela, with its signature stitches.

For a pocket-money take on that approach, look for either tonal logos – think a white-on-white Stan Smith, or black-on-black Nike swoosh – or stick to trousers, where the branding is subtler. Joggers in particular, with the logo relegated to the side stripe, tick off two trends at once.

“You can also restrain the impact of your logos with layering,” says McDonald. “Under a plain hoodie or an open shirt, you just get the flash of a logo on a tee.”

With A Healthy Dose Of Irony

Let’s make one thing clear: all logos have some sense of irony. Those worn in earnest are too thirsty to be tolerated; today, status is earned by not looking like you care about status at all. Confused? Good. Because that’s the headspace you need for Gucci’s self-inflicted bootlegging, by which the brand flogs price-of-a-suit T-shirts with the word ‘GUCCY’ written on them.

Fair cop. Your correspondent once purchased a Palace tee in which the enormous rear logo reads ‘Placae’. It seemed funny at the time, but is in reality obscene. Also, no one has ever noticed the typo. However, ridiculous as all this might seem, it does introduce the one thing that’s never been fashion’s strong suit. “Fun,” says Benns. “Gucci is having fun with its typography. And I think that’s interesting.”

For those without the bank balance for knock-off versions at luxury prices, the streetwear world offers the time-honoured logo flip. “It’s always been about democratising those brands and the things they represent,” says McDonald. “It makes them accessible and relevant to street culture.” Bowlcut Garms does a number of neat brand mashups and Sports Banger has reworked everything from Helly Hansen (as Hackney Hardcore) to the NHS and Nike logos.

In Your Pocket

Gucci doesn’t make its billions from the stuff in Jared Leto’s wardrobe. Rather, it’s the accessible, affordable products that let everyone else buy into the brand without a call to Wonga.

“That used to mean fragrances,” says McDonald. “But now, every brand has a range of lifestyle accessories, from phone cases to lighters to keychains, all of which have the logo front and centre.”

For the man looking to rep the logo trend without going all fanboy, it’s the gentlest way in. For the genuine fanboy, it’s the most affordable.

Key Brands To Wear For The Logo Trend

Luxury Brands

Gucci

The word Gucci is almost as heavily ingrained in the lexicon of fashion connoisseurs as the word fashion itself. It’s a name synonymous with luxury, glamour and style – which is probably why people are so keen to have it plastered all over their chests.

The respected Italian fashion house has been one of the key high-end labels spearheading the logo trend, and also the one having the most fun with it. Pick from printed tees, hoodies, bags, trainers and more, all boasting that big-ticket green and red branding.

Off-White

If the logo trend is all about irony, then no brand is a better example than Virgil Abloh’s acutely self-aware Off-White. Abloh’s imprint has received almost universal praise for its tongue-in-cheek use of branding, logos and labels – perhaps most notably recently in its collaborative effort with Nike, ‘The Ten’.

He must be doing something right. After all, you don’t get named creative director of one of the most esteemed high-fashion labels on the face of the earth – Louis Vuitton – for not having your finger on the pulse.

Balenciaga

There are few brands that can get away with flogging a pair of plain white socks emblazoned with their logo for just under £100. Balenciaga is one of them.

Ever since Vetements’ Demna Gvasalia – a man known for his love of bold logos – took the reins of the Spanish luxury label, not-so-subtle branding has become one of its calling cards. Think embroidered baseball caps that cost more than your rent, politically-themed pool sliders and plenty of nods to popular culture.

Mid-Priced Brands

Tommy Hilfiger

When you take the nineties resurgence into account, it’s hardly surprising that Tommy Hilfiger’s legendary flag logo is flying high once again. Tommy was a staple fixture in the world of fashion 20 years ago and with a little help from the vintage resellers of the social media generation, is now back in full force.

Block colours, bold fonts and nineties styling are what it’s all about. And at manageable price points, adding a dash of Hilfiger to your wardrobe won’t leave you living off super noodles until payday.

Calvin Klein

It’s always been about the logos at Calvin Klein. When that now-iconic branded waistband first peered over the top of a pair of jeans, a legend was born, cementing the Calvin Klein font as a symbol of style and sex for men all over the world.

Today it’s more than just nice underwear, though. The American label has taken that same typeface and applied it to tees, hoodies, outerwear and more, staking its claim as one of the leading brands in the logo trend.

Levi’s

With little more than a small red tab, sewn onto the back pocket of its jeans to denote where they came from, Levi’s has hardly been a brand renowned for its heavy use of logos. However, in recent years, that’s all changed.

Many of Levi’s casual offerings now feature the brand’s sportswear logo, which first made an appearance at the 1984 LA Olympics. Its T-shirts are quickly becoming as iconic as their denim siblings, making now as good a time as any to get involved.

Streetwear Brands

Palace

In less than a decade, London-based label Palace has gone from fledgling skate brand to fashion royalty. Its unique sense of humour and beautifully designed ‘triferg’ logo have made it the imprint of choice for clued-up skaters, streetwear connoisseurs and fashionistos alike.

The Palace logo and font face have become common sights in skate parks, at fashion weeks and on the shoulders of the hip-hop elite. And with seasonal drops that see the streets of Soho jammed up with hypebeasts from London and beyond, there’s only one other label that comes anywhere close…

Supreme

Undisputed king of logos, Supreme is well known for its unfaltering ability to slap a bogo (that’s ‘box logo’ for the uninitiated) on anything – like, literally anything – and have people dropping their life’s savings to get their hands on it.

That instantly recognisable white-on-scarlet trademark is one of the most famous logos in fashion, made all the more coveted by the amount of sheer dedication (and money) it requires to obtain.

Stussy

The logo thing may be what’s hot right now, but California-born street/surfwear originator Stussy has been on it since day dot. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Shawn Stussy’s eponymous label in the first place, we might not be sat here writing this at all.

Known for its graffiti-inspired script logo, Stussy was the brand that pioneered heavy branding and made it one of streetwear’s calling cards. Plus, unlike similar labels, clothes aren’t produced in deliberately limited runs, so getting your hands on a piece is actually an achievable feat.

Sportswear Brands

Adidas

When it comes to bold logos, the big-hitting sports brands have been doing it for longer than most. Adidas’ trefoil logo and three stripe trademark have become two of the most recognisable designs in the history of, well, design.

Worn as a badge of honour by hip-hop heroes such as Run DMC in the eighties, Britpop stars and terrace lads of the nineties, and pretty much everyone else since, the Adidas logo is one of the all-time greats, making it one of the easiest to wear, too.

Nike

Nike’s logo couldn’t really be any simpler, but therein lies its beauty. The Swoosh has permeated every part of the world and you’d be hard pushed to find anyone who doesn’t instantly know what it is. Because of this, it’s an obvious go-to when it comes to getting yourself involved in the logo trend.

The Oregon-born sports label is known for slapping its mark on everything from tees to trackies, sneakers to socks – making it the perfect way to embrace the logo look without going too left field.

Champion

It may have been founded almost 100 years ago, but thanks to today’s obsession with logo-laden sportswear, Champion is now more relevant than ever before. Due to a number of recent high-profile collaborations, the American heritage brand has become a favourite in streetwear circles, while still counting athletes and sportsmen among its customers.

Think hoodies, tracksuit bottoms and tees in its signature reverse weave fabric, all featuring a hearty dose of in-your-face branding.

[flauntpage]

Your Friday Morning Roundup

The Phillies lost to the Dodgers 5-4. If you’ve been someone that hasn’t followed the Phillies since June, this shouldn’t be a surprise to you. The Phils lost to the best team in baseball, not a shock.

But dig deeper into that 61-92 record and you see the Phillies have actually been good since the All-Star break. They’ve gone 32-34 overall and 18-15 in their last 33. They went 29-58 in the first half.

During that stretch, the Phillies have lost their title as baseball’s worst team, which now belongs to the San Francisco Giants by a game. They’re close to leapfrogging the White Sox and Tigers as well, and are four-and-a-half games behind the Mets for fourth in the NL East.

A big reason for this surge has been the arrival of their highly-touted prospects. And throughout this Dodger series, they played a huge role in the team’s three wins.

Monday night, Aaron Altherr hit the first grand slam home run Clayton Kershaw ever gave up. Rhys Hoskins hit a bases-clearing three RBI double Tuesday night and batted in another run. Altherr was clutch once against the following game, thanks to a game-tying homer in the seventh, followed by a two RBI single.

Yesterday, Hoskins, who started at first base, and Nick Williams drove in all four runs the Phillies would score, while J.P. Crawford drew three walks.

We saw a glimpse of what the 2018 Opening Day lineup could be. No Tommy Joseph. No Maikel Franco. No Cameron Rupp. Cesar Hernandez started at second base, but that could change if Scott Kingery excels in Spring Training.

There’s still plenty of things for the Phillies to fix, especially their pitching. But it’s been a long time since the team was fun to watch. And thanks to the prospects, they’ll be fun to watch for the final nine games of the season.

That starts tonight with the team’s final road series of the season against the Atlanta Braves at 7:35. Ben Lively goes on the mound against Sean Newcomb.

The Roundup:

Sticking with the Phillies, Tommy Joseph knows his role has changed, and he’s been professional about it.

Reliever Jesen Therrien might be out for the entire 2018 season after undergoing Tommy John surgery.

Ryan Lawrence has five candidates who could replace Larry Andersen on the Phillies radio team next season, including Jayson Stark:

Sometimes you put a list together and you feel really good about the names on it, but you’re searching for one last one to top it off. And then you realize that it’s probably the most obvious and best fit of the bunch. Broadcasting experience? Check. Stark worked at ESPN for nearly two decades. Baseball knowledge? Check. Stark is as plugged-in as anyone in baseball and has been for nearly 40 years working at the Philadelphia Inquirer and ESPN.com. Encyclopedia-like knowledge of the Phillies? Check. Stark is a former Phillies beat writer who wrote about baseball in Philadelphia and around the league while at the Inquirer for 21 years. He still lives in the area. Like Glanville, Stark was shockingly let go during ESPN’s layoffs in April. He should still be writing somewhere, surely, but maybe in 2018 he can be like Ken Rosenthal and write for one company while broadcasting for another.

Lawrence also interviewed Joey Davis, the area scout that signed Hoskins and a few other rookies.

The Phanatic got a date with Dodgers reporter Alanna Rizzo prior to yesterday’s game.

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The Eagles are still trying to figure out their situation at safety. Rodney McLeod, Corey Graham, and Jaylen Watkins didn’t practice yesterday with hamstring injuries. Is new arrival Trae Elston ready to play on Sunday? Les Bowen has more:

Would defensive coordinator Jim Schwartz try some sort of four-linebacker look, with [Kamu] Grugier-Hill covering in the box? Is there any way to get Elston ready, even for one specific package?

“I really don’t know,” Elston said, when asked if the Eagles’ defense was similar to what he played in with the Bills. “I’m just trying to run fast, do it full speed.”

With Jalen Mills and Rasul Douglas as the probable starters at cornerback this week, and Sidney Jones waiting to play, are the Eagles grooming their next long-term starters at the position?

Or could they go and get Malcolm Butler from the Patriots? Albert Breer thinks it’s possible:

Who would be the trade partner? The Eagles make sense. And they have a versatile front seven piece that would fill a major need for the Patriots and has been tied to trade talks in the past: linebacker Mychal Kendricks.

Speaking of Jones, Elijah Qualls thinks he’ll be a top corner when he finally plays in the NFL:

DT Elijah Qualls was a terrific guest on Pro Football Report. He's convinced his college teammate, Sidney Jones will become an elite corner.

— Merrill Reese (@mreeseeagles) September 22, 2017

In what might be a historic running back class, the Eagles failed to get an impact running back. But everything will be alright.

We’ll have game predictions later today.

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The Flyers fell to the Bruins 2-1 in overtime last night. Travis Sanheim scored the lone Flyers goal in the third period on a shorthanded opportunity, and Brian Elliott stopped all 18 shots he faced in two periods of work. The big worry was the power play units, going 0-for-9 in the game.

The team also reduced their training camp roster by 18 players. Notables include 2016 first round pick German Rubtsov heading back to Chicoutimi of the QMJHL, Philippe Myers going to Lehigh Valley’s training camp. The roster currently sits at 36 players.

But the toughest decisions have yet to come.

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Chris B. Haynes has a small Joel Embiid update:

chris b haynes reporting on embiid, says he's expected to do some basketball activity during camp, no one has a timetable http://pic.twitter.com/SpCQwp59LE

— Drew Corrigan (@Dcorrigan50) September 21, 2017

One of the big questions surrounding the Sixers that doesn’t involve Embiid’s health is how Brett Brown will use Markelle Fultz, according to David Murphy:

“I feel like the city and the media has to recognize that he just turned 19 a few months ago, and we all get how unforgiving the NBA is,” Brown said, “and there are weaknesses obviously that we have to address in his game, and we really want to go hard at this defense, but I think when you ask what do we see at first glance, I see a person, a real person, I see somebody that is incredibly gifted and the game comes easy offensively, I see someone who will be challenged defensively, especially as it relates to NBA point guards, and then how does he navigate NBA seasons and the rhythm of an NBA season at 19 years old, we will all learn more about.”

The team will also give center Jahlil Okafor every chance to play while he’s being shopped.

A realistic worst-case scenario from the Sixers this season. And be sure to take a listen to Kevin Love’s latest podcast, featuring Tom Moore:

Episode 6 of the Sixers Science podcast is live, featuring the ever insightful @TomMoorePhilly https://t.co/trhYu03iPh

— Kevin Love (@KevinLove_76) September 21, 2017

The team will also hold their Blue x White scrimmage at the Palestra October 1.

Kyle Neubeck of Liberty Ballers is leaving his post as Managing Editor. But he also teased he’ll continue to write about Philly sports full-time somewhere soon.

Finally, Benjamin Simmons:

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Temple got crushed by #21 South Florida 43-7 in Tampa. The Owls recorded 89 yards in the air and -4 rushing yards. Their defense gave up 408 total yards to the Bulls, including 312 on the ground.

Speaking of the Owls, even though Matt Rhule has yet to win a game as Baylor’s head coach, he’s still the right pick to lead the Bears. I wish he never left Temple.

Tim Reilly reminds you Joe Paterno may not have been the perfect head coach at Penn State.

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In other sports news, last night’s Thursday Night Football game between the Rams and the 49ers was…entertaining?

First play INT✅ 10 TDs✅ 80 points✅ Muffed punt✅ Fumbled kickoff✅ Missed 2pt conversion✅ Onside kick✅ Game-sealing sack✅#LARvsSF

— Rich Eisen (@richeisen) September 22, 2017

This is some incredible football. Gotta be one of the highest effort games I've seen in a while.

— Ian Rapoport (@RapSheet) September 22, 2017

Amazing how all the people who complain about Thursday Night Football spend their Thursday nights tweeting about Thursday Night Football.

— Peter Schrager (@PSchrags) September 22, 2017

It was the highest-scoring TNF game in the history of the series.

Former Patriots tight end Aaron Hernandez had a severe form of CTE in his brain when he committed suicide in April.

Jose Baez, Hernandez’s lawyer, said Hernandez’s brain showed a level of damage that was seen in players with a median age of 67 years.

Baez said he had filed a lawsuit in federal court against the Patriots and the N.F.L. on behalf of Hernandez’s daughter, Avielle. The suit seeks unspecified damages for loss of parental support. The suit alleges that the Patriots and the league were “fully aware of the damage that could be inflicted from repetitive impact injuries and failed to disclose, treat or protect him from the dangers of such damage.”

The Giants offensive line, as explained by a New York radio host.

Andre Ward, the undefeated light heavyweight boxing champion that was considered as one of the best in the world, unexpectedly announced his retirement.

Golden State head coach Steve Kerr said the team will discuss if they will visit the White House when they all meet later in the fall.

Screw the NCAA:

Texas A&M distance runner Ryan Trahan says that he has been ruled ineligible and warned by his university for using his name, image and likeness as an athlete on his YouTube page to promote a small company that he started. NCAA bylaw 12.4.4 rules that an athlete “may establish his or her own business, provided the student-athlete’s name, photograph, appearance or athletics reputation are not used to promote the business.”

In addition to his running, Trahan has his own YouTube channel with 14,000 subscribers and nearly one million views where he shares tips and insight into his training. He also promotes Neptune water bottles, a company that co-founded with a friend in 2016. Trahan just started his freshman year at Texas A&M after a successful high school career.

Clemson kicker Greg Huegel is out for the year after tearing his ACL on the last play of practice.

From being a running back on the Steelers to being one of the main minds behind Ballers, Rashard Mendenhall has found his dream job.

An interesting read by Nick DePaula on the race for sneaker companies to sign Giannis Antetokounmpo to a deal:

To kick things off this week, Bucks teammate (and Adidas endorser) Thon Maker walked Antetokounmpo out to the parking lot of the team’s practice facility after a Tuesday morning workout. Awaiting him was a truck full of size 16 Adidas sneakers, including everything from pairs of the coveted Yeezy Boost series to Adidas Originals staples like the Stan Smith and running models like the UltraBoost.

With his current Nike endorsement deal set to expire on September 30, Antetokounmpo is assessing his options. Rather than take brand pitches at their headquarters, as some players do, he insisted on hosting the meetings in Milwaukee, in order to not disrupt his no-frills workout schedule leading up to his fifth season — a season in which he has MVP aspirations.

Loving these new Colorado State unis:

Colorado State will wear these special State Pride uniforms Nov. 11 vs. Boise State. Love the helmet look http://pic.twitter.com/u7HeVW9IQm

— Brett McMurphy (@Brett_McMurphy) September 21, 2017

LaMelo Ball got roasted and it’s beautiful:

LaVar's gotta find this clown and whoop him for disrespecting LaMelo like this. http://pic.twitter.com/OkJxqGZzNS

— Thomas Duffy (@TJDhoops) September 21, 2017

The NHL might want to let their players go to the Olympics in 2022:

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In the news, Philadelphia police have charged a man after a pipe bomb scare Wednesday in East Oak Lane.

Two men are on the run after stealing about $2,000 worth of cigarettes at a Wawa.

North Korea could test a hydrogen bomb over the Pacific Ocean.

Hurricane Maria left a devastating mark on Puerto Rico.

Your Friday Morning Roundup published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv