#and that they did not deserve to be on her level

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[blues-valentine]

This is my last post about it. OBX 4 wasn’t just bad in terms of JJ but all characters in general.

The writers, knowing they’d kill JJ off, started a character assassination train on him perhaps expecting us to feel like he deserved to die? But we know JJ. We all know JJ’s reckless but not to this level of detachment. He was acting like an entirely different person. JJ would’ve never treated Kiara, John B or any of his friends like that. Ever. Not matter how bad life turned out. Even with the whole “JJ blew all of our money!” it’s like they wanted us to hate him so badly.

Don’t even get me started on how bad that JJ plot twist was and since Part 1 I said it. Trying to erase his entire life like that even when it didn’t make sense was lazy writing. And all for what? To have his biological father be the one to kill him at the end? Because that’s the only possibly cruel explanation for that plot twist.

Killing JJ in such a way when this character spent his entire life suffering physical and emotional abuse from his adoptive father is cruel and it sends such a sad messaging.

OBX has always been bad at giving the girls good story lines and that aren’t always about their boyfriends. Kiara’s relationship with her parents was totally ignored. We got from them cutting her off at 401 to them clapping for her at the ceremony and we never got to know how they reached that place. Did they go to family therapy in those 18 months? Did they talk and came to an agreement together? But nothing.

Cleo didn’t get to have a story line that wasn’t mostly adjacent to Pope. And for a character that’s been here for 3 seasons we only know she worked for Terrance and it’s good with knifes. We don’t know her actual surname. And I was expecting more from her revenge plot and I feel silly for expecting that from those writers.

Sarah’s PTSD regarding Ward was never further explored. The writers also forgot about Wheezie and Rose. Sarah wouldn’t have continued on without trying to reach out to her. It’s like they just didn’t want to deal with it. And the worst one is them making Sarah say she didn’t feel ready for a family at her age for them to forget about it and have her pregnant. Despite how silly it is considering the circumstances of their life and how much trauma she has to heal from.

Don’t even get me started on the way the writers never explored the girls relationship. The only bonding scene between the girls we got was Sarah telling Kiara she’s pregnant and Cleo wasn’t even there. We never saw them just existing as young girls just joking around. Hell; even a whole boys conversation would feel somehow natural and we didn’t even got that.

Pope is a killer now? And by the influence of Cleo not less. Did the writers forgot about Season 3? And how she was the one that stopped him from killing Rafe. So, now you’re telling me she was the one egging him on to become a killer. Make it make sense please.

And the pogues dynamic was so bad. God, it was so out of character for them all. Firstly, John B would’ve never allowed JJ to walk into that self destructive path especially after learning about Chandler. And then, the way JJ confessed to Pope he was sucidical and he just didn’t say anything about it? Kiara was also incredible out of character. And that death scene was particularly dumb in so many levels, because it could’ve been preventable and it was pointless. But the thing that pisses me off the most is that the pogues stood there watching. In a scene that felt perhaps a bit anticlimactic. “Not pogue gets left behind” but they buried him on a desert in Morocco and had Rafe be the one to dig the hole too. Those are not my pogues and this wasn’t the dynamic I feel in love with. OBX went from being a comfort show to give me so much unnecessary frustrations.

[fairyringsandwings]

Haladriel/Saurondriel Drabble - Lover In A Bottle

Summary: Whenever Galadriel is angry with Sauron, she destroys his physical form, turns him into goo and bottle him up for misbehaving!

Based off this head canon

Rated M - Nudity/Attempted Seduction

You are cruel, my love.

"What is cruel is what you did to that poor man from the tavern."

Boy, you mean. And you exaggerate. I only meant to frighten him a little. 

Galadriel rolls her eyes at the surliness in Sauron's voice. He had many admirable traits, but his pettiness was not one of them. To make her annoyance with him clear, she jostles her satchel more roughly than necessary, under the guise of adjusting it. 

Now who is being petty? In case you have forgotten, you possess something very precious in that satchel. Do take better care.

Galadriel tries to smother her smirk. 

Indeed there was precious cargo within her satchel. A glass bottle with a bloated body and narrow neck, containing an oozing liquid as black as shadows, pitch and night. It looked harmless enough at a glance, something that could be found on any tavern or apothecary shelf. Yet if one looked closely enough, one would see how the substance writhed and moved with reason. And should they lean close enough, they could hear his voice slither into their heads, whispering promises of riches and glory, if only they removed the cork of the bottle, releasing him from his glass prison.

For inside that bottle was The Dark Lord himself, Sauron. 

That boy deserved what I did to him, Sauron mutters darkly. He got off lightly.

"And what did he do to deserve being hunted down by a pack of wolves, led by The Lord of Werewolves himself? For daring to look at me?" Galadriel scoffs. "You went too far, as you always do when you get jealous."

You did not see into his thoughts as I did. 

"You should not be intruding on other's thoughts," Galadriel scolds.

She stops by a trickling river, taking rest upon the dew-drop sprinkled grass. Carefully, she retrieves her bottled maiar from her satchel, holding him at eye level. 

"I warned you if you did evil I would destroy your physical form and reduce you to this. Did you not listen or did you think I was bluffing?"

You must admit it does sound like a jest, bottling up The Dark Lord like a beverage for misbehaving. I'm sure there are better ways to punish me, My Elf. Ways you might find much more enjoyable.

Galadriel frowns at the salacious bait, not impressed. Dryly, she reminds him, "Do remember you are no more than a pile of questionable-looking sludge. Your charms are at a severe disadvantage."

Release me from this bottle and I'll show you just how charming this form can be.

To thoroughly prove his point, he sends her an utter debauch fantasy he has concocted.

She is sprawled naked on the grass, clothes strewn about, and a familiar bottle shattered into glittering pieces nearby. Her golden hair is fanned out beneath her and glowing brighter than the stars above. From the long grass slithering tendrils of darkness emerge. They weave around her limbs possessively, painting her body in intricate spirals and overlapping lines, beautiful designs and patterns like those that adorn the swords he forges. She gasps as her legs are parted, allowing shadows to slip up her legs and her thighs, moving closer and closer to-

"Enough!" Galadriel snaps, ending the vision. Her cheeks burn and her heart flutters wildly. She glares at the bottle of smug ooze.

Let me earn my penance, My Love. Release me. Let me show you exactly how I will earn your forgiveness. 

His voice was a siren's seductive lure. A dark plea that promised nothing but sinful delights of the flesh that would leave her a wanton, panting mess. It was tempting. Very tempting to let him out, to see just what he was capable of in such a shapeless form. Galadriel swallowed hard, a thrill of want warming her body, dark curiosity sending her imagination ablaze. 

Before she can do anything - deny him, scold him, release him and let him have his wicked way with her - the sound of footfall and crunching branches reaches her ears. She is on her feet just in time to greet a gaggle of orcs bursting from the trees. Galadriel glances at the bottle in her hand.

"If you wish to escape my ire, you can start earning it by dealing with them."

With that said, Galadriel launches the bottle at the orcs, shattering it against the leader's head.

Releasing the darkness within. 

[azewritessillystuff]

~Liar, Liar, your soul on fire~

Aventurine angst (No comfort)

( Aventurine x gn reader )

Warnings: Reader is dead, Su1cidal thoughts, low self worth, overall angst, please tell me if I have to add more 💙

Small spoilers for the penacony quest 💙

Non-canon events, not proofread.

An: I feel angsty 🥺

“Welcome to this sad world.

“Kakavasha.”

“May the mother Gaiathra open her eyes three times to you.

“May your virtues be paraded and your schemes ever concealed.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” Aventurine asked you, his smile fading lightly, but still plastered on with practiced ease. His eyes, already usually looking like dark purple pools, seemed especially bottomless today.

In a place you can’t reach.

Surrounded by waters he only ever let you touch.

‘How sad you didn’t know that even the slightest touch send waves until the deepest level to him’

How sad you’d never know.

“I know you can’t answer, can you?” He laughed to himself, his carefully practiced expression fading before he managed another smile, blinking away any sorrow.

Hide away the tears that weaken you.

How stupid of him.

If Ratio saw him he’d call him idiotic.

Wait, no, why was he thinking of other people?

Yes, yes, when did he ever forget he was worth just 60 coins? 

Oh right.

It was with you.

You, who was the love of his life, who had never put him down, only lifted him up.

You, who loved him so much that you never questioned his fake laughs, his sudden disappearances, his questionable actions and habits.

You, who acted as if every gift he gave you was precious and unreplacable.

You, who’s every smile lifted him up to a place that he could only describe as priceless.

No wonder he never belonged there.

He laughed again, bitterly, his hand creeping up to clutch his watch on his wrist tightly, looking down to hide his tears that he failed to keep.

He couldn’t show you his tears. 

He couldn’t.

Why does he deserve to cry for a loss he deserved?

“Forgive me…” he whispered under his breath, his voice cracking as he clutched his wrist tighter, trying to pretend it was your warm hand in his, comforting him, about to wake him up from this nightmare. “Please…” he blinked back more tears, biting his lips so hard it hurt.

But the pain in his chest didn’t let him notice it.

Please, please, if the mother Gaiathra had truly favored him.

Please, please, please bring him back to you.

Kill him, rip his flesh from his bones, let him suffocate in the vacuum of outer space, let him feel your pain.

Please.

Please.

It would hurt so much less than knowing he was living whilst you were gone.

All the pain in the world, let him take it, just let Aventurine see you again.

He was utterly pathetic, wasn’t he? Begging to the Aeons he had always cursed, praying to the gods he had never believed in.

Go on, you think it too, right? You do right? Then please tell him.

Wake up and slap his face, scar his body, kick him until he was bleeding a river of blood.

But please don’t leave him.

The world can’t be this cruel.

You told him that, right?

“Do you think demon’s are real?”

“Thats silly, Aven, the world may like to beat you down and stuff, but its not that bad.

Afterall, the world let us have each other, right?”

Liar, liar, beautiful, perfect liar.

You were just like everything in Aventurine’s cursed life.

You promised him happiness. Companionship. Reason. Purpose.

Love.

Then you left him alone, alone, alone again.

Just when he thought he had found a savior to his sins.

A light in his darkness.

A joy in his misery.

A truth to his fake. 

Turns out you were just another big lie.

But please, please, he’d believe that lie again. He’d preach it, he’d praise it, he’d let himself be swallowed whole in the illusion again.

So tell it to him again please.

“I love you, Aventurine. Don’t doubt that silly.” 

[slate-skylar]

When his chest was revealed, the cool air of the room hitting his skin followed by Cress's gentle touch, a shiver ran through him -- a skin-level shiver, one that was felt across his body. Pleasure ached and he wanted to beg her to take off his pants first, hell, to cut him out of them if need be -- but the anticipation, the slight fear, of what was going to happen kept him grounded in the moment, allowing it to move at whatever speed she would have it.

He took the praise, staring at her with pupils blown wide, want in his expression, his mouth, his tongue, his lips, on which he still tasted her. As she touched his stomach, his cock responded, and when she hooked her finger into his waistband, his hips bucked up -- a moan loosening itself from his lips, unbidden but unbound. His cheeks flushed deeper, self-consciousness finding him, the sound to his own ears needy and desperate.

When he'd put the uniform on that morning, he'd felt strange about it. It had sat wrong on his skin; he didn't know if he deserved this, nor did he know if he wanted it. To have this role was to be part of the killing; to show the hands how to act was to allow them to do so in the Arena. Over the course of the day, it had grown more worn on his skin. Sweaty, moveable. The fabric bent with him. It was something that he found he donned more comfortable than he'd expected.

And now, as she pulled it off of him, as she took time and care with it, Slate knew that she didn't only mean that he had earned this uniform, but he'd earned her care. Her touch. "You can still have it," he breathed. "What's mine is yours." He was unable to gather his thoughts into anything more than that -- an oversimplified version of the truth. "I'm yours."

"I know." And what a gift. Slate had learned to be suspicious, defensive and distrustful as self-preservation. To see him surrendered, made acquiescent gladly -- Cress wasn't sure what she'd done to be deserving. With those words, repeated -- "I know" -- Cress accepted responsibility for it, for him, for his pleasure and his safety. He would never doubt her devotion. Her faith always, always returned to him.

Cress worked the zipper lower, free hand dipping beneath the fabric as it split, tracing over his clavicle and down. She could feel his heart, racing rabbit in his chest, thumping fervently. "You're so beautiful in this." In his uniform, which designated Slate as a trainer, as someone who was capable and strong, a force to be reckoned with. "Do you know how proud I am?" The zipper reached its end, requiring both of Cress' hands to separate the fastener properly. The click spurred a more complete thought, and Cress shuddered out an ardent breath. "How covetous? To be torn between adoration and envy--" She ran both hands up over his stomach and torso, spreading them wide over his shoulders, guiding the fabric away from his body. "It's maddening."

Cress shifted, pushing herself up onto her knees. Splayed across his lap, she reached between, hooking a finger beneath his waistband toyingly, trying to tease him into bucking his hips. "This used to be me. My purpose, my uniform to peel away." Cress worked the knot free, loosening the elastic, crawling closer until her presence forced him to lie back, to further relinquish. "I suppose I'll have to settle for enjoying it on you," she began to guide the fabric down, working it over his hips. "My Slate, who has earned this."

[askblueandviolet]

Have you ever kissed someone

Or have you ever thought about kissing others?

MASTER POST

Asks Start 💙

Previous 💙

Next 💙

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Keep scrolling if you blame Spider

Spider, who is literally still a child by human standards.

Spider, who never gave away Jake's or the Omatikaya's location.

Spider, who cares about the Sullys' safety over his own.

Spider, who didn't want any blood on his hands or a guilty conscience if he left someone to die.

Spider, who just didn't want anyone else to get hurt.

Spider, who never betrayed the Na'vi (unlike Jake but hey, who's counting that, right?)

Spider, who had to fend for himself to survive the toughest events because he didn't have an adult who would tear the world apart for him like the Sully children do.

Spider, who loves Pandora and Eywa.

Spider, who just wanted to be one of Her children because he never knew what it was like for a mother to love him.

Spider, who probably understands Eywa's whole "balance of life" meaning more than others.

Spider, who already lost Neteyam but he couldn't afford to lose anyone else in his life, no matter how terrible they are as a person.

Spider, who helped Jake save Kiri and Tuk when everyone else was still too shocked to move.

Spider, who chose mercy over violence/death.

Spider, who did what he could to survive (I'd like to see how YOU would react under such pressure. It all seems obvious and easy watching from the other side of the screen, right?)

Spider, who was likely being misled, brainwashed, and gaslit by the Recoms.

Spider, who is clearly a victim but hey, let's blame him for simply being a decent human being, right?

Spider, who likely thought he owed Quaritch after he saved him from being tortured.

Spider, who likely thought he owed Quaritch for giving him life.

Spider, who just wanted a father who was proud of him.

Spider, who has been clearly neglected by the heroes (Jake and Neytiri) but doesn't openly or verbally blame them.

Spider, who doesn't purposely threaten children's lives like Quaritch and Neytiri do.

Spider, who just wanted to be one of the People.

Spider, who wouldn't have made those difficult choices had he been properly loved and raised.

Spider, who is as easy to blame as Lo'ak for endangering the people they love (but again, no one's counting, right?)

Spider, who is clearly not a villain, just misunderstood.

Spider, who wasn't raised by the village but didn't burn it down to feel its warmth because he's not petty, not vindictive, not evil, and not a killer.

Spider, who is. A. Child.

[jq37]

FH Junior Year Post-Season Thoughts

With another season of Fantasy High in the books and my recaps all finished, I wanted to do an overview of my thoughts on the season as a whole. Even though I feel generally positive about my experience with the season, there are a few things I think maybe could have been done differently narratively or mechanically. This isn't to criticize the way the season went down or to backseat DM/Play. More my combined ten years of college for textual analysis and storytelling bleeding through, haha. 

I first want to start with the things I thought worked really well.

Fantasy High has "High" right in its title but, in past seasons (and especially Sophomore Year), not as much time as you'd think was spent actually at school and even if it was spent at school, there wasn't much time spent in class or engaging with the realities of being a student. This season really dug into the academic consequences of skipping your classes all the time and the realities of needing to do a ton of extra stuff to try for a scholarship and I think that was a refreshing thing to highlight for a change. Being more scared at flunking out than the dragon that's trying to eat you feels very emotionally resonant. Real "High School Is Killing Me" vibes for anyone who's a fan of NPMD. 

Even though Fantasy High is a show that has some deep emotional beats and strong character arcs, it's first and foremost a comedy show. From the jump, everyone was generating bit after bit that had me cracking up as usual. "Little girly dog collar" is one of the funniest combinations of words I can think of. I think it was Siobhan who said that this was the goofy season and, having seen it, I'd have to agree with her. It never failed to make me laugh and it was always a highlight of my week.  The cast just has great table chemistry that I love to watch no matter what they're doing. 

Watching some of these high level combat encounters is as close as I'll get to understanding people watching sports. Even though combat is generally my least fave part of D&D, I think the cast really killed it this season with how cleverly they played and Brennan came up with some really great combat encounters. Special shout outs to Baron's Game and The Last Stand for their unique mechanics.  

This is going to be one that's on the other list as well because my feelings are mixed, but I genuinely do like the downtime mechanic and how it forces hard choices. I think it's an interesting way to connect a mechanic to the story and cultivate stressful atmosphere for the season.

I have problems with the execution but I love the Rat Grinders in concept. I think as early as season 1 I was hoping that we'd meet a party that was like the Bizarro Bad Kids and the idea of a party that's farming XP instead of going on crazy adventures is a strong concept. Likewise, I think a character that's jealous because of your "cool" (read: tragic) backstory is also a fun trait for an unhinged antagonist in this kind of setting.

This is me absolutely showing my bias but I adored the Abernant Sisters content this season. I dunno if Siobhan specifically asked Brennan to not put her on a bus with the other beloved NPCs or what but I'm so glad she stuck around and we got the development we did. It was almost entirely ancillary to the plot but there was this clear pattern of Aelwyn getting softer and sweeter towards Adaine over the course of the season, from the guarded, "Enjoy the nemesis ward," to, full I love you's and, "I'd take them to get you." It was way more focus than I expected considering that Aelwyn completed the bulk of her arc last season and a lot of the time, a redemption arc basically ends after the big gesture (in this case, Aelwyn taking a magic blast for Adaine in Sophomore Year). So the fact that we got to see all of these sweet moments of them reestablishing their relationship outside of do or die moments was such a pleasant surprise. Again, I fully admit I am extremely biased, but this was my top wishlist item and the season overdelivered so there's a baseline happy I'm always gonna be with Junior Year. 

OK, so moving on to things I things I think could have been tweaked.

Even though I liked the downtime system and the pressures it created, it also squeezed out the chance for more casual PC to NPC interactions that would usually be more common because they were semi-locked behind the relationship track and there wasn't an obvious benefit to roll for Relationships (as opposed to something like Academics which was crucial for not flunking out). Making the mechanical benefit more clear would have helped that (even if it meant Brennan didn't get his reveal--which he ended up just telling them anyway so might as well do it early). The other thing is that the consequence of a rage token was so bad that of course they spent all season avoiding getting one. Things might have gone differently if the consequences had been a bit more obscured, like in Neverafter. And it could have been a nice parallel to the Rat Grinders to take this unknown resource that makes things easier for you but is also having this negative effect. Then it could be like dang we did the same thing they did unknowingly. 

I mentioned this in my recap but I'll talk about it again. It is a little confusing to me that we did the Ankarna subplot right after we did the very similar Cassandra subplot. It took up so much time this season which I don't think is an issue in and of itself, it's just that we literally just went through some extremely similar beats last season. Why double up on this same storyline when there's so much new ground to cover? Or if we're going to raise a god, why not make it a different kind of god? One theory I had early on was that the Rat Grinders were trying to raise their own god to one-up the Bad Kids but instead of raising a chill, misunderstood Cass type, they accidentally raised a god who was erased for a good reason and got in over their heads. 

It's fun for there to be connections between seasons but sometimes it's like, OK that's a *lot* of coincidences. Like the god who your rivals is trying to raise *happens* to be the wife of your cleric's god and also *happens* to be the god of the fiend trapped in your friend's mom's chest and that fiend *happens* to be the relative on your bard's dad's side which is *also* the reason she is randomly cursed? That's a LOT of red string connecting plot points. As unhinged as Kipperlilly is about coveting Riz's backstory if I saw that go down I'd be like you have *got* to be kidding me.  

The mystery elements didn't feel like they clicked as well as they did in other seasons. I think that's partially because Porter's plan was so convoluted (seriously, I made another post about how haphazard his plan was) and had all these moving parts and we didn't get clear answers for a lot of mechanical things like how the rage crystals actually work and when they were implanted and stuff. You had stuff like Devil's Honey which I think is super cool as a thing that exists in the world but ended up being an element that just led the players down the wrong path and had a relatively small payoff (that Porter was using it to lie to Ankarna). I think it's plausible that a forgotten god would be willing to listen to anyone saying the right things without introducing this element. (As opposed to, for instance, Ambrosia which has a very clear connection to what's going on and is a solid clue that someone is flirting with aspirations of godhood.) 

The Porter reveal came so late in the season that even though it was a fun/challenging fight, there wasn't a lot of emotional weight behind killing him. It was basically just dunking on a teacher Fig has always hated who was also mean to Gorgug so screw him. Which, valid of course. But the Bad Kids were never going to react as strongly to Porter as they were to the Rat Grinders so putting Porter in the prime villain spot isn't necessarily what I would have done if I wanted the fight to be more than just a brawl--especially since we've done "School admin with student minions" already in S1. I don't mind the full circle callback but it would have been nice to pick something else for the sake of variety. We haven't had a child mastermind yet and I think Kipperlilly could have been a great candidate for that. My friend suggested that it would have been fun if Kipperlilly was trying to become a god instead of just being Porter's underling and I agree. "I'm not anyone's chosen one so I'll choose myself," is still within her established jealousy and Type A tendencies. If we want to keep Porter involved since that was Brennan's gift to Emily, maybe have it be that instead of Kipperlilly working for him, he's working for her. Like Artemis Fowl vibes! And the Rat Grinders can be varying levels of on board--from true believe to redeemable. I don't think Brennan planned for the Bad Kids to ever redeem her so might as well go full megalomaniacal mastermind with her and make her The Villain if she's not gonna be nuanced anyway. If My Little Pony can do it and send a literal child to Tartarus for pony treason (or whatever Cozy Glow did), Fantasy High can too. 

Continuing from the above, if we have the Porter fight in place of the Grix fight (a la Daybreak) and don't use Ankarna, that gives way more time for the Bad Kids to investigate the Rat Grinders throughout the season and it would mean that they would have their personalities developed a lot more. With the limited downtime, they Bad Kids didn't have a lot of time to spend on these kids who were just hating on them for no good reason (valid). But if you cleared their plate of the god hunt stuff, they'd have more time for this. And if they weren't all rage zombies to varying degrees, it would be easier to see them as characters. Besides Kipperlilly (and, funnily enough, Mary Ann) we don't really have a good read on what these kids are actually like. The little time we spent with them all season was kind of a wash if them breaking out of rage means their personalities got laundered too. Anyway, regardless of how their loyalties ended up shaking out, it would have been fun for them to be more than the minions that they were in canon. As funny as it is for them to just kinda be XP farming losers, they did have the potential to be more interesting in their own right if they weren't just Porter's minions. And again, we've done adults forcing or coercing children into being minions in Freshman and Sophomore Year already. Lemme see some self-created child maniacs! (Or, peer pressured child maniacs. That's cool too. The Lucy/Kipperlilly dynamic is way more interesting to me if it's like girl, I would take a bullet for you but I CANNOT walk this path with you any further in response to *I* will be a god and you can be *MY* champion.)

Anyway, those are my thoughts! Like I said, I have my points that I think could have been tightened, but overall an enjoyable season and I will be glued to my screen if they decide to close out with Senior Year! 

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature

Sorry I'm late getting to this. I've had a busy past few days 😩.

Lucy, you're killing me with these comparisons you keep making between yourself and Lizzie. It's so hard to read when she slips into this mindset, because I think as the reader, you see all the qualities about her Tommy loves. As much as Tommy loves a beautiful woman like we have seen in canon (Lucy is gorgeous too!), i feel like he's really attracted to the things that make someone them. That and wit and intelligence. No offence to Lizzie, but even in the series, their conversations don't go very far. He needs somebody to match him on that level, and thats Lucy ❤️.

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air. I love this scene! Not only does Lucy like to put on a dramatic show, but so does Tommy 🤭.

“You deserved every second of it.” ooh that evil witch 😬. I'd like to think those exact words played out in her head in the final scene to this chapter 😌.

With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. God, will we ever get a break from Lizzie barging through Tommy's office 🙄. She's starting to get on my last nerve with her continued entitlement. I feel so sorry for Lucy everytime she turns up. She just puts a huge damper on every single scene, and it doesn't surprise me how Lucy continues to feel worthless when she's around. Lizzie constantly demands all the rooms attention every time she shows up. It's so bratty and immature. I say all this but, the small interaction between them at the end was a welcome relief. But I just know she'll F it all up again in later scene *slams head repeatedly against table 🤦🏼‍♀️😩.

“Which is why we can go together" yes to this! If they're gonna do this, they need to do it together. Every single interaction. Because if they don't, Lucy will start to doubt Tommy's love for her, something I feel he's caught on to now and hence, why he suggested this ❤️.

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?” *pushes Arthur out the way so I can shoot him myself 😡. Urghh, he made my skin crawl during this scene. His remarks, his snake like mannerisms 😬. But what make me smile was this line, because I knew exactly what it meant 🤭...What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other.

only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.-"Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Couldn't not mention this line before moving on to the next scene 😂. I love Lucy, she really is like an over eager kitten trying to get involved!

Ahhh yes ☺️. The sigh of relief I sighed when Audrey finally met her end. Once again you set the scene perfectly with her mulling about in her kitchen as Lucy waited in the dark 😈. It gave me shivers how Lucy toyed with her until the very end.

“Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. Luca got the Lucy special 👌🏼. How creepy is it that he's seen the heads of his men one by one thrown at his feet. Did he never stop to think that his head would be served up like all the men before him?? This man has zero hindsight 🤦🏼‍♀️.

Not an inch of iron to be seen. 😳, seems Audrey got the same as Luca! This line was short but so gory, I loved it!

Incredible chapter once again Lily! I can't believe how close we are the end of this Act 😭. So excited for the next installment to this amazing series ❤️.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: An incident at Bonnie's boxing match provides the family with an opportunity to end the war.

Word Count: 6,837

Notes: Warnings for depictions of insecurity, violence, blood, and references to past sexual assault and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 27: Endless Shadows

“You look dead,” Alfie said to her in greeting as he entered the locker room, moving to sit on the bench across from them. 

“Oh good,” Lucy didn’t open her eyes from where she was still leaning with her head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. “Then I look how I feel.”

Tommy’s thumb rubbed up and down her shoulder soothingly.  

She cracked her eyes open a sliver while Alfie and Tommy talked, watching Alfie curiously. There was something odd in his eyes, and his words were almost…melancholic.

“Glad you’re back, kiddo,” he gave her a small pat on the upper arm as he stood and said his farewells. But that look did not cease, creasing at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips. 

“Thanks, Alfie,” she said, brow furrowing at the near apologetic way in which he said it. 

They watched him walk away, heads cocked and frowning. 

“Convenient of him to be moving to Margate now, of all times,” Tommy remarked once Alfie was gone. Lucy nodded. 

“You think that Luca scared him?”

Tommy’s lips pursed. “Alfie doesn’t strike me as the type to get scared off that easily.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she frowned, still eyeing the archway through which Alfie had disappeared. A roar of cheers emitted from the ring. “We better get going. Fight’s about to start.”

He put out his cigarette, standing and helping her to her feet. Linking her arms back through his, Lucy gave him a soft squeeze. 

“Alright?”

She nodded. “Just don’t let me get jostled around too much.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, kissed her forehead, and led the way back towards the ring. 

It already smelled strongly of sweat, booze, and smoke, the men hollering and jeering, lurching and moving like a great wave of bodies as they watched Bonnie and Goliath circle each other. Tommy led the way to their seats next to Arthur, keeping a protective arm around her to shield her from the bulk of the crowd. After they took their seats, Arthur soon started fretting to Tommy about the men that had come with Goliath. Lucy followed his gaze to where they stood in their corner across the ring. The men didn’t look all that engaged with Goliath, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Goliath preferred for his men to be more hands off. 

But Arthur continued to insist that something was wrong, despite Tommy’s attempts to soothe him. 

Her eyes darted to where Polly, Linda, and Lizzie all were seated across the ring from them, giggling and shouting encouragement to Bonnie while passing around a bottle of Tommy’s gin. As expected they were all dressed up lavishly for the occasion, in glittering, form fitting dresses, furs draped over their shoulders, and jewels dangling from their ears and throats. 

Lucy felt a sharp wave of self consciousness wash over her, quickly wrapping her arms around her middle, shoulders drawing in as if that would somehow achieve her new goal of becoming invisible. 

She watched Lizzie, so tall and elegant and beautiful as she laughed and chatted with Polly, and wished that the ground would swallow her whole. They could not have looked more different if they’d tried. Where Lizzie was tall and slender, Lucy was short and curvy. Lizzie could wear just about any of the dresses currently in fashion and look marvelous, but if Lucy tried to wear anything without some sort of defined waist, she’d wind up looking as though she was dressed in a potato sack. Some days she could hardly get her curls to cooperate, but Lizzie’s hair was almost always beautifully styled and tamed. Her eyes were actually in proportion with the rest of her face, rather than oversized almost to the point of absurdity like Lucy’s were. Where Lucy’s face was covered in freckles, Lizzie’s porcelain white skin was clear of any marks or blemishes, nor was her body marked with any cuts that would soon heal over into truly hideous scars that would never really fade away. 

God, Lucy couldn’t help but think, she had to look absolutely horrid compared to her. 

She glanced at Tommy out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. She was not even close to pretty enough to be with him. Lizzie would have looked right at his side. A perfect match–at least outwardly. Lucy could not help but assume that she and Tommy must look terribly mismatched together. 

He really probably ought to have his head examined. Even on her best days, no one in their right mind would choose her over Lizzie. 

Clearing her throat, she wiped at her face with her sleeve, hoping that anyone who noticed would assume that she was dabbing away sweat and not the tears building up against her lashes. 

Movement to her left snatched away her attention. Arthur had stood, disappearing into the crowd and ignoring Tommy’s shouts for him to come back. Instead he continued towards the hallway leading to the back, following right on the heels of one of Goliath’s men who had wandered off from the rest of the pack still gathered by the ring. 

“Fuck’s sake.” Tommy grumbled as he watched Arthur go. Lucy settled a hand on his shoulder. Around them, the crowd’s shouts rose to a fever pitch as the fight intensified. 

Minutes ticked by, and Arthur did not come back. 

Stretching up in her seat, Lucy craned her head around, trying to see if he was in the crowd somewhere and they’d just missed him. 

“Tommy,” she grabbed at his bicep in warning as another one of Goliath’s minders left his post, heading in the same direction that Arthur had gone. Seizing her hand, Tommy shot out of his seat, pulling her along with him to follow. His jaw was straining, eyes wide, and she wondered if he was thinking about how she’d stepped out just to run a few errands, and was almost snatched away from him forever. How the same exact thing might be happening with Arthur. 

They had just rounded a corner in the maze of backrooms when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot going off echoed somewhere within the halls and rooms up ahead. Tommy skidded to a stop, hand flying into his coat for his gun. Lucy mimicked his movements, flinching at the way that reaching into her coat pulled on her shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Tommy ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, then promptly closed it. It would be laughable to try to argue that she could actually be of much use right now in anything but a distanced firefight. And he didn’t have time to waste worrying about her getting hurt again. Following him closely at a rather painful jog, they rushed down a hallway bathed in baby blue light, turning into another room in which one of Goliath’s minders was standing over a crumpled Arthur, gun aimed at his head. 

Tommy’s shot struck him directly in the chest, and he went slouching to the floor.   

Tommy went racing to his brother, shouting his name and pulling him up into his arms. Lucy double checked to ensure that the man he’d shot was actually dead, then checked the corners of the room for any other enemies that may have been skulking about. There was no one. 

Rounding back to Tommy, she went to kneel at Arthur’s side. For a second, she thought that he was dead, his eyes were staring at nothing and there was blood on his hands and throat. Tommy curled over him, a hand cupping the side of his older brother’s face, thin rivers of his blood lacing across his hand. 

There was roaring from the crowd still gathered around the ring in the distance, the sound reaching such a volume that Lucy thought they very well might bring the roof down. The fight must be over. 

Arthur twitched and gasped in Tommy’s arms. Tommy let out a relieved wheeze, hugging him tightly, and Lucy breathed out gratefully, resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s head while his face tucked into Tommy’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Tommy drew back, grabbing him by either side of the face. Arthur nodded, still breathing harshly.

“Just nicked.”

Tommy nodded, and while she drew out a handkerchief for Arthur to dab at his neck, Lucy spotted something shift in Tommy’s eyes, immediately recognizing the telltale expression of an idea taking form as the circuits in his head began to whirl at warp speed. 

“Tommy?”

His eyes snapped to her. “I’ve got it figured out.”

“What?”

He grabbed at both of them. “I’ve got it figured out,” he repeated.

“Got what figured out, Tommy?”

His eyes glittered. “How to win.”

∗ ∗ ∗

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air, creating plenty of noise and commotion, drawing all eyes to him so that Arthur could easily sneak away whilst Tommy announced the news of his ‘death’ to the world. 

It had been chaos after that; hours spent as their men searched and questioned everyone in attendance before allowing them to leave. And the family had swarmed Tommy with questions and reactions of shock and horror. The only other ones outside of Lucy and Tommy that knew that Arthur was still alive were Polly and Linda. It was the only way to be sure that everyone reacted believably during what was coming next. 

The boxing ring was empty and quiet, now. Everyone had finally been dismissed. The family had all gone back home to steep in their shock and grief and prepare for the funeral.

“I’m sorry.” Lucy said, playing with her fingers, keeping her voice quiet.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, fishing a cigarette from his case and swiping it across his lips. “Why?”

“I feel like I’m really fucking useless right now.”

His features creased, moving to stand directly in front of her. “Hey, no; none of that now. You’re hurt. It’s not your fault. Besides, you’ve already taken out plenty of Luca’s men throughout this vendetta.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’ve more than done your part.”

She sighed, leaning her forehead into his chest. The day had been long, and she was exhausted. Her injuries, particularly her back and shoulders, were starting to hurt badly. 

“Let’s go home.” Tommy suggested, reaching for her hand. Lucy took it eagerly, letting him lead her from the building and out onto the streets. Tomorrow would be busy. They needed to get back to the house to start preparing for it.

“It was some of Alfie’s boys that attacked us,” Tommy mumbled, head bowed, the hand that wasn’t holding hers slipping into his pocket.

“I can’t believe that he betrayed us for Luca of all people.”

Tommy shrugged. “It’s what Alfie does.” But the hurt in his voice was obvious. “Maybe Luca threatened him.”

“When has Alfie ever backed down because of threats?”

A sigh of agreement left his lips. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, her own hurt at Alfie’s actions squeezing within her throat. 

“Do you think he knew that they took me?” Her voice was quiet, not bothering to try to hide the pain that the thought brought her. She’d known Alfie since they were teenagers. He’d gotten her medical attention that she likely would have died without it after Matthew and his friends assaulted her. And despite her working for and being wholly loyal to Tommy, they’d always maintained a friendly, warm relationship. That he would allow for her to be tortured…

She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. Tommy squeezed her hand. 

“I don’t know, love. When I called him while you were missing to ask him to have some of his men search for you in London, he seemed genuinely worried. I don’t think…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I don’t think that he knew. But it’s hard to say for sure.”

“Yeah,” she offered him a wobbly half smile. “I’m assuming we’re gonna have to pay him a visit to Margate after things are cleaned up here.”

Tommy’s jaw twitched, eyes growing even more sorrowful than they’d been a moment ago. They both knew how any visit to Alfie was now likely to end. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“I guess we can ask him then.”

They continued to walk together in silence. There was something else that she wanted to discuss with him, but she was unsure how he would take it. She’d never made a suggestion quite like the one she was about to make. Mounting her courage, she forced her lips to part and her tongue to move.

“I think that you should send Michael away.”

Tommy did not react, head still dipped, staring at his shoes and the cobblestones while they walked. She’d just opened her mouth to say more when he finally spoke. 

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

“I don’t trust him anymore.”  

“Me neither.”

She sighed, both in relief at Tommy’s agreement to her suggestion and with disappointment towards the boy that had once shown so much promise. “Well…fuck.”

He hummed in agreement. “Not our best year.”

“No. No, it really hasn’t been.”

His fingers flexed against hers in a tender squeeze, head turning to kiss her forehead. She could see the house on the end of the block, her tired bones giving a quiet cry of relief at the thought of soon being able to rest. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The next few days were spent laying meticulous plans and taking careful actions. Michael was sent away to New York, and Lucy and Tommy spent a significant amount of time on the phone, locked in calculated negotiations. Arthur’s funeral was a quiet affair, a good amount of tears shed and sorrow exchanged between the family as the wagon went up in flames. 

The meeting that took place after with Audrey Changretta saw Lucy leaning against a wall. Luca had taken her rings, so her hands had begun to instead unconsciously pick at the skin of her fingers whenever she was nervous, leaving bloody scabs to add to her ever growing collection. She did not say a word during the whole exchange, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, not even looking at Audrey for fear that if she did, she’d kill her. 

This woman. This cunt who John had spared. And how did she repay them? By setting her sadistic fucking son on all of them. Her husband had Tommy’s wife killed, and yet she dared to speak as if his death by their hands was unjustified. 

When the meeting was over, Audrey gathered up her things, and went to the door. Upon passing Lucy, she stopped, looking over her bruised face and the bandages peeking out from under her clothes. Lucy forced herself to meet the woman’s cold eyes, keeping all feeling off her face. Audrey leaned forward, so that Lucy could smell the sickly sweet scent of her perfume.

“You deserved every second of it.”

“That’s enough; get out,” Polly commanded, taking a step forward, probably at least in part so that she was placed between Audrey and Tommy. A dark storm cloud of rage had passed across his eyes at Audrey’s words, his icy gaze remaining locked on the back of her head as Polly ushered her out the door. He looked to be seconds away from throwing the whole carefully laid plan to the wayside and killing her then and there. 

Heaving herself away from the wall, Lucy went to him, resting both hands on his upper arms to get his attention and draw him away from his murderous thoughts. She rubbed her palms back and forth, feeling the heat and strength of his arms through the layers of his clothes. 

“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” she reminded him. No need to rush things. Besides, what they had planned for Audrey would be far more satisfying than a quick bullet to the back of the head. 

Tommy nodded, head angling down and wetting his lips. Lucy leaned closer to him.

“Almost done,” she whispered in quiet encouragement.

“Yes,” Tommy murmured, with the tone of someone who knew that the tribulations of life would never fully be finished with them. “Almost.” 

∗ ∗ ∗

She passed form after form to Polly and Tommy, helping to keep track of which ones still needed to be signed and by who. The scratch of pens against paper and the rustling of pages was the primary sound in the office, save for the occasional clearing of Tommy’s throat, or quiet mumbles from any of the three of them. 

When they were finally done, Tommy gathered all files into a folder, sighing and planting both hands on his desk while Polly leaned back in her chair, flexing the fingers of her writing hand. 

“Right, so now–” Lucy began, but was cut off by the door flying open. With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. Lucy shrank away, quickly getting up from her chair so that she could retreat into the corner while Lizzie snarled questions as to why Tommy hadn’t been by her house yet to visit her. Tommy sighed, slumping back into his chair with a cigarette. Polly’s eyes darted shrewdly between the three of them. Lizzie dropped into the seat Lucy had been occupying, an expectant look on her face. 

Lucy frowned at the entitlement. Had she forgotten that they were still in the middle of a fucking war? That, as far as she knew, Tommy’s brother had just died? Did she really think now was a good time to start making demands of his time and energy?

She flinched at her bitter thoughts, looking shamefully down at her hands, aware that she probably wasn’t being fair.

Despite their talk before the kidnapping, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzie and the baby inside of her were hanging over her relationship with Tommy like the blade of a guillotine, poised and ready to drop at any moment to sever them from each other.

She glanced out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. As Tommy and Polly explained to Lizzie that Luca was coming for them all tomorrow, Lizzie’s face paled. She stared at Tommy, completely aghast at his apparent surrender. 

“You can’t just…you can’t just let him take everything…” she began to stammer.

“You want to live?” Tommy asked. Lizzie pressed her lips together, eyes wide. “This makes that possible.”

Lizzie looked around at all of them with her lips parted. “Wha–you all are alright with just giving up?”

“I thought that you wanted him to stop all of this sort of work anyway, Lizzie,” Lucy mumbled. Petty? Maybe. But her shoulders were starting to hurt again and she really was regretting letting Lizzie take her seat. Lizzie’s eyes widened, darting between Tommy and Lucy at the subtle revelation that he’d told her everything she’d said to him during their conversation when Lucy was taken. “And I don’t know about the rest of you,” she shifted uncomfortably, “but I’ve had enough of this war.”

Lizzie’s gaze dropped down to her lap. 

“We need to get going. There’s still things we need to do,” Tommy stood and grabbed his coat. “We’ll talk once this is all over, all right?” he told Lizzie in an attempt to placate her. She nodded, actually looking agreeable to the suggestion. Lucy picked up the folder of papers, moving to follow Tommy and Polly out, when Lizzie delicately touched her arm, triggering her to pause. 

“Lucy, I’m…” she worried at her bottom lip, then sighed. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Lucy blinked. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not. I know we’ve…I’ve had my problems with you, but I would never have wished what happened onto you.”

Lucy stared at her, wetting her lips, surprised at the genuinely in Lizzie’s voice. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Jerking her head towards the door, she beckoned her to follow them out. “Come on.”

Lizzie gathered up her coat and trailed her to the door. “I didn’t mean to make such a fuss–”

“It’s fine,” Lucy lit a cigarette, pushing the door open to step out onto the street, moving to stand at Tommy’s side. Lizzie looked at them nervously, it not lost on Lucy how her eyes lingered on Tommy’s hand when it rested lightly on her shoulder. There seemed to be a battle going on inside her, the desire to lash out and rage at them for the gesture of affection, versus the need to keep the peace.

Lucy had to wonder if her current injuries had been what had earned her at least somewhat of a reprieve from both Polly and Lizzie’s hatred. That, and Tommy’s increased protectiveness. If either of them tried anything with him present right now, there was a strong possibility that he would rip their heads off. 

“You want a ride?” Polly offered to Lizzie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly, giving one last indication of goodbye to Lucy and Tommy before following Polly to her car. 

“Sorry about that,” Tommy huffed. Lucy shook her head. 

“It’s fine. You really should go visit her…”

A quiet groan left his lips, thumb rubbing at his eyes while his features scrunched as if in pain. “I know.” It sounded like it was the last thing on earth he’d like to do. Lucy squeezed his arm. 

“It actually is a nice house.”

“Fucking grand.”

“Tommy.”

Another groan. “We can go over there together sometime after this is done.”

“Maybe it would be better if you went on your own…”

He shot her a sharp look, behind which she swore she saw a stab of panic. “Absolutely not.”

“Tommy…I know you’re gonna have to spend time with her. It’s fine. I can be an adult about it.”

“Your behavior isn’t what I’m worried about. Besides,” he watched Polly and Lizzie’s car pull away from the curb and drove away with a little honk of the horn in farewell to them, “she’s already delusional enough about what may or may not happen between me and her. You really think me spending time alone with her is gonna help that?”

Lucy looked down at her shoes. “I just feel bad…”

“Which is why we can go together. Hey,” he took her by both shoulders, waiting until she was looking up into his eyes before speaking again. “Her feelings aren’t your responsibility.” 

“Feels like they are when I’m the cause of her misery.”

“You are no such thing. If anyone is, it’s me, not you.” He brushed his knuckles against her chin. “Even if you weren’t here, it would not change things between me and Lizzie. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. You’re not keeping me from her. I promise.” His forehead bumped into hers. “I don’t love her. I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you. Ey?”

A lump formed in her throat, nodding. His words helped, but only a little. It would only take a few days or so, and her insecurities would return as they always did. There was no escaping them. 

“Come on,” he kissed her, and took hold of her hand. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than Lizzie right now.”  

She let him guide her down the sidewalk, still holding onto him, despite the whispers of the guilt and self doubt that Lizzie’s pregnancy had awakened. Murmurs that told her over and over to let go and walk away.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Quick or slow?”

She stared over at the huge barrels that lined the wall of Tommy’s gin distillery, turning the question over in her mind, feeling Tommy’s eyes on her as he waited patiently for her response. 

“I don’t suppose I could ask for a bit of both.”

His head tilted curiously. “How do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to him being roughened up a bit before we put a bullet in his face. But…” she sighed, head tilting up towards the rafters. She could no longer hear the flutter of starlings’ wings. “I just want him gone.” Maybe then, I’ll finally be able to sleep at night. It had worked, if only partially, with Matthew. No, it had not been enough to stop the nightmares, or the aching from her scars. But the peace of mind that it had brought her, knowing that he could no longer return to hurt her or anyone else ever again, could not be understated. “Quick,” she decided. “I want it to be quick.” It had been enough for her when they killed Vincente Changretta with a single speedy bullet to the head. It would be enough for her now with his son. 

“Okay.” 

She leaned into him, head nestling under his collarbone. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

He stroked her back tenderly, kissing the crown of her head. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t have to see him again.”

“I want to be there,” she argued back. “Please, Tommy. I promise I’m not going to kill him prematurely, or anything like that. I just…” want him to know that he didn’t break me completely, she finished silently, looking down, lip caught between her teeth. When she raised her face back to Tommy, her gaze was pleading. “I have to see this.”

He searched her eyes for a very long moment. “I won’t let him touch you,” he promised, finally. “And if things get ugly, if there’s any sort of struggle or anything like that, I need you to swear you will stay out of it. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

She knew her agreement to that condition was the only way he’d allow her to be in the same room with Luca, so she conceded. Though not without a small grumble. 

And so she stood there, with Tommy, Polly, and Finn, as Luca’s men filed into the room.  

Her hands squeezed tightly around each other at the sight of Luca’s tall, imposing figure stepping forward. He grinned, that same damned smile he’d flashed her way dozens of times while carving into her flesh. It took all her willpower not to shrink down behind Tommy, her heart suddenly thundering in her ears, all instincts screaming at her to get as far away as possible from the man in front of them. 

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?”

The deep, barely healed lashes he’d created in the skin of her back ached with memory. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Tommy said through gritted teeth, drawing Luca’s attention back to him. Luca strode forward, until he was close enough for Lucy to gag on the familiar scent of his cologne. He and Tommy stared each other down, and then Luca snapped his fingers, one of his men coming forward with a briefcase. 

What happened next was as expected: Luca monologued for a little while. At his order that they all be searched, slight panic washed over Lucy that he would try to touch her. But when he made a move towards her, Tommy shifted himself in between them with a growl. Luca’s eyes danced with mirth at the reaction, but he seemed to know not to push it, gesturing with a gloved hand for one of his men to come over and pat her down instead. 

“Careful of her bandages,” he said, a leering smile still aimed at her. “Wouldn’t want to rip open any stitches.”

Lucy glowered at him, hate shooting white-hot through her veins. That just seemed to amuse him more, before he turned his attention to Polly.

The Italian man peeked into her coat and patted at her pockets. She flinched at his hands pressing into her bruised ribs, but he followed his orders, being careful not to jostle her too much. He pulled from her boot her hunting knife, her gun from its holster in her jacket, and an empty burlap sack from her coat pocket. Luca chuckled, taking the items, examining them and then setting them on the table. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” He said to her, his tone carrying underneath its faux fondness an edge of something far darker. “What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other. Her lack of answer only seemed to delight him more. “What say you that later we…” his eyes swept up and down her body leeringly, “pick back up where we left earlier, hm? Lucy?”

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, nails digging into her skin where her hands were still clasped together, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

“Luca,” Tommy’s voice rasped, tone dangerously low. “You’re here to deal with me. Not her.”

Luca’s gaze lingered on her for a moment more, then shifted back to Tommy. “Yes…” he murmured, a soft hiss drawing out the last letter. Those snake-like orbs gleamed as Tommy shifted a little closer to her, placing himself half between them. Luca raised a pen to Tommy, indicating the papers he’d scattered across the table. “So…sign.”

When Tommy didn’t immediately start signing the papers laid out before him, Luca had a little hissy fit, the display of which managed to cause Lucy a brief spark of amusement. This was all theater, after all. And Luca was about to be in for a very nasty surprise. The calmness in Tommy’s voice as he spoke helped too, reminding her that they were the ones in control of the situation–and all the men in the room. 

Seeing the glee slowly drain from Luca’s eyes while Tommy and Polly revealed to him what exactly they’d been busy doing since the events of the boxing match, was perhaps one of the most satisfying things Lucy had ever experienced. She could feel the beginnings of a smile twitching at her lips, and was aware that there was a sadistic sort of light beginning to dance in her eyes. 

It was not nearly enough for what he’d done to her, but it was still satisfying as all hell to observe. 

Luca made a move to grab his gun from his coat, and Tommy lashed out at him with a metal pipe on the floor, striking it out of his hand. Lucy’s muscles tensed–an action that really fucking hurt–with the reflex to jump in and help him as the pair began to struggle. She took half a step forward, only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.

“Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Tommy sent Luca crashing into a dozen or so gin bottles lined up on a table. “He’s fine.”

A tiny, distressed noise left Lucy’s throat, but she did as she was told. She’d promised, after all.

Tommy didn’t need her help, anyway. He was bringing Luca’s head down over and over again savagely against the table, steadily transforming his features into a bloody pulp. As he continued to beat Luca within an inch of his life, the side door opened, and Arthur stepped in with his gun already at the ready. 

At the sound of his footsteps, Tommy’s head turned in his brother’s direction, raising Luca up, he presented him to his older brother, and the bullet fired from Arthur’s gun made a quick home in Luca Changretta’s bloodied face. 

It blew straight through his head, out the back of his skull and ripping a hole into one of the gin barrels behind him, a steady stream of clear alcohol starting to rain down onto the floor, permeating the room with the scent of booze and juniper.  

Lucy did not hear any of the orders Tommy rattled off to the remainder of Luca’s men, nor the warning Arthur left them with. Her eyes remained fixed solely on Luca’s dead body. There was a rush of both cold and warmth going through her. Relief, that he was dead. Regret, because she did not get to be the one that made him that way.

He may be dead, but he would be with her forever. Always in her head, laughing as he whipped her and ripped at her flesh. The thought chilled her to her core, her breaths turning shaky. 

“Luce–” Tommy tried to reach out for her, but she shook his touch away, staggering forward and grabbing her sack and hunting knife that Luca had set on one of the tables. Pushing past him, she kneeled by Luca’s corpse. The hunting knife twirled once in her hands, and then she set to work with it. Behind her, she heard Polly let out a soft gasp, turning away as Lucy started to prepare the very final phase of their plan to end the vendetta once and for all. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Audrey Changretta held an expression of iron across her face. 

Even wandering through her own home, alone, putting the kettle on and bustling about to make herself a cup of tea, the look remained, held firmly by the muscles of her cheeks and jaw. 

It was the look that had emblazoned itself upon her face as she lay there on the ground, after Arthur and John took her Vincenzo away and left her laying there sobbing. Slowly, the tears had turned to quiet sniffles. Then, to silence. And her look of grief and sorrow had transformed, until nothing but unyielding steel remained in its wake. 

The fools should have killed her when they had the chance. 

She had grabbed onto the hate that had burned within her with both hands, not caring when it scorched her skin or withered away the gentle heart she’d once had. Even towards the troublesome little boys who had sat in her class. 

But they were no more those innocent, sweet little children than she was the kindhearted teacher she had once been. Her heart had died with Vincenzo. And much as Luca or his men may have liked to think otherwise, she was the real head of the family in his absence. And to be that, she had to be steel. There was no room for gentleness or compassion. She would stamp out each and every one of them. Not just the ones who carried the name Shelby. But any close to them. The old man who owned the scrapyard they so often liked to gather at. The gypsies who’d dared to join up with them. The whore who’d gotten herself knocked up with Thomas Shelby’s bastard. Not even John’s widow would be spared. It would take time to find her, of that Audrey had no doubt. But they would.

Then there was the matter of the little Red Demon, of course. She would be back in Luca’s grasp before too long, if she was not already. Then they could finish what they’d started with her. 

So foolish that he’d let her escape at all. But she supposed that it didn’t matter now. They had her, same as the rest of them. And by the time the sun rose, they’d all be dead.

Finishing preparing her tea, she cradled the delicate China teacup in her hands, and turned to go sit in the chair at her kitchen table next to the window. 

The seat was already taken. 

A harsh intake of breath rushed painfully into her lungs, hands tightening around the teacup in surprise. But despite being caught off guard, the look of iron across her face never waved, not even for a second. 

Her and the figure folded lazily into the chair just looked at each other for a long moment. Audrey’s eyes darted to the exit, considering if it would do better to try to make a run for it or to shout for the guards that Luca had posted outside.  

“Don’t bother,” Lucy Winters said. Even with the lights off and nothing but the silvery light of the moon peeking in through the window to illuminate her, Audrey could make out her distinctive, foxy features. The deep red hair, the shimmering green eyes, the freckles and slanting cheekbones. Despite half her face still a faded purple from the bruises Luca had gifted her, she managed to embody an untouchable, subtly unnerving beauty. Like a poisonous plant or a feral fox. Lovely to look at, but lethal. 

“How did you get in?” Audrey demanded.

“I’m a very talented person. Please, sit.”

Audrey eyed the seat that Winters kicked out for her warily, not moving. “The terms for peace have already been set. The meeting with Luca and Thomas has already taken place,” her eyes narrowed to slits as she leaned forward slightly. “So just what do you think you are doing here, girl?”

“Mr. Shelby had something that he wanted me to deliver to you in person,” she gestured to a bag on the table. Audrey huffed out a rather over exaggerated sigh.

“I have no interest in gifts.”

Winters smiled, and it was a truly terrible thing to behold. Her green eyes glittered madly, red hair framing her face like a fiery halo. 

Horns would be more fitting, Audrey thought bitterly to herself.

“I think you will with this one,” she shifted in her seat, and Audrey noticed the gingerness in her movements. The girl was still badly hurt. A flutter of pride flapped in her chest towards her son. Even if he was an idiot for not outright killing her when he had the chance. “I wanted to be the one to come see you,” Winters said, stretching out, sprawling in her chair. “You see, you and I should have met a long time ago. If only Tommy had sent me to take care of you and your husband instead of his idiot brothers, you’d have never made it out of Liverpool. We could have avoided this whole mess.”

“Luca still would have come after you to avenge us.”

“Maybe,” Winters agreed. “But he wouldn’t have had such deep insights into our organization, now would he? That was all from you.” A sneer curled her features. “Ungrateful cunt. John let you live, and you repaid him with a rain of bullets on his own fucking doorstep.”

“You dare talk to me like that? You’re an adulteress slut who’s only gotten as far as you have because Tommy Shelby likes to stuff his cock in you. You have no room to pass judgment on anyone after the things you’ve done. I ought to order the torture Luca had planned for you finished. It would be justice for all the pain you’ve caused.”

The Red Demon smiled, slow and easy, not at all perturbed by Audrey’s words. “Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. 

Luca’s head, bloodied and beaten, hit the wood with a dull, wet thud. His green eyes were open, wide and staring lifelessly at her. The stump where his head had been severed from his neck oozed. 

Audrey’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The teacup tumbled from her hands to shatter on the floor. The room swayed, her hands flying out to try to brace herself on the counter. Her boy. Her sweet boy. He’d just been with her that morning, grinning and overjoyed as they celebrated their victory against the infernal Peaky Blinders. They had biscuits and drank tea. Any moment from now he was supposed to walk through her front door, and tell her how his final meeting with Thomas Shelby had gone.

They’d won. They’d fucking won. The vendetta was over. How…?

A low, wailing moan started to emit from her throat, collapsing to her knees, eyes unable to pull away from Luca’s lifeless face. 

No, no, my boys, they’re all gone. They’re all dead, my whole family…

She was not at all aware of Winters striding around her, nor of the cold press of a blade against her throat. Not until it sliced across her skin, and her blood flowed out of her to splatter across the kitchen tiles. When she fell lifeless to the floor, her expression was twisted into one of despair and grief, chillingly similar to the same one that had crossed her features as they ripped Vincenzo away from her, and she sobbed alone into the dirt. 

Not an inch of iron to be seen.

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[dmitriyuriev]

Enough. There is nothing more to say. Youjutsu Zanhou: Moonflower.

[thaliagrayce]

y'know what we don't talk about enough? Hazel died. We talk about how she grew up in the 30's and 40's and we talk about how out of place she feels in the modern world, but! She died! She was dead! She has spent more time dead than alive, and not by a close margin!

How does that effect a person??? We got some of it in the flashbacks, but once those caught up with her present timeline and she shared them, they just kind of... disappeared. And she was a regular girl with some weird past experiences. That's one way of doing it, sure!

I think it would have been a lot cooler if she was just a touch creepier. If she felt a little bit Wrong. Yeah, in general she's more approachable than her brother, she's more sociable and less closed off, but. If you actually spend any time with her, it can be difficult to tell which child of the underworld is actually more unsettling.

Hazel is bright of personality and has a dazzling smile, but sometimes she'll just... shut down. She'll go completely blank for like half an hour and nobody knows what to do with it. Sometimes she forgets she's alive. Sometimes she'll spout the grimmest shit you've ever heard like it's nothing, she won't even notice it's weird until the room goes quiet. She spent decades in Asphodel, which is designed to make people forget about themselves and wander around for eternity, only she didn't have the luxury of forgetting! Wild! After she comes back to life, sometimes she forgets that she's allowed to Do Stuff now. She can spend so long sitting and staring at nothing. Sometimes she'll start crying on cloudless days because it hits her again that she can actually feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and she can hear birdsong. Every little mundane experience is a blessing and she will make you remember that in the most foreboding way possible.

[coconut530]

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

[woomycritiques543]

TW: MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS, Self Harm.

Just noticed this but...

Anyone else notice how after the show mentioned Moxxie losing weight after he was bullied into having body dysmorphia... that the character is now full on skinny? A lot more than before? The saddest part is that HB used to be my comfort show, and Moxxie comforted me seeing how autistic he was, so for the show to resort him to a carbon copy of Blitz like in "Western Energy" and a fetishization of femmes and ED is just... wow, holy shit.

-and I know that Moxxie's legs were NOT that skinny just a few episodes ago. -and the show has now confirmed that he is "losing weight" after being "harassed into thinking that he's fat while he's not at all." and now seeing how he looks dangerously skinny in this shot holy fucking shit the show's actually going with having him having an eating disorder... isn't it? Especially with how everyone else who is sexualized far more than Moxxie is, is bone-thin, or has no internal organs, and now im starting to get concerned for the creators as you'd have to have something seriously wrong with your body image to do something like this within your art. Vivienne... are you ok?

"It's just an art style" No, having negative body image is not an "art style", you can be cartoony without psychologically harming yourself and how you see your body. -and seeing how Vivziepop has now fetishized the ED's of real life people (KESHA!) and has eating disorders as a "running gag" (god, hearing this just made me want to gag! dear god!) in her show(s).. Yeah... this, and the representation that's scaringly close to stereotypes that are being used by conservatives, right now, to kill the lgbt+ community by calling them "dangerous around children", is just... yikes, now you know why that im going to be avoiding this episode like I did for most of the Kesha one. Helluva Boss is now beyond redemption at this point.

It's now gone from badly written... to rancid.

[binah-beloved]

Not binah but limbus. thanks to gregor's new waw ego you should be able to find out how much a waw ego will cost so you know how much you need to get when season 6 starts (well once his ego drops)

they're really evil for dropping a Gregor waw EGO when i'm trying to save lunacy

[upsidedog]

a little over a month after max ended things with lucas a girl in her spanish class aproched her and asked if “lucas sinclar” is single. apparently she thinks he’s cute and has seen them hanging out. “no, he isn’t single” is what max wants to say because if she sticks to her plan of mourning their relationship for the rest of high school so should he, even if max was the one who broke it off. but max is a good person so she says “yeah he’s single.” but not that good so she adds “he just got out of a relationship though, and he’s not over her” and since she’s already crossed that first line “i actually wouldn’t even try.”

max only lasts an hour or two before she feels so guilty she tells lucas there’s a girl in her spanish class that he should ask out cause she thinks he’s cute. lucas is a little offended that his ex is trying to play matchmaker on principle but also because he was sort of planning on mourning his and max’s relationship for the rest of high school

[express-archives]

thinkign about faye