#went to see the gypsy

[guerrilla-operator]

Bob Dylan // Went to See the Gypsy

I went back to see the gypsy It was nearly early dawn The gypsy’s door was open wide But the gypsy was gone And that pretty dancing girl She could not be found So I watched that sun come rising From that little Minnesota town

[libertarian-druid-ny-separatist]

Isn't the only part of Judaism that has to do with the existence of a state the idea that it needs no king? Meaning it doesn't need an autocratic, single, ruler? And that perhaps that the Jewish people would be best off if they all pitched in ideas for how their nation should be run rather than defer to one singular ruler?

Idk, that's just what I've heard, not like I've spent most of my life around or with Jewish folks because they've, much more often than not, accepted and befriended me, or anything like that.

There's also plenty of pro-Palestinian Zionists as well since the ideas are far from mutually exclusive, and most Zionists (which I guess I would be) are just opposed to Hamas, a radical governing body opposed to the existence of Jews (and yes, Hamas is a government, THE government of Gaza).

Maybe, just maybe, the left's constant twisting and changing of words has led to radical leftists being completely unable to distinguish between "good" and "bad" (neither side is explicitly one or the other, but one side just happens to have a lot more in favor of genocide than the other [Hamas, if it's not obvious]) and we should just use the dictionary definitions of words that have existed for a century+ rather than making words fit whatever definition X person decides while also recognizing that there are plenty of gray areas between "good" and "bad" which both sides fall into.

Ffs, we've got people getting pissed about being called musicians (clip for reference) while proclaiming they make music because words have lost meaning and intelligence has gone out the window.

I just want peace in the Middle East, and that starts when Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis stop attacking people. It's not retribution when you're on the offensive. It's invasion and, in many cases, destruction of your enemy. Which are both morally ambiguous.

That all said, neither side of the I/P conflict should be getting funding from any nation state, but both sides get funding and supplies from the US. Iran supplies Hamas and their "Axis of Resistance". Wonder why the first word of Iran's side sounds so familiar. Could it have been used by another group in history that also hated the Jews?

Hmmmmmmmmmmm

"Zionism is Antisemitism"

This statement pisses me off. I first saw it while arguing on Facebook, but now, with the antizionist hijacking Neil Gaiman's post, I think it's time to address this ridiculous claim once and for all. Let's first define Zionism:

"If you are a Zionist you support genocide" - Is self-determination in our ancestral homeland genocide? If so, then of who? Is there an ethnic group who's reason for existence if denying Jews access to their homeland?

"Jews are by religion stateless" - FALSE. That is the Wandering Jew trope, prescribed TO us by Christians. Jews have lived in Israel CONTINUOUSLY for over 3000 years, in small numbers between 136 and the 1880s. They have been in continuous contact with the Diaspora community throughout, with the Egyptian Diaspora in particular sending funds to rebuild cities that were ransacked by colonizers in the 1600s.

"Zionism is a secular ideology started by an atheist" - first of all, Judaism is an ETHNOreligion, meaning it doesn't require faith to be part of the tribe. Someone who is born Jewish can only leave Judaism if they convert to another religion(which historically meant either leaving for another tribe or participating in imperialist religions, like Tomás de Torquemada). Additionally, a return to Israel is a core part of the Jewish religion, with our ancestor having prayed for a "next year in Jerusalem" for 1700+ years.

"Zionism feeds antisemitism" - No, antisemitism proves the necessity of Zionism. With the existence of a Jewish state, Diaspora Jews aren't at the mercy of the goyim around them, and can coexist as equals. If the goyim can't stand to see Jews as equals, it's not the fault of Zionism. If goyim hold Jews collectively responsible to the actions of each and every Jew, it's not the fault of any one Jew. Stop victim blaming Jews.

"I'm Jewish" - doesn't stop you from having internalized antisemitism. Work on that. We all need to. This applies to ALL Diasporas, to Israelis, to matrilineals, patrilineals, to Jews who's both parents are Jewish, to converts, to everyone. We ALL need to decode the thousands of years worth of cultural osmosis from cultures and religions who's centerpiece is dehumanizing and persecuting us.

[sourholland]

timeless; thomas shelby

This idea has been plaguing my mind for days, I cannot get it out of my head. I’m not sure if I will make any more parts of this, it all depends on how I feel about it and if it is well received. The timeline of this is skewed on purpose, it’s also heavily based on Tommy’s time fighting during the war. Timeless by Taylor Swift was a huge inspiration.

Both you and Tommy became unlikely friends during childhood, only for you to realize you had always loved him. Tommy finds himself seeing you in a different light, only war being able to separate the two of you. (3.5k)

Thomas Shelby was the first and only boy you had ever loved.

It was 1902, Tommy was twelve years old. He played with your older brother, they went out into the street with the Shelby brothers and few other boys from the neighborhood and kicked a ball around. You were eight, trailing your brother Joseph at every chance you had.

When you met Tommy, it was because you had chased after your brother one August afternoon with the intention to join their game of kickball. The moment you approached the large group of prepubescent boys, Joseph looked absolutely mortified. Even though he was older than some of the boys, at fourteen, he still followed all of Tommy’s orders. This, you didn’t understand.

“Go home,” he leaned down to your level in gritted teeth.

“I just want to play, just one game,” you pleaded with him. “Please, Joey.”

“No,” he barked. “Y/N, you gotta get out of here.”

Feeling your face heat up, you were near tears and embarrassed in front of all of the older boys. Joseph would not let up, angry at you for trying to play with him and his friends.

“What the fuck d’she want?” Arthur bellowed towards your brother.

Peering over at him, you could tell that he was not very patient and was even older than Joseph. After Arthur had yelled, you turned back to go home. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as you shuffled back to where you lived and went inside to play alone.

“Fuckin’ asshole is what you are,” Tommy shook his head a bit. “Game’s not fuckin’ hard or anythin’, Joe. She could have played.”

That was all they ever said again on the matter, your brother never brought it up to you that night and you never spoke of it to him. It wasn’t until later on that month that anyone had approached you about what happened that day in Small Heath.

You were sent out to pick up your mother’s cigarettes, dragging your feet along the dirt path with the coin in your hand. Every Wednesday, you made the same trek. Tommy Shelby came up on your right side as you walked one day, you saw a screwdriver sticking out of his pocket and nearly shuttered. The kids around the neighborhood spoke of him in hushed whispers, calling him a gypsy and saying he and his brothers carried razor blades around with them.

“You’re Joe’s sister, aren’t you?” He asked, peering over at you. “Tried to join in on a game a while back?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

He hummed in response, kicking dirt with his shoe as you both walked. He was much taller than you, though he was still quite narrow and scrawny. Truthfully, there was no denying that you had a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on him.

“Where’re you headed?” He finally spoke up.

“Grabbing my mum’s cigarettes,” you told him with a sigh. “She sends me out every week to pick some up.”

At the time, you had no clue why Tommy had followed you all the way to the shop and then walked you home. He never gave you any inclination either. Then, he did the same the next week. He came outside when you passed his house and you walked together. This occurred every week after the first.

Of course, you assumed this meant he liked you and this caused you to revel in the attention just a little. Tommy would talk to you about school and horses mostly, he was kind to you.

About six months after you and Tommy had developed this weekly routine, you mentioned something to your brother about it and he teased you about having a crush on Tommy. Making the mistake of saying he must’ve liked you back if he continued to walk along with you, Joseph was quite cruel in return.

“He doesn’t do it because he likes to,” Joseph laughed. “Father started pestering me to walk with you when he found out you were being picked on in school, bothered and such by the boys around. I started to give Tommy a bit of my allowance to walk with you so dad would finally get off my fucking back.”

You no longer walked to the shops on Wednesdays.

Tommy waited for you the next week, but you never left out front and began past his house. The week after, he did the same and you still did not come.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice came up the staircase on Thursday morning. “Come to the door.”

Tommy stood there in the walkway to your home, talking with your mother about something as you came down the steps. She left you to walk outside together and down the stairs into the street.

“You’re not getting your mum’s cigarettes anymore?” He asked you suddenly.

“No, I am,” you told him. “Just don’t want to walk with you anymore.”

He seemed taken aback by this, not used to the idea of you sticking your nose up at him and looking the other way when he tried to talk to you. Tommy knew you were smitten with him, he didn’t mind it. He thought you were nice enough, he liked to walk with you every week. He just didn’t see you the same way that you saw him, you were too young and too curious about certain things.

“Why’s that?” He shot back a little annoyed.

“Joey told me that he’s been paying you to do it, to make sure nobody messes with me.”

“And?” Tommy asked. “Doesn’t really fuckin’ matter if you ask me, whether he’s payin’ me or not.”

This made you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him and leaning against the brick of one of the alleyways you walked down. Tommy was confused as to why this bothered you so much, truthfully it didn’t really matter about the money to him. It helped him to buy cigarettes, that was all. He didn’t mind walking along with you, though. He would’ve done it without the payout.

“It matters to me,” you told him. “I don’t need looking after or anything like that.”

Turning on your heel, you thought that you’d been able to get the last word. Little did you know, nobody but Tommy got the last word. He only realized you had decided to go out on Saturdays, rather than Wednesdays. He told Joseph that he wouldn’t be requiring payment anymore and you walked in silence for over a month before you spoke to him on your walks again.

His stubbornness irked you, leaving you infuriatingly mad at his inability to leave you alone. Your cheeks went hot when he came around, stomach in knots whenever he would say your name.

Over the years, you had tried to shake your feelings for Tommy. This was mostly due to the fact that you had grown attached in a way that allowed you to call him a friend. By the time you were eleven, Tommy had taught you how to ride his horse. He spent an entire summer working with you. He was fifteen and definitely had plenty of better things to do, but he spent hours upon hours in the grueling sun with you.

“Tommy,” you said, laying sprawled out on a patch of grass one afternoon when you were thirteen and he was seventeen. “D’you want to come ‘round to mine for supper tonight? Mum asked me to invite you over.”

The last bit was a lie, you truly just wanted Tommy to join you. He inhaled shortly before propping himself up on his hand and looking over at you.

“Can’t tonight, m’sorry,” he apologized to you.

“Why not?” You asked curiously, assuming he’d saying something about having to be with his brothers or Polly.

“I’ve actually asked a girl out,” he confessed to you. “I’m planning to take her out tonight.”

This was one of the few times Tommy discussed his love life with you. Your friendship mostly consisted of doing other things, less intrusive things. He still really saw you as a younger sister type of figure in a way. He thoroughly enjoyed your company, but there was no denying his attraction to the girls he saw in school.

Once, Tommy told you about Arthur bringing home a prostitute. He didn’t tell you why he did it, or what they did. Only laughed it off, unbeknownst to him that you really didn’t know what a prostitute was. Joseph had called them whores, but you lived a rather sheltered lifestyle and none of the older people around you ever spoke about such things in front of you.

Tommy took girls out, he’d had several girlfriends as you approached your later teenage years. Your friendship, however, never faltered. When you were seventeen years old, you remember going out riding with him and telling him how you wanted to make something of yourself beyond what Small Heath had to offer. Planning to become a schoolteacher, Tommy had always admired this about you.

“Don’t you want to be something other than all this?” You asked him, alluding to the fact that he was growing more and more responsible for the Peaky Blinders. “I mean, I just wondered if you ever had other dreams.”

“I’d like to work with horses,” he told you quietly, running his hands over the mare’s mane.

“Why don’t you?” You questioned him. “I know you feel some sense of responsibility over your family, I think it’s one of your best traits. Don’t you ever want to just—I don’t know, live a less tormenting life?”

Tommy played with the reins, looking at you and shrugging. This was all he’d ever known, and all he would ever know. There was no Birmingham without Tommy Shelby, you knew it as well as anyone. It still hurt, though. Knowing he was playing with fire every day, testing God, as your mother had called it.

Once Tommy had grown more involved in the gang, your parents no longer allowed him to come over to the house. They detested you seeing him at all, your brother most of all. He settled quickly, marrying a woman and starting a family.

Tommy realized he loved you when he was twenty two years old. He’d known you for ten years, having called you his best friend for a decade. You were eighteen years old and had just begun training to become a teacher, you were commuting frequently and saw Tommy less and less.

It was that Christmas when you’d introduced him to the man you had been courting, his name was Michael. When he shook the man’s hand, Tommy felt something inside of him shift. Suddenly, you were no longer that little girl with scuffed shoes and long pigtails. He saw a young woman with ambition and heart, but you were no longer holding out for Tommy like you had for nearly ten years.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Arthur came up and clapped Tommy on the back of the shoulder. “S’fucking Christmas and you’re really bringing my spirits down.”

Tommy said nothing, downing more whiskey as he watched Michael spin you around in a dance. You were in a fit of laughter, smiling at him adoringly.

“Be serious, brother,” Arthur sighed, drunk and wondering how Tommy could truly be as he was. “You can’t tell me that you’re sitting over here in the corner drinking away your sorrows because she’s brought along some bloke.”

“Fuck off, won’t you?” Tommy shot him a look.

“Unbelievable,” Arthur walked away laughing.

It was completely and utterly unbelievable, not only to Arthur, but to Tommy as well. He’d spent years with you, practically praying that you would find someone, anyone to avert your feelings too. As you grew older, you also were able to hide your feelings and emotions better in Tommy’s case.

He watched you the entire night, nodding a farewell when he noticed you trying to approach him. He had no intention of speaking to Michael again, for fear that he may be physically ill.

His hope that it was a passing courtship died with what looked to be your close friendship. The two of you hardly saw each other anymore, animosity forming between you after the night of the Christmas party.

Months later, Tommy found himself at your apartment door when Ada had told him that you mentioned thinking Michael was planning to propose. He left to see you after midnight, walking the entire distance to where you lived and putting himself at your front door well past one in the morning.

“Y/N,” he called out as he knocked. “It’s Tommy.”

Opening the door, you were only left in your nightdress. Your hair was down completely, something Tommy had not seen since you were some years younger. He could not help but to notice the sheer material of the fabric, the buds of your nipples showing through.

“Tommy?” You yawned. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” he told you.

“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

Ushering him in, you let him shut the door behind him and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Tommy felt himself growing hard, looking at you in such a state.

“Y/N, don’t marry him,” Tommy blurted out in almost a whisper.

“What?” You looked at him, shocked. “What did you say?”

“Don’t marry him, don’t marry Michael.”

There was a stillness to the room, a silence that made you almost sick. His face was somehow stoic, but pleading at the same time. His eyes bored into your own, as if they were making it impossible to get a word out.

“He is a good man, Tommy,” you said. “He wants to take care of me, to make me happy.”

“With plenty of money and security, with a practical occupation and a good legacy to leave your children?” Tommy asked, sarcasm incredibly evident.

“Yes, Tommy. Fuck, I mean is that what you want me to say? That he can give me a good life? Why should it matter if he’s got money?”

“It shouldn’t, not if you love him,” Tommy told you. “Do you?”

It felt as if you were eight years old again, confronting Tommy about why he was walking with you in the first place. He looked at you with such yearning, such longing. It was as if he was begging you not to say yes, pleading with you not to have already devoted your heart to this man.

There was only one truth of the matter. Thomas Shelby was the only man that you had ever loved.

“Tommy, I have only ever loved you since I was eight years old,” you whispered.

As if unable to hold back any longer, Tommy embraced you fully and brought you into his arms. He kissed you furiously, without any doubt or question that you were meant for him. He let his hands run up and down your back and pulled you into his body.

Before you gave into your urge to let him rip your sheer nightdress off of you, you pulled away with swollen lips and eyes full of desire. This was not right, not until you spoke to Michael. Regardless of how you felt for Tommy, you could not do this to Michael.

“Not yet,” you whispered. “I gave a man my word, I need to speak to him before I can go any further here.”

Tommy respected your choice, he knew you wouldn’t want disloyalty on your conscience. He just nodded his head and placed a hand on your cheek gently, it was in these moments that he forgot about everything else.

Michael didn’t take the news very well at all, his ego was bruised and he pleaded for you to reconsider. He told you how deeply he loved you and how you had led him on, making him believe that you two would have a life together. He was right, you had encouraged him in all of his dreams of your future and you had done it without ever considering how it may end. It was selfish.

It took you weeks before you agreed to see Tommy again after Michael had left you feeling so guilty. Nights of tireless sleep, you would look up at the sky and pray to god that you were making the right decisions.

Over a year into your training, you would soon be able to do what you’d always dreamt of. Dark times approached, though. There were ghosts of whispers at every street corner, they spoke of war so feverishly. It was as if death was due to knock at the doors of families, stripping women of their husbands and children of their fathers.

The thought of this had left Tommy quite stoic most of the time, he held a monotonous view on the entire matter. Every time you had brought it up to him, he told you how he would be expected to fight on behalf of his country if it came down to it.

And so he did, when it came down to it and Britain had joined the War—The Shelby brothers and hundreds of other men in Small Heath joined as well.

“Tommy,” I sniffled as I watched him from across his bedroom pack a small bag of things. “I need you to promise me that you’ll come home, that you won’t die out there. They’re saying things about trench warfare, it’s all really terrifying—”

Tommy crossed the room and took your face in his hands, kissing you hard on the lips, as if it was the last time he would ever do so. A piece of you wondered if he believed that he would die out there.

“Please come home,” you breathed.

“I will come home,” he kissed you again. “I promise you.”

You planned to hold him to this promise. Having waited ten years for Tommy Shelby, you would wait however long more so long as he would come home to you.

It took two months before his first letter would come after you watched him depart on that large ship. Long months of kneeling at the foot of your bed, begging god not to take Tommy. Everything that was being said about the war was absolutely tragic, soldiers being blown to pieces or rotting below the earth in the trenches.

My Dearest Y/N,

I wish I was able to write to you sooner, I cannot say where I am for the risk of interception. Just know that I have never been in such conditions in my life, I spend my days underground. I have taken the role of a tunneler. Trench warfare has not been good to any of us, I find myself fantasizing of the end of this long hell.

I stare at your picture every night before I shut my eyes, dreaming of what it would be like beside you. There is no greater sorrow to me than your absence from my life at this point in time. I can only hope that it will not be for long.

Not long ago, myself and a group of men were gassed. I watched a fellow soldier go blind for nearly three days before he finally came out of it, only with some permanent damage. There are times when I have thought to myself, ‘Perhaps if I was hit, it would not be so bad. Perhaps even death is better than fighting in this war’.

Then I think of you. I think of the promises I made to you before I left to fight in this god awful war. I cannot understand how men are expected to live like this, nor how we will continue on. I was up to my knees in water last week, the trenches dark and desolate as we waited for the storm to pass. There is so much waiting these days.

I look forward to your letter.

With all of my love,

Tommy Shelby

[httpkaulitz]

Say yes to me

PAIRINGS: Demon Bill x Female reader

CONTENT: Smutt

SYNOPSIS: Halloween is a perfect day to collect a soul.

WARNINGS: dom!Bill, sub!reader, mention of drugs and drinking, mention of stalking, mention of blood and bite, manipulation, unprotected sex, p in v, public sex.

A/N: I'm late for Halloween, but here's Demon Bill that I've been promising for ages.

Halloween parties were the perfect excuse to dress up in a scary, sexy outfit and get drunk. Most people went to parties just to get completely drunk and make out with masked strangers. And you were no different.

The general aesthetic appealed to you, since you've always liked dark things. Your best friend had gotten tickets to this super exclusive party, you didn't know how, but you didn't really care about knowing, since she probably sucked someone's dick to get it.

As soon as you stepped foot in the place you realized how luxurious it was. The old mansion had at least three floors and the backyard was huge. The whole place was impeccably decorated and there were lots of red lights scattered around the place, giving it a devilish and lustful atmosphere.

The loud music reverberated throughout the place and the people around were dancing, their bodies glued together almost in sync. You had to blink a few times to avoid being caught mesmerized by the scene.

You've been to a lot of Halloween parties, a lot of them. But none of them had ever been so perfect. You couldn’t describe it, it wasn’t just the decorations or the perfectly dressed people. It was a feeling. A mix of danger and adventure that you couldn’t explain why you were feeling.

“I told you to come dressed up.” Your friend suddenly shouted, jumping up next to you. She was clearly already half drunk, with a glass of drink in her hand.

“I’m dressed up!” You said, indignant at her not-so-subtle way of saying you were poorly dressed.

She looked me up and down and pointed her finger at you before speaking. “A black dress and a witch’s hat isn’t really a costume.”

She was right, the people in this place were dressed up like they were in a million dollar competition to see who would win the prize for best costume. Some were so good they looked real.

Your friend had somehow managed to come up with a realistic enough costume that it didn’t look like she’d just picked something improvised like you.

“Well, if I’d known it would be like this I would have rented something.” You said as you observed the people around you.

“It doesn’t matter now. Come on, I want to show you something.” She grabbed your wrist and pulled you back outside.

You followed her to the back of the tent and saw a huge tent set up. There was a small line of people and she stopped right behind the last one.

“What is that?” You asked confused.

“It’s a seer!” She said excitedly. “Can you believe it? They also made a horror maze on the third floor.” Well, that was cool, you didn’t understand why she was so excited about the seer.

“Why are you so excited about this?” You asked as you watched her. Your friend had never been one to believe in that kind of thing.

To be honest, neither did you. Yes, you always liked the idea of ​​mythological and supernatural beings existing, but it was kind of impossible for everything to be real.

She looked at you with a look of “you’re being silly.” And then said, “If real gypsies exist, they would definitely be here. Haven’t you ever heard of the party hosts?”

Of course you had heard of them. A millionaire and somewhat eccentric family who are passionate about the supernatural. Every year they throw a Halloween party, so uniquely extraordinary that everyone wants to attend. After the parties, there were always rumors of people who had supernatural experiences. In your opinion, these people were either very drunk or on drugs.

“So what? Are you going to ask about the future or something?” Just as your friend was about to answer you, the person in front of you gave up on entering, giving you and your friend the chance.

The two of you looked at each other for a few seconds and then went in. It was exactly as you expected. Dim lighting, some crystals and incense. The woman was sitting on the other side of the table and your friend ran to sit in the chair across from her.

You waited, standing a little ways away, while your friend held the woman's hand and asked stupid questions like "Is Johnny going to break up with Camila to be with me?" You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Seriously, she could at least ask something useful like the lottery numbers.

After that, you stopped paying attention, but it wasn't long before her time was up and it was your turn. Not that you really wanted to participate, but your friend was kind of forcing you.

You held out your hand for her to hold and stared at her. "I don't really have anything to ask." You said nervously, feeling like you were wasting her time.

"You don't have to." She frowned as if trying to understand the situation. "I see something with you, a shadow that follows you."

"Maybe it's that guy who appears in your dreams." Your friend said laughing.

You quickly looked at her and muttered "Shut up." You didn't want this woman to gather any information to even try to get into your head.

But she didn't seem to pay attention to what you and your friend were saying. She was very focused on you, almost hypnotized. "It's always with you, watching you and guiding your path."

Your friend butted in again, now looking even more excited. "So what? Does she have a guardian angel?"

"I would say it's the opposite." The woman answered automatically and let go of your hand.

"What?" You asked confused.

"Don't say yes to him." She said firmly, looking scared.

"To who?" Nothing she said made sense. Was she trying to scare you or what?

"Next!" She turned and faced the two of you, waiting for you to leave.

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You and your friend had no idea what had really happened in the tent, but you decided to believe that it was some kind of marketing ploy so that the two of you would leave the party saying that you had had a supernatural experience.

You decided that after that you needed a drink and a little dancing to forget all of this. But now more than ever you felt watched. Even dancing in the middle of the crowd you felt like you were in a spotlight with eyes completely focused on you.

You felt hands grip your hips tightly, even without seeing who it was you didn't care. It was a welcome distraction. His body danced in sync with yours, as if you were one.

Sweat was dripping down your neck and the multicolored lights were making you feel a little dizzy. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back on the stranger's shoulder. His hands released your hips, he brushed your hair away from your face and then slid his hands down your arms, down your back, and finally back to your hips. When you heard the voice whispering in your ear, "Come find me." You jumped away. When you looked back, there was no one there.

You decided that you should leave the dance floor, maybe all these lights and people together were making your head confused. Since you hadn't seen the other rooms of the party besides the first floor yet, you decided to go up. The second floor was kind of an extension of the first, except that it was much darker than the first floor and there were some platforms with people dancing in almost animalistic costumes that made them look half human, half animal.

At this point, you had no idea where your friend was. Your head was a mess, but you refused to believe the nonsense that strange woman told you. You went to the stairs and went up to the third floor.

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You didn't remember how you ended up inside the maze, all you remembered was a man dressed as a mad scientist giving you a neon green drink to drink.

The endless corridors and colorful lights were starting to make your head spin. There was nothing or no one around, it was just corridors and more empty corridors, you could even hear your footsteps as you walked aimlessly.

You were sure you were lost and your paranoid mind wasn't helping you. When you turned around in the hopes of being able to follow the same path and find the door you came in through, all you saw was a huge wall.

“No, no, no.” You said exasperatedly as you touched the wall to confirm that it was real. But how could that be real? You had just passed by there.

For the first time you heard footsteps that weren’t yours, but when you looked around there was no one.

“Hello, is anyone there?” You shouted but no one answered, the only sound you heard was the echo of your voice and the footsteps that now seemed faster as if they were running.

A small feeling of panic and urgency took over you and you ran. You couldn’t say for sure what it was, maybe it was paranoia or instinct. You felt like you had to get out of there, you knew that finding whoever was the owner of those footsteps wouldn’t be a good thing.

You continued running through the maze without knowing exactly where you were going, you didn’t even know if you were close to the exit or not. The loud and hurried footsteps seemed to follow you, but whenever you looked back there was no one.

It hadn’t even been five minutes but to you it already seemed like an eternity. Until as you ran and looked back you bumped into something. The impact was so strong that it threw you backwards and you fell on your butt.

“Are you okay?” The man in front of you asked. He didn’t really look worried, his expression was neutral, but when you didn’t answer he tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“I-I’m fine, I was just trying to get out.” You stammered still confused at how he ended up in front of you.

“It’s pretty confusing, isn’t it?” He asked as he extended his hand towards you. “They really just made a maze. Well, I guess it’s scarier when you realize how hard it is to get out.”

You gladly took his hand and let him help you up. You could feel the heat radiating from him even through the white glove.

“Yeah, it wasn’t quite what I expected.” You said still nervously. You were starting to feel aware of how bad your costume was as you watched him closely.

His outfit looked old, but luxurious. His long, white hair was too beautiful to be just a wig, so it must be a very expensive one. The white makeup with blood dripping from his horns and lips looked so natural that you had a hard time telling if it wasn't real. Maybe you were just a little drunk from the drink you had before entering the maze.

“Are you sure you're okay?” He asked again, now looking at you more closely as if he wanted to read your thoughts. You just nodded. “Come with me, I'll help you get out of here.”

He held your hand and you just followed him, strangely he gave you mixed feelings. At the same time that you felt like you could follow him forever, like he was someone familiar to you, you also felt like you had to run and disappear somewhere he could never find you again.

“What are you?” You asked as you pointed to his costume. An attempt to make the awkward silence disappear.

He looked at you with a small smile and then answered you. “A demon.” He looked very proud. You would feel the same way if you were dressed in a decent costume instead of the crap you were wearing.

“Witch.” You said, pointing to yourself. He laughed and you didn’t know if he was making fun of you or if he just found the situation funny.

It didn’t take long for you to find your way out. You were ready to go downstairs and get some fresh air when Bill grabbed you by the arm.

“I want to ask you something.” He said softly, his voice almost melodic.

After that, everything became a big blur. It was like you were hypnotized, like his presence was clouding your senses. His black, shiny eyes watched you intently while his hands traveled over your body, feeling every part.

No matter the question, you would say yes.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

You couldn't stop the moans and screams that left your lips, even if you tried. Your eyes were cloudy and tears were streaming down your cheeks as you were fucked relentlessly. The danger of being caught made everything more exciting, the excitement was boiling your blood hotter and making the pleasure you were succumbing to intensify.

Bill hadn't just made you say yes to him, he made you beg and beg. Somehow you couldn't explain, he had this sexual aura that drove you crazy just by being in his presence.

And you weren't ashamed to beg for more, with drool running down your lips and tears welling up in those beautiful doe eyes due to the euphoria and boundless lust, and your lips swollen from the kiss, Bill found it hard to resist.

You were holding tightly to the railing of the stairs. Your feet stopped touching the ground minutes later, using the railing to ground yourself. Bill's hips were moving forward and relentless. The head of his cock kept hitting against that familiar spot that made you moan loudly and your body tremble.

You could only let out loud moans, whimpers and screams, your words were incoherent and you couldn't focus on anything other than the sensations that were passing through your body. Bill's well-aimed thrusts made you stupid and with the way that cock in you made your lower abdomen distend a little, he feared you would break.

No. He wanted to break you and you wanted Bill to break you into a thousand pieces and then reshape you into whatever image he wanted.

The thought of Bill breaking you and making you know no one but him had you babbling and begging for the man to go harder. If you were even halfway coherent, you would blush at the way you were moaning like a whore. Loud, desperate and hungry for more. It defied the intensity of Bill’s grunts and hissed curses. He reached down and lifted one of your legs while his other hand remained on your hip, bringing it back to meet his thrusts.

"P-please!" You whimpered, your hands shaking.

"Greedy girl." Bill whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine at how thick, husky, and tight it was. "Even though I'm fucking you into oblivion, reshaping your insides with my cock, you still want more." He whispered sensually, his hot breath brushing against your neck.

You could only let out a moan in response.

"Well then, who am I to refuse you, my love." He pressed a loving kiss to your neck, sucking on the skin. His fangs scraped against your skin, wanting to sink into that excess flesh and pull out the delicious nectar that was hidden beneath it. "Take it then. Take it all."

And you did. Your eyes widened as you let out a choked gasp, your hands kneading the metal railing as they tightened.

Bill's cock was now hammering into you, the pace increasing. You couldn’t help but take it, your eyes rolling back as a steady wave of pleasure mixed with a little pain kept hitting you. If this kept up, you were going to come.

As if he knew exactly what was going to happen, he said, “Let it go.” Burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

It hit you so suddenly that you lost your voice for a second. You let out a choked noise as your body twitched and your legs shook.

Every nerve ending in you lit up like fireworks, your mouth falling open and your body shaking as ecstasy hit you like a train. You couldn’t think, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. Your senses went blank and white noise filled your ears.

But that didn’t stop Bill from chasing his own pleasure. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, pounding the little air you had left in your lungs. His hips never stopped their impulses, still grinding relentlessly against you.

You were whimpering and babbling deliriously like a broken record. You couldn’t see clearly, your pleasure-induced haze clouding any semblance of thought. Your vision was blurred by the constant tears you were shedding.

Bill groaned hoarsely as he continued to thrust into your overstimulated body, his hips snapping against your ass without stopping. The tightness of your pussy around his cock had him approaching his own orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter and his thrusts disorganized.

Without holding back any longer, Bill sank his fangs into your shoulder, causing you to let out a shrill cry. Around his blood-filled mouth, he groaned loudly as he came, his hips still moving as he painted your pussy with his cum. Some of it leaked out with each thrust of his cock, the squelching noises sinful and filthy. His hips soon stilled, flushed against your ass.

You passed out the moment Bill removed his fangs from your neck, the pleasure too much for you to handle. Bill just laughed hoarsely, his hair disheveled and his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. After so much time waiting and watching you. You had finally said yes to him. Now you were all his, flesh, blood, and soul.

[maluuustrawberry]

Undesirable encounter

(Claude Frollo X Female reader)

Synopsis: You were the new seamstress in Paris and Frollo suspects that you were harboring Romani in your shop. It looks like your first start was more tense than you expected...

A/n: I confess that I am in love with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and I especially love the book. I hope you readers like it, and if you want to give me tips I accept (you can correct me too) If you want other Disney characters, you can ask me💕.

(Guys, I don't know if you know, but the word "gypsy" is a slur and should not be used, the correct one is "Roma" Or "Romani people" I put "Gypsy" only in Frollo's lines since you know the type of person he is.)

It was just another ordinary day in Paris, you had arrived in the city a few months ago and worked as a dressmaker. You immediately became known for the beautiful dresses you produced for the girls and the beautiful clothes for the boys too. You had an excellent aesthetic sense.

But what you had in the way of talent, you also had in the way of kindness. When you heard about the persecution of the Romani people, you felt touched by the situation and decided to help them. It was very risky, but you weren't going to stand by and let it happen like the other citizens of Paris were doing, letting themselves be manipulated by Frollo and his hate speeches. There was a basement in your house that you used to store fabric and sewing materials. You took advantage of that room to help some Romani hide in case of emergency if they were being chased by the guards and if there was no time to run to the court of miracles.

And so it went on, you were extremely careful not to leave any traces, until one day or another these "rumors" ended up reaching the judge.

You were sewing up the sleeves of a client's dress, which had been placed in the moulage to make it easier for you to work, and your attention now turned to the bell that rang as soon as the door was opened. Immediately, the atmosphere of the place changed when you saw who had entered. You knew those clothes, the face worn by age and you couldn't forget that look of superiority and pride, because himself thought he was important and better than everyone because of his opposition and faith. Looking behind those glass windows, you could also see some of his men at the front of the store:

“Bonjour, madame.” Frollo said sternly, snapping you out of your thoughts. That thick, authoritative voice gave you the creeps. “I'd like to know who owns this establishment. Your husband is here?”

“A-Ah! Good morning...” You forced a smile and stuck the needle into the moulage so you wouldn't lose it. “Your Honor, I'm the owner, and no, I don't have a husband.”

As you said this, the judge looked you up and down with contempt. Of course, in the 16th century, a young woman like you not being married was a disgrace to society, and on top of that, being able to read and owning your own business was even worse. You weren't tense or nervous with him in your store, on the contrary, you were so calm... After all, you cleaned out the basement and removed any evidence as soon as a family of Romani's moved out recently:

“I've received information that you've been harboring gypsies in your house and I'm here to find out the facts, have you been harboring gypsies?” He got straight to the point.

“No, sir.” You pretended to be as honest as possible, fortunately you were good at lying.

“You know that if you lie, the sentence for insubordination is death...” He moved closer in an attempt to intimidate her.

“My conscience is clear. You have permission to investigate my store, since my words don't apply to you.”

“If I wasn't allowed to, seamstress, I'd still make a point of searching this place from top to bottom, whether you agree or not.”

The older man signaled for some of his men to enter the store before you could protest or complain. Since you were the only one who seemed to have enough courage to go against the judge's ideas when you were right. They went in and started rummaging around for clues, looking everywhere, even under the skirts of the dresses on the mannequins.

Frollo looked you up and down in an nothing unobtrusive way, you didn't notice the glances, but as soon as you did, it gave you the creeps and you avoided looking back at him. He had never noticed you in the city before and he noticed your accent, deducing that you might be a foreigner. The judge couldn't take his eyes off you, you were a very beautiful woman and seemed so delicate, and it seems that some feeling awakened in him when he saw that you were without gloves and your dress showed your shoulders. He came out of his thoughts when a guard approached:

"Sir, we've looked everywhere and found nothing..." Being a clever woman, an idea came to your mind: perhaps it would be better if they looked at everything to leave you alone.

"Have you looked in my basement, gentlemen?" you asked, kicking the rug that hid the small door in the wooden floor of your store.

Frollo was suspicious, but sent his men in to search every corner of the small cellar. Fortunately, they didn't find anything either, just sewing materials and expensive fabrics. After looking around in vain, the men left the store, leaving you and the judge alone:

“I apologize for this inconvenience.” He said as you went to the moulage to finish the dress.

“You shouldn't believe every rumor out there, Your Honor, not all of them can be true.” You said politely. “but apologies accepted, I know it was for the good of Paris and you care a lot about the city.”

Returning to work, you thought he would leave after all that had happened and notice you "busy" sewing, but no, he stayed in the store while walking slowly around analyzing his surroundings:

“This basement...” He pointed to the carpet above the small door. “Why was it hidden?”

“I don't see the need to show everyone that I have a basement here.” You replied nonchalantly. “and besides, I think that old door would spoil the pretty look of my store.”

Frollo didn't seem to believe in that very much, but you shrugged and continued sewing. There were a few seconds of silence, you could only hear his footsteps coming towards you and could feel that man's gaze on you all the time, causing you a certain nervousness or fear. What did he want anyway?

“Do you want anything else?” you asked in an attempt to break the silence and take your mind off the discomfort of feeling his gaze on you, stopping your sewing and looking at him now.

“I just want you to know.” He said, standing close and looking at her with disgust. “I'll keep an eye on you, I won't trust a literate, single woman so easily... I know women of your kind.”

“I don't think who I am or what I do has anything to do with helping... Ouch!” You interrupted yourself with pain when you felt the needle pierce your finger. It was normal for this to happen when were working with sewing, but it had never been this deep, Maybe it happened because of the anger you was feeling at that moment.

Immediately you dropped the needle out of sheer instinct, and in a quick and daring moment Frollo grabbed your hand with a certain amount of force, bringing it in front of his face, which had a small smile of satisfaction on it. The judge was a sadomasochist, he enjoyed seeing someone in pain, especially when it was someone he thought deserved such a punishment. You were shocked by his attitude, you weren't expecting it and didn't know how to react. What was he doing? Frollo continued to hold your hand, watching the small drop of blood ooze from your pricked finger, but his attention wasn't just there, it was on your fingers, your soft skin and the sensation it brought when you touched it with the contact of the warm hand and his, which was a little cold:

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a bit of hatred for such a vulgar and daring attitude, and he laughed a little.

“What would the church think of a woman exposing her bare hands in front of a high-ranking man like me?” You had no reaction for fear. Gradually his fingers entwined in yours and you saw that his eyes went to your small cleavage and your bare shoulders. “And it's not just your hands that are exposed...”

You quickly pulled your hand free and he looked at you incredulously:

“My hands are only exposed because I can't wear gloves when I sew, and you still don't have the right to do that. It's in the Bible; If your eye or your hand causes you to sin, throw it away!” A small smile came to Frollo's face when he heard that.

“So bold... It's typical of women like you to turn away from guilt in order to confuse men's minds with pagan thoughts, but that doesn't matter any more...”

He walked away, heading for the door to leave, but first his attention turned to you:

“It was a nice chat, seamstress... I want you to make me a cloak and sew me a pair of gloves, I'll be expecting you to deliver them tomorrow night.”

After saying that, he left, leaving you with no reaction to what had just happened. You were angry, but at the same time relieved that he hadn't found out. As soon as he left, you stared at your hand, which he touched and intertwined with his large, thin fingers. You'd have to be more careful now, he'd be stalking you and the reason wouldn't just be because he suspected you of helping the Romani people, it would be because of something else and you know exactly what it was and what his intentions were...

End...

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Judge Claude Frollo - Piano lesson

warning : obsession, age gap, reader is in her early 20s/ Frollo is in his early 60s, some touching, Frollo is just well Frollo, naive reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the piano passed through the Judge's face as he ran his long thin fingers over the keys. The music in his room caught and the man fell into a melody, his thoughts stopped revolving around the eternal fight against injustice, sin and the gypsies and he could concentrate on his right and faith.

But whenever he played the higher notes, he could not help but let his thoughts go to her. This flower in the stone walls of a church. The church that protected her as the holy daughter of the Dean of Paris.

This sweet flower like from the prettiest dreams and poems did not let him go when he saw her for the first time. How she was wrapped in white and red cloth decorated with gold, lighting the candles on a dark morning in the church.

He watched her closely as her gentle hands held the long candle to light the other smaller ones. She stood on tiptoe to reach the higher ones and he saw her ankles peeking out from under her dress. He saw her hair around her neck and the small smile on her lips as she hummed a song. She was like the rebirth of Mary.

She was everything. Which is why he knew he had to have her, she had to be his. His lover, his wife, his own Mary. She had to be an angel, he had convinced himself by now. He had to have her for himself and he knew that he would use all his power to make this happen.

But before he could put his plans into action, he heard the knock on his door. This timid gentle knocking which he immediately recognized. He took his fingers from the piano, stood up, smoothed out his clothes and went to the door.

The wood of the stairs creaked and he knew that there were few chances that this worked. It was his power, influence and his will why she was here.

Would be taught by him and no one else. It was him. He was the reason. ,,My dear, come in, don't freeze to death," he said after opening the door. He saw the first drops of rain spreading over the city and the dark rain clouds gathering over the city.

A sign from God to warn him, but Frollo ignored it. Ignored everything when he was criticized because he was always right. ,,Thank you, my Lord," she said softly, her voice like a little bell on his ears before he entered and closed the door. Everything would be only a question until he got what he wanted.

,,Let me help you," he said calmly and his hands, obsessed with rings, were already on her clothes. He helped her to take off her coat and to his delight he saw the dress underneath. Not as thick as in the church itself, it was airier, looser and with a slight look at her body, it clung to her.

Around her neck the silver chain with the small sacred coin blessed by her father. An instance that would not and could not stop him. ,,What a pretty necklace, my lady," he murmured, sliding his index finger over it, knowing how she looked at him. How close he was to her breasts and she had not yet been touched.

This naivety and insecurity like a flower that showed its blossoms for the first time in the sun and not in the dark church. ,,A gift for my birth" she replied, even though he already knew it, he acted as if it fascinated him before leaving her and pointing upwards.

,,Please, after you" he insisted and let her go ahead for a few seconds. He saw her lift her dress slightly so she wouldn't get stuck climbing the stairs. She wore no stockings and he could easily see her ankles and legs.

How her body moved under the dress and he imagined how she would look under the fabric. Like a pretty innocent lamb she was in her cage. My pretty little bird came to his mind before he followed her up the stairs and led her into the music room.

,,Your father instructed me to improve your piano playing, he said it was the precision and grace that was missing" he briefly recounted the information he had received in the letter that had delighted him at the time. A letter that made the wolf lick his teeth. It was as good as his. He saw her nod as she sat down at the piano and carefully tapped it, her fingers hovering over the keys.

,,It's true, it's a little difficult to hit the keys perfectly, as good as I am at this piece of music," she admitted before she saw him instruct her to play a piece. He leaned slightly on the piece of music, his gaze always looking down at her as he watched the music go through the room again, which Meloldie seemed familiar to him.

He could easily see her decollete even if the fabric was high so he saw it from his position. Watching her move her fingers over the keys, he saw the mistakes she made and knew exactly what he had to do.

Wordlessly he went over to her, sat down next to her on the chair and began to play with her, feeling her initial confusion as she stopped short and a light touch of his fingers on hers told her to continue.

He wanted to touch more of her warm soft skin and a few moments after she started playing again he let his fingers slide over hers again. ,,You play well for your age, but you need practice, try to touch my fingers to the same keys" he knew and looked at her nodding knowing that in her unworldly way she trusted him and would do whatever he asked.

,,Thank you Frollo...for your honesty" she seemed to dare after a few more minutes, her gaze slipping from him after their eyes met back to the keys of the piano and he knew it would only take more flattery to have her.

They both continued to play for some time, her fingers repeatedly brushing against his and he let his fingers glide over hers.

For her a "normal" piano lesson but for him for the devil it was everything. The two played until the end of the day when the sun was already slowly threatening to go down and he playfully affected with a sigh detached from the piano.

He had done everything to delay this moment, he had even offered her a cup of wine to delay everything a little more. And he had to admit that the look on her face with red cheeks was very thrilling for him.

,,I think that's enough for today, it's time for you to return to your Lord Father" he said and offered her a hand to get up, which she accepted. Since she was not wearing gloves, they touched again and he felt how the hellfire seemed to blaze between them.

,,I thank you my Lord Frollo...for your hospitality and your help...you are a good man" he said and for the first time he saw her smile softly, the flower blossomed and he bowed slightly taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

A gesture that would be taboo for her father, a gesture of seduction and sin, but from him it was generosity. ,,You are an enchanting company, my dear flower, I expect to see you again in a few days," he replied, releasing her hand only when he saw the blush on her cheeks. How she lowered her eyes full of shame and flattery and could not help but smile a little more.

Before he helped her put on the matel again and take her to the waiting carriage outside. She hooked up with him for the few steps and he proudly led her beside him.

The wolf and his lamb. ,,May you rest well my lady and my music find you in your dreams" he said and charm flowed over his lips he knew she loved his voice she had listened to him for hours in church reading the bible even when no one was around and it was just the two of them. ,,I pray that I will dream of it my Lord" she said goodbye before the door of the carriage closed and she drove away from the wolf who was showing his teeth.

One bite and you're my little lamb he thought and the devilish grin settled on his lips as the infernal red of the evening sun fell on him and he went back to his hiding place. Greedily waiting for the next meeting, knowing that he would make her his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[angstyhikka]

Lev in touch! Hikka’s out, I possessed her))) she’s eating chips with her brain turned off while I’m explaining the lore to you >:D

So.*loud long surp*. in Anarchists there is a LUZ. she ended up on the Islands after falling into a lake, which turned out to be a portal to the world of demons. the King and Jester quickly picked up her there. she seemed fun to them. Philip mistook her for a kitten, and she, in fact, now walks under this nickname. she lives in their castle above titan’s head. and when she wants to get out of there, she asks Collie (specifically Collie because if Phil lets her down, firstly, it will be unsafe, and secondly, Luz cannot be picked up, she has daddy issues). sometimes they forget to feed her, but she copes with it herself. fortunately, anarchists have a fridge and, in principle, all the best things from the human realm. they even have a TV on which they watch anime. once they organized a “One Piece Month”))) then they flew around the islands, found more or less suitable candidates for the roles of characters, turned them into these characters and forced them to act out the roles (precisely they forced them, because making them obedient puppets was boring, not Interesting, Phil said)

Luz watched these idiots having fun for a while and was like, “Well, I see that they have no intention of harming people. They’re just idiots who don’t understand what they’re doing.” at least she hopes so. at some point Luz thought, “I can fix them.” and she had a moralizing conversation with the boys, trying to somehow reach out to them. but, as you understand, moralizing conversations affect people only when they are rubbed into them by someone with authority and force. and Luz has neither one nor the other, she's just a kitten.

Luz realized that she didn’t belong here, that her attempts to affect on K ‘n J were pointless, and decided to go her own way. She said goodbye to the boys. they got upset and after she left they started fighting because of what had happened, saying, “It’s your fault that Kitten left us!”. word for word, Philip went to let off steam, and Collie stayed at home. aaaaaand then the plot of the comic that we’re working on now happened. We're already half done! heading towards the 30 page mark......

Hikka in touch! finished eating my chips and is ready to briefly explain the rest of the pictures while you are already stuffed Lore about Luz phpphphphp

The second picture is what the pocket found just after getting out of the lakes. K ‘n J were racing through the forest on “beepbeepkas” (they maneuvered right through the air between the trees), but belatedly they stopped to check out what kind of person that was, standing there sticking it in, not understanding anything. Collie's first line was "you look interesting" and then Phillip were like "we're taking her with us"

Third picture: we will have Hollow Mind. Not saying any more context yet because there are spoilers :))

Fourth: Phill can do gypsy tricks, which are valued among them precisely because without magic they rely on sleight of hand and cunning. Luz was not impressed

Well, the last one is an unused frame for a comic that we turned into a meme. Don't thank us :3

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

Our Flag Means Death season 2 shot a crucial scene in the Avatar 2 tank

A behind-the-scenes look at how Taika Waititi and Rhys Darby shot their big merman moment

[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Our Flag Means Death, Season 2, Episodes 3]

Season 2 of David Jenkins’ pirate comedy-romance-drama Our Flag Means Death has finally premiered on Max, with an opening three-episode arc that’s guaranteed to get the series’ fandom buzzing. The third episode in particular ends with a sequence that feels like it was intentionally crafted to inspire the crowds of fan artists who have turned the series into an obsession. Polygon talked to the series’ VFX supervisor, David Van Dyke, about what went into shooting that sequence — and how James Cameron’s Avatar: The Way of Water helped out.

At the end of episode 3, Ed “Blackbeard” Teach (Taika Waititi) is in limbo after being assaulted and nearly killed by his crew. There, he meets his former captain Benjamin Hornigold (another of the series’ historical pirate characters, played by Mark Mitchinson), who tries to help him through his emotional crisis over being abandoned by Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby). Except Hornigold mostly helps by pointing out Blackbeard’s failings, then tying a stone to his waist and throwing him off a cliff into the sea — where he sees a vision of Stede as a fish-tailed merman, coming to save him.

“Just so you know, Rhys and Taika did very well underwater,” Van Dyke told Polygon about shooting the scene. “Rhys is not an Olympic synchronized swimmer, but he’s a strong swimmer. They were both very comfortable underwater. They both did a really good job of being mermen.”

Van Dyke says he was originally asked whether he could do the scene with CG versions of the two men, for safety reasons. He explained that it was possible, “but that’ll cost millions and millions of dollars, and we don’t really have that.”

Instead, he ended up shooting the scene practically. Season 1 of Our Flag Means Death was shot on a soundstage in Los Angeles, but for season 2, production moved to New Zealand. That gave Van Dyke a lot of advantages in terms of shooting natural backdrops to use on the production’s giant virtual environment screen, and in using experienced crews from past special-effects-heavy productions, from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies to James Cameron’s Avatar movies.

“There were definitely a few pieces that were serendipitously to our advantage,” Van Dyke says. “New Zealand was where they shot a lot of Avatar stuff, and there just so happens to be an enormous tank on the lot. There are a bunch of Avatar crew who are SCUBA certified, because they’ve been shooting in that tank forever. This was not something we had to figure out — we didn’t have to send a bunch of grips and lighting technicians off to SCUBA school. So they were there, they had really amazing underwater photography teams, and obviously a really good stunt team that was able to train up Taika and Rhys to make sure the scene was working.”

Van Dyke points to New Zealand’s thriving mermaid freediving community as a boon when it came to designing Darby’s merman outfit. “There are a lot of incredible mer-tails out there,” he said. “We were able to take those, and [costume designer Gypsy Taylor] and her team brought them together to make these beautiful physical pieces, so Rhys was able to actually sell it and do the performance underwater.”

For Van Dyke, the sequence really started with the cliff-jump sequence, which actually used considerably more CG than the underwater shots. “That cliff sequence was a great culmination of effects, merging physical photography and our LED wall, because you can’t really put those two guys on a thousand-foot cliff,” he said. “The insurance alone would be out of control. Also, we’re not really in the business of having people fall to their deaths.”

The cliff sequence began with sequences shot off New Zealand’s Bethells Beach, using drones to capture images looking inward from the ocean and photogrammetry of a specific ledge for production designer Ra Vincent and the art department to reproduce in the studio.

“The wide shots use production plates of those cliffs, and the tighter shots use photography we shot specifically to build out the stitching of the cliff sequence,” Van Dyke said. “Hornigold and Blackbeard are standing on a cliff set. We tied in drone plates of the actual cliffs so we can see the ocean and really set up how terrifying [the drop would be]. Then he falls into the ocean, falls into our tank.”

Once Waititi was in the tank, the next step was the shot where the stone tied to a rope around his waist pulls him deep underwater. That part of the scene required more conventional, practical production trickery than the rest of the sequence.

“The tank is massive, but it’s not 300 feet deep. It’s pretty darn big, but it’s never big enough, as they say,” Van Dyke says. “So when Taika is being tugged by the rock, we actually shot that sideways. By turning the camera sideways, you get more length to the shot. The problem is the bubbles — they should be streaming off him and then rising to the surface, but if you’re going sideways, they’re going to come off him and then go up, perpendicular to him. So we took over with CG to make sure our bubbles were traveling toward where the surface was supposed to be.”

The CG in the underwater sequence was mostly used to hide the lighting and rigging necessary to shoot it, Van Dyke says. “Anytime you’re shooting anything underwater, there’s gonna be a lot of gear. There’s no way you can get around that. So we’re making sure we have [convincing deep-sea] lighting and the bubbles. And then there’s his performance — that’s a real performance.”

For Van Dyke, the real complication was the costuming and makeup for both Darby and Waititi. “Taika’s wig — I was amazed that thing stayed on so long. It’s a long shoot. He was shooting all day, all weekend. But things stayed on. It’s a heavy weight. And Rhys is really working underwater, so his tail has to be working, so it all feels seamless.”

The shot in the underwater sequence that seems most likely to be a CG creation has both men just floating deep in the sea, facing each other above a seemingly endless abyss. Again, Van Dyke says, he used very little CG for that shot, and it was mostly to hide the tank walls.

“In that case, we were not shooting sideways,” he said. “It’s essentially a locked shot. It was about getting them at the right depth underwater, and making sure the shafts of light above them were working properly. We don’t have to track as much, we don’t have all these moving elements, we don’t have to worry about where the bubbles are going. That one was really just about cleaning up the tank, doctoring out the sides of the shot, where we can see the water receding into blackness, then giving the base of the tank true depth, so it really feels like they’re suspended a hundred feet below the surface.

“Obviously, a fair amount of CGI and visual effects had to go into it. But at the same time, it was a moment where we really needed to let the story take over, and have the visual effects just get out of the way, man.”

The first three episodes of Our Flag Means Death season 2 are now streaming on Max.

Source: Polygon

[inthepeakymidwinter]

Cruel Summer (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Y/N tries to move on after seeing Thomas with another woman. Thomas comes back after weeks wondering where Y/N went.

Based on this anon ask:

“Hello! Can you please do Tommy is jealous that Y/N is moving on after having a crush on him for years but he was too focused on Grace? He realizes that he loves Y/n more than Grace after seeing her with another man”

Word Count: 2718

TW: drinking, alcohol

(Sorry it took me sooo long! Hope you all enjoy!)

————————————

It’s been weeks since I slept after finding out that Tommy was with Grace. It shook my nervous system in ways I didn’t expect it to. I shouldn’t care as much as my heart actively does. I stopped going outside to water my plants. I stopped eating breakfast and lunch. The only thing I could hold down was tea. It took many days to feel like a person again. The night I caught them kissing at the derby my heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. I hadn’t seen Tommy since that day, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t plan on it. I ran out of that stadium and never looked back.

Strangely enough as one door closed another began to open. Thomas’ brother John had knocked on the door to my townhome one early morning. I answered the door in my pajamas, with my hair messy and wild, sipping a cup of tea out of one hand. “John?” I asked him, looking ahead of him to see if anyone else was with him. He stood there with a perfectly dry-cleaned suit on and his hair slicked back.

“Have you seen Tommy around?” He questioned; his demeanor was so serious that it almost felt like an interrogation.

I turned furious in an instant. “You really think I’ve seen him? I haven’t been out in weeks. What makes you think he’d be with me?” I shouted.

“Aye come off it. I didn’t mean anything by it. Last time I saw he was off to the woods for some gypsy thing. No one's seen him since…are you okay Y/N?” John asked sincerely.

“I’ll be fine John” I mumbled, looking down at his shiny black leather shoes. I took another sip of tea before I felt John’s hand on my cheek, slowly lifting my head up with his thumb so out eyes would meet.

“I know yer not” He sighed. I shook my head slowly and he rushed himself through the door, making his way into my kitchen. “Y’know Y/N if i had known any better I would have come by sooner…just haven’t seen you around…i thought you’d be coming by the betting shop any day now” He admitted.

“John, I barely make it out of my bed most days what makes you think I’d even make it to the betting shop?” I hissed.

John smiled, then realized what i said and how severe it was. His demeanor changed into a melancholic look, and he walked over to me. “Don’t tell me that” he said with his lips trembling. “Why have you done this, Y/N what happened?” John questioned me.

I looked down at the floor and then back up at him. His brown eyes stared me down until something came out of my mouth. “I just…saw him with her” Tears started to form in my eyes.

“Oh, fook me Y/N, him? You have feelings for him?” John asked. “You deserve so much better than my sorry excuse of a brother. He may be my brother, but he has flaws Y/N. Flaws that you are nowhere near” He told the truth and I believed him for once. I always knew Tommy had big dark secrets. I just didn’t know how bad they were and maybe that was for the best. “We’re going out tonight. You and me, eh?” John insisted, holding my hand as he spoke. I smiled for the first time in a long time. I wasn’t ready but with John i felt like i could take a leap. “Put a nice dress on, I’ll pick you up at 8” John said and kissed my cheek. I blushed involuntarily as I watched him walk out of my townhome confidently. He always had this charisma about him, all of the Shelby brothers did. It was effortless to them.

At around 6:30pm I started getting ready. I put on winged black liner on my eyes, and slipped on a tight black dress with lace trim.

At exactly 8pm just like he said, John arrived in front of my house to pick me up. I decided to walk out of my home and saw John get out of the car immediately. He raced up to the passenger door and opened it for me. “You know I would’ve knocked on your door” He stated.

“I figured, but I was impatient” I smiled back at him.

“Well you look absolutely stunning tonight” John complimented. I nodded in his direction and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“So where are we going?” I asked him with a smile.

“You’ll see very soon” John stated and shut the door once i got in. He drove us to a bar that i had never been to. We went in and he got us drinks right away. I sat quietly in a booth with him as we giggled about old times and drank beer to our hearts content. After a few hours John cursed out of nowhere. “Fook me I forgot to pick up Arthur from the Garrison. Linda’s gonna have my arse” He groaned as he got up from the booth.

“I-It’s okay John I can go with you” I sighed. Maybe John was right. Maybe Tommy didn’t dare show his face in this town anymore.

John nodded at me and went up to the bartender to pay his tab, then we went back to his car and drove to the Garrison. John turned the car off and turned his attention to me. “Are ye sure you want to come in?” He asked politely.

“I’ll be fine John” I placed my hand on his and gave him a small smile. He held my hand for a minute in return before letting go and getting out of the car. He walked to the passenger side and opened my door, letting me get out before he slammed the door shut. We walked into the Garrison with our hands intertwined and John yelled out for Arthur. He was drunk off of his face, sitting at the bar and laughing with a random man I’ve never seen before. And by the looks of Johns confused face, neither did he.

“Alright Arthur come with us. Don’t wanna keep that Linda waiting do we” John spoke, trying to coax Arthur out of his drunken state.

Arthur looked at John and back to his drink then guzzled his entire glass of dark liquor in one go. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He said he’d be back” He slurred.

John groaned audibly, “Arthur, Y/N and I are taking you home. Tommy’s not coming he-“

“He what” Thomas spoke from the bar’s entrance. My stomach turned and I no longer felt happy from all those drinks like I did a minute ago.

Thomas and I exchanged quick glances before his gaze went back to his brothers. John stood in shock for a moment but it quickly faded to anger. “You don’t get to just leave us without an explanation Tom” He growled.

“I never left. Did I Arthur?” Thomas asked and walked up closer to the two brothers.

“Aye. He’s been out with his woman I reckon” Arthur raised his empty glass in support but Thomas grew furious.

“Never said anything like that you drunken bastard” Tommy growled.

“You didn’t have to” John huffed and walked towards me. He motioned to go out the door and i nodded my head in agreement, taking his hand once more.

“Where the hell are you two going?” Thomas roared from behind.

“We’re leaving for the night. You enjoy Arthur” John smiled before leaving the bar with me. I walked out of the garrison with John and felt myself crumbling. I walked the cobblestone street to get to his car and stopped.

“John…I need to go home” I croaked out.

“Y/N Please tonight was supposed to-“ He pleaded.

“John I need to go right now” I huffed, nearly running to the car at this point.

I made it to the car and opened the door myself, hopping in as fast as I could. John got in and slammed his driver side door, turning the car on angrily.

“I didn’t want this to happen” He sighed.

“What?” I asked grumpily.

“Just all of it. Fuckin Tom” He growled.

“Just take me home, John” I mumbled. Completely over seeing Thomas in person. I just wanted to climb into a hole and die.

The ride home was silent. Nothing but John’s breathing and cursing under his breath. It took us 15 minutes until I finally made it home. I made it home and rushed out of the car, slamming the door and storming into my townhouse after unlocking the door. I closed the door behind me and locked it, making sure no peaky ever got in.

I stepped into my kitchen and ran to the cupboard beside my refrigerator. I opened it and took out the bottle of red wine that had been sitting there for months. I went to fetch a bottle opened from the drawer beside it and heard a loud knock at the door.

“Leave me alone John” I shouted and proceeded to open the bottle of wine. I twisted the cork and it popped out of the bottle. Then yet again another knock. “I told you to leave me alone!” I yelled. I sighed deeply and got a wine glass out of my upper cabinets, pouring wine into my glass and taking a large swig.

Suddenly the knocks on my front door grew louder and i couldn’t take it anymore.

I cursed under my breath and stomped to the front door, unlocking it and about to curse out the person behind the door.

“I told you to leave me-“ I yelled until I saw who the person behind the door was. Thomas Shelby in the flesh.

“You can hate me all you want but do NOT get revenge by using my brothers” He argued with his baby blue eyes and perfectly styled dark hair.

“I wasn’t getting revenge anyone. It's something called moving on” I huffed and tried closing the door on him. Thomas held the door open and stared me down.

“Then why go out with John” He asked me with hurt in his eyes.

“It’s none of your business, Tom. Go home” I stated and tried to close the front door again, but it was no use.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N?” Tommy asked angrily. I wanted to curse him out but instead I took a deep breath and stepped outside on the front stoop with him and shut the door behind me.

“Thomas I’m trying to move on. The same as you did weeks ago with that blonde girl. I’m tired of you being in my life” I huffed and nearly cried. Just a minute later rain started to pour onto us. I felt cold drops trickle down my shoulders and looked down at them sliding down my arms.

When suddenly Thomas asked me, “…Why don’t you want me in your life, Y/N” This time with a fallen face and broken-down demeanor.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I wasn’t prepared to tell him anything about what I saw those past weeks ago. “You need to go Thomas…I-I can’t handle this right now” I croaked and tried to pull myself together.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on” He raised his voice and stared at me deeply with his light blue eyes. The rain had trickled down his head by now, making his dark hair completely wet and straight. He looked good and it just pissed me off even more.

“I never kissed anyone in front of you! Never fucking liked…anyone other than you. And then you go off with other people disappearing for weeks” I cried out and avoided his gaze.

“I didn’t think you wanted me. You ignored me every time we all went drinking. That’s why I went for Grace, but she was using me. Trying to find our guns. Trying to end our company. That’s why I had to leave. I was off the grid” Thomas explained. I sighed and sat on my front steps. Not caring if the rain made me wetter, I just needed to think properly.

“I can't let you go Y/N. Not like this. Nothings started between us. I’ve never got to tell you how I felt” Thomas spoke from behind me.“Y/N look at me” He ordered. I turned to face him, and he stepped down a stair, sitting beside me with his body turned fully towards me.

“I rather die than hurt you. I wish I never did. I don’t want to lose you Y/N” Thomas confessed. I stared at him completely breathless, my hair dripping wet with rainwater. Thomas placed his hands on either side of my face. My eyes closed as I fell into his caress. “Please Y/N” He begged. I started to cry softly, and he wrapped me into his arms. Hugging me with an urgent tightness. I’ve never felt so comforted by anyone like that. “Tell me what you want…be honest, me or John” He gave me an ultimatum. My cheeks flushed a vibrant red color as I left his embrace and stared into his inviting gaze.

“You really don’t know who I like do you…” I asked him.

“I really don’t Y/N…you’re driving me insane right now. Waltzing in with him” He spoke with frustration.

“Me? Like you didn’t drive me to insanity weeks ago? You’ll be fine” I laughed in his face as the rain fully poured down onto us.

“I need you” He spoke, his voice much deeper than it was before.

“And I need a mental vacation but we don’t always get our way Thomas Shelby” I sighed and placed my hands on the stairs, holding myself up.

“Why are you doing this? You just figure when one person finally moves on that you can just come back, and everything would be normal again? You don’t understand how miserable I was because of you. John had to get me out of bed just to be a person again. And you think you can come over once and propose an ultimatum and make everything fine. I’m sick of it Thomas Shelby” I confessed with anger making my blood boil.

“Y/N…I’m sorry. For everything. I didnt know what happened to you. I didn’t even think you cared. No one told me where you went and i had to lay low. I wrote millions of letters i never got to send. I promise I will make everything up to you. Just tell me who you want the most” He pleaded and shuffled closer to me.

“It’s never been John…from the start you were the only person I wanted” I admitted. Getting near his familiar ocean blue eyes was enough for me to become lightheaded. He placed a hand on my wet cheek once more, staring back into my soul like he saw right through me. Rain drops trickled down his forehead making his jaw look even more chiseled.

He carefully placed his thumb on my bottom lip and swiped over it softly. “I’d really like it if you were all mine…permanently” Thomas growled.

“I’ve only been waiting for months” I mumbled out before he leaned in close and kissed me roughly like he yearned for this moment for centuries. The rain came down so hard i couldn’t think straight. I kissed him back. Tasting a mix of my own salty tears and rain water diluting them. I locked my lips against Thomas’ with him repeating back the same way. We shared sloppy, compelling kisses that didn’t stop until we both had to come up for air. When we did, Thomas pressed his forehead against mine and closed his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long Y/N” He breathed.

“Me too.” I smiled. “Let’s go get warmed up. I have wine waiting inside” I offered.

“Sounds like a dream” Thomas spoke and stood up off of the stairs, grabbing my hand and pulling me up in one go. The night ended with us lying in bed without clothes, overly drunk and tangled in the sheets. His big arms holding me tight as we drifted off into a good night’s sleep.

[orgasming-caterpillar]

F1 Drivers As Desi Boys

A.K.A. The F1 grid as Indian guys

Also, I will be writing an entire chatfic about this AU on ao3, so stay tuned ;)

Charles Leclerc — “Charlie”

I think he would be from Mumbai. But like, he lived in the very high-end part of it so it's very hard to know right off the bat.

I just KNOW he studied abroad, okay? Italy or Canada I think. Look at his face— you just know he's the kinda guy people see on the street and think “angrej”

Speaks Hindi with a subtle but insufferable white guy accent. He can't even help it, that's just how he speaks. He once called Max “bhenchod” with the most authentic, desi accent when he was mad and they have all beaches in that high ever since.

Dropped out of university in his last year and came back to India to handle his dad's business after his dad's death.

Fell in love with the hot employee and made him the manager. Everyone knows Carlos got the position by sleeping with the new young hot boss but they stay silent to avoid getting fired.

Now lives in the same complex in Mumbai as Carlos, Max, Lando and others. Lives with his mother, two brothers and a dog.

Leo is a recurring guest in every society event no matter what. Shanta aunty ki kitty party? He's invited. Children playing cricket below? He is the referee. Security guard's dad died? Arthi Leo hi utha raha hai.

Best friends with Pierre. went to the same school as him in his childhood.

Not friendly at ALL with Max.

Carlos Sainz— “Mirchi”

Marathi Mulga for sure

Maula Mere Maula king of guy

His ass should be in a TV serial

Was a regular office worker before he fucked down his boss and now he's the manager. And, well, a win is a win, right?

His parents were kind of homophobic before he became the manager. It's hilarious, actually.

He has such a good voice. If you catch him singing one of the old bollywood songs of Lata Mangeshkar or Muhammad Rafi, consider yourself blessed by the gods.

Knows how to cook since he lives alone

Literally the guy every aunty dreams of marrying their daughter to. Manager of his office. Cooks. Cleans. Respects his elders. Funny. Charming. Every time he and Charles go out at least one middle aged person has asked Carlos if he's married yet and frankly, as his boyfriend who's Right There, Charles is pretty offended.

Have y'all seen the pictures of him in those button up shirts and trousers? The eyes that make Rahat Fateh Ali Khan songs play in your ear every time you look into them? So desi husband material

Best friends with Lando, basically brothers with his they are with each other

Like any best friend, he does NOT like Lando's boyfriend

Max Verstappen— “JATT DON'T CARE 💪🔥💯”

From Haryana

The M in Max stands for Mharo Balam Thanedar Chalawe Gypsy— jkjk

Some say he's aggressive, hot headed, quick tempered; some say he's just Haryanvi.

Is in a psychosexual homoerotic rivalry with Charles and is in denial because of his internalised homophobia.

His dad and Charles’ dad were business partners and now they're always wanting to one up another in the family businesses.

Talking about his father— his dad is very rich and also a typical Haryanvi dad. Bapu sehat ke liye haanikarak type shit.

His father made him do kushti when he was younger and Charles still teases him about it

Will randomly infodump about his father whenever the opportunity presents itself

Married

With how he usually is and what his childhood was like, you'd think he'd be a horrible father but you're WRONG

Everyone loves his daughter Prithvi, or P, for short.

They love spoiling her. Every year on her birthday she gets so many gifts it takes her two days just to open them.

Funnily enough, she once “betrayed” him by saying her favourite was Charlie Uncle.

I just think it would be so funny if he drove a Toyota Fortuner.

Lando Norris— “Lassan 🧄”

From Bangalore

Youtuber. Makes videos for every one of his channels religiously. Has a channel for gaming, another for vlogs, another for shorts and somehow manages them all while uploading reels and posting on Instagram???

He's a university student but nobody knows it because he's always posting videos so they just think he's a full time youtuber

“Shares a room” with Oscar, who is his boyfriend, by the way. You'd never guess. (that is a fucking lie. If you watch even one of his livestreams you'd know that they have explored each other's bodies. He's always “dekho guys Oscar aa gaya 😄😄😄” bro you're not fooling anyone)

Has his own merchandise. His designs are always so cool that they sell out before they're properly out.

Will probably make his own content team when he graduates

He once slipped on the desi toilet while travelling and Carlos made a reel about it. It is one of his most famous reels and Lando will absolutely ignore you if you talk about it.

Kinda fuckboyish???? Like he gives off the vibes of the kinda boy that only texts you past midnight and says shit like “what are you wearing? ;)” Like thank god he has a boyfriend or he would single handedly destroy the faith in love of every girl in a 5 kilometre radius

Oscar Piastri— “gora pakora”

From Goa

Frequently shows up on Lando's videos and livestreams

Studying engineering and living with Lando, basically taking care of him because of course he is

Regular victim of Lando's youtube shenanigans. Gets pranked one too many times every other day.

Has this kind of dead stare where he's just 😐 until Lando comes and annoys (see: kisses or pranks) him

Gets asked “bhai tu kabhi kuch bolta kyu nahi hai” so frequently he should just write “pata nahi yaar” on his face.

Has strong beef with Carlos. Do not talk about that man in front of him. Now this is really inconvenient because Carlos is Lando's bEsT FrIeNd iN tHe WoRlD

There beef started when Lando cried because he missed Oscar and Carlos showed up to Oscar's parents house asking him to square the fuck up. His parents —poor them they don't even know their son is gay— were left to wonder why their son was on a video call with his roommate OUTSIDE in the middle of winter vacation while a strange man cussed him the fuck out.

Lando can and will and DOES make him do silly dance trends with him on Instagram reels

Best friend is Logan, who studies engineering with him. You don't know how much you can depend on someone else until you're an IISER student and they're the only good friend you have.

Daniel Ricciardo— “Paaji”

From Chandigarh

Y'all remember Sodhi from Tarak Mehta Ka Ulta Chashma? Yeah. Him.

No one knows how he's able to control Max. Literally his best friend. Max will always have a resting bitch face but when Danny paaji is there he's all “😆😆😂😂🤣🤣” like bro 😐

I just know he would randomly say “oye balle balle balle balle balle” for no reason other than to annoy people. I just know it.

Actually works very hard and always helps people, but he's such a troll that people just think he's some unemployed youtuber with a prank channel

Absolute party animal. Do not ever in front of him mention that you're free that night.

George Russell— “nazuk kali”

From Delhi

Graphic designer. Edits Lando's videos for nim. Studies computer science.

Shared a room with Alex Albon and Logan Sargeant. Their relationship status is very complex. I'm not saying that they're a throuple, I'm not saying that they're friends. What I'm saying is that they're so dependent on each other I don't think they could function alone anymore. These three idiots make a full functional human being together. George cleans the house, Alex does the cooking and Logan does the laundry and the dishes. They manage, thanks.

George Russell is the type of guy to say “ghar pe maa behen nahi hai kya?” When he sees a girl getting catcalled.

George Russell is the type of guy to say “aapko kahin lagi to nahin?” When he bumps into someone.

George Russell is the type of guy to cover his mouth and say “uff” when he eats something spicy on accident.

On that note, George absolutely cannot handle his spice. Never bit into a raw green chilli willingly in his entire life.

You just know he eats the meethi pani puri with the red chutney and all.

Thinks momos are better than pani puri (he's wrong).

Closes his eyes and covers his ears when a condom ad or a spicy movie scene comes on the TV

Very pale because he rarely leaves his room (which— he's a computer science major, come on)

Lewis Hamilton— “dac saab”

From Kozhikode (Kerala)

Fashion influencer, gets brand deals all the time. Always promoting this brand or that.

Also actually a veterinary doctor with his own dog clinic.

Has a youtube channel where heostly makes affordable fashion tips etc but also posts the dogs at his clinic from time to time.

Spent a lot of years in South Delhi where he fell in love with a guy when he was a teenager but when he eventually moved back to Kozhikode they fell out of contact. Now he’s moved to Mumbai as he opened up a new clinic there and doesn't even know that he actually lives in the same goddamn building as the guy he fell in love with 20 years ago back in South Delhi.

I think y'all can already guess who the guy was, but if you can't (shame on you) it's Nico Rosberg.

Had a wife but she cheated so they divorced or something idk how do you justify a 40 year old guy being unmarried in India?

Loves his dogs more than anything, if there's a dog at his clinic that he can't save he will be sad for days.

Speaks Hindi in a voice that's like three octaves lower than his usual voice. Thinks he sounds bad but he sounds so damn hot.

Nico Rosberg— “thi ek.”

From South Delhi

News anchor for sure. Has a sadness in his eyes that makes you wonder if he ever got over the heartbreak he had at 19 (he did not)

Most people think his hair is dyed (it is not) because he's a chapri (he might be)

Legends say that the only time he has been seen with a smile on his face on TV was when he was talking about his childhood best friend.

The reason he doesn't anchor for any of the big or daresay political news channels is because they don't like how he compares international disputes to the fight he had with his best friend when he was 19.

Regularly travels to other metropolitan cities for news coverings (mainly sports) but lives in Mumbai for majority of the time.

In fact, lives in the same building as Lewis. The fact that they haven't run into each other in the elevator yet is a miracle (or a curse).

Will talk about love and heartbreak to anyone who would listen. You know those boys who say “thi ek” whenever someone tries to talk to them about love? Yeah that's him.

Married and has two daughters that he loves very much.

No pets because they remind him too much of Lewis.

Sebastian Vettel— “Chacha”

From Delhi

Lives in Mumbai with his wife.

Best friends with Lewis, knows everything about him and Nico.

Kind of a father figure to Charles.

The beloved colony uncle that always has the wildest stories ever. Catch him at the tea stall and just get him talking— you will be a changed man when he is done.

“Aur phir uska accident ho gaya aur usne apna haath kho diya, to uski manghetar ki family ne unse rishta tudwa liya. Jiske baad uski manghetar ki sagai mujhse hui aur phir hamari shaadi hui or shayad aaj bhi wo akela hi ek haath se apna hila raha hai bechara”

“...”

You would think considering how sweet he is, he was always this sweet but NO, this man was a MENACE.

Everyone who knew him before he got married wants him dead even now after all the years.

Fernando Alonso— "Kaka"

From Jaipur

The exact opposite of Sebastian.

The old man you see on the side of the road with paan in his mouth and a gaali on his lips

Also tells you stories from his youth and they're just as interesting but he's so arrogant about it that you're no longer interested in listening five minutes in no matter how interesting the story is

The kind of old man who sees children playing in the streets and starts acting like an overly invested referee for no reason.

Goes to the park in the morning at the same time as Sebastian but unlike him, Fernando does not let the joy and whimsy of life have any effect on him making you wonder why he's there at all

Lance Stroll— “vegan wali diet almond wala ghee 😌💅”

From South Bombay

Ameer baap ki bigri aulad

“What do you mean I can't buy the whole store?”

Y'all remember that “Mawn, terew paaw ki jewtie maawwww” girl??? Yeah

Sonam Kapoor is jealous of how much better he is at being a nepo baby

Logan Sargeant— “ye bhi thik hai”

Lives with George and Alex

From Goa

Thank god he does because he would not be surviving otherwise

Might have feelings for his roommates but all he knows how to do is wash the dishes and the clothes and he doesn't wanna die of hunger so he's silent.

Except maybe in front of Oscar but that's his best friendddd

Studying computer science too

Alex Albon— “dhokla4lifer”

From Gujarat

I might be projecting a bit but as someone who fucking LOVES dhokla, I don't see any reason as to why Alex should not.

Cooks for his two roommates, and always cooks so good.

Dhokla on Sundays and a tiffin box full of thepla and aam ka aachar whenever one of them is travelling home

Studying history and geography

Yuki Tsunoda— “momo wale bhaiya”

From Dehradun

Do not call him momo wale bhaiya. He can and will kill you.

Actually does love cooking

Has his own restaurant near the university campus

Pierre Gasly— “tantar mantar”

From West Bengal

Tired of everyone's “kaala jaadu” jokes.

Charles’ best friend and confidante.

Gossip girls. They have all the tea on everyone in the uni.

“Bokachoda”

Does sports.

Final year law student

Esteban Ocon— “Pierre's ex (he is NOT)”

From Odisha

Has beef with Pierre.

Will argue about anything from the origin of roshogulla to the state's contribution in the fight for freedom of the country.

Also final year law student

Extras—

Sergio Perez from Bihar

K Mag from Kashmir (haha get it? Because he's a track terroris—)

Nico Hulkenburg from Kashmir too

Valtteri Bottas from The Andaman Nicobar islands or something idk he shows so much ass it's unreal

Zhou Guanyu from Meghalaya

[melefim]

Dead Boy Detectives full soundtrack!

(Or at least all the ones I could find)

I’ve seen several soundtrack playlists floating around, but unfortunately a lot have other songs added or are missing some that were used in the show, so I went ahead and made my own!

Below the cut is a full listing of when each song was used during the show, timestamped as accurately as I could manage.

Please let me know if there are any songs I missed, and I’ll add them ASAP! Score will be added if/when it’s released. If anyone would be interested in separate posts for each episode, let me know and I’ll get right on it!

Enjoy!

🎥Promotional🎥:

“Psychobilly Bandits” by Alibi Music: Teaser trailer

“Welcome to the Black Parade” by My Chemical Romance: Full trailer

“Young and in Love” by Fast Forward Romance: Meet the Characters teaser

🔮The Case of Crystal Palace🔮:

“Doorman” by slowthai, Mura Masa: Hotel hallway chase scene. (2:33-2:47)

“Hang on to Yourself” by David Bowie: Prep for Crystal’s case. (11:59-12:30)

“Bad Feeling” by Cobra Man: What Crystal is listening to on her headphones in the subway before the David the Demon fight. (12:36-13:04)

“I’m Telling Your Mum” by Danny Farrant, Paul Rawson: Jenny’s introduction. (21:46-22:44)

“It’s Not Unusual” by Tom Jones: In the Malt shop after they find Esther’s house and after Crystal sees David the Demon. (26:42-27:38, 29:24-29:47)

“Bones of Rock” by The Boneless Ones: In the background during Crystal and Jenny’s talk in the alley. (34:03-35:07)

“Take the Rest of Me” by Brocklesby Crooke: Dandelion sprites- Crystal meeting Niko. (36:39-36:51)

“Deal Wiv It” by Mura Masa, slowthai (instrumental): Meeting David the Demon flashback. (38:36-39:10)

“So What?” by NOISY (instrumental): Planning Becky’s rescue in the butcher shop. (41:34-42:19)

“White Teeth” by The Screaming Gypsy Bandits: Record playing inside Esther’s house. (43:33-44:30)

“Surfing in the Sky” by The Vaccines: Fight in Esther’s front yard. (49:08-49:50)

“Missing” by slowthai (instrumental): Sending Becky home, heading back to the butcher shop. (51:23-52:34)

🌼The Case of the Dandelion Shrine🌼:

“Take the Rest of Me” by Brocklesby Crooke: Dandelion sprites- Niko faints outside the bathroom and attracts attention in the butcher shop. (12:48-12:52, 28:29-28:57)

“Natural Successor” by Pictish Trail: Turning Monty human. (47:22-49:16)

🪓The Case of the Devlin House🪓:

“Free Tonight” by Skymachine: Charles & Crystal walk into butcher shop, just a few bars on radio before anchor talks about the storm. (8:13-8:15)

“Oceans” by The Yada Yada Yadas: on radio after anchor talks about the storm while Charles and Crystal are asking Jenny about the Devlin murders. (8:21-8:50)

“Owner of a Lonely Heart” by Yes: Devlin house time loop, repeated multiple times. (First full loop 19:06-21:09. Loop repeats: 21:31-23:05, 23:36-24:38, 25:02-25:35, 26:52-27:17, 29:04-29:55, 30:22-31:24, 33:17-34:30, 34:34-35:35, 35:48-37:01, 37:18-38:55, 39:28-40:50. Final loop: 42:23-42:36)

🌊The Case of the Lighthouse Leapers🌊:

“RoMaNcE” by ShitKid: Jenny reading letter from her secret admirer, gets rent from the girls. (1:16-2:40)

“Fire Escape” by Nine One One: Jenny reading letter before finding the Night Nurse upstairs. (29:06-29:32)

“The Wellerman” (original music box version): Charles winds up music box, hits Night Nurse with it, kicks her into Angie. (43:07-43:49)

“Young Blood- White Sea Remix” by The Naked and Famous, White Sea: End of episode- Niko starts to read letters from mother, Charles and Crystal kiss, end credits. (48:22-50:59)

🐉The Case of the Two Dead Dragons 🐉:

“Thunder” by ZEE MACHINE: Interviewing students about Brad & Hunter. (14:24-15:11)

“Apocalypse” by Cigarettes After Sex: Jenny and Maxine mid-date. (26:54-28:04)

“Melting” by Kali Uchis: Jenny and Maxine late date until stalker reveal. (36:25-38:10)

“Disorder” by Joy Division: End credits. (49:49-50:41)

🍄The Case of the Creeping Forest🍄:

“Who’s Ur Girl?” By The Mysterines: Niko redecorates her room. (1:15-1:29)

“The Wellerman” (original Music box version): Sea calming music box, playing inside Angie. (13:45-14:07, 15:35-15:49)

“A.T.T.A.C.K” by Arre! Arre!: Niko tries to get Jenny to forgive her in the butcher shop. (20:49-21:57)

“Shakedown” by Infamous Stiffs: End credits. (51:17-52:11)

🕷️The Case of the Very Long Stairway🕷️:

“Under the Milky Way” by The Church: Charles’ memories of his death. (11:06-13:15)

“Dinner Jazz” by Tony Kinsey: Limbo/Hotel lobby in Hell. (17:27-18:27, 44:13-44:30)

“Revolution Action” by Atari Teenage Riot: David turns on lights and music in abandoned bowling alley. (30:20-30:48)

“Window Shopping” by Robert Foster: Gluttony/Café when exiting Hell. (43:13-43:35)

“Circle In The Sand” by Belinda Carlisle: Jenny singing in Crystal’s head while possessed. (31:43-33:50)

“Burning” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Monty flies away from rooftop, Esther works on her machine, Jenny sleeps while Niko looks at Cursed Magic 8 ball, Night Nurse knocks on supervisor’ door, Crystal eats first memory marble, end credits. (52:37-55:16)

🐍The Case of the Hungry Snake🐍 :

“Standing In The Way of Control” by Gossip: Crystal’s first memory marble. (1:18-2:04)

“I’m What You Want” by Walt Disco: Crystal Club fight memory. (8:35-8:48)

“When I’m Gone” by Ging: Crystal says goodbye and leaves the butcher shop. (16:18-18:13)

“Sleeping On Grassy Ground” by The Heavy Heavy: Charles and Edwin wake up in Esther’s house. (25:55-27:43)

“Who’s Sorry Now” by Connie Francis: Niko and Crystal break into Esther’s house. (30:35-31:17)

“Loss & Relax” by Black Belt Eagle Scout: Talking in Niko’s room. (40:44-42:59)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detective ones here!

When Charles’ shirt color changes

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Moves, Incidents, and Cases masterlist

Swearing Stats Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress.

[muiitoloko]

YOU WRITE SO WELL!!! I think you'll figure out who I am by the way I'm requesting this but I'm doing it anyways XD.

So crezie idea, it's wedding day. And Obadiah has tried his best to encorporate both church and gypsy wedding in one. Let's say they both planned it through and they are both happy bout it. BUT of course there is still beef on his side and the girls fam.

They lowkey banter (the family) and when they cross a line (idk which fam you choose) Obadiah fights back and protects you like the husband he is (dkfhdkfnes and or maybe... Reader is strong willed too >:D then she might get the reward XD but I see how Obadiah is the protector type... And we strive for that :3) and we just get the after wedding where reader is like "yep your getting a reward for that" IDK XD but that's an idea I have aha~ I hope it sparks something in you too 😭 you could end it here... But I think we could still request an after math where Obadiah becomes a father... I'm looking too far into this XD But please tell me you'll be doing part 5 soon :"3 (no pressure tho... I'm just really happy an author like you exist... And ghorl you SERVE! 💅)

Also I'm weak by how soft he is 😩 we strive for a smp husband 😌✊

Title: The Vow in Red

Summary: Obadiah Slope's marriage to a gypsy woman defies societal norms, blending Anglican tradition with gypsy customs in a love story that overcomes deep-seated prejudices. Together, they build a life grounded in resilience and unity.

Pairing: Mr. Obadiah Slope × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Insults.

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your order.

First, Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth part here.

Also read on Ao3

The day of your wedding to Obadiah Slope arrived with a tension that hung thick in the air. The town of Barchester had never been so alive with whispers and speculation. The fact that Mr. Slope—a man of the Anglican faith, deeply entrenched in the church—was marrying a gypsy woman was more than just a scandal. It was a spectacle, one that had drawn the attention of nearly every resident, and despite the intimacy you had hoped for, it seemed that the entire town had packed into the church, waiting for the ceremony to unfold.

As promised, Slope had done his best to incorporate elements of your culture into the ceremony, while still remaining faithful to his Anglican beliefs. He had listened, learned, and understood what mattered most to you. One of those compromises was the color of your wedding dress. Tradition in his world called for white, a symbol of purity and virtue, but you had chosen red, the vibrant color symbolizing passion, love, and vitality in the gypsy tradition. And though it went against convention, Slope had insisted on honoring your choice.

Now, he stood at the altar, tall and thin in his dark clerical robes, a splash of red sewn into the lining as a nod to your heritage. His hazel eyes searched the crowded church, waiting for you. The murmurs in the pews were unmistakable, a mixture of judgment and curiosity as townspeople and even some of your own family whispered amongst themselves. It was clear that few in the congregation approved of the union.

As you entered the church alone, walking down the aisle in your red dress, a hushed silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of your footsteps against the stone floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands trembling slightly as you took each step forward, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes on you. The air was thick with tension, and despite the warmth of the red fabric that clung to your skin, you felt a chill run through you as you passed rows of disapproving faces.

The gypsies who had once been your family, your community, sat at the back of the church, their expressions hard and unreadable. Some refused to meet your gaze, while others glared openly, their whispered insults cutting through the air like a blade. From the other side of the church, the more conservative townspeople, particularly the strict Anglicans, looked equally disdainful, their lips curled in contempt as they watched the woman who dared to marry one of their own.

"She’s bewitched him, surely," a voice hissed from the crowd, and you clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure.

"Red, like the devil’s bride," another whispered, the words sharp and biting.

You swallowed hard, your steps faltering for a moment as the weight of the judgment around you began to press down. But then you saw Obadiah, standing tall at the altar, his hazel eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, his presence grounding you, and you forced yourself to keep walking.

The bishop, an older man with a stern face, stood beside Obadiah, his hands clasped in front of him as he prepared to begin the ceremony. He had agreed to perform the marriage, despite his own reservations, and though he maintained an air of dignity, there was a certain stiffness to his posture that betrayed his discomfort with the situation. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and raised his voice, addressing the congregation.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to witness the union of Obadiah Slope and his bride in holy matrimony."

But the whispers continued, growing louder, more insistent, as the ceremony went on. You could hear snatches of conversation from both sides of the church—snide remarks about your heritage, accusations that you had ensnared Slope through some kind of sorcery, and worse, insults that cut deep from your own people.

"Traitor."

"Shame to the gypsies."

Your heart sank, and though you tried to focus on the ceremony, the words gnawed at you, each one like a stone being placed on your chest, making it harder to breathe. You glanced at Obadiah, hoping for comfort, and though he stood strong, you could see the flicker of anger in his hazel eyes. He had heard the insults too.

The bishop tried to carry on, raising his voice to be heard over the growing murmurs. "Marriage is a sacred institution in the eyes of God, a bond—"

"She doesn’t belong here," a voice from the crowd cut through the bishop’s words.

"Neither does he," came another, this time from the gypsy side of the church.

Obadiah’s jaw tightened, his thin lips pressing into a hard line as the insults continued. His gaze flicked to you, and he saw the discomfort, the hurt, the way your shoulders had tensed as the judgment of both worlds crashed down around you.

Finally, he’d had enough.

"Silence!" Obadiah’s baritone voice boomed through the church, commanding attention. The room fell still, the air heavy with the weight of his authority. His hazel eyes swept across the congregation, a mixture of anger and disappointment flashing in them as he took in the faces of those who had come not to celebrate, but to condemn.

"This is a house of God," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, echoing through the vaulted ceilings. "And you dare to bring such vile hatred into it? Shame on all of you."

A ripple of surprise passed through the crowd, and Obadiah took a step forward, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he addressed both the townspeople and the gypsies alike. "You judge us, not for the love we share, but for your own prejudices, your own fears. You speak of purity and faith, and yet you come here, into this sacred place, to spew your poison. Have you forgotten the teachings of Christ? Have you forgotten the commandment to love thy neighbor?"

There was a murmur of unease in the crowd, but no one dared to interrupt him. Obadiah turned to the gypsies at the back of the church, his gaze softening just slightly as he spoke to them.

"And you," he said, his voice quieter but no less resolute. "You accuse her of betraying her people, yet you are the ones who have turned your backs on her. She has not abandoned her roots—she carries them with her, proudly, into this marriage. I have done everything in my power to honor her heritage, just as she has respected mine. But you refuse to see that. You refuse to see the love between us."

He paused, his chest heaving slightly as he took a deep breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "We are here today to join in holy matrimony, not to be torn apart by your hate. If you cannot find it in your hearts to support us, then leave. But I will not allow this to continue."

For a moment, the church was silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You could feel the tension easing slightly, the hateful whispers dying down as the crowd absorbed what he had said. Slowly, you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as you took his in yours.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Obadiah turned to you, his eyes softening as he looked down at you, his grip firm and reassuring. "I won’t let them hurt you," he murmured, his voice full of quiet determination. "Not now, not ever."

The bishop, clearly unsettled by the confrontation, cleared his throat and adjusted his vestments before continuing the ceremony, his voice more subdued but resolute. "As we continue this sacred union, let us remember that love, in all its forms, is a gift from God."

The rest of the ceremony moved forward, and though the tension remained in the air, the whispers had all but stopped. As the bishop spoke, he made room for elements of both Anglican tradition and the gypsy customs you had grown up with—simple gestures that acknowledged both sides of your identity. At one point, Slope held out his hand, and you tied a red ribbon around it, symbolizing the binding of your lives together in the gypsy way. And though the red dress had drawn disdain, it was a proud symbol of who you were.

When the ceremony finally concluded, and the bishop pronounced you husband and wife, Obadiah leaned down to kiss you, the gesture tender yet full of the fierce love and protection he had promised.

As you turned to face the congregation together, his hand firmly in yours, you saw the mixture of emotions in the crowd—some faces still hardened with disapproval, others softened with something resembling acceptance. But none of it mattered. You had each other, and you had faced the world together.

And that, you knew, was enough.

The wedding party was in full swing, the air alive with the hum of lively conversation and the vibrant energy of celebration. Beneath the canopy of stars, lanterns hung from tree branches, casting a soft, warm glow over the gathering. The sounds of laughter and the strumming of a guitar filled the night air, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy and relief wash over you. The worst of the day—the judgment, the whispers—was behind you now, and in this moment, you were simply a bride, celebrating with the man you loved.

As you looked out over the crowd, you noticed Slope standing awkwardly to the side, watching as the guests began to pair off and dance to the lively tune being played by the band—a song from your people, filled with the rhythm and passion of your heritage. You chuckled softly to yourself, knowing that dancing was certainly not something Obadiah Slope was accustomed to. But tonight, with everything you had been through together, you wanted to see him let go of the rigid formality he often carried like a cloak.

With a playful smile, you approached him, reaching out to take his hand. He looked down at you, a mixture of amusement and uncertainty flickering in his hazel eyes.

"I don’t dance," Obadiah said, his voice a low murmur, though there was no real protest in his tone.

"You do tonight," you replied with a grin, tugging him gently toward the open space where others were already swaying to the music. "It’s our wedding, after all. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your bride, would you?"

Obadiah sighed dramatically, though his lips quirked into a smile. "I suppose I don’t have much of a choice," he muttered, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he allowed you to pull him into the dance.

As the music picked up in tempo, you began to sway to the beat, your hips moving in time with the lively rhythm. Obadiah, bless him, did his best to follow your lead, though his movements were stiff and uncertain at first. His tall, thin frame seemed out of place amidst the fluid, energetic steps of the dance, but you couldn’t help but laugh as he gamely tried to keep up. His hands held yours tightly, his hazel eyes focused intently on not tripping over his own feet.

"You’re doing great," you teased, leaning in closer as the two of you spun around, the world around you blurring as you moved together. "Maybe I’ll make a dancer out of you yet."

Obadiah gave you a mock-glare, though the smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed his amusement. "If I trip and fall flat on my face, you’ll be the one to blame," he warned, though there was a warmth in his voice that told you he was enjoying himself more than he let on.

As the music played on, Obadiah began to loosen up, his movements becoming less rigid and more in sync with yours. The awkwardness that had marked the beginning of the dance began to melt away, replaced by a certain rhythm and grace that surprised even him. You could see the moment he began to let go of his self-consciousness, his body moving more freely as he allowed himself to be swept up in the joy of the night.

You beamed up at him, your heart swelling with affection as you watched him adapt to the lively tune, his lips curving into a genuine smile. This was a side of Obadiah you didn’t often see—unguarded, relaxed, even playful. And as he twirled you around under the stars, his laughter mingling with yours, you realized just how much he had given up for you. Not just his reputation, but pieces of himself—the control, the rigidity—to meet you in your world.

As the song reached its crescendo, you leaned into him, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, "Thank you for standing up for me today, in the church. I know it wasn’t easy."

Obadiah’s movements faltered for a brief second, his hazel eyes meeting yours as he slowed the dance, drawing you in closer. "I’d do it again," he said softly, his baritone voice rumbling through his chest. "I won’t let anyone—gypsy or townsperson—speak ill of you. Not while I’m around."

Your heart swelled at his words, the fierce protectiveness in his tone filling you with warmth. You smiled up at him, your hand tightening on his as you said, "You deserve a reward for that, you know."

Slope raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. "A reward, you say?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that rich, teasing tone that always made your pulse quicken. "And what sort of reward might that be?"

You grinned, feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation as you leaned up on your tiptoes, your lips brushing against his ear. "You’ll find out tonight," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Slope’s eyes darkened with desire, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer. "Now you’ve got me curious," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I’ll hold you to that."

You chuckled softly, your lips grazing his as you pressed a quick, teasing kiss to his mouth. "I’m counting on it."

As the two of you continued to dance, the world around you seemed to fade away. The stars above, the laughter and music, even the whispers of the guests—they all blurred into the background as you lost yourself in the moment, in the warmth of his arms and the promise of what the night would bring.

And as the dance came to an end, you knew without a doubt that Obadiah Slope, despite his flaws and his past, was the man you wanted by your side—for tonight, for tomorrow, and for every day after.

Three years had passed since your wedding to Mr. Slope, and the life you had built together, despite the trials and whispers, had blossomed into something warm, stable, and full of love. The small house you shared, tucked away from the center of Barchester, was filled with the scent of herbs and freshly baked bread, a reflection of the balance you had found between your gypsy heritage and Slope's Anglican world. The house was a peaceful sanctuary, where the laughter of your two-year-old daughter, bright and infectious, filled the air daily.

It was late afternoon, and you stood by the window in the kitchen, preparing a light meal as you waited for Obadiah to return from his trip to the city hospital. He had gone to offer pastoral support to the patients, a duty that had become increasingly important to him over the years. His dedication to his work had only deepened, but so had his love for his family. You smiled to yourself, thinking of how gentle and patient he was with your daughter, even after the longest of days.

Your daughter, Emily, sat in her high chair at the kitchen table, babbling happily to herself. Her chubby hands clapped together as she kicked her legs, her bright eyes following your every movement. She was dressed in the colorful clothes you insisted on her wearing—a small nod to your gypsy roots. Today, she wore a vibrant red dress with embroidered flowers, and a ribbon tied loosely in her wild curls.

Just as you were about to call her over for her afternoon snack, the front door opened with a creak, and you heard the familiar sound of Obadiah’s steady footsteps in the hallway. You turned, a smile already forming on your lips, and when he entered the kitchen, his tall, thin frame silhouetted in the doorway, you felt that familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

"Obadiah," you greeted softly, crossing the room to meet him. He leaned down, his hazel eyes crinkling with affection as he pressed a kiss to your lips. His hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer for a moment, as though he had missed you more than the short hours apart should have allowed.

"How was the hospital?" you asked, your voice gentle as you pulled away slightly to look up at him. "Were you able to speak with the patients?"

"It went well," he replied in his deep baritone, his voice carrying the weight of the day's work but with a softness reserved only for you. "I was able to spend time with a few of the patients. There was an elderly woman—Mrs. Pickering—who had been feeling very alone. I think our conversation brought her some comfort. It’s a blessing to be able to help them, even in small ways."

His eyes softened as he spoke, and you could see the sincerity in his expression. Obadiah had changed so much over the years—his once sharp ambition had mellowed, replaced by a genuine desire to help those in need. He had found his calling not in the politics of the church but in the quiet, meaningful moments of connection with his parishioners.

Before you could respond, a joyful squeal broke through the conversation. Emily, having spotted her father, clapped her hands enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Papa!" she babbled, her tiny voice full of delight as she squirmed in her high chair, reaching her chubby arms toward him.

Obadiah’s serious demeanor melted instantly, and his face broke into a broad smile as he turned to his little girl. "There’s my beautiful Emily," he said, his voice warm and playful as he crossed the room to her. He bent down to her level, his long fingers brushing a stray curl away from her forehead before he kissed her cheek, making her giggle.

"Dressed in red again, I see," he added with a teasing glance at you, though his tone held no real reproach. "Always the brightest one in the room, aren’t you, my little flower?"

You smiled, watching the interaction between father and daughter with a sense of quiet contentment. Obadiah lifted Emily out of her high chair, holding her in his arms as she babbled happily, her tiny hands patting his chest. The vibrant red of her dress, the colors you had insisted on keeping alive in your family, contrasted beautifully against the somber tones of his clerical robes. It was a perfect picture of the life you had built together—a blend of traditions, love, and compromise.

"She loves those colors," you said with a chuckle, stepping closer to join them. "Just like her mother."

Obadiah smiled, shifting Emily to his hip as he looked at you with a soft expression. "And I love them both," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

Emily giggled again, clapping her hands as if agreeing with her father’s words, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief. "Papa!" she repeated, tugging at his collar with one hand while pointing at the window with the other.

Obadiah laughed, the sound deep and full of joy, as he turned to look out the window. "What is it, my love?" he asked, his voice still laced with amusement. "Do you want to go outside and play before dinner?"

Emily squealed in response, kicking her legs excitedly as she wriggled in his arms, clearly eager to be let loose in the garden.

"I think that’s a yes," you said with a grin, moving to take the tray of biscuits you had prepared off the counter. "But first, let’s have a little snack, shall we?"

Obadiah set Emily back in her high chair, and the three of you settled around the table, sharing the simple meal as the golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the kitchen window. The house was filled with the quiet sounds of family—laughter, the soft murmur of conversation, and the occasional babble from Emily as she enjoyed her biscuit.

As you watched Obadiah gently wipe crumbs from Emily’s cheek, his hazel eyes full of love for the little girl he adored, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the life you had built together. Despite the challenges, despite the whispers and the judgment from both sides, you had created something beautiful. Something real.

And as you sat there, surrounded by the people you loved most, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Obadiah would face it together—side by side, just as you always had.

[beyondglass]

Tiktok is so infuriating oh my God.

I don't care about gypsy rose. I feel bad for what she's been through and what she had to do to survive and I firmly believe she should be free and living her life now. I don't believe what she does now should be anyone's business unless she wants it to be. She is an entire human being who deserves privacy.

The crime scene photos of gypsy's mom have been circulating on tiktok recently and all of a sudden people have changed their minds about her from being supportive and loving to "oh my God she's a murderer". No fucking shit why did you think she was in prison for so long??

I just witnessed a video on tiktok of a woman in a park talking about how terrible the photos were and how gypsy should be in jail, but oh my fucking god she literally just got released. The crime happened a decade ago and it was literally for her own survival why would they throw her back in jail??? And she kept berating gypsy for "thinking she's a little celebrity now". Who tf put her on that platform? All she wanted was to live on her own, it's not her fault that the public heard about her case and went insane. She didn't ask to be made a celebrity.

And the comments on that video were actually insane??? Several of them were begging to see the crime scene photos, begging to be tagged or sent a link to them. What the fuck would have to be wrong with you to the point of doing that. Why do you need to see the scene of a crime that happened a decade ago?

God the internet sucks the world sucks tiktok sucks just leave the girl be I'm BEGGING

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Deborah Kerr (Bonjour Tristesse, An Affair to Remember, The King and I)— For several decades she held the record for most Oscar nominations without a win (6 in total), and she was a prolific leading lady throughout the 40s and 50s. She's best known today for the romance An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant, and as the governess in The King and I. Many people have this erroneous perception of her as extremely prim, proper, and virginal, but this could not be further from the truth. When she first came to Hollywood under MGM she was typecast into boring decorative roles, but broke sexual boundaries for herself and Hollywood generally in From Here to Eternity, when she made out (horizontally!) with Burt Lancaster (on top of him!) in the famous Beach Scene. She went on to play many sexually conflicted women, a character type that would define most of her post- Eternity work. She continued to break Hays Code boundaries with Tea and Sympathy, which addresses homosexuality/homophobia head-on, and even did a topless scene in The Gypsy Moths 1969!! One of the only classic stars to do so. She deserves a more nuanced and frankly a hotter legacy than she currently has!!!

Hend Rostom (Cairo Station, Eshaat Hob)— Egyptian movie star called the "Marilyn Monroe of the East", need anyone say more

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Hend Rostrom:

Deborah Kerr:

I think she was one of my first crushes before I realised I was bi in The King and I when I watched it as a kid honestly. The kissing scene in From Here to Eternity is iconic for a reason. Actually tried to learn the accents for the characters she was playing if they weren't English which is more than pretty much anyone else was doing then. Played very restrained characters who frequently seemed to be desperate not to be so restrained. Did horror movies without venturing into hagsploitation tropes. Gave Marni Nixon the credit she deserved for her share of the singing in The King and I.

Anne Larsen is a peak late 1950s bisexual with big MILF energy. Have you seen the behind the scenes pics of her wearing a suit?? Have you????? Vote Deb as Anne Larsen.

Nominated for an Oscar six (6) times and never won, but besides her having actual talent (hot), and besides her looking Like That (very hot, also beautiful), she was always playing women who are, like, crazy repressed. Which makes it fun and easy for me to read these characters as queer. Icon!!!! You know what's hot? Playing ambiguously gay in vintage Hollywood.

Her face and talent and body, yes, ofc, duh. But also!!! Her HANDS!!!! I may be but a simple lesbian, but she is the best hactor (hand actor) that ever lived and that's HOT! For propriety's sake I feel I must redact a large portion of my commentary on this subject. Anyway. She's hot in her most famous roles (mentioned above), and also some of her sexiest hacting is on display in An Affair to Remember (her hand on the bannister when Cary Grant kisses her off-screen??? HELLO???), Tea and Sympathy (when she's trying to persuade Tom not to go out and she keeps flexing her hands like she wants to reach out to him but can't??? ALLY BEHAVIOR! WE STAN!), and The Innocents (which opens and closes with extended shots of her hands bc director Jack Clayton was also an ally and he did that for ME). Much of her appeal also lies in the fact that she often played deeply repressed characters and you know what's hot? When those uptight characters finally unravel. It's sexy. It's cathartic. It's erotic. Plus, she's beautiful to look at in both black & white and technicolor, and the more of her films you see, the more you can't help but fall in love!

Literally is in thee most famously sexy scene of all time (or maybe just during the hays code era which is what we're talking about HELLO), which is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster in from here to eternity. To quote a tumblr post of a screen capture of a tweet of a video of joy behar on the view: "y'know, there used to be movies where they were kissing on the beach... From Here to Eternity. They're kissing-- Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are Kissing on the Beach and then the WAVES crash!! You know exactly what they did!"

She might have a reputation of being chaste and virginal or whatever, but we all know it's the quiet ones who are certifiable FREAKS

[veeisdunn]

can you write something to do with exam stress, loneliness and suicidal thoughts (if you're comfortable with it) finals season is coming and it would comfort me a lot. could it be a tommy x sister reader? Maybe the reader is stressed about her exams and is being bullied in school. I really enjoyed your first two fics (the sh ones) and I would really appreciate this. Lots of love xxx

Bargain

Tommy Shelby x sister!reader

I'm sorry that this took so long! It is kind of ironic as I'm also going through this right now with my A-Level exams. I understand how dark things tend to be getting in these times and you sound like you've got a lot on your plate. I really hope you enjoy this, I made it especially for you! ♡

warning: suicidal thoughts and actions

WC: 3.6K

MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

One day, though you couldn't remember when, the jokes stopped being funny. Your classmates were relentless - to them you were gypsy scum, the spawn of a criminal family. You used to laugh along but the taunting wore you down. 

It didn't help that you began to shut your family out as well. Ever since you passed the entrance exam at that God forsaken grammar school, you withdrew. Too much reading and research to tally up the betting books and mediate domestic disputes.

As you moved onto your final years of education, you saw a way out of your family's situation - if you got into university then you wouldn't need to join the family company or marry a rich man to escape. You could have your own career which didn't break the law.

Of course, in the 1920s, this was no easy feat for a woman - or anyone. Luckily for you, you were attending one of the best grammar schools in the country, but, though you weren't in poverty, you were at a disadvantage with your peers. Most of your classmates had options: they had a dad with a PhD, a legal family business or an arranged marriage with a wealthy man lined up in case they failed their studies.

The pressure seemed never ending. You needed this, there simply was no other option. You had to grapple with this reality as well as deal with the tormenting of your classmates and the fear that one of your family members would end up with a bullet in their heads. 

You didn't speak to anyone in your family about your crippling concerns. You didn't think they'd see the value in a university education - especially for a woman. 

School work distracted you to such a point where you didn't even notice Tommy's concerned presence shadowing you most days. He just kept popping up everywhere you went. 

School gate? Tommy.

Library? Tommy.

The kitchen at 3am? Tommy.

Did that man even fucking sleep? 

Eventually, you "confronted" him. You had a tradition of being in Charlie's Yard on a Friday night. You would sit and look into the water - laughing, crying, sometimes screaming in frustration. This was a solitary activity, but one particular Friday, Tommy was already waiting there for you.

"(Y/N)!, you're late!" He shouted across the yard, taking a puff of his cigarette with a cheeky grin.

Fuck’s sake.

You hurry your pace, slushing your boots in the mud making your way to the wooden dock. “What are you doing?” you call out, frustrated.

“Is a man not able to sit, eh?” Tommy shuffled over and gestured for you to sit. You just huffed in response and remained standing.

“Look, Y/N/N, I can leave if you want, but I just wanted to see you? You’re always buried in a book these days.” His tone turned more sympathetic. You relented and sunk down next to him.

“I can’t be long. I have an essay, Tommy.” You spoke timidly, you were mentally prepared to break down alone but now you had to hold yourself together.

“You have the weekend.” He turned to look at you but you turned away.

“No. I have more work for the weekend.” You choked and turned your body so you were facing away from his stare, “I have a lot of work to do. I’m bloody drowning in it Tommy.”

He took a deep, prolonged breath and discarded his cigarette. “I think, Y/N, I think you need to spend a lot less time on work. Aren’t your friends all out on a Friday night? Why don’t you join them?”

You scoffed. “Friends? No one wants to be friends with a gypsy, or a Shelby.”

This struck a nerve with Tommy, he was also both of those things, yet he was respected and you were isolated. “Yeah? Say’s fucking who?” 

“People at school.” “And why are you listening to them?” “Because - it’s just hard. You wouldn’t get it. I’m so fucking worn down.”

The man took another sigh, realising he was fighting an uphill battle. “Your classmates aren’t in Small Heath, you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone here, you know that?”

You shook your head rapidly “No. No Tom, I don’t care about my social life. If I don’t do well in my exams, I’ll never get into University. I need to go, I want it so bloody bad.” You were so engrossed in your emotions that you didn’t even feel the salty tears run down your cheeks.

Tommy was taken aback by your reaction. He couldn’t fathom why you were putting so much pressure on yourself. Of course, he would rather you made your goal something a bit easier than perfect grades, but then whatever you dream was became his by proxy. He had spoken to your teachers, they were certain you’d get the grades you needed. They had even mentioned your tendency to overdo things, but things weren’t nearly as bad at home at that time so he disregarded it. What a stupid mistake that was.

He was about to reach out to touch your hand, but you could feel the floodgates bursting, so you tried to leave. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, following close behind you.

Go away. Go away. Go away.

“Look, I didn’t fucking ask you to come here.” You snapped as he grabbed your arm.

“You didn’t need to. Your my fucking sister, you don’t need to ask. I didn’t want to be so blunt but you need to calm the fuck down with the books, ay?" 

"No. You don't understand." You shook your head adamantly , "if I don't do well in my exams, then what's the fucking point in anything anymore?" 

—

"So, how'd your chat with Y/N go?” Polly asked her nephew as the evening dawned.

He settled into the sofa and took a deep inhale, rubbing his cold, sweaty palms together. “She didn’t take it very well. She probably just came back here to study more upstairs.

Polly leaned forward in her seat: “she never came home.”

Shit.

“Did you upset her, Thomas?”

“I couldn’t tell you. She’s hard to get these days.”

—

Tommy thought little of her absence. The library closed at 6PM - she’d be home by 7.

7:30. Still no Y/N. 

He went to check your room to see if you’d slipped in and snuck to bed. Your room looked like it had been ransacked. Books, pencils, papers, and clothes covered every surface. Your bed was unmade and the curtains were drawn. It reminded the man of a house that had been robbed. The air was stagnant and cold.

On your bed, a book stood out to Tommy. It wasn’t a textbook or workbook, it was a small leather-bound diary with fraying ribbons pulling it shut. Without much thought, he settled down onto the bed and yanked the curtain open, amber sunset pouring in. The book felt heavy and the spine was stressed. He noticed that lots of other papers had been shoved between the pages.The edges of some were visible, your handwriting adorning them. He pulled the end of the matted ribbon firmly undoing the knot and allowing him access to what he came to realise was your diary. He flicked to the latest entry and saw it was dated for just the day before. He skimmed your scrawls: I will never be good enough, I just can't do it. I can't do anything anymore.

After freezing for a second he slammed it shut and threw it against the wall. He was fuming with the situation, and with himself. He knew you were struggling but he thought it was your need to prove yourself to your bullying peers - he could have never dreamed that you hated yourself this much.

Without much more thought, Tommy grabbed his coat and practically launched himself out of the door. He wasn't going to come home until he had you with him.

—

After your altercation with Tommy, you found yourself back by the cut. Your emotions were always heightened there, you tried not to go to the part where your mother jumped in, that was usually reserved for the anniversary of her death, but for some reason your feet carried you down there. You never knew her and by the sounds of things, you were very different people. You didn't even know why she did what she did, you were too young back then to understand. One thing you did know was how she must have felt. The feeling of utter despair. The loneliness. 

You'd had a serious case of suicidal ideation since the start of your new school. In the back of your mind you always knew what to do if everything became too much. You had written letters to everyone and stuffed them under your pillow. You were ready. Perhaps tonight was the night?

This revelation almost gave you a twisted sense of euphoria. I don't need to go home again. I never have to write another essay. I never need to be called another name. No one will need to look after me. I can just end it all. 

These thoughts carried you to the edge of the water. You thought about how your mother would have felt drowning and freezing. Calm, hopefully. Release. 

You collected some large stones from the dusty mud around you and stuffed them in your coat pockets. You figured that being pulled down would make you go quicker. You knew that your brothers would be sad but you also knew that they'd move on. They'd done it once before, they could do it again. After all, they all had lives and you had nothing but stress and pain and anguish. 

Looking down into the gloomy water you could feel cool droplets splashing onto your face and mixing with your tears. The abyss was inviting, your doubtful thoughts that had stopped you in the past were whispering to you but you told yourself that you wanted this. You wanted this, right?

You took your shoes off and laid them neatly at the edge of the water. 

A leap. A splash. A scream.

Cold.

Then you felt someone grab you.

—

Tommy had barely made it in time. He saw you, shoeless, on the edge of the cut. He could only shout and run after you as you descended into the water. Without hesitation, he jumped in after you and grabbed you. He tried to pull your body up to the surface with him but you were fighting him. Your coat was sinking first, weighing the both of you down, so he wrestled it off you. All either of you could hear was splashes and all you could feel was the paralysing blanket of cold.

Holding onto your wrists, he went up for air to gather strength, before diving back under to pull you up. You were barely underwater for a few minutes but the frigid water had knocked you out. Tommy paddled to the steps a few metres away from where you'd jumped and pulled his drenched body onto them. He wheezed and gasped for air then dragged you up the steps by your armpits. The water level was particularly low so the steps seemed to go on forever. He'd boarded boats from these steps but never did he think he'd be ascending them with your limp body.

Your breathing was shaky and erratic. Tommy was just glad you were breathing at all. He laid you down in the dirt and rolled you onto your side just in time for you to involuntary convulse and cough up water while he hyperventilated. He firmly patted your back as your lungs cleared. Despite the heaving, you were still unconscious. Your lips were going a dusky shade of blue and the skin around your eyes was darkening, either from the cold or the lack of oxygen, he wasn't sure. 

Tommy desperately tried to get control of his breathing so he could compose himself but his body was viscerally reacting to the shock of the cold water overwhelming his senses. He was in such physical anguish that his emotions had completely dulled. He'd honed the ability to turn his thoughts off while in the trenches and it often came in handy. 

His main priority was getting you warm and dry. He tried to drag you up but didn't have the strength in his cold and wet state. Instead he had to resort to shouting for help, knowing that there were Blinders at the entrance to the docks. A few of Tommy's associates came around the corner, their coats flying in the wind behind them and the group of them managed to carry you back to Watery Lane while your body continued to involuntary spasm due to the cold. 

Nobody else was in the house so Tommy flung your body on the floor in front of the fireplace and set a copious pile of logs on fire. He hunched over you and basked in the heat, ripping off his coat, hat, and suit and discarding them into a pile. After sitting for a moment shivering in a vest and underwear, he ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel.

In the living room, you'd rolled over so you could be closer to the heat, you weren't entirely sure what was going on but you liked the feeling of the warmth against you.

He ripped your drenched shirt off you and tried to ring your hair out with the towel. You were mumbling something incoherent but he ignored it. Your body laid next to the fire as he dried himself off. 

You awoke when he accidentally knocked a book off the coffee table. Your body felt numb and you were extremely confused. He rushed over as you tried to roll away from the fire.

"Tommy?" you croaked, even more confused than you already were. What was he doing here? The look on his face then reminded you. He was drenched. You'd actually done it. You'd actually done it and he stopped you.

You ignored his demanding stare and sat up, coughing. You wheezed, holding your hands around your neck to reassure yourself that you weren't drowning. 

You didn't drown, but you were soaked to the bone. 

"What were you thinking, eh?" Tommy studied your startled expression, you couldn’t tell if he was mad, disappointed, or feeling sorry for you, "What the hell is going on with you?" 

You remained silent and refused to look up at him. 

"Y/N, what did you just do? And don't tell me that you fell. Your coat was full of stones." 

He was going to make you say it. Dick.

You could only think of two words: “I’m sorry.”

Tommy scoffed and sat down in front of you. “You’re sorry? You are sorry?”

Did he want to know why? “I’m sorry that you jumped in and got wet. You look cold.”

He was physically taken aback by your words. “The only thing you should be sorry for is not talking to me.” He picked up the towel and began to dry you, understanding that trying to reason with you in this state was no better than arguing with a brick wall. After your hair was no longer dripping, he brought you dry clothes and made you discard your wet ones in the bathroom while he pressed his ear up against the wall to listen to your every move.

Tommy was angry with himself. He’d sat back and watched the pressure on you accumulate, only realising when it was too late. You’d nearly died. Y/N. His baby sister. The girl he held as a baby. The girl he read bedtime stories to. The girl he taught to ride horses. The girl he loved unconditionally. It was fate that had just saved your life - he very easily could have looked for you somewhere else and that would have cost your life. The thought made his heart hurt. You’d nearly died. You’d nearly died. Before he’d even realised, he was crying against the doorframe as you left the bathroom. 

You tried to apologise again but he ignored you and wrapped you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt. He was scared to loosen his grip as he feared you would slip away. He cried gut-wrenching sobs into your shoulder. You gave in and began to cry as well. You couldn’t even figure out why. You were plagued with a viscous mixture of anguish and guilt - you were also still really fucking cold, the pair of your shivered in eachother’s arms. 

Tommy pulled away and stared directly into your eyes. Instinctively your gaze turned to break the exchange. You couldn’t stand his distraught stare, it made you want to vomit.

“Y/N” He took a deep breath, “I’m here now and I’m not leaving you ever again, so you better tell me what the fuck is going on inside that head, eh?” You gulped. Only one coherent thought was running through your head. “Cold.”

With those words, the pair of you were huddled next to the fire.

“I’m gonna fail, Tommy.” The admission slipped out.

He held back his rant he’d repeated to you countless times and let you continue. All he wanted to do was scream and shout, to tell you and the rest of the bloody street how talented and capable you are.

“I want to make something for myself just like you have but I can’t do it. I just feel like I can’t do anything right. If I’m a good person then why do people hate me?” You took shaky breaths to process the thoughts you’d aired. Tommy pulled you in so you were resting on his side while the fire crackled in front of you. He waited to say anything until he could be sure that you were finished.

“Look, Y/N. Some people in this world are just full of hate, they wouldn’t know kindness if it hit them between the eyes. You just want to make everyone happy but you can’t because some people are gonna fucking resist until they die. I’m so proud of you, Y/N, you have grown up to be a talented and smart woman. You will make a life for yourself as long as you remember that. If you want to do that through school then, by all means, go for it, but there are other ways. What you need is some time to rest, and you need to get away from that fucking school. You’re in your final year, just finish things off at home, I’ll get you a tutor or anything you need as long as you never go back.”

He leaned back against the sofa to physically recover from his speech. He couldn’t see your face but he watched as you curled your body into a tight ball and leaned in even closer to you.

“It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore. Everything is so dull. I’m not happy.” No shit. And then you began to cry for what felt like the millionth time.

He just held you and stared into the flames. “Shh shh, no, it’s alright. you’re fine, shh. No more anything for the rest of the weekend, Dr Shelby’s orders, alright?” You chuckled lightly while he remained serious,  “Over my many, many years, I’ve realised that if you work on something forever it never gets done well, but if you take enough breaks and are kind to yourself, it will get done. I can bet everything that you will become a strong and independent woman one day.”

After a few more back and forths, you spilling your negative thoughts and him retorting with a classic Tommy speech, the two of you fell asleep by the fire, the heat thawing the pain you’d both felt. Tommy came to the conclusion that you were simply too good for this world, but he knew you better than anyone and was certain it would all work out for you in the end.

The next morning, the pair of you made a deal that you would tell him about all the bad thoughts you were having and he promised he’d always be there to listen. After a few meetings with a doctor and your school, Tommy set you up a study area in his office. The two of you would work during the morning, eat lunch together, then you’d shadow him in the afternoon to - as he put it - “learn from the master”. 

You took time to reflect on the things that really mattered to you - not the things that really mattered to the girl who was hated by her peers and would have died for flawless grades - the things that mattered to you, Y/N Shelby. You cared deeply about those around you. Seeing how broken Tommy was after your attempt made you want to cooperate with him and your doctor to become well enough to live the life you so desperately craved. It was almost ironic that you’d nearly taken that opportunity from yourself.

You still had days when the light at the end of the tunnel faded and you’d again lose sight of your future, but keeping up with his side of the deal, Tommy was always there to coax you out of it. 

When you were younger, your brother taught you lots of things, and now he felt like he was giving you a final, important lesson. To learn to use your life, because he could so clearly see the potential you have.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

please drop me a comment or message with any feedback or suggestions! I'd love to hear from you ♡

Vee x

MASTERLIST

[lunarubra]

Jaseh Jesus

He didn't know if it was because they were both marginalized in this world—her, a result of emigration from the colonies, and him, from generations of Gypsy lineage. But he knew she could read him, just as she could read her brother when he spouted preaching nonsense.  She possessed a magic he recognized, one that coursed through his own veins—a gift for knowing when someone lied, for seeing through their masks. But her magic went deeper. It wasn’t just in her intuition but in her ability to nurture, to heal, to love, and in doing so, to keep them all alive.

FC: Poppy Okotcha

Let me know with a comment or a like what you think :) Thank you to @mischievouslittlecreature for the all the support and help amazing divider by @sweetmelodygraphics