#and his criteria is *narrow* on that front

[dredshirtroberts]

hey guess what my car trauma includes the *inside* of the car too apparently! :D :| idk i feel like getting made fun of for having to eat fast food in my car between work and school while my catalytic converter shat itself to the point that my back seat footwells were filled completely with various QSR trash maybe gave me some sort of complex. Just a hunch though, who knows.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DOWN IN THE DUST ] (Preview)

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WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MNDI ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/VIOLEMNCE ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ AGE GAP ] + [ COWBOY AU ]

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Cowboy Alastor teaches you how to shoot, and every time you hit the target, he gives you a kiss and soft praise.

“Good one, darlin’”

“Keep your arm out and straight, sugar.”

“Mhm, just like that, square your shoulders and eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, glancing up at him, smiling softly as he tips his head in approval. “Shoot, darlin’,” he commands, and your eyes lower from his, settling on the target as he instructed, and your finger pressing on the trigger of his gun right in time with his command.

“Bang!”

The first man who'd dared to put his hands on you fell to his knees, coughing up blood as the life left his eyes, and Alastor erupted into maniacal laughter while his body dropped to the dusty ground. “Good shot, sweetheart,” he boasts, grinding wide, leaning down just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, “Give me some sugar,” he coos lowly, eyes narrowing as you peer at him innocently, blushing wildly as his lips met yours. “Mhmmm,” he hums, an oddly giddy sound despite the dark situation, but you're instead used to his strange amusement.

He was a bounty hunter, after all, a lethal one at that, and recently, you'd become an investment of sorts to him.

You knew him long enough to know that killing was his favorite pastime, and killing bastards who thought it was a grand idea to threaten and harass you was an even better form of entertainment for him.

The men he'd rounded up in front of you fit the second criteria perfectly.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, tipping his hat up as you looked back at the last two men standing a yard away. He insisted they face you head-on, that they see the satisfied look in your bright eyes as you picked them off one by one. Though you usually held yourself modestly in the presence of others, that facade came tumbling down in the thralls of Alastor’s encouragement. “Sorry for your loss, gentlemen, but I think it's only right you give my little lady a fair shot, seeing as you all ganged up on her without warnin’.” He chuckled as they let out muffled cries through their makeshift gags, hands tied behind their backs, and guns lying at their feet. You almost felt bad for them, but what little guilt you harbored washed away as Alastor tapped your backside with one hand while the other lifted your gun toward another victim.

“You think you can hit em’ right between the eyes, chere?”

You hummed, smiling with a playful glint in your eye while zeroing in on the man before you.

“I think I can manage it, cher. You've taught me well enough.”

Alastor chuckled, stepping back with a proud grin, pulling out a cigarette to light in his mouth, “That's my girl. Take them straight to hell..”

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A little sneak peak. ❤️ Tell me what you think!

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I watch this edit at LEAST 5 times a day for sanity purposes (I'm actually going insane tbh) ❤️ credit to creator

[beautifulsnake2162020]

We have it all (Hualian adopted daughter fanfic) Chapter 3

Gif by fyodcrs

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I only do this for fun.

Premise: Not long after comforting a bullied girl named Meng Ai, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian find themselves adopting her and together they form a family they didn't know they had needed for awhile.

Story/Genre tags: Slice of life-ish (mainly), Family focused, Hua Cheng's houses finally become homes, there may be an overarching story but that's not the focus, Hualian being parents, Fengqing being uncles, Lang Qianqiu falling in love with someone who was raised by the Xianle squad, technically post-canon (though I haven't read the books so if there are some ooc moments please forgive me).

AO3 Link

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Follower tags: @anonimgato1507

Chapter 3

Blood for blood, blood that you take will be cured from the blood that you give. That was both the solution and the condemnation Xiwangmu's oracle gave their family as they gather once again to make their sacrifice. Ji Huifen despised this but he had no choice but to attend to even know the criteria that they chose. It killed him to be away from his wife and child but for the sake of their future he needed to attend.

He passed by the temple of Xiwangmu and prayed for forgiveness for the crimes his family has done against her. He asks her for strength to endure what is to come.

"You need not attend that gathering." The priest serving as an oracle says. There is a feminine touch to his deep masculine voice. Ji Huifen has learned from experience that it is Xiwangmu speaking through him.

"Your holiness I must, for the sake of the child you have gifted to me."

"Then sit on front of my priest and we will attend within the safety of my temple." He does so and the priest presses his thumbs against his forehead.

He breathes and shakes his head at the memory.

He was here to do his job, as a mage serving in Xiwangmu's name. And everything that she has given him has been a product of her mercy. It is only fair that he uphold his end of the agreement. The fields of Jingdezhen have begun to lose their fertility and so he was sent to help restore it.

As he began walking through a narrow path surrounded by a forest and from the city proper he began feeling one or two presences. They weren't distracting so he ignored them for the mean time.

Until he felt himself pulled away by a seemingly sentient silk bandage.

"What the-"

And then the spot he had once been walking on was now occupied by a small needle like object that undoubtedly carried poison. Soon however he finds his way to Jingdezhen blocked by a rain of arrows and needles. He quickly forms a magical barrier to act as a shield.

"Thank you for saving me." He says reverently to the sentient bandage which seemed to nod back. It seems he had been more attuned and concerned about otherworldly threats that regular assassins became his blindspot.

One of the assassins comes out of hiding and continues to block his path to Jingdezhen.

"Prince Ji Huifen, we come here under the orders of King Ji Bocheng of Fu Dao. Tell us where the princess is and we'll leave you alone."

He narrowed his eyes at this.

"Tell my grandfather I would rather die than let him anywhere near her."

"He told us that you would say that." Another assassin says, he doesn't bother turning to where.

"He tells you to stop being stubborn and that the sacrifice is necessary for the curse to be lifted. Other people's lives are at stake."

"He is wrong - he knows what needs to be done. And it has nothing to do with the princess."

The assassins that now surround him begin to unsheathe their weapons.

"Last chance Prince Ji Huifen, where is your daughter? Surrender her to us and you and your wife will remain unharmed for the rest of your lives."

He prepares the magic he uses in his attacks.

"No torture or deathblow will make me give her to you." No matter what happens.

______________________________________________________________

"How did you two meet San Lang and Xie Lian?"

"Um - well."

"It's complicated." Mu Qing finishes while looking at the little girl. There was no doubt that she was one of the few mortals who could sense their otherworldly presence. But of all the questions that she had to ask them did it have to be that one?

"Huh? What's so complicated about it? Don't people just meet each other?"

"Let's just say that we have both known Xie Lian far longer than San Lang." Feng Xin says trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Hopefully that would satisfy her curiosity.

It didn't.

"So the three of you knew each other when you were mortal and you met San Lang after you became spirits?"

"Huh, what gave you that idea?" Even Mu Qing began struggling to keep the mask of calm indifference.

"Well he just said that you both knew Xie Lian longer than San Lang so my guess is that you all knew each other when you were still mortal since you both seem to be very close with Xie Lian but only familiar with San Lang."

"Damn she's quick."

"At this rate we might as well tell her that the three of us are Gods."

"Don't be ridiculous Mu Qing!"

"Well it won't be long before she guesses anyway!"

"It doesn't mean we have to confirm it."

"Also you two have the same type of spirit that Xie Lian has. I don't know what type it is yet but you both have a heartbeat but there is a light but powerful aura that doesn't cling to anything. Meanwhile San Lang is a ghost because there is a clinginess to keep his form and he doesn't have a heart beat. He's also powerful since he was able to carry me, but his spirit type is definitely different from you two and Xie Lian's. Um why are you two staring at each other angrily?"

"Oh just reminding him of something. Nothing to worry about Meng Ai." Feng Xin turns to face her not minding the pointed look that Mu Qing is giving him.

"So what do you want to do? Do you want to go to Puqi village?"

"Um I think it's better if I just stay here. Mama says that once I go inside Puqi shrine to not leave the grounds until she comes later to pick me up. She must have seen something in her visions this morning so I would rather follow her."

"How nice of you - see Fu Yao, there is still some good in this world."

"Of course there is, it just doesn't apply to you."

"Why you-"

"Meng Ai, if there's anything you should learn from today, it's to be better than Nan Feng."

"Better than him at what?"

"Honestly, be better at him in anything that you do. So anything else you want to learn from us?" She thinks for awhile as Feng Xin curses him through their telepathic channel and he replies with a snarky laugh.

"Do either of you know how to play Go or Xiangqi? I've always wanted to learn but Baba is busy with his work and Mama only knows Coan Ki." Feng Xin immediately brings out a Go board with enthusiasm.

"Meng Ai, prepare to watch as I make him eat his words."

"We're supposed to teach her how to play first you idiot. How is she going to understand the game if she doesn't know what's going on?"

"Nan Feng, how do you carry a Go board and Go pieces with you around?"

"Taoist magic. And since you want to learn how to play how do you want us to teach you?"

"Um can you explain it to me while I play against one of you?"

"Sure, why don't I teach you while we play against Fu Yao?"

"That would be unfair to her. I'm just going to end up beating you anyways."

"I thought this would be teaching her how it's played first!"

"It is! That's why she should play with me against you first."

"I have an idea! What if I spin this chopstick and whomever the narrower part points to will play with me."

"Hmph seems fair enough."

"Of course she's fair, she's nothing like you."

"PARDON ME!"

"I'm going to spin it now." Meng Ai couldn't help but giggle as she spins the chopstick.

"Ha! See that, the universe chose me to play with her."

"Doesn't mean that you're going to win." Feng Xin says as he crosses his arms as Meng Ai sits beside Mu Qing.

"Um do we play as Black or White?"

"White so that you could make the first move." "Black so that he could move first." Meng Ai laughs and spins the chopstick around again.

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Is this how it ends? Ji Huifen asks himself as another wave of assassins emerge from the trees. He's exhausted, and it seems his new friend the magical silk bandage can only do so much. And before he knows it he ends up on the ground and turns to see his would be killer.

Using the last of his energy he blasts them away and knocking them out with his spell. Fortunately it seems that the pathway to Jingdezhen is now open and he takes his chance as he creates a quick mist to cover his escape. Unfortunately he also loses the sentient silk bandage in the midst. He'll thank the being who sent that to him later when he reaches Xiwangmu's temple grounds. The closer he is to the temple, the closer he is to safety. He needs rest more than ever since making the portal going here from Hu village came at a high cost for his energy.

He reaches the city and quickly asks where Xiwangmu's temple was located. Thankfully, he was directed where to go and was quickly taken in by the priest.

"Rest. I have questions but it seems you need rest more than ever."

"Thank you, your Holiness."

And he allows himself to fall into the realm of sleep.

Just outside the temple were two figures, one in crimson and the other in white.

"Good work Ruoye." He gave a little pet to the silk band as he and Hua Cheng enter into the temple grounds. Hua Cheng being in the guise of San Lang. An adept greets them in the entrance.

"Good day you two, how may we help you?"

"We were wondering if you would allow us to stay for a while? My husband and I are exhausted from travelling and we believe we are meeting someone here?"

"Of course, let me check with his Holi - "

"There would be no need adept." The priest who was in charge of running the temple for the day says in a distinctly feminine tone despite the priest's masculine voice.

"Get them some of the best rooms as accomodation. I've already informed the others of their arrival."

"Of course Great Mother." The adept says urgently as they hastily depart from them to do their task.

"So this is how they know it's you." Hua Cheng states in a neutral tone.

"I don't always possess the bodies of my priests and priestesses. But I like to do it every now and then to let everyone know that there is a difference between my being and the mortal body who delivers my messages. Besides, we all have a vested interest in you two learning more of why we want you to adopt Meng Ai. And Ji Huifen cannot do that when he is dead unless he himself chooses to become a ghost."

"Did you know about the assassination attempt?"

"I had a feeling it could happen, Dianxie. But it was only the night before that the possibility became higher. And so I sent an urgent vision to his wife to get both of you to save him." The same adept returned them and began leading them to their accomodations.

"Oh speaking of his wife, I have also sent her to take care of your shrine at Puqi and to also serve as a temporary caretaker in your absence. She'll be there once she has finished her duties for my temple. Since Meng Ai is there, and Feng Xin and Mu Qing are now officially competing on who is the better teacher, I think it shouldn't be that much of a problem."

"Hopefully those two don't destroy the shrine when we return." Xie Lian says sheepishly.

"That's why Meng Ai is there. The little girl has a talent for diverting their otherwise destructive tendencies."

"Ji Huifen is currently resting and regaining his energy. You might be able to meet him later when he awakens. If you need anything else, you need only ask an adept, a priest or a priestess."

"Of course, thank you Xiwangmu." And on front of them she departs from her priest's body who massages the temples of his head for a bit.

"Do you need help?"

"Oh no it's fine, sometimes she's abrupt in leaving our bodies. But nothing that can't be solved with Ginseng tea." His voice now lacks the feminine tone that was present when Xiwangmu was present.

"Anyway here are your accomodations good sirs, dinner will be in a couple of hours. We could send someone to escort you to the dining area."

"Thank you once again." The priest bows to them before making his leave. The accomodations while not as grand as their bedroom in Paradise Manor was still more than adequate but still overall modest.

"Do you think we could discuss things here?"

"We're in a room in a temple of a popular Goddess, there's too many ears for a discreet discussion."

"Hmm good point. Who knows what anyone might do with such information."

"Well." Hua Cheng sits on the bed then pats the space beside him. His expression was affectionate, mischievous and suggestive all at once.

"I don't think anybody could eavesdrop if we whisper. We both also need our rest after we took care of those assassins together." Xie Lian chuckles as he eagerly joins him. They settle in a comfortable position as Xie Lian rests his head in the crook of Hua Cheng's neck and the latters hands are around his waist while his was on Hua Cheng's chest.

"Fu Dao, they were a trading spot that Xianle began trading with. I remember getting excited when one of my uncles would arrive at the palace filled with new goods from there."

"From a trading spot to an entire kingdom. One of the richest since it is through there that foreign goods from the silk road more often than not enter."

"Hmm, but why would the royal family need to make a sacrifice involving Meng Ai? Or more importantly what type of sacrifice would the king interpret to need his great-granddaughter? Surely a wealthy and thriving kingdom like Fu Dao wouldn't need to do human sacrifices."

"We can't rule it out Gege. Who knows what goes on in those walls."

"Hmm." Xie Lian snuggles closer, he finds Hua Cheng's hand and intwines their fingers together. Not to arouse but to savor in the intimacy of the moment.

"How about the royal family? Any idea what could possibly make their king hunt down his great-granddaughter?"

"There's no denying that at such a young age Xiao-Ai is skilled enough to see and talk to ghosts. That much is certain, then add the abilities of her parents and it's no wonder that to those who are discerning she's quite powerful. She just doesn't know how to use it or describe it. But she has great potential, especially if she'll develop new ones over time or if her powers will just grow."

"Do you think that's why they want us to adopt her?"

"Gege, you sound nervous."

"Considering my history of raising children, I'm nervous about making the same mistakes again. What if - what if she'll end up more confused like Ban Yue, or she'll end up too idealistic like Lang Qianqiu?"

"Gege." Hua Cheng shifts their positions bringing Xie Lian to rest on top of his as he caresses his back.

"You may have had a part in raising them, but even they are also the product of their own choices." He gives him a kiss on his forehead.

"Ban Yue is confused because she is still growing up. It's only recently that she is no longer in the influence of Pei Xiu that she's discovering who she is. And that boy who somehow ascended is idealistic and naive not because of anything that you have done, but because for a long time he couldn't comprehend nuance no matter how hard you tried. If you want to adopt her, I know things will be different."

"How?" Hua Cheng smiles as he caresses his husband's face.

"Because this time I'll be by your side, no matter what you decide." His heart was touched and he leaned in to kiss his beloved on the lips. He felt his lips open and he deepened the kiss. Doing anything and everything he can to express how much he loves San Lang. When they broke apart he leaned in to have their foreheads touch.

"San Lang?"

"Yes Gege?"

"We still have enough time for ourselves right?" Hu Cheng closes the gap between them as he brings him closer and sits up.

"Definitely, Gege."

_____________________________________________________________

"Hey! Stop coaching her!"

"I'm not coaching her, I'm telling her every possible consequence of every move she makes."

"How is she going to play on her own?"

"No, Fu Yao is being really helpful, I think I'm starting to understand a bit more now."

"See that Nan Feng, it's called teaching."

"Hello?" A woman's voice calls out from the entrance.

"Is anyone there?"

"MAMA!" Meng Ai jumps from her chair as she rushes out to embrace her mother. Mu Qing and Feng Xin looks out from the window as mother and daughter reunite.

"Oh my little darling how are you? Have you been good?"

"Yes mama, ask Fu Yao and Nan Feng!" Meng Ai leads her to them. Now up close they see that is is from her that Meng Ai gets her amber colored eyes and most of her features.

"Thank you so much for looking after her."

"It's no problem ma'am."

"Just doing our jobs, teaching her how to play Go was an amazing experience." Feng Xin gives him the side eye as he is feeling smug.

"Well I've been -" Her eyes begin glowing and her face goes into a trance.

"What's going on?"

"Mama is having a vision Nan Feng." A few seconds later she shakes her head and looks terrified.

"Aiai, stay inside the living quarters, I need to tell them something."

"Yes Mama." Once Meng Ai was inside she makes a gesture to them to follow her to make sure that her daughter cannot overhear them. She gives a brief bow before they see the seriousness in her eyes.

"General Xuan Zhen, General Nan Yang, there is going to be an attack tonight going toward this shrine."

"What did you see?" Feng Xin asks with the same amount of grimness.

"It seems to be a mix of soldiers, assassins, and magicians. It's the magicians that I'm worried about the most."

"Why?"

"I saw them control jiangshi and other types of monsterous creatures. I don't know how much time we have but if things get worse and should you need to make a difficult choice. Please promise me..." she looks toward the shrine where Meng Ai is. Her eyes begins to water at just the possibility of what may happen tonight.

"We will." Mu Qing says with sincerity as Feng Xin nods in agreement.

"Thank you for your vision, don't worry about us."

"Go to your daughter, we'll take care of everything here." Mu Qing says as Feng Xin begins sending a message through the telepathic matrix of the heavens.

"Thank you generals." She makes her way to the living quarters while they step out of the temple grounds.

One shared look and one shared nod was all they needed to begin making preparations.

AN:

Ji - Hope, huì fēn – bright philosophy

bó chéng–great success

Xiao-Ai - Little Ai

Aiai - Love love I'm not sure if people would actually do this with the name Ai specifically but I read that some names are repeated as nicknames.

Sorry if there is not much uncle moments with Fengqing. Hualian wanted to have a moment.

[mariacallous]

People who don’t join political parties imagine that membership is an expression of opinions held in common. It starts that way, but over time, party loyalty comes to be defined at the threshold of tolerable extremism. What ugly attitude can you rub along with without recoil because, politically speaking, it’s family?

That is the question that Lee Anderson, a former deputy chair of the Conservative party, forced on fellow Tories with his assertion that “Islamists” have “got control” of Sadiq Khan, the mayor of London.

The whip was withdrawn. Rishi Sunak saw a line being crossed but struggled to name the crossing point, observing only that Anderson was “wrong”, not racist or Islamophobic. There was an awkward void in the place where the Conservative leader located the wrongness.

The transgression was severe enough to merit expulsion from the parliamentary party, but it can’t be defined by words that are applied without hesitation by anyone who really understands the offence.

The prime minister doesn’t want to call it Islamophobia or anti-Muslim hate because that would cast a net of opprobrium over everyone in his party who agrees with Anderson. They are too numerous to anathematise. It would drag in Suella Braverman, the former home secretary, who has written that Keir Starmer is “in hock” to Islamists who have nobbled parliament and “bullied our country into submission”.

Some Conservative MPs reject such paranoid hallucinations for what they are. Most finesse the question as a matter of rhetorical taste. “Not the words I would have chosen,” is a standard non-repudiation. It avoids naming the ingredient that is too spicy for more subtle Tory lips.

Press for clarity and the conversation is diverted on to pro-Palestinian demonstrations, antisemitic placards appearing in the throng, chants celebrating a Middle East with Israel erased and, since Hamas pursues that goal by indiscriminate murder, a shadow of intimidation felt by many British Jews.

Those are not imaginary issues, but they can be raised without plunging into the murky water where Anderson and friends swim. “Control” is the keyword. It unlocks the insinuation that Khan is a cipher, a sleeper agent. He might sound like a mainstream politician of the centre-left, but that is a front. He might have a commendable record of running a multiethnic capital with respect for the cultural sensibilities of its diverse communities, but his true agenda is sectarian.

That is not a plausible depiction of the actual Sadiq Khan. But Anderson speaks to an audience (mostly outside London) that doesn’t see beyond the mayor’s Muslim faith and the colour of his skin, taking them as proof of ulterior and unsavoury allegiance.

Encoded in the attack on Khan is the old “cricket test”, formulated by Tory grandee Norman Tebbit. Tebbit’s question: do immigrants and their children cheer for England in the Test match, or do their non-native hearts crave victory for some other land? The cricket test sets a cruel bar for belonging in Britain. It can only be cleared by jettisoning intimate components of identity. That is nationalism doing what nationalism does – narrowing the criteria for who counts as part of the nation and policing the boundary with menaces.

The left traditionally rejects that way of thinking, with one exception. A socialist variant of the cricket test applies to Jews who feel some cultural, religious or family affinity to Israel, which is most of Britain’s Jewish community.

Formally, the test is not racial. The passport for admittance to left virtue is repudiation of “Zionism”, which is a polyvalent word, narrower than Jewishness, wider than Israeli. It has a complex history, disputed among Jews themselves, which is what gives it utility in laundering the ancient animus. Much of the “anti-Zionism” that exonerates itself from racism replicates the imagery and idiom of what, a century ago, was denounced as “International Jewry”.

The progressive Geiger counter that crackles on contact with most particles of racist radiation passes silently over talk of “Zionists” exerting control over the media, finance and British foreign policy.

No alarm was raised at the Labour meeting in Rochdale where Azhar Ali, then the party’s candidate in a local byelection, said that the Israeli government had knowingly permitted the Hamas atrocities of 7 October as a pretext for military aggression in Gaza. It took a few days for Ali to lose Keir Starmer’s endorsement.

Many were dismayed by the propagation of a wild conspiracy theory while doubting that antisemitism was in the room. But it takes irrational fixation on the evil of a Jewish state, and intuitive reluctance to empathise with a narrative of Jewish victimhood, to embrace the idea that Israel organised a blood sacrifice of its own people to facilitate conquest of Palestinian land.

Conspiracy theory as conduit into the mainstream is a common factor in the spread of antisemitism and Islamophobia. It is the difference between conversations about “Islamism” or “Zionism” as terms that Muslims and Jews might recognise, and the deployment of those words as pseudoanalytical camouflage on blanket vilification of a minority community.

Purported vigilance against “Islamism” is a bridge between the mainstream right and the morbid ultranationalist fantasy where Muslim communities in “no-go areas” wage demographic war to replace Christian populations. “Anti-Zionism” causes a blurring of vision on the mainstream left that makes it hard for some people to distinguish between the struggle for Palestinian justice and railing against inveterate Jewish bloodlust.

I have written this far without a personal expression of horror and despair at the plight of Gaza. Does a Jewish journalist have to declare non-affiliation to the Israeli government, and confess to a sickening dread of every news bulletin, as his licence to participate in conversations about the Middle East?

We are not all freelance ambassadors for a foreign state. We are often made to feel like it, which induces an impulse of resentful emotional retreat. I imagine something similar is felt by British Muslims after terrorist attacks carried out in the name of jihad. It is hard not to resent the suspicion of complicity, the unspoken charge of guilt by cultural adjacency, that flickers in a stranger’s eyes.

None of these experiences is exactly equivalent. Antisemitism on the left and Islamophobia on the right can’t be formulated as a balanced string of political algebra. But there is a grim symmetry of blind spots, self-righteous denial and selective outrage. There is an unhealthy division of vigilance with partisans from each end of the political spectrum appointing themselves arbiters of the prejudice they have decided belongs to the opposite side.

Jewish and Muslim identities are not signifiers of ideology or party loyalty. But British politics, in its relentless polarising vortex, seems unable to treat them, treat us, as anything other than potential recruits for a dangerous round of mutual antagonism. And we are tired, I am tired, of having personal identity, family attachment, culture and innermost anxiety scored and folded into darts for other people to hurl across party lines. So very tired.

[mariusperkins]

my favourite new-to-me movies of 2023

a few years ago my resolution was to stop just only rewatching Ocean's Eleven over and over and actually watch some of the thousand-ish movies that I say I'm going to watch and then don't, which, honestly, has been Very fun and something I highly recommend! It also means that I watch a lot of movies that aren't actually "new" (which, honestly, I also recommend).

Picking a top 20 was really hard this year (I would do top 10 but that was impossible), I watched so many movies I absolutely LOVED, and so I narrowed them down to the below using the only criteria that I think really matters when it comes to lists like this which is 1. How insane did I feel about the movie at the time, and 2. Do I still feel insane about it when I think about it now.

This list got long so to save your dash I have put it under the cut:

20. Fire of Love (2022): a documentary about the lives of two volcanologists who ultimately died together in a volcanic eruption. It's told in such a beautiful, moving way, and I've been telling everyone I know to watch it, so of course it had to make this list

19. Lady For a Day (1933): a group of loosely-socially-connected people work together to convince a wealthy man that an old impoverished apple seller is a member of high society so her daughter (who also believes her slightly-estranged mother is high society) can marry into real high society. It was literally the first movie I watched in 2023 and I truly can't think of a better way to start off a year than with a movie that is about helping other people for the sake of Just Helping Them, because we should care about other people, because what else are we on this earth for if not to help and care about other people. Also, this is one of those 1930s movies that seems wildly progressive in it's treatment of women (nobody shames Annie for having a daughter out of wedlock or anything that goes along with that, everyone wants her to be happy, and healthy, and to help her get the thing that she wants above all else: for her daughter to be happy and safe).

18. The Talk of The Town (1942): one of the many "Cary Grant's most bisexual movies" but boy howdy is it!! Cary Grant, a communist sympathiser and unionist, has to hide out at Jean Arthur's farmhouse to escape the law after being accused of a crime he didn't commit but wouldn't you know it, Jean Arthur's just rented out her farmhouse to Ronald Coleman, a judge who prides himself on his neutrality who's about to be nominated to the supreme court! Jean Arthur, thinking fast, says Cary Grant is her gardener for the farmhouse and also sets about trying to prove to Ronald Coleman that Cary Grant is innocent, Cary Grant sets about trying to radicalise Ronald Coleman before he can get to the supreme court. Ronald Coleman spends a significant amount of time playing chess with Cary Grant while the two of them speak softly to each other. Just wonderful stuff, and Jean Arthur is so beautiful that I genuinely tried to find out what her skincare regime was.

17. Beyond The Infinite Two Minutes (2020): a short (just over an hour) Japanese scifi film where a man discovers that the tv in the cafe downstairs from him and the tv in his apartment are connected, with the tv in the cafe showing two minutes into the future (of whatever is in front of the tv in his apartment). It does some really fun stuff with this time-travel adjacent concept, especially in the final "fight" sequence! It's a little hard to find (I think I might have watched it on vimeo?), but absolutely worth it.

16. White Zombie (1932): sometimes called the "first zombie movie", it's so different from what we now think of as a "zombie movie" that it feels fresh (or, at least, it did to me). A young bride is "killed" by an evil count and brought back as a zombie forced to obey his will. I found the short scene towards the end of the movie where her husband and True Love almost breaks the hold on her mind and there's a close up of her expression as it changes from wide-eyed blankness to almost a smile before she slips back under Bela Lugosi's spell to be genuinely affecting. Also, there's a scene right at the start where Bela Lugosi's eyes are superimposed over a scene that I found genuinely frightening, I was as jumpscared by those eyes as a person watching in 1932 probably was, which is always a fun feeling.

15. A New Leaf (1971): Walter Matthau, an aging, asexual bachelor is informed that he is on the brink of complete poverty and decides to find a orphaned heiress to marry (and then murder) to keep himself in his preferred lifestyle. After several unsuccessful endeavors he meets Elaine May (who also wrote and directed the movie), a weathly and extremely absent-minded botanist. Instead of killing her, he trips his way through improving both her life and himself. I was enthralled by this movie, I just want to rotate every part of it in my mind forever.

14. It's a Wonderful Knife (2023): the most recent of all the movies on this list in terms of both release date and me having watched it, this slasher retelling of 'it's a wonderful life' has it all: a Scary Slasher opening featuring a killer with a gimmick ("The Angel"), the classic bit where she wishes she'd never been born and stumbles through realising Oh No I'm In The Universe Where I've Never Been Born, the universe saving True Love of lesbians, Justin Long being a little weirdo, the bit where she runs down the street wishing everyone and everything a merry christmas. All the in-text callouts by the characters that what's happening is "just like" it's a wonderful life snowballed into a (to me) touching romantic moment ("you were my Clarence"). It all just Worked!! The perfect holiday watch.

13. Bones (2001): I love a horror movie that I've never heard of and the early 2000s is a great time period for this. 1970s Snoop Dogg (with beautiful 1970s hair!) is murdered, and his ghost comes back to get revenge on those who killed him. Features some great gross-out horror scares (the nightclub scene, especially, made me jump out of my seat and pace around). Also, a very cool, scary-looking poster!

12. Eyes Without A Face (1960): A doctor attempts to use his plastic surgery skills to "replace" his daughter's face, which has been mangled in a car accident (that he caused). I hope whoever designed the mask the daughter wears, which is a plain white 'death mask' style with only the eyes cut out, got some kind of award because it's visually striking in every scene (especially when combined with her mod/60s coat). This movie is full of the gestures towards a broader life that his daughter would have had, or the life she did have that is just enough to both paint a vivid picture and make you feel so curious that the movie would be enthralling even without the serial murder/body horror aspect. Has one of the greatest "good for HER" endings to a movie I've ever seen, which I would implore you not to spoil for yourself if you want to watch this. The version up on internet archive does have english subtitles (thank you internet archive!!).

11. Grosse Point Blank (1997): A disconnected and disaffected hit man attends his high school reunion, confronting his past (the mother that barely recognises him, the girlfriend he abandoned on prom night, the friend that never heard from him after he left town) and his present (the other hit men attempting to kill him). I feel cringe somehow for putting this on my list, I feel cringe admitting that I did feel a big Swell of emotion as John Cusack makes eye contact with a baby as the lyrics to Queen/Bowie's 'Under Pressure' swells in the background (why don't we give ourselves one more chance), I even feel a little cringe for liking something that seems like it should only appeal to Gen X's. But what is this list for if not for films that game me cringe levels of emotions?

10. Waxworks (1988): Much like the early 2000s, the 1980s are also a great decade for 'horror movies you've never heard of'. The plot summary doesn't do much to give it away: 'a group of teens go to a wax museum and get killed off one by one'. "Well, that's just house of wax", you think to yourself, "I know what to expect from this movie". It isn't, and you don't. Please don't look up scenes ahead of time, please do watch this movie!

9. Knightriders (1981): I'm a very loud member of the Movies Should Be Shorter club but this movie is over two hours and I wish it had gone on forever. Every time you think 'well that's the end of the movie' another movie arc starts, and I couldn't have been happier. It follows the "knights" (motorbike stuntmen) in an 80s renaissance fair as they travel from town to town, argue about modernising, and put on shows. Feels like you're really vibing with them under the 1980s sun. Also features a cameo of Stephen King, who eats a sandwich in a truly disgusting way.

8. House (1977): a group of teen girls go to the house of one of the girl's aunts. It's a very haunted house. The best way I can think to describe it is that it's like watching the description of a nightmare you had as a child, almost too over the top and ridiculous to be scary in an explainable way but it is still scary. I'll think about the piano sequence until the day I die.

7. They Might Be Giants (1971): A man who, after the death of his wife and his subsequent mental breakdown, believe himself to be Sherlock Holmes. His brother, who's attempting to get him committed to collect his inheritance, introduces him to a woman named Dr Watson. They run around around town as the man who believes himself to be Sherlock Holmes attempts to solve the mystery that he believes Moriarty is orchestrating, solving real problems for various people around town almost by accident. A extremely hopeful and upbeat movie with the saddest last 60 seconds to a movie I've ever seen, a very, very bittersweet love story.

6. The Palm Beach Story (1942): Claudette Colbert is deeply in love with her big rectangle of a husband Joel McCrea, but wants to divorce him because she believes that providing for her is holding him back (and he won't let her accept money from random men who want to give her money for being beautiful - a realistic thing to happen if you are Claudette Colbert imo). He's desperate to stay married to her so when she runs off to Palm Beach for a quickie 1940s divorce he follows her, but on the way she meets mega rich Rudy Vallee who falls instantly in love with her. As a complete 180 to the previous movie, this is a fun movie with the most rediculous final 60 seconds. I truly believe that your enjoyment of the movie hinges on those final moments - I, of course, loved it.

5. The Abominable Dr Phibes (1971): the king of horror Vincent Price stars as the mysterious Dr Phibes, who's out to kill a very specific set of people in various very specific ways, assisted by his beautiful and incredibly dressed assistant Vulnavia while the police unsuccessfully try to figure out what he's doing and stop him. I truly loved this movie, the mystery just silly enough, the kills just over the top enough, the elaborate sets not really trying to not look like sets and better off for it!! The sequel, in which Dr Phibes and Vulnavia travel to Egypt to resurrect Dr Phibes' wife, is also quite good!

4. Brief Encounters (1945): A man and woman, both happily (or at least contentedly) married to other people, meet and fall into a whirlwind-style love before the real world crashes back into them. Soul-obliteratingly sad, but in the way that love can be, sometimes.

3. Shocker (1989): A college student starts having visions of a serial murderer in which the murderer can see him, helps to catch the murderer... And then the movie really starts. This was going to be lower down until I realised that it's become such a reference point for me since I watched it. I wish Wes Craven would make a sequel about the protagonist's girlfriend, who, by the end of the movie, is a ghost who shares his body.

2. Wild Thing (1987): Tarzan, but if Tarzan was in 1980s New York instead of the jungle. I had such a fun time with this movie! Excellent use of 'wild thing' (the song) needle drop, which happens in conjunction with a Spiderman-style man-on-the-street interview section. To me, this one is an undiscovered gem.

1. Tampopo (1985): a woman, who isn't good at making ramen but owns a ramen shop, asks a truck driver and his friend to help her improve her cooking. He agrees, and they begin a winding journey, encountering and befriending various people to help her along the way. Tampopo is also a movie that's interested in exploring the different relationships people can have to food and the different roles it plays in society, so it's full of little tiny scenes staring all kinds of wonderful weirdos like this scene, which is one of my favourite scenes in all of cinema, of a little old woman causing chaos in a small supermarket late at night. Also, if you watch this movie: get ramen first, because otherwise you'll have to pause the movie to go and get food.

Honourable Mentions: You've Heard Of This Edition

Best movie about The Movies: Asteroid City (2023)

Best action scene that made me claw at the person next to me: Mission Impossible (Dead Reckoning Part One (2023)

Award for 'movie famous for being good that is good': RoboCop (1987)

Award for 'movie referenced as a punchline that actually has Things To Say about the treatment of houseless people to the point that I now feel like those punchlines do the movie and incredible disservice': C.H.U.D (1984)

Best rediculous stunts/scene chewing from Jake Gyllenhaal: Ambulance (2022)

Best 4th movie in a film series that was still incredible and also made me cry: John Wick Chapter 4 (2023)

Award for special effects/goo (for when you see the clones sloughing out of the pods): Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

Best use of Bill Pullman as a romantic lead: While You Were Sleeping (1995)

Award for 'predator movie that is actually enjoyable to watch': Prey (2022)

Best use of cocaine as a plot device: Cocaine Bear (2023)

Honourable Mentions: Maybe You Haven't Heard Of This Edition

Best movie that is just really a series of weird little sketches: Better Off Dead (1985)

Best movie about a married couple that are horny for each other: Undercover Blues (1993)

Best use of Willem Dafoe as an ally to the protagonist: Daybreakers (2009)

Best use of a one location (and primarily one set): Welcome Back Mr McDonald (1997)

Best use of the little lock of hair that falls out of the gelled-back hairdo in a 1930s male lead: Love Is News (1937)

Best use of enemies-to-lovers: Legal Eagles (1986)

Best use of Bob Hope: Nothing but the Truth (1941)

Award for 'most people cheating on each other with everyone else' in a single movie: Dinner at Eight (1933)

Best movie involving a woman who died and then possesses another woman to get revenge on the man who killed her: Supernatural (1933)

Best use of weird masks and scary basements: Popcorn (1991)

Award for 'most 1980s tropes in a 1930s movie': The Old Dark House (1932)

Best underutilised setting for a horror movie: Intruder (1989)

Best movie that you truly can't believe got made and released: Roar (1981)

Best performance of an actor pretending to be a robot: Deadly Friend (1986)

Best 1930s 'extremely wealthy old man and poor fast talking woman best friendship' in a movie: Easy Living (1937)

Best early 2000s thriller you haven't heard of/best Emily Blunt performance: Wind Chill (2007)

Best use of 1940s tropes and jokes in a hallmark movie: A Biltmore Christmas (2023)

Best use of best friends in a noir movie: The Gun for Hire (1942)

Best netflix movie that netflix inexplicably didn't bother promoting: They Cloned Tyrone (2023)

Best Dylan O'Brien performance: The Outfit (2022)

Best slimy little weasel performance: Cure For Wellness (2016)

Best use of time travel to a Very specific but not well-known historical event: Timeline (2003)

Award for most specific accident in a horror movie that required a transplant: Mad Love (1935)

[ladyelizabethraven]

Little Red Riding Hood and the Big, Bad Wolf (?)

This is for @boxdstars' Halloweeen Collab!

"And who are you dressing up as, Sharp?" Catherine narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized his curious, dog-like appendages. A faint smile crept across her cherry lips the longer her gaze lingered on his face.

Aesop took a step back and rubbed the back of his head. "I-It's not what it looks like!" he stammered, "The polyjuice isn't supposed to work like—"

"Wait, are you saying that you brewed a polyjuice potion just for this Autumn Ball?" she gasped, "Are you really that desperate to win this 'ridiculous' contest? I thought you said that this whole thing is nothing but a childish pastime!"

The young Slytherin took a sharp inhale and averted his gaze from hers. The heat that once flickered in his stomach now spread across his face like wildfire. Whether it was from the embarrassment coming from his botched potion or from the fact that her face was merely an inch or two from his, he could not tell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to back away. But the cold, stone wall prevented his retreat.

"I—What about you? Why did you choose a character from a muggle fairy tale? How can you expect to win if the judges and the townsfolk can't recognize the character you're trying to dress up as?" Aesop spat.

Her obsidian eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed, as if the words she was about to say suddenly vanished from her tongue. She gritted her teeth. "H-How dare you divert the subject!" her pale cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment, "If I pick a character that everyone knows about, I'm sure that someone else will look just like me! I have to be unique if I want to win!"

"Uniqueness and creativity aren't the only criteria being considered in the judging, Nott." Aesop scoffed.

Catherine huffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "At least I didn't do something illegal and stupid like brewing a polyjuice potion. I can't believe you just tried to use a shortcut like that! How can you expect the win the 'Best Costume' award if you don't put an effort in your costume in the first place?"

"And you did? That's just a simple outdoor dress and a red hood!"

"I beg your pardon?! I made this dress myself!"

"Yeah, you and your army of house elves!"

The young witched gasped again. A flicker of anger flashed in her dark eyes. "Whatever, Sharp. Have fun walking around Hogsmeade with your cute appearance of yours!"

Aesop's heart almost stopped beating when he heard those words. "What did you say?" he asked again, "Did you just say that I'm... cute?"

Catherine froze. Her pale cheeks turned rosy pink as she turned from him. She stomped away, her red cloak billowing in the wind as she walked. "I said that you're a jerk and I hope the kids in Hogsmeade yank your tail!"

=======================

Damn, it's been a while since I actually drew something this big but I'm glad how it turned out in the end :).

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Drink with me

This is for you, my dear @lordoftherazzles as a heartfelt "Thank you" for all your support of (S)wiped out.

Here is a little update on Bilbo's expansion plans.

I love you! Your friendship means the world to me!!!

Words: 1370

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Prompt: Cocktails

Warnings: alcohol consumption, inebriation, sexual innuendo

Thorin was a man on a mission—as he entered the deserted bar after having taken a long, restoring shower in Bilbo's cramped bathroom, he hastily tied his hair up while walking, promptly bumping his elbow into the doorframe.

"If you think that I cannot smell that you've used my shampoo instead of the disgusting, cheap poison you insisted you preferred, you're very much mistaken, Mister," Bilbo chirped teasingly.

Grimacing, Thorin shrugged; he was not about to admit that he liked the way Bilbo's ridiculously expensive shampoo made his wavy hair feel.

Nobody could ever know about that, otherwise, his sister would never let him live such a damnable, petty weakness down.

After all, he had been just fine with his all-in-one soap for most of his adult life—almost, at least.

"Hit me with your best shot," he replied, desperately trying to change the subject. “I mean, cocktail.”

"Maybe you should have a sandwich first?" Bilbo looked at him dubitatively.

A good many select bottles of liquors, juices, syrups, and other ingredients were lined up on the counter of the bar and—as he was nothing if not ambitious when it came to culinary delights—he didn't want to risk Thorin flagging before they had made it through the list of potential brunch cocktails.

"I don't see what's wrong with an honest ale," Thorin said with an innocent gleam in his eyes.

The fact that he utterly adored the creative drinks his beloved had come up with for their movie nights was another well-guarded secret of his.

Knowing with absolute certainty that nothing distracted and challenged Bilbo more than having his plans cavalierly dismissed—even in jest—Thorin wisely played that card rather than having to beg for a drink.

"You'll see, you uncouth, uncivilised, ignorant loudmouth!"

Even as he suppressed a grin, Thorin took his usual spot at the bar—the third stool from the left corner of the counter—and blew a strand of flyaway hair out of his face while waiting for the first part of their experiment.

Bilbo started measuring, pouring, crushing, and swirling fervently.

When Thorin whipped out his notebook though, his head flew up and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What is that?" he asked warily.

"I made a list," Thorin answered with a provocative smirk and tapped his broad index against the open page. "Presentation, fruitiness, acidity, balance, colour, composition, and that je-ne-sais-quoi that would make the drink extraordinary."

Gasping and gaping, Bilbo glared at Thorin who reached over the counter to grab his hand and breathe a devoted kiss onto the back of it.

"I am taking my role as trusted taster of your unparalleled genius very seriously, my darling," he purred, eyeing the half-full glass longingly.

As a matter of principle, Thorin had decided not to follow the making of the cocktail in too much detail so as to not falsify his assessment by building up expectations and random criteria.

Why did half of those drinks have to have names that were in no way related to their flavour profile anyway?

Finally, Bilbo set down a tiny glass in front of Thorin and—holding his gaze testily—he let a small paper umbrella drop into it.

"Ey!" Thorin exclaimed. "If you are stingy with the drinks, at least don't waste a single drop with stunts like that!"

Then, reciprocating Bilbo's unrelenting glare, he wrote down in big, bold letters "No cocktail napkin" in the presentation column.

"Mahal's stony balls! Drink and shut up!" Bilbo groaned, flinching a little when he realised that he had started to emulate Thorin's colourful and utterly irreverent way of cursing.

Rolling his eyes in a thinly veiled attempt at pretending to be merely doing his boyfriend a favour, Thorin took a tiny sip.

An obscene moan of delight escaped him—the mere drop of liquid seemed to melt and expand on his tongue, exploding into an oasis of zesty freshness interlaced with accents of mellow sweetness that was devoid of the disheartening stickiness of artificial sweeteners.

"Do I detect a floral note?" he asked eagerly; the question made Bilbo's brows furrow and travel up his forehead in astonishment.

"I've added some of Primula's flower syrup—a secret family formula she won't even share with me," Bilbo confessed, excessively impressed and charmed by the refined palate Thorin had developed in the course of their relationship.

"That is a solid summer drink," Thorin praised, "something for sweltering evenings to sip on while having a discussion with friends."

Bilbo nodded; this was exactly what he had had in mind when designing this specific beverage.

They made their way through several other recipes as the evening progressed and the light faded—Thorin complimented each and every one of them and, once or twice, he even gave Bilbo invaluable and pertinent input on what notes were missing.

"I think," he mumbled now, regretting his decision to refuse the sandwich that had been offered earlier as his vision began to grow ever so slightly blurry at the edges, "this could do with a dash of cinnamon or cardamon to balance out the heaviness of the cream, don't you think?"

Tapping a sugar-coated finger against his lips, Bilbo snatched Thorin's glass from his numb fingers and took a swig himself.

"You...by Yavanna's green grace, you are absolutely right," he cheered and thumbed through his notes to jot down a reminder in the margin.

"I also think," Thorin slurred, "that I deserve free cocktails—for life—in exchange for my help!"

Smiling fondly, Bilbo came around the counter and slung his arm around the strong back of his partner in love, in crime, and in life.

"Forever," he whispered and pressed a loving kiss against that cherished temple behind which so many marvellous ideas had sprung to life. "What would I do without you?"

"Drink alone," Thorin giggled and turned his unfocused, pleading eyes onto his favourite face in the world.

"On that matter, can I have a full drink?"

"I think you've had quite enough," Bilbo mused and, finding himself unable to resist the surge of almost desperate tenderness and love he felt for this man, he gave Thorin another resounding kiss.

Humming happily, Thorin rummaged through his pockets and slammed his car keys on the counter.

"One more," he begged, "one full drink and then, I promise, I shall let you take me to bed and tuck me in!"

Chuckling to himself, Bilbo returned to his workstation, wriggling a warning finger.

"One," he insisted, "and we'll share it. This one is called 'The Heart of the Mountain', and it is dedicated to you, my sweet."

It was only the leaden fatigue weighing down his limbs that kept Thorin from bobbing up and down on his chair like an impatient toddler while Bilbo fussed with his elaborate recipe for a good while.

"Give!" Thorin demanded, making entirely undignified grabby hands at the tall, beautifully decorated glass in Bilbo's hands.

Long forgotten were his misgivings as he let his tongue wipe up a bit of the sugar covering the rim of the oblong drinking vessel—it tasted like blueberry, his favourite, and a beatific smile spread across his face. 

As he took the first deep gulp, the fragrant warmth of spiced rum intermingled with the sharp crispness of something cool and minty inundated his palate and his lids shivered with raw sensual pleasure.

Fire and strength unfolded on his tongue, expanding into a complex flavour profile that spelt out more than just naïve love or hopeful affection.

This was a testament to the true understanding Bilbo had of Thorin's nature and a proof of his own courage.

Many would have quailed to take on such a potentially overpowering mix of strong flavours, but not Bilbo.

He had seen and processed all the seemingly contradictory facets of the man slumping in his chair across the bar and had woven them into something truly delicious.

"How does it taste?" Bilbo asked in a tone that made it very clear that he did not doubt this drink in the least.

"Like love," Thorin replied, "and I am honoured to share this drink with you. What say you, should we take it up and finish it in bed?"

@fellowshipofthefics here we go. This concludes Week 3.

I can't wait for the last week! This was such immense fun!!!

[shummashum]

Klaus Goldstein Ch5 [1~5]

Previously on Ch4! Liz, who uses the spell taught to her by Cae, continues to come into unintended contact with Klaus as a result… okay…… The next class is being taught by Zeus, how crazy can that be?!

oh… vulcanux that dorm on fire thing

I don't expect anything else let's just fulfill the class hours straight, okay? take this opportunity to prove to me that you are suitable as a Prefect I beg you!!

Just then, Liz overheard a female student mention Klaus' name.

a…………. let's not do this please…… our romanceable characters are not products,,, you shouldn't act like picking fruits and vegetables and you know, I really don't particularly like it when you extras praise romanceable characters like this let's not do this, yeah??

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the start of classes. okay! now it's the time to hear Zeus' lecture!

duh the sound of that door breaking down is not changing ~Zeus the door breaker~

huh and Klaus? maybe he felt uneasy leaving him alone but well let's ask him

are you asking me if she's dissatisfied hmm……

Shall we "allure"?

glance b-but the walkthrough says this is the right answer

good we're building up his intimacy point step by step

but really, what is he doing here

as expected he found him untrustworthy (nod) buuut there's no way he's just willing to accept this

erm… you're not really trying to assign self-study or something, are you? what I said about self-study or seatwork was just a joke yeah??

woah he never disappoints expectations from the beginning if I get angry here, I'll just become a narrow-minded person oi you if you try to fuck the class…

oh… he's about to teach summoning spells? but rather than teaching students, it seems like he's just throwing them off a cliff

of course practice is important, but if this is a "summoning magic subject" taught at the academy, it should be something like a theory that needs to be learned following the curriculum…? regardless of actual efficiency, I don't think teaching in this way fits the framework of an academy~...

damn~~~ what kind of report what are the grading criteria? do you grade it yourself? you're going to make Hiro do it again anyway

Anyway, she followed his request and decided to summon something cute and unremarkable like a carbuncle.

but what if someone draws the magic circle wrong and something dangerous comes out -- so everyone gets petrified or something. Klaus' sanity immediately decreases yippee

scribbles,,, there's no failure or right or wrong answers in magic, don't you know that?!

but wellll seriously, how can romance be added in this atmosphere? can't we just go with a mentor-mentee relationship like this? do we really need to add a romance scent

okay… it can't be helped… There's a saying: Friendship can exist between men and women, but only when neither of them has romantic feelings for the other

At that time, Zeus appeared in front of them.

in what way is it dull? is that also an evaluation based on your intuition

are you kidding me just say it already unless you're going to tell her why, don't say that in the first place ! ! !

So she raised her wand and recite the invocation, and…

aww cuuuuute

awww he's gone……

Zeus scoffed loudly and offered to teach her how to make the summon last longer.

how I mean, how? so how do you do it? if you don't make any explanation, it's just a magic exhibition, not a lecture

Anyway, she gave it another try, and it abruptly appeared again.

huh there's definitely no one who can surpass him in the field of summoning…

[whatisonthemoon]

Ten Years After Jonestown, the Battle Intensifies Over the Influence of ‘Alternative’ Religions (1988)

by Bob Sipchen - November 17, 1988 - Los Angeles Times

Eldridge Broussard Jr.’s face screwed into a grimace of such anger and pain that the unflappable Oprah Winfrey seemed unnerved. It hurts to be branded “the new Jimmy Jones” by a society eager to condemn what it doesn’t understand, the founder of the Ecclesia Athletic Assn. lamented on TV just a few days after his 8-year-old daughter had been beaten to death, apparently by Ecclesia members.

At issue were complex questions of whether the group he had formed to instill discipline in ghetto youth, and led from Watts to Oregon, had evolved into a dangerous cult. But Broussard couldn’t have found a less sympathetic audience than the group gathered around the TV in the bar of the Portland Holiday Inn.

There last month for the annual conference of the Chicago-based Cult Awareness Network were people whose kin had crumpled onto the body heaps at Jonestown, Guyana, 10 years ago, and people who believed they or family members had lost not their lives, but good chunks of them, to gurus and avatars less infamous but no less evil than Jim Jones.

One group’s cult is another’s “new religious movement,” though, and in the 10 years since Jonestown, a heated holy war of sorts has been mounting over the issues of how to define and contend with so-called cults.

The battle lines aren’t always well defined. Ongoing guerrilla actions between those who see themselves as crusaders against potential Jonestowns and those who see themselves as the persecuted members of outcast religious groups comprise the shifting legal and political fronts. On the outskirts of the ideological battleground is another loosely knit force that sees itself as the defender of a First Amendment besieged by vigilantes all too eager to kiss off the Constitution as they quash beliefs that don’t fit their narrow-minded criteria of what’s good and real. As one often-quoted definition has it: “A cult is a religion someone I don’t like belongs to.”

“It’s spiritual McCarthyism,” Lowell D. Streiker, a Northern California counselor, said of the cult awareness cause. To him, “the anti-cult network” is itself as a “cult of persecution,” cut from the same cloth as Colonial witch hunters and the Ku Klux Klan.

The key anti-cult groups, by most accounts, are CAN, a secular nondenominational group of 30 local affiliates; the Massachusetts-based American Family Foundation; the Interfaith Coalition of Concern About Cults and the Jewish Federation Council’s Commission on Cults and Missionaries.

Although they contend that their ranks continue to fill with the victims of cults or angry family members, they concede that the most significant rallying point came in the fall of 1978 when the leader of one alleged cult put a rattlesnake in an enemy’s mailbox and another led 912 people to their deaths.

Even though nothing so dramatic has happened since, cults have quietly been making inroads into the fabric of mainstream American life, and the effects are potentially as serious as the deaths at Jonestown, cult critics say.

With increased wealth and public relations acumen--with members clothed by Brooks Brothers rather than in saffron sheets--the 1,000 or more new cults that some estimate have sprung up in America since the ‘60s have become “a growth industry which is diversifying,” said Dr. Louis Jolyon West, director of UCLA’s Neuropsychiatric Institute. “They have made steady progress on all fronts.”

Uglier Connotations

In the broadest sense, Webster defines a cult as simply “a system of religious worship or ritual.” Even before Jonestown, though, the word had taken on broader and uglier connotations.

To make a distinction, critics use the term destructive cult, or totalist cult. The issue, they say, pivots on the methods groups use to recruit and hold together followers.

CAN describes a destructive cult as one that “uses systematic, manipulative techniques of thought reform or mind control to obtain followers and constrict their thoughts and actions. These techniques are imposed without the person’s knowledge and produce observable changes in the individual’s autonomy, thoughts and actions. . . .”

A 1985 conference on cults co-sponsored by the UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute and the American Family Federation came up with this definition:

“A group or movement exhibiting a great or excessive devotion or dedication to some person, idea, or thing and employing unethically manipulative techniques of persuasion and control . . . designed to advance the goals of the group’s leaders, to the actual or possible detriment of members, their families, or the community.”

The “manipulative techniques” in question are what cult critics call mind control or brainwashing.

To critics of the critics, on the other hand, brainwashing amounts to hooey.

And both sides say the weight of evidence is on their side.

New Beliefs, Personalities

Cult critics often point to classic surveys on brainwashing, which catalogue methods which they say are routinely used by cults of every color, religious and secular, to manipulate unsuspecting people into adopting new beliefs, and often, in effect, new personalities.

Among the techniques are constant repetition of doctrine; application of intense peer pressure; manipulation of diet so that critical faculties are adversely affected; deprivation of sleep; lack of privacy and time for reflection; cutting ties with the recruits’ past life; reduction of outside stimulation and influences; skillful use of ritual to heighten mystical experience; and invention of a new vocabulary which narrows the range of experience and constructs a new reality for cult members.

Margaret Singer, a former professor of psychology at UC Berkeley, describes psychological problems that have been attributed to cultic experiences, ranging from the despair that comes from having suddenly abandoned ones previous values, norms and ideals to types of “induced psychopathy.” Other psychologists and lay observers list similar mental and emotional problems linked to the indoctrination and rituals of cults.

Sociologist Dick Anthony, author of the book “Spiritual Choices,” and former director of the UC Berkeley-affiliated Center for the Study of New Religions, argues the exact opposite position.

“There’s a large research literature published in mainstream journals on the mental health effects of new religions,” he said. “For the most part the effects seem to be positive in any way that’s measurable.”

He and other defenders of new religions discount so-called mind control techniques, or believe the term has been misappropriated by anti-cult activists.

“Coercive Persuasion is a bombastic redescription of familiar forms of influence which occur everyday and everywhere,” said Streiker. “Someone being converted to a demanding religious movement is no more or less brainwashed than children being exposed to commercials during kiddy programs which encourage them to eat empty calories or buy expensive toys.”

“An attempt to persuade someone of something is a process protected by our country’s First Amendment right of free speech and communication,” said attorney Jeremiah Gutman head of the New York City branch of the American Civil Liberties Union and an outspoken critic of the anti-cult groups. “What one person believes to be an irrefutable and obvious truth is someone else’s errant nonsense.”

‘Fraud and Manipulation’

But anti-cult spokespeople say they have no interest in a group’s beliefs. Their concern is when destructive cults use “fraud and manipulation,” to get people to arrive at those beliefs, whatever they may be. Because people are unaware of the issues, though, cults have insinuated themselves into areas of American life where they are influencing people who may not even know where the influence is coming from, they contend.

The political arena is the obvious example, anti-cult activists say.

Followers of the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh had a major impact on the small town government of Antelope, Ore., and Jim Jones had managed to thrust himself and his church into the most respectable Democratic party circles in San Francisco before the exodus to Guyana, for instance.

But recently the process has expanded, with the Rev. Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church the leading example of a cult that is quietly gaining political clout, they say.

“What Jim Jones did to Democrats in San Francisco, Sun Myung Moon is doing to Republicans all across country now,” Kisser said.

Moon’s most obvious stab at mainstream legitimacy, critics say, was his purchase in 1982 of the Washington Times, a D.C. daily newspaper, and his financial nurturing of the paper’s magazine Insight--both of which have an official policy of complete editorial independence from the church.

In September, 1987, the conservative American Spectator magazine published an article titled “Can Buy Me Love: The Mooning of Conservative America,” in which managing editor Andrew Ferguson questioned the way the political right is lapping up Moon money, citing, among many examples, the $500,000 or more the late Terry Dolan’s National Conservative Alliance accepted in 1984. When the church got wind of the article, the Spectator received a call from the executive director of the Unification Church’s World Media Assn. warning that if it ran, the Times “would strike back and strike back severely,” Ferguson wrote in an addendum to the piece.

‘Everyone Speaks Korean’

Therapist Steven Hassan, a former “Moonie” and the author of the just-released book “Combatting Cult Mind Control,” estimates that the church now sponsors 200 businesses and “front organizations.”

Moon “has said he wants an automatic theocracy to rule the world,” explained Hassan, who, on Moon’s orders, engaged in a public fast for Nixon during Watergate and another fast at the U.N. to protest the withdrawal of troops from Korea. “He visualizes a world where everyone speaks Korean only, where all religion but his is abolished, where his organization chooses who will mate, and he and family and descendants rule in a heroic monarchy.”

Moon “is very much in support of the democratic system,” counters John Biermans , director of public affairs for the church. “His desire is for people to become God-centered people. Then democracy can fulfill its potential”

Besides, he said, “this is a pluralistic society, people of all faiths inject their beliefs into the system on every level . . . Using terms like ‘front groups’ and ‘insinuating,’ is just a way to attack something. It’s not even honest.”

Some observers dismiss concern about alleged Unificationist infiltration as self-serving hysteria whipped up by the anti-cultists.

“How much actual influence (the Unification Church) has seems questionable,” said David Bromley, a professor of sociology at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, and the author of the 1981 book “Strange Gods, the Great American Cult Scare.”

Bromley estimates, for instance, that the church brings $200 million a year into the U.S. from abroad. But he sees no evidence that the money, much of it spent on all-expense-paid fact-finding tours and conferences for journalists, politicians and clergypeople, is money well-invested as far as political impact goes.

The church, he estimates, is losing about $50 million a year on its Washington Times newspaper and the ranks of Unificationists, and most other new religions, in America are thinning as well.

Veterans of the anti-cult front, however, say that the appearance that cults are fading is an illusion. “Like viruses, many of them mutate into new forms,” when under attack, West of UCLA said. And new types of cults are arising to fill the void, they say.

Cult critics point, for instance, to the rise of such groups as the est offshoot called Forum, and to Lifespring and Insight--all of which CAN characterizes as “human potential cults” and all of which are utilized in mainstream American business to promote productivity and motivation.

Observers such as Gordon Melton of the Institute for the Study of Religious Institutions in Santa Barbara explain that many of these New Age-type trainings have their roots in the old fashioned motivational pep talks and sales technique seminars that have been the staples of American business for decades.

But critics see the so-called “psychotechnologies” utilized by some of these groups as insidious. For one thing, they say, the meditation, confessional sharing, and guided imagery methods some of them use are more likely to make employees muzzy-headed than competitive.

Other critics say the trainings violate employee’s rights. Richard Watring, a personnel director for Budget Rent-a-Car, who has been charting the incorporation of “New Age” philosophies into business trainings, is concerned that employees are often compelled to take the courses and then required to adapt a new belief system which may be incompatible with their own religious convictions. As a Christian he finds such mental meddling inappropriate for corporations.

He and other cult critics are heartened by recent cases, still pending, in which employees, or former employees, have sued their employer for compelling them to take trainings they felt conflicted with their own religious beliefs.

Most observers scoring the action on the broader legal battlefield, however, call it a toss-up, and perceived victories for either side have often proved Pyrrhic.

Threats of Litigation

Richard Ofshe, a sociologist at UC Berkeley, fought three separate legal battles with the drug and alcohol rehabilitation organization Synanon over research he published on the group. Although he ultimately won the suits, he said the battle wound up costing the university $600,000. And evidence obtained in other lawsuits showed that Synanon had skillfully wielded threats of litigation to keep several other critical stories from being published or broadcast, he said.

Similarly, a recently released book “Cults and Consequences,” went unpublished for several years because insurers were wary of the litigious nature of some of the groups mentioned, said Rachel Andres, director of the Jewish Federation Council of Greater Los Angeles’ Commission on Cults and Missionaries and the book’s co-editor.

But the most interesting litigation of late involves either a former member who is suing the organization to which he or she belonged, or a current member of a new religious group who is suing a deprogrammer who attempted unsuccessfully to persuade the person to leave the group.

The most significant case, everyone agrees, is last month’s Molko decision by the California Supreme Court, which anti-cult groups have cheered as a major victory.

In that reversal of lower court decisions, the justices agreed that David Molko and another former member of the Unification Church could bring before a jury the claim that they were defrauded by recruiters who denied they had a church affiliation and then subjected the two to church mind control techniques, eventually converting them.

Mainstream religious organizations including the National Council on Churches, the American Baptist Churches in the USA and the California Ecumenical Council had filed briefs in support of the Unification Church, claiming that allowing lawsuits over proselytizing techniques could paralyze all religions.

“What they’re attacking is prayer, fasting and lectures,” said Biermans of the Unification Church. “The whole idea of brainwashing is unbelievably absurd. . . . If someone had really figured out a method of brainwashing, they could control the world.” The church plans to appeal the ruling to the U.S. Supreme Court if necessary. Paul Morantz, the attorney who was struck by the rattlesnake placed in his mailbox by the “Imperial Marines” of Synanon, gave pro-bono assistance to the plaintiffs in the Molko case.

“For me, it was a great decision for freedom of religion and to protect against the . . . use of coercive persuasion,” he said.

Morantz currently is defending Bent Corydon, author of the book “L. Ron Hubbard, Madman or Messiah” against a lawsuit by the Church of Scientology. He said he’s confident of how that case will turn out.

But he shares the belief of others on several sides of the multifaceted cult battle, in concluding that education rather than litigation should be the first defense of religious and intellectual liberty.

He’s not, however, optimistic.

“If anyone thinks they’re ever going to win this war, they’re wrong,” he said. “As long as we have human behavior, there will be sociopaths who will stand up and say ‘follow me.’ And there will always be searchers who will follow.”

Source: https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1988-11-17-vw-257-story.html

[yuzukult]

mind spoiling what you're currently working on if that's ok with you 🙈

hehe i mean other than ybny & crush, i've been working on a couple one-shots for a while!! i'll give u a lil preview hehe

these are just a couple !! i def had other wips but these are the ones i find myself coming back to :]

attention also previously titled indigo; oc x vernon

He’s just sitting casually, but he looks like he owns the place. “You sure you don’t wanna date?” you ask, lips almost brushing against his outer ear as he lets out a soft chuckle and brings his glass of whiskey on ice to his mouth. The music is loud, booming in the speakers of the dim club with strobe lights, making it hard to have any decent conversation but to be honest—who is even trying to talk here when their bodies should be? “You’re pretty,” he admits, his chocolate swirls of eyes locking with yours. “And—I’m attracted to you. But for dating… you don’t really fit my criteria.”  Criteria. He says it like he has a checklist for the girl he wants to date. 

no title, just jun so far; oc x jun

“Do you think… when we break up, later down the line… when you see me with someone else… it’ll hurt?” Of course it’d fucking hurt. He knew it was purely out of curiosity, even if the answer was crystal clear, but just the question alone felt stupid to ask. He loved you, so goddamn much, but he couldn’t deliver what you’d wanted.  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it? You’re my everything.” You really were. That look on your face was the one he feared the most; you were pained, the fronts of your brows dipped in confusion because you can’t understand him. If he loved you so much, why couldn’t he give you what you wanted? Why couldn’t he take the risk? Why couldn’t he just… try? For you? “Then why won’t you marry me? Or… have kids with me?”

eating together; oc x soonyoung

Q narrows her eyes at you. “Not Soonyoung, if that’s what you’re scared of.” You clear your throat. Kwon Soonyoung, the boy who swept you off your feet back in high school, is an unrequited love.  Well, sort of. He was an unrequited love until he wasn’t—the moment that he picked up the Valentine’s Day card that was meant for your eyes only, unintentionally sent (you blame the high school version of Q), waving it in your face with a slightly angered look on his face with, “why didn’t you tell me sooner?” from his mouth was when it started everything.

[kohakhearts]

obviate

While on an expedition in the Crown Tundra, Gary runs into Goh: injured, directionless, and hell-bent on getting rid of him.

fandom: pokemon (anime) rating: t relationship(s): gary/goh word count: 5.6k written for: @whumpuary (prompts: "get away from me" and "collapse") read it here

The Crown Tundra is a harsh place.

Gary does not come here often, so much as he can avoid it; though rare and powerful Pokémon call this place home, he is perfectly content to leave them as they are and find other Pokémon that fit the same bill in warmer, less rugged climes. This is, however, a once in a lifetime opportunity; he would be remiss to wave off the chance to study such magnificent Pokémon simply because he knows they’ll be a hassle to hunt down.

The Legendary birds that congregate at the Dyna Tree every few decades are thought by many to be little more than folklore spun from the locals’ inability to identify rare Pokémon from other regions. Yet, the tales of their appearances don’t match the Kantonian ones at all. Gary’s seen Articuno, Moltres, and Zapdos up close in battle before. There’s no good reason to think that they could fit the criteria established by their Galarian lookalikes.

So, even if it is far from his ideal vacation spot, he decided in the end it would be worth the visit. What he wasn’t expecting was company.

Of course, he should have known better. Researchers the world over could have sampled the same data he did to conclude it was worth taking the trip this week of all weeks. But there is no one else in the world he expected to see less than the person he does.

Where the trees begin to thin atop the icy slope, the ghostly gleam of Articuno’s visage is just barely perceptible. Its glare is blinding; as Gary scales the hill, he has to hold one hand over narrowed eyes just to avoid its paralyzing effect. Its gaze not is not on him, but there is something of its mere presence that leaves him shaking from more than just the cold. It takes until he is only a few feet away to make out the figure frozen in front of it. Standing behind the trainer’s leg, just out of view of Articuno, is a Grookey.

Without taking so much as a moment to think about what he is doing or why he is doing it, Gary throws up Umbreon’s Poké Ball and shouts, “Umbreon, use Dark Pulse!”

keep reading

[the-firebird69]

We're going to have this contest and we're going to narrow the criteria. It will be for performance cost ease of construction by more or less an intermediate like our son and availability of the product no that's our job design whether it's really cool or not and it'll all be in C-1 Classification. We strongly recommend if you enter the contest that you keep in mind availability of materials we will have the product available but if you have donor vehicles we'd like to see your information and how many vehicles you can get up front but this is that one matter after time you won't be able to do it unless you plan on using new vehicles. With cost in mind we're going to do a bolt up frame with a bolt up cage and prices of consideration yeah it's a very big one ease of installation and assembly is a massive one there's so many designs out there that you'll have a field day not knowing which to do. A son's method is so simple it's gonna make you sick his method is so simple. The frame and the roll cage the cage itself all of it has a bolt holes that are pre drilled or attachments for your panels and it's not left up to you you just bolt it on it's RTA almost 100 percent the whole vehicle the only things you have to do in clue things on. The rest of it is just like Ikea you're getting a car that you just bolt together and stitch with melding adhesive we did decide that that's necessary people cannot rent welding machines they don't know how to use them not somebody

He is encouraging our people to enter the contest and people out where we are to enter the contest and he wants people out here then to the contest we'll have first second and third place for this particular contest we are going to have a huge huge kit car We'll have a series that leads up to it and we will make sure that we understand that we will be making small ones all over the place and we're gonna be a major sponsor and these things will have sponsors and we want sponsors to get it together and they'll see sponsors Start selling product. we re in poosiion to sell and have stock on our products we shall accept the winner and work ouit details. but do have sweet prizes. and manufacturing deals are nice cheap and forthtright. shipping is a parameter of the contest. and we use this his idea. and he shall design it and after the Bradley GT 1 and Hera is heading it up has time no but ok hahaha lol and i was headnig up cars helped alot and now ok i have a chair and good. i see it and the position. i have held too. now good. and he shall redesign it now all bolt up and soon my husband will approach ikea for hs pay for helping and to ask about his car after he wins lol ok ahaha lol. they say no way and laugh. full kit. engine too and transmissoin shell cage frame and all the other stuff and are exicited and no dont have car stuff haahah lol. and will do a promo and incldue an Ikea item smoking chair and they see it good. and class they accept. we do this now and they like it. a payment and such. and we do this shorlt. need an engine he has ideas. and two or threee good models. nice.

fuel economy too

Hera

andwe said the top part this is a go now too

Thor Freya

Olympus

we roll. and it is good i see it needed this. and we are right it is heavy. but we can do it. need to roll it out ad move and we call up the group. get them going. need thier designs in all have a go between. adn need it shortly and we shall handout the rules and so on. and we see them why and so on they know. this is right we do this.

Savage Oppress

we make second and he picks us up too good or third

trump ahahah cant make first and good we see but we do get it

and u s too prob me doing his and yeh ok yup

bg and i did it with the vaydor and works. yes i see it too eed it and hahaha small wooden and now i do see

Olympus

[travelingwithtots]

Cybex Gazelle Double Stroller Fan Club

So grateful that I met Krishna when we were both expecting our baby #2s and knee deep in double stroller research. I described to her my key criteria, and she told me it matched up with hers. She told me about her decision to select the Cybex Gazelle S Stroller.

I have now used this stroller for the past 14 months, for daily use around our residence in London, as well as several trips via train. Here are my thoughts!

Pros:

The seats are front and back (Rather than side by side), which works better for the narrow sidewalks and entry ways in London.

There are approximately 20 configurations of the double stroller (i.e., car seat, bassinet, 2 infant/toddler seats) so you can experiment to see what works best for your Family Travel.

The ergonomic near-flat position is ideal for naps for the kids; and when the seats are faced opposite direction, both kids can nap simultaneously.

There is great storage space underneath stroller. The stroller also comes with a basket which fits well underneath, and can in total hold up to 50 lbs of gear.

The drive of the stroller is very smooth! I have gone for many, many long walks — and I always appreciate how easy it is to manuever.

If we want another child, this stroller also can attach to a buggy board for the oldest child to stand upon.

The bassinet was multi-purposeful for when we would go out, as well as a great soft for our baby to take naps on (under safe supervision).

The footmuff that matches the stroller made going out during the cold more manageable.

Cons:

This is a heavy stroller! Between the weight of the stroller, all the gear I have under the stroller, and my two 25 pound toddlers (yes, they both weigh about the same) — it can be a lot to push around. Because of our London life, I generally have a few stairs to overcome, and it requires some strategizing to make it over.

My toddler is starting to get too tall for the cover on the seat. He looks slightly uncomfortable with his legs and head, and he is just turning 3!

Because both of my kids like to nap in the afternoons, I need the the seats to face opposite directions so that they can fully recline.

When both seats are facing the front, the top child’s legs might hit the bottom child’s one. I have not figured out the solution to this.

In a separate category, I have folding. Because my friend has mastered quickly folding the stroller down; whereas I still struggle with it. I think my specific one might have a a glitch in the handlebar. The moves are simple, and my husband can usually get it done quickly, it just glitches up a bit (my action item for myself is to follow up on our warranty). When it folds, make sure to have a travel stroller bag for all the parts so that they stay together!

All in all, I feel like the cons of this stroller would pertain to most other quality sturdy double strollers. I love this Gazelle Double Stroller, and definitely would buy again.

[archived-and-moving]

i saw your tags about wakesurfing and !!!! wakesurfing is one of my fav hobbies ever. i'm sorta working on 360's atm (occasionally i try to do an olly - supposedly i'm close to getting it? i don't like jumping on a surf board though lol); i can do board-slides pretty well, and i'm supposedly the long-distance champ of the family when it comes to wakesurfing (without the rope)? i have a reputation of going 'forever' which is really just as long as they let me. i'm not nearly as good as my dad though lmao. he's the local surf king - like today he did three 360's??? in a row??? like one go and he was just spinning around 3 times. he fell out the back of the wake, but it was still crazy af. but yeah anyway i'm just. so happy someone on here knows wtf it is

Bestie. Bestie this is all absolutely incredible. Unfortunately I am not too educated water sports 😔 but I used to live near a reservoir where we did a lot of boating, and both sides of my family are from the east coast, where there's a lot of boating and stuff out there!

However some of my good friends like wakesurfing as well and I am just as perplexed (/pos) at how ppl have so much balance. Like seriously! I tried wakesurfing a couple times, and each time I was off the board in a very very small amount of time. It was actually quite impressive how fast I fell off the board.

But dude!!! You're talking about 360's and ollys and I'm just sitting here like!!!! I still cannot believe people can do this!!!! on water!!!! Using a wake and a boat's momentum only!!!! Like yes I understand the basics of both wakeboarding and wakesurfing but like! Absolutely insane.

I'm just imagining the tricks you're telling me about and my brain is simply doing flips. Like that is actually so cool bestie. Your dad also sounds like he's crazy talented as well, so it must run in the family pretty well.

Anyway yeah!!! That's super cool!

[tommydoesntpayforsuits]

Maybe It's for the Best | Part III

Summary: Finale: Tommy and Y/N hash out unresolved feelings. It all ends here.

Word Count: 16,478 words

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Variables: Y/N= Your Name; L/N= Last Name; Y/E/C= Your Eye Colour; D/C= Dress Colour

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, everyone is just sad, angst, there is a scene where they are about to have sex but it just fades to black, so slight nsfw but not really.

Author’s Note: After almost a year, the finale is finally here.

For the longest time, I didn't want to post this, because it became extremely personal to me. I have apparently written very real fears and insecurities of mine into these characters, and I felt like I was exposing myself. But, I'm not stalling anymore. I think because it's so personal, it makes it so great.

I recommend using the InteractiveFics Chrome extension to replace the variables to your preferred criteria. It’s free and only takes a couple of clicks.

MASTERLIST

Tommy Shelby SFW Taglist

Please fill out this google form to be added or removed from the taglist.

Part I -> Part II -> Part III

Tommy inhaled from his cigarette, knee jerking impatiently. Everything was too loud. The birds, the wind, the rustling of leaves. He wanted to take his gun and point it at the focal point, the bullseye of all the noise, and just— bang. Until there was nothing in the world except him and a spare few. Some fucking peace. Some fucking quiet.

The front door swung open. Tommy flicked his cigarette end to the floor, crushing it under his heel onto the gravel. He was greeted by Polly’s maid, who took his hat and coat and hung it neatly on the coat pegs next. Thanking her dismissively, he followed her to the lounge. Polly was flipping through a book nonchalantly. Clearing his throat, Tommy waited by the doorway. Polly met him with her unimpressed glower and returned to her book.

“Tommy.”

Taking that as an invitation, Tommy strode in, observing to the neatness of the room. Good. She had gotten out of her rut, then. “Hello, Pol. How are you?” he said casually.

“I’ve been better, believe it or not. Did you bring the papers?”

“Yes,” he sighed. As if he wouldn’t bring the papers. Why else would he be here? Polly didn’t particularly enjoy his social calls. Regardless, he placed his briefcase on the table and unclipped it, handing Polly a binding of papers. “Here you are.”

Polly snatched them. Tommy ignored her hostility and simply put his outstretched hand in his pocket.

Pushing her book away, Polly dropped the papers on the table with a heavy thomp. As she flipped through them, glancing at each page briefly, Tommy took the opportunity to bring out his cigarette case. He offered one to Polly, who took one absent-mindedly. Placing the flame onto the tip of her cigarette, Tommy lit hers before his own. He breathed the smoke in like fresh air, wandering over to the armchair. The only sound was the papers shifting.

“How’s Y/N? Haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

Tommy sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Why couldn’t everyone just shut the fuck up about Y/N? Couldn’t they tell he didn’t want to talk about her? About anything? What, did he need to tattoo on his forehead, “Don’t Talk to Me Unless Necessary”?

“I don’t know,” he said finally.

Polly glared at him suspiciously. “What’d you mean? Haven’t you spoken to her?”

He focused on the smoke curling away in the air as he cleared his throat. “Y/N and I split up.”

The papers stopped shifting.

“What?”

His eyes fell closed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, Polly, just look at the papers.”

“What did you do, Tommy?!” She ripped herself out of her seat to loom over him. “What did you do? Ay?!”

He growled quietly to himself, feeling the ache in his head start. “I didn’t fucking do anything, Pol, just look at the fucking papers, alright?”

Polly’s eyes narrowed with outrage. “Fucking no, Tommy! I want to know what you did to that poor girl.” When Tommy didn’t say anything, she scoffed. “Typical Tommy, he finally finds something good for himself, and what does he do?!” she paused for dramatic effect. “He goes and ruins it!”

Tommy clenched his jaw. If he said something, this would take a lot longer. The ache in his temple grew.

Polly began pacing, stopping occasionally point at him with venom on her tongue. “Y/N is a good woman. A. Good. Woman. Thomas.” A frozen look dawned over her face. “Is this about Grace? Does this have something to do with her?” She scoffed. “Of course, it does, Tommy, everything you do has to do with her. It takes a good fucking woman to love a man when he is still in love with another. It takes a good woman to love another woman’s child. So, what did you do to that good woman? What did you do, ay?! What did you do?!—”

“ENOUGH!” Tommy boomed. “You think I don’t fucking know Y/N is a good woman? You think I don’t know? You and Ada are just the fucking same. I say that my wife has fucking left me, and you go and kick me while I’m FUCKING DOWN!”

Sometime during his outburst, he had stood up to stare down at Polly. His temple was pounding, vein prodding into his brain. Sighing, Tommy calmed himself down, scratching his eyebrow pensively. With a heavy voice, he said, “For your information, Polly— Y/N left because Charlie had one too many tantrums. Like I told Ada, she wanted him to heal, and her presence wasn’t helping.”

Polly’s face fell.

Tommy gave her a humourless chuckle. “Yeah. Not what you were expecting, ay? Easy to make me the big bad wolf when you need someone to blame. But, no. This time, it wasn’t me, Polly.”

He placed his cigarette between his lips, stewing with contempt as he fell back into his chair, not knowing what else to do. Much to Tommy’s surprise, Polly sat across from him, pursed lips and downcast eyes. Tommy didn’t care to understand what her expression meant.

Every time he blinked he saw her, Y/N, smiling at him. Another pang to his chest hit him strong. She grinned. His heart beat harder. She frowned. His heart twisted. Tears leaked from her eyes. His heart stopped.

Tommy pressed the heels of his hands into his browbone. His headache had shifted to his eye. But still, every time he closed his eyes, she stared back at him.

“Ada knows about this?”

It took Tommy a couple of seconds to realise Polly was talking to him. Tommy sat back, resting his neck on the top of the armchair. “That’s what you got out of that? Yes, Ada knows. I had to tell her because I dropped Charlie off with her for a couple of days whilst I got my head in check. No one else knows.” He paused to puff on his cigarette. “Frankly, I wish they did, that way I wouldn’t have to talk about this anymore.” He looked at Polly with an icy gaze. “The separation was a victim of circumstance and grief. Not me.”

Polly shook her head with a disgusted contempt. “And why do you think Charlie is still grieving, Tommy?” She waited for a response, but Tommy didn’t grant her the satisfaction. “How can Charlie move on with his life if he sees one of the last people who loved his mother still pining for her? How can the boy grow up functioning if your entire house is just a shrine to her?”

Tommy tensed in his chair, his hand freezing just as it was going to place his cigarette between his lips.

She scoffed without mirth. “And now you’ve fucked up— because he’s grown used to that shrine. Now, if Charlie ever sees it removed, he’s going to see that as a betrayal— as proof that the only one left that loves his mum is him. And he will attribute that to Y/N.”

His jaw locked.

Polly just shook her head at him with disappointment. “Charlie doesn’t remember Grace, Tommy. He grieves her because he never knew her. You grieve her because you did. You are not the same.” She hesitated, but decided to carry on. “Y/N left because you’re both still unable to let Grace go.”

Tommy hauled himself to his feet, ripping the cigarette out of his mouth. With rage on his face, he pointed an accusatory finger at Polly. “I LOVE MY WIFE!”

Polly stared into his eyes. Unafraid, unblinking.

“Which one?”

Tommy’s pursed his mouth, giving Polly the coldest look he could possibly muster. Wordlessly, he grabbed his briefcase and stormed out.

“You know I’m right, Tommy!”

He slammed the door.

Tommy didn’t wait for the staff to take his coat when he stormed into his house. Instead, he ripped it off, throwing it on the sofa where it sprawled messily. Stalking through the halls with a thunderous expression, he raced up the stairs, sparing a glance to the side— to Grace’s portrait, as he always did— and stopped.

Tommy faced her; she stared back at him, unflinching. She glowed, as she always did. Her eyes were cold and accusatory. Another pang hit him. His eyes travelled to a larger portrait of him, Charlie and Grace. Even holding her own son, Grace gave him a knowing look— like she knew his deepest secret. She probably did, chilling his spine with her icy hands. Tommy repressed a shiver. Finally, he looked at the smaller portrait of Y/N.

She looked meek. Her hair was neatly styled, too perfect; her eyes were very Y/E/C, very vibrant, staring at him with a docile gaze. She had been confused as to why he would want to commission a portrait of her, not long after they married.

Tommy had only told her, absent-mindedly, as he looked over some paperwork, “You’re beautiful. You’re my wife. Why wouldn’t I want a portrait of you?”

Y/N had said nothing more. The day the painter came by, Tommy had watched her as she styled herself in the mirror, dressed only in her slip. Watched as she applied her lipstick and rouge, as she powdered her face and blackened her eyelashes. He admittedly didn’t know very much about make-up, but he did know that she was a very good-looking woman. Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off her when she was sliding into a sleek, perfectly fitting D/C dress that showed off her body elegantly. It was one of his favourites on her— no doubt, something she was aware of, he was not subtle about it. Tommy had strolled over to her, mesmerised as she put on the dangly earrings he got her for Christmas. She had returned his stare with a sweet smile, her painted lips pulling apart slightly to show her pearly teeth. She had looked stunning. Hypnotic. Tommy placed his hands on her hips, sliding them down around her waist, pulling her into him to kiss her neck.

She had grinned at him then. Cheekily, she asked him, “Do you like what you see?” which Tommy had only replied with a hum and more kisses. He felt the vibrations of her laugh from charge through his lips.

“You’re sweet,” she’d mumbled.

“I love you,” he said mindlessly.

Y/N grinned so wide, closing her eyes. Her head fell back on his shoulder, his warmth surrounding her so completely she could’ve been like this for hours. “I love you, too.” He placed his chin on her shoulder, smiling at her through the mirror. “Well, now I’ll be immortalised like this. Beautiful, young, in love.”

His smile turned to smirk. “Well, in a few years we’ll do another portrait. Immortalise you as beautiful, old, and in love.”

She scoffed, and shrieked, “In a few years?!”

Playfully, Y/N went for him. Her hands jabbed at him wherever she could reach, going for his chest and stomach. He blocked her spars skillfully. Y/N slapped away his hands to dig her hand into his flesh, giggling.

“Come on! Aim where I wouldn’t think, go on— yes, just like that,” he encouraged, smiling so wide he dimpled.

The memory fleeted from him faster than it came. The silence in the house stiffened and echoed across the walls. Tommy continued staring at her. Y/N’s gaze seemed sadder than he remembered. Wounded, almost. But she had been so happy. He remembered her being happy...

“SHUT UP! You’re not my real mum! My real mum is DEAD!”

Tommy had almost forgotten about that. He had told Charlie off gently, but when his big blue eyes welled up with tears, he hadn’t the heart to chastise him. Y/N had quietly insisted to him, with her Hallmark sad smile that always managed to produce that pang in his chest, that she was fine and Charlie was struggling to let go of his grief. That punishing wouldn’t help. He listened, secretly glad he didn’t have dole out a punishment.

She looked helpless. He never noticed.

Tommy loved Y/N. She was his wife. He didn’t know if she was the love of his life, because who knew if they would even be together if Grace hadn’t died (they didn’t like to discuss it), but he loved her. After Grace, he didn’t think he could put himself through the hurt again, but somehow, somewhen, Y/N had charmed him. Charmed him with her good-looks and pretty smile; her sharp tongue; her habit of looking at him in the eyes without fear; her fierce protectivity of Charlie despite his behaviour; her love for them both; her lack of patience for his lousy habits. She was far from perfect, she had a multitude of flaws, but the very fact that she was good, a good woman, and she loved him anyway had him reeling. Before he knew it, he was on one end of an aisle, waiting for her as she swayed to him in a long white dress.

Despite it all, he caught himself thinking of Grace. Not around her, not whilst he was with Y/N, but he found himself longing for her. Occasionally, he would get waves of nostalgia and deep sadness. He caught himself wishing she was still alive, just so as she could see everything she was missing. Charlie learning how to ride a horse, when he’ll bring someone home, when he’ll get married, have kids— he wanted to sleep besides Grace, to feel her warmth beside him as he slept. He didn’t want to think what that would mean for him and Y/N.

He never looked at Y/N’s portrait. He always looked at Grace’s. It was bigger, grander, more central— eye-catching. Tommy’s lungs burned, reminding him to breathe. Was Polly right?—

No.

Tommy marched up the stairs and stalked to his office, slamming the door behind him. Sitting at his desk, he shuffled some papers, gathering them and stacking them together. His hand collided on a picture frame, knocking another off the desk. Setting down the papers with a thump, he propped the large golden frame back up, where Grace waited for him once again with the same knowing look in her eyes. He leant over in his chair, reaching down to grab the frame. It was smaller, a deep green, which now sported a large crack across Y/N’s photograph. It was a shame. She looked very pretty in that portrait. It didn’t matter. He’d buy another frame tomorrow.

Should he have a frame of her if they were going to divorce? Tommy contemplated it for a moment. No. If he was going to live his life without Y/N, at the very least he could have a photograph. Assertively, he set the frame next to Grace’s. It looked… smaller, next to hers. Grace gave him the look again.

Tommy fell back in his chair. “Fuck.”

Y/N had a shower, letting the water cool her hot, splotchy skin. Her head was pounding with dehydration, throbbing at any lick of light. After a warm drink to fight the winter chill drilling its way into the house, she figured she might as well begin making dinner. Scavenging around her parents' kitchen, she found enough ingredients to make a hearty stew— from the old days, when they had nothing. Y/N was embarrassed to admit that she struggled to remember the recipe, it had been so long since she’d cooked anything— it made her ripple with shame. So used to the money, the clothes, the staff waiting on her hand and foot. Who knew if she could go back to the simple life.

Y/N had felt her cheeks grow warm when her mother set a bowl of the very same stew in front of Tommy the day she brought him to her parents flat for the first time. Y/N knew Tommy didn’t come from wealth. He’d lived in the same town as her until he was well into adulthood. To be fair, Mrs. L/N had been nervous as well, doing her best to clean up the flat— although it was always grimey from all the soot that blew in from the windows— serve a nice meal, and look presentable. But it all fell short, especially when Tommy strode in with his perfectly tailored, quality suits, perfectly starched collars and fancy gold pocket-watches. They had all felt humiliated. Of course, judging by the way Tommy inspected the area with an unreadable expression, she could tell Tommy noticed. However, he didn’t hesitate, giving her mother his rare smile (which, thank goodness came across as more friendly than intimidating) before bringing the spoon to his lips. Tommy gave the most convincing compliments, insisting that it was the best stew he’d ever had and that it reminded him of the stew his aunt used to make him as a boy when he came home from school in the winter.

After they married, without prompt, Tommy’d given her parents a nice, comfortable house in a safe area for their wedding anniversary — and with it, a chance to escape their ratty, grimey flat in Small Heath. He’d offered her father a good, stable job on the Shelby Company Ltd., that didn’t involve any blades that could cut fingers and was completely legitimate. It paid very well — and came with a Bentley (Tommy had smirked without spite when her father’s eyes lit up). It was an opportunity to move up from his seemingly permanent rank as a factory worker, to an important member of— well, anything. Almost overnight. He told Mrs. L/N she never had to clean up a stranger’s mess again. Something they could’ve never achieved on their own.

Mr. L/N had tried to refuse, saying it was too much, but Tommy had said, “Mr. L/N, I am offering you this job because I see that you are a hard-working man. I wouldn’t have offered the job if I didn’t want you to take it. I will be insulted if you don’t.” Tommy had seen the shame still brewing in her father’s eyes, but they had shaken hands and never looked back. Tommy had given her everything. He’d taken care of her family. What this meant for them now, she didn’t know.

Though, Tommy wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t fire her father, or take back the gifts; he would forget about the it all— he knew how hard it was to get out of poverty and he would never take a job from a hardworking man. It would be dead awkward, but Tommy would never do it. Not even if they hadn’t loved each other anymore, or their marriage ended spitefully. He was cold at times, for business, and when his mind went into that dark place he wouldn’t let her follow, but he wasn’t a cruel man.

His younger brother, John; his first wife, Grace; himself, before the war— they all took so much out of him he rarely expressed emotions, even to Y/N. There were moments where he looked like a genuinely happy man, smiling and joking with her like he didn’t have nightmares about someone taking Charlie, running to save John but John always gets shot anyway, the shovels beating against a wall as he drowned in mud, Grace dying in his arms.

Y/N never met Grace, but from the portraits, she knew of Grace’s beauty. Reminded every day of how beautiful she is. Was.

Never was Y/N one to feel insecure about her looks— she was beautiful enough, and she certainly didn’t catch Tommy’s eye for her flourishing personality, that’s for sure and certain. But watching Grace loom over her, criticising her every move with a taunting glare, it made her feel small. Y/N would never mention it — she never even entertained the idea of telling Tommy — but sometimes a little sensation in the back of her head would trickle like drool, whispering malicious thoughts to her. She wasn’t as beautiful as Grace and would never be, Tommy would get bored of Y/N when she grew old and ugly but Grace would be beautiful for eternity, Tommy would never love her like he did Grace, if Grace hadn’t died Tommy wouldn’t even consider her—

Brrr! Brrr! Brrr!

Y/N looked down at her stew, blinking tears away.

Slowly, her mind caught up. The clock on the wall read three in the afternoon. Her parents left the house to do whatever it is they did— it didn’t matter, they knew she wanted to be alone. Maybe they were calling to see if it was safe to come back home. Y/N sighed, calming herself down.

She picked up the phone. “L/N residence, Y/N Shelby speaking.” Y/N cringed. She needed to start introducing herself by her maiden name.

“Y/N! Hello, it’s Ada. Thought you might be there. How are you?”

Y/N froze. What should she say? Should she act normal? Howdy-do and all that bullshit? Should she tell the truth? It was Ada after all. She could tell Ada anything. Was this a test?

Oh, God. Did she not know?

“Hi, Ada…” Y/N croaked, voice sore from crying and disuse. “I’m… I’m alright, how are you?”

“Oh, well, tired, mostly. Chasing Karl around is exhausting.”

Y/N laughed politely, but it came out sounding more painful than pleasant. “Yes, I can imagine.”

“Yeah. Listen, I was calling to see if you’d fancy comin’ round for a cup of tea? We haven’t done that for a while.”

Last time she was round Ada’s house was a week and half ago. Y/N gulped. “Uhm…” She didn’t know what to do. Would Tommy be upset with her for having a drink with his sister? “Ada…”

“Yes,” she said with a determined edge in her voice, like she was expecting Y/N to protest.

“I— I don’t know if that’s a great idea… I don’t know if you heard…” She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to be hysterical again. “That Tommy and I—”

“Oh, yes, I heard,” Ada said. There was a faux-casual cadence to her that unsettled Y/N greatly.

Oh, god. Was Ada angry at her? Did she want to confront her? Oh, God. “Uhm,” she faltered, like an idiot. “Yes. Of course.”

“Great! How does seven thirty tonight sound?”

A bit soon, Y/N wanted to say, but she couldn’t imagine that going well. “Uh—”

“See you, then!”

The dial tone rang. Y/N blinked slowly, putting the receiver onto its hook. Ada didn’t like taking no for an answer, so if Y/N was expected, she had to turn up. The question was what was Ada going to do to her once she arrived. Hell, Y/N should be glad it isn’t Polly serving her reckoning. Maybe they discussed this, and decided to give her the lesser of two evils. She figured she should feel miserable, but, honestly, all she felt was relief— and even worse still: acceptance. Y/N knew what she married into, she wasn’t an idiot.

No use running from The Piper; she must be paid.

Tommy wasn’t paying attention to his cards, throwing them carelessly onto the messy pile. Arthur sat across from him in the snug in The Garrison, giving him that wary, doe-eyed look he tended to have when he was uncomfortable. They were mostly sitting in silence, drinking, and shuffling cards. When Tommy escaped his mind long enough, he would play his hand. Arthur meekly grumbled Tommy’s name a few times when it was his turn and Tommy only offered a quick, “Just thinking,” before laying his cards down without even glancing at them. Somehow he kept winning. Tommy figured Polly told Linda, who told Arthur. Why else would he act like a starving animal begging for scraps? It was a good thing the stakes weren’t higher. Although, why the hell not? Now that he’s separated, he has free time. He can go down to the pub like he used to at 8 o’clock in the evening. Instead of reading, talking, taking care of Charlie— or a multitude of less innocent things — with Y/N, he could spend his days drinking and gambling with his brothers, like the sad fucker he was before Grace.

Well. Brother. Finn didn’t turn up these days.

Times like these, he missed John. He always tried to make him laugh, however much in vain, when Tommy was upset. Maybe after he was done, he would offer some advice. Tommy knew John got that from him; he used to do the same when John was small. When he was sad, or when Arthur Snr. would come home drunk and angry (that is, when he did come home), Tommy would tell him little jokes to make him crack a smile. At fifteen, John didn’t know how to shave— little tufts growing on his chin and upper lip— so, Tommy taught him. He coated John’s face with shaving cream with his calloused hands, laughing when John spluttered after accidentally licking too far up his lips, and then lathered his own face. Tommy placed the blade against John’s neck, instructing him not to dig too deep, that a light scrape would do. Tommy turned the blade on himself, showing John to hold it at an angle to not nick himself. John and Tommy shaved together then, Tommy occasionally criticising John’s technique. He barely had any blood on him when he was done.

John grew up to make people laugh like Tommy couldn’t anymore. Even though he was younger than him, and definitely not as clever (“Bless his heart,” Polly would say, “but John was never fortunate enough with brightness. He was sweet though, which sometimes is enough.”), John always managed to have a wise little tidbit of advice. And quite often, it rang true. Especially when it came to wives — wives, not women. Arthur took that title. Always managing to have a pretty girl on his arm, ready to do whatever for him whenever he wished. And children— John knew about children. As he should, having enough of them. Tommy had gone to John a few times, to ask about Charlie’s behaviour, not knowing what else to do. Sometimes because he was acting out about Grace’s absence, others because he was acting out because of Y/N’s presence. Charlie didn’t take to her well, a bitter pill for him to swallow at the early stages of their relationship.

John assured him that kids were like that.

“They don’t like change. They’re not built for it,” he'd said, with a heavy frown.

John went on to tell Tommy that his kids were like that after Martha’s death, but soon calmed down. They were defensive when Esme came into the picture, especially so suddenly. One day they had no mum, and the next they had a step-mum.

“You just need to wait for Charlie to settle,” John advised.

When John’s two new little ones came round, the kids soon learnt to get along, and they accepted Esme. They didn’t realise how much they missed and needed someone to take care of them.

"Someone better than me,” John mumbled into his glass.

John also knew about loss, and the guilt that came with it. Him and Martha married quite young. Tommy was at the wedding, standing beside John as he spoke his vows, watching with a certainty it wouldn’t last— convinced they were too young, confusing lust for love. He was right, but not for the right reasons. He took no pleasure in it.

When Martha died, not long after they came back from war, John was inconsolable. Polly took the children after a few months of them living with their parents again, because John could barely stand he’d drunk himself into a stupor. However numb Tommy was, however cruel, however cold the war had made him, he made himself be kind to John. Showed him tenderness. He wasn’t Arthur, he didn’t respond to tough love. He needed to be approached like a war horse, too miserable to carry on. Tommy had thrown him in the bath, disgusted in the state John had seeped into, and got him as clean as he could without vomiting. They’d worked through it together. Fighting the anger away, drinking the memories, screaming the feelings out of his system. If anyone knew about grief, it would be John.

One night, sitting where Tommy was at that very moment, he told John how hollow he felt without Grace.

John had clapped him on the shoulder, looked into his dead eyes, and said, “I know, Tom. Trust me, I know. And you have to feel that pain, and let it out, otherwise you’ll live with it for the rest of your life. If you don’t, happiness with pass you by like a light. And you may feel like you’ll never be happy again— but you will be. And you want to be there in your head,” he had tapped Tommy’s forehead, “when you are.”

Well, look at that, Tommy thought. Strangely, with fondness. John was bloody right.

He was happy with Y/N. She was beautiful, she was sexy, she had him wrapped around her little finger without even trying, but never took advantage of him for it. Not only that, he also enjoyed Y/N’s company. Y/N was funny. She was funny and very, very clever, both in and out of the office, and thought in a way he didn’t. When Tommy analysed everything through a cold lens, she made him consider the warmth. She could be very compassionate, but she proved to him that she could be just as cold when she threatened to kill him for smoking opium. The woman had a good head on her shoulders. And quite honestly, a good heart. She made him smile like he hadn’t since Grace. And it was such a good feeling.

Shame it’s all gone to fucking hell.

Arthur cleared his throat, startling Tommy out of the depths of his mind. He blinked, stupidly, looking at Arthur as if he’s only just appeared out of thin air. Arthur placed his cards down, folding.

“This has been great, Tom, but I’ve got to get back home to Linda. She doesn’t like me being out at the pub too long at night.”

Tommy blinked again, giving him a tired nod. “Yes, go home to your wife, Arthur.” He swallowed. “She’s probably worried.”

Arthur stood, giving Tommy a look that could be nothing but pity. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and placed it gingerly on his shoulder. Tommy let him, not having the heart or the mind to shake Arthur off. Especially when he just wanted to make a kind gesture. However, after a few beats, Tommy got more fed up as the air got stiffer.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur spluttered, removing his hand. “Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut behind Arthur.

Tommy rose his glass. “To you, old boy.”

“So he didn’t want to split up?”

Y/N shook her head slowly, pursing her lips. “No.”

Ada gave her a puzzled frown, eyebrows raised with surprise. “Do you think he’ll cooperate?”

Y/N sighed, fiddling with the table cloth that draped over her knee. “I think so. He seemed to understand why we’re doing this.” She shrugged. “My father’s been looking into solicitors for me, but a lot of them won’t take Tommy Shelby’s case, even if Tommy Shelby himself is participating in this divorce. If it had been him who approached them, they’d be singing a different tune. Like he’s Henry VIII.” Y/N rubbed her eyebrow, sighing heavily. “I think I’m going to have to call him up and ask him to look into solicitors for me, because this is getting ridiculous. I’m getting turned away at every door.” She glanced at Ada, her eyes wide and blue, so much like his it hurt to look at them. “I’m just not ready to see him again, just yet.”

“What will you do for work?” said Ada, with a shocked lilt to her voice. “Are you going to stay with the company?”

Y/N shrugged, helplessly. “I have no fucking clue. I don’t think I’m going to stay.” She swallowed thickly. “I can’t be in close quarters with my soon-to-be ex-husband who I’m still in love with— it’ll hurt too much for the both of us. I’ll end up doing something stupid.” She shook the thought from her head firmly, washing it down with a sip of her tea. “But at the same time, who’ll hire me? I’ll be lucky if I ever see employment again.”

“Well, do you think Tommy’ll give you a pay, at least?”

She frowned. “I don’t want him to, even if he offers, even if he expect me to. I would never—” Hesitating, she quirked her eyebrows with consideration. “Well, if we had children, maybe I’d think about it, because the money would go to raising them. But… it’s just me.” She forced herself to smile to hide the misery in her tone, but Ada’s gaze softened with pity. Y/N cast her eyes down. “It would feel like I’m stealing or… leeching off of him. Besides, what happens when he inevitably falls out of love with m-e?” Her voice broke. “Or in love with someone else? I’d be a burden. He’d feel too guilty to stop his pay. Even if the man loses every penny he has, he’ll still support me.” She shook her head furiously. “I’m not doing that to him. The best I can do for him is let him forget me.”

Ada scoffed a humourless laugh, her eyes reaching the ceiling like she was sharing a private joke. Maybe she was. “He’s not going to forget you, Y/N. The man is heartbroken. I haven’t seen him like that in years.”

Guilt weighed on her, hanging on her heart. “He’s going to have to. I’m going to have to. It’s that or living heartbroken until we die.”

Ada opened her mouth, hesitated, and asked gently, “What about kids? Did you not want them?”

“I did.” She nodded. “But I would’ve been fine without having them. I always wondered what it would be like.” A smile grew on Y/N’s face. “To have a little me. A little him. Someone for Charlie to grow up with, to love.” It withered away with a shake of Y/N’s head, turning sad. “We talked about it a few times, but it was just a dream. We decided not to, at least not until Charlie was ready. We didn’t want Charlie to feel like he was being replaced, he was struggling so much already. But maybe a sibling would’ve been good for him. He’s so lonely…” Her eyes prickled with tears. “I love him so much. I wish I could’ve given him a good life.”

Ada laid a hand over hers, eyes full of emotion. “You did the most you could for that boy.”

Y/N shook her head, willing the tears away. “I don’t know. Maybe I was never meant to be a mum. Who knows if I would’ve been a good one.”

“Hey. Look at me.” Y/N did, eyes spilling. “You would’ve been the best mum. You would’ve loved that kid so much. And you would’ve made sure that Charlie felt the same.”

Y/N nodded, offering Ada a forced smile. Ada retreated her hand, eyes still full of sympathy. Y/N closed her eyes, willing it to disappear. When she opened them again, Ada’s eyes had fleeted to the ground.

“Do you regret it?” Ada asked, tentatively. “Not having them.”

“I… I don’t know.” She shrugged, helplessly. “Never thought about it. We were doing it for Charlie, that’s all that mattered— Charlie is all that mattered.” Y/N reaffirmed. “But… I wish I did have one,” she admitted, looking down with shame. “Because, for me, Tommy was it. He was it for me— he’ll always be. I wanted his kids. His babies, his children.” Y/N swallowed the stone in her throat. “I wonder sometimes what they would look like. What they would be like.”

Ada smiled sadly. Y/N didn’t mind when Ada looked into her eyes now. “You and Tommy would've had the most beautiful children,” she said earnestly.

Y/N’s lip quiver, and a small smile bloomed.

“With his cheekbones and your eyes.” Ada shook her head. “They’d be heartbreakers. Cunning little fellas, too.”

Y/N spluttered a small laugh.

The smile melted of her face, replaced with a serious frown. Ada shifted in her chair. “I wanted to see you to let you know, Y/N, that even though, legally, you’ll soon not be a Shelby anymore—“

Y/N pursed her lips, tears finally dripping from her eyelashes. Not knowing what to do, she watched her nail trace the designs on the mantel.

“—you will always be family.”

Y/N froze. Slowly, she looked up at Ada with parted lips.

Smiling, Ada looked at Y/N as well. “Our relationship didn’t begin and end with Tommy.”

Tears ran down Y/N’s cheeks. “Thank you, Ada.”

Ada nodded. She stood up, startling Y/N. “I’ve got to check on Karl, I always do once he’s fallen asleep. Eat something in the meantime, you look hungry.”

With determination in her eyes, Ada stepped out.

Tommy was staring into space, nursing his fourth whiskey.

It had been a while since Arthur left. He always thought it a little pathetic how Arthur let Linda control every single aspect of his life— from his drinking to his relationship with God. However, being married to Y/N made him understand Arthur a little better. It wasn’t that Linda was controlling Arthur, it was that Arthur wanted to be controlled. He wanted Linda to take care of him, and mind for him. That’s what Y/N used to do for Tommy, albeit much more kindly than Linda tended to.

Y/N also took notice of how much he drank, his drug use, his eating habits. She never pushed, but she tried to help him, and frankly, Tommy was grateful to her for it. Like a rider who cared for a lame horse with the intention of saving it. A lost cause, but a noble one all the same. Grace never told him what to do, in all their marriage. She never demanded anything from him, and perhaps he liked that at the time. He enjoyed that she would leave him alone when he wanted to be. He would shower her with gifts to show his gratitude. Y/N enjoyed the gifts, as much as anyone would, but she never let him buy her affection. No, she made him earn that. The shutters of the little bar window snapped open.

Grace?

“Mr. Shelby, there’s a phone call for you,” Harry’s voice called politely.

Tommy’s heart sank in his chest, throbbing. The pain wasn’t as potent as the knowledge that he was thinking of Grace. He could hear her haunting voice behind the snug’s door, singing, deep and smooth. The way she was before his greed clothed her in furs and silks— and sapphires.

He really was scum. Thinking of Grace only a few days after his wife— his live one — ended their marriage.

I love my wife.

He stubbed his cigarette out.

Which one?

Tommy shook Polly’s voice from his head. Clearing his throat, he glanced at a nervous Harry, patiently waiting at the window. “Sorry. Who is it, Harry?”

“It’s your sister, sir.”

His eyebrows jumped slightly. That’s odd. Was something wrong? “I’ll be right there.”

Harry nodded, closing the window. Tommy stood from his seat, glancing at the barely-touched, three fingers of whiskey he ordered. He considered tossing it back, but he figured he’d had enough. Leaving it wouldn’t kill him, but finishing it might. Shaking his head, he stepped out of the snug. With his eyes fixed on the phone on the wall, he ignored the sudden silence and the stares. Tommy picked up the phone, and placed it to his ear.

Y/N had finished her cup by the time she heard Ada’s heels click from the hallway. She sat up at attention, waiting for Ada to come through the doorway. Ada smiled at her apologetically once she was in view.

“Sorry for keeping you. It’s for my own peace of mind that I check on him. He’s difficult sometimes.”

Y/N nodded, familiar with Ada’s situation with Karl, but not wanting to pry. She seemed stressed enough as it was tonight. Being worried about Tommy in the midst of all this I’m sure didn’t help, Y/N pondered guiltfully.

Sitting in her chair, Ada poured herself another cut of tea. “Right. Where were we?” She tutted, rolling her eyes as she remembered. “So you don’t know what you’re going to do after the divorce. Have you thought of remarrying?”

Y/N spluttered into her tea. She wiped the droplets from her mouth, a little lipstick coming off on her wrist. “No! I haven’t even had the divorce, yet!”

Ada huffed, giving her practiced look of expectance and annoyance when she believed someone was avoiding the point. It only struck Y/N then that Polly had a similar look. Both of them could make her shrink in her chair like a naughty child being chastised.

Shrugging, Y/N circled her finger around the rim of the cup. “I have no idea, Ada,” she said, exasperated. She brought the cup to her lips.

Ada only rose an eyebrow, her jaw set with a challenge. “What about Tommy getting remarried?”

Y/N’s mouth went dry, tongue darting around for any moisture it could get. Desperate for her eyes not to water again (crying in front of Ada was embarrassing enough), she took a sip of her drink. “He doesn’t need my permission.”

“I didn’t ask if he did.”

She paused. The only sound in the room was the quiet clink from the cup meeting the saucer. Y/N sighed, lungs shrinking in her chest. “Tommy…” Shaking her head, she swallowed. “I love Tommy. I also want Tommy to be happy. I don’t want to be the moment everything revolves around in his life. He already has that with…” She made herself say it, “with Grace. She was his person, and I know that, I’ve accepted that. But he was mine.” She could feel Ada’s eyes burning into the top of her head. “Do you think I would’ve married a gangster if he wasn’t?”

Y/N shook her head, exhaling a bitter laugh that left a bad taste in her mouth. “I don’t want his life to be stagnant after me. But, I’m also selfish. I don’t want him to move on, yet. Because I haven’t. And seeing him happy with someone else like he was with me…” Grinding her teeth, she forced the words out, “would crush me. But I’m not stupid or blind. Tommy loves me. I have no idea how he’s going to handle this, but what we had was important. He’s not going to get over that quickly.”

“If Tommy deserves to move on, so do you,” said Ada, forcefully.

Dismissively, Y/N shrugged. “It isn’t that simple, Ada. He’ll be fine without me, so why shouldn’t he enjoy his life?” She smiled, knowing if she didn’t she would cry. “I, on the other hand, don’t know what I’m going to do. I got used to my life with him, with Charlie, working at the company. Now I don’t know what to do with my life.”

“Live it,” Ada said simply.

“I’ll have to,” Y/N whimpered. “I think I’ll be alright, honestly. If I want another man, I’ll get another. Question is, will I ever want another man like I wanted Tommy? Like I loved Tommy?”

Ada shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe not. I never loved anyone like I loved Freddie. Probably, never will. But I still live my life. I’ve seen other men. I haven’t loved any of them, but frankly, I don’t think I have to. I loved one man, and he died.” A whimsical twinkle shimered in her eye. “Honestly, that was enough for me.”

Y/N bit her lip, hesitating. “Do you think you ever will?”

Ada shrugged once more. “If it happens, it happens. I’m not looking for it. I’ll be fine without a man.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?” Y/N wondered for herself this time.

She paused. With a deep, pensive breath, Ada spoke with certainty, “Yes. And no.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed.

“The loneliness I feel isn’t for love or for a man or for companionship. The loneliness I feel is solely for the hole Freddie left in my life. Lonely about raising Karl on my own. Lonely because I have no idea what to do about his behaviour, and I can’t help thinking about what Freddie would do, what Freddie would think— of him, of  me.” She swallowed, frowning, furrowing her brows like she was in pain. “I’m lonely for the life I could’ve had with him. But no, not lonely for anyone else.”

Y/N paused her lips. “I’m sorries” and “he’s in a better place” coursed through her mind— but none of those would bring Freddie back. She had no way of telling if Freddie was in a better place.

“Ada,” she began instead. “I never met Freddie. I don’t know him like you did. But from what I’ve heard— and I’ve heard a lot about the man he was from Tommy— I believe, from the bottom of my heart, that he wouldn’t hold Karl’s behaviour against you. And he would love Karl because he is his son. He wouldn’t have raced across Birmingham during a gang war, even if it was during a truce, if he didn’t. That man loved you and his son. I’m sure of it.”

Ada smiled, lips quivering. “Thank you.” She swallowed, and glanced to the side. “Listen, Y/N. It would untruthful of me to say I called you over to talk about everything. I was actually asked for help by someone. Someone important.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing. “How do you mean?”

Ada jerked her jaw, like Tommy does. “Charlie! Will you come downstairs, please—?”

“Charlie?!” Y/N snapped straight like cold water had been poured over her.

Ada glanced at her with a nervous glint in her eye that forced Y/N into her seat.

Small footsteps thumped downstairs. Y/N’s heartbeat picked up, mind racing. Was Charlie going to scream at her? Was he going to blame her for all the drama the past few days? What would Tommy think about all this? He obviously wouldn’t have given Ada permission to ambush her. Oh, God this is going to be bad.

Charlie shuffled in, kicking his feet, lips pulled into a pout. He stood in front of her, hand wringing together in front of him. He looked like a child who was forced to recite lines in a play he didn’t want to participate. Awkwardly, Charlie glanced at Ada.

“Go on, Charlie.”

Slowly, Charlie rose his head to meet Y/N; eyes welling. Y/N swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away. His gaze shot down, followed by a little mumble. Y/N knew what he said. Ada still wasn’t having it, however.

“Charlie,” Ada snapped. “Louder.”

Charlie roughly rubbed his tears from his cheek with his fists in one fell swoop, sniffling. Louder this time, Charlie mumbled, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Ada looked at her with calculating eyes. She could see them in her peripheral vision, so blue they were painful to look at, like looking at a bright light. Charlie waited for his next instruction, head bowed. He was supplicating. Y/N never thought she would see Charlie supplicate for anything. What was she meant to say to that?

There was a knock at the door, but Y/N’s teary gazed was so transfixed on Charlie she barely registered it. Ada stood and gave Charlie a piercing look, not that he could see, but made him squirm nonetheless.

“Charlie, I’m going to go answer that, carry on.”

Ada left, and Y/N felt more exposed than ever. Every time Charlie sniffled, Y/N felt the urge to comfort him, to tell him it’s not his fault and that she loved him so, so, so much. That she was sorry she couldn’t be his mum, sorry she was here instead of Grace, but she hoped she could care for him, anyway. That she would ask for nothing in return.

But she didn’t. She stayed put.

“I hurt daddy by being mean to you and I never meant to do that. It was bad of me.” His breath stuttered. “I just miss my mummy, I’m sorry, I just miss my mummy—”

Y/N couldn’t resist anymore. She collapsed to her knees and enclosed him in a soft embrace. He fit perfectly in her arms, his head meeting her shoulder with so much trust that she felt she could die happy then and there. Charlie let himself settle, tears dripping onto Y/N’s shoulder.

Tommy didn’t know what he was looking at, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. His head jerked to Ada, who had her arms crossed, watching him with still eyes that dared him to challenge her.

“What is this?” he said, voice dangerously calm.

Y/N jerked back, head snapping to look at Tommy with teary eyes and parted lips. “Tom!” she cried, scrambling to her feet in a panic. Her eyes fluttered to Ada, suddenly narrowing. “Ada, you had no right.”

“Yes, Ada.” Tommy flexed his jaw as he pulled his cigarette case and lighter from his pocket. He took one and aggressively slapped the case closed. “You had no fucking right,”  Tommy said, pointing at her accusingly.

“Daddy,” Charlie scolded, quietly.

Tommy’s head snapped to him, like he hard a gun shot. Charlie stared at him in shock. His eyes closed, entering himself, before muttering, “Sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to shout.”

Ada stared back unapologetically. “I didn’t do it for you.”

He huffed, grinding his teeth, trying to control himself in front of Charlie. Charlie frowned. Not knowing what else to do, and surrounded by glaring adults, Charlie hurled himself on Y/N’s chair, resting his head on his forearms.

Tommy’s eyes burned as he inhaled his cigarette. “I don’t care who you did it for, you shouldn’t have!”

Ada rolled her eyes, mouth pursing. She scowled at both of them thunderously. “You two have let Charlie be rampant with the way he’s acted. You never told him off, or disciplined him, and look what that led him to do!” She gestured to Charlie.

Tommy briefly looked, frowning. Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He only did those hunger strikes and tantrums because he knew it affected you. Because he knew it would wear you down. And she succeeded! He got what he wanted— and now you’re both miserable.” Ada shook her head, scoffing with disgust. “All because you wouldn’t put your foot down. You taught him that if he’s stubborn enough, he’ll get what he wants. And look where that led us.”

All that was heard was Ada’s harsh breathing and Y/N’s quiet sniffs as she wiped her cheeks dry. For the first time since that night, Y/N and Tommy’s eyes met.

“Come, Charlie,” Ada called. Charlie didn’t move, his head still on his forearms. Ada approached him, guiding him into her arms and cradling him. “The adults have to argue now.”

Charlie was practically limp in Ada’s arms. She figured this poor child has cried enough for a life time solely in the past few days. He wasn’t sleeping; his breathing wasn’t even. Still, Charlie’s body hung like a wet towel from her arms, spasming with silent sobs. He needed sleep. Charlie needed to sleep this emotional weight off, it wasn’t healthy for someone so young to not let himself rest.

Ada gently pushed Charlie’s bedroom door with her hip, carefully guiding his body away from the door frames. She paced slowly to the bed, leading his head to lie on her shoulder as she pulled the covers back. Charlie’s body collapsed into the mattress, head sinking into the pillow. Ada dropped the covers over him, tenderly running her hand over his golden waves. His face had a deep-set frown, so similar to his father’s that it was uncanny. Ada absolved to work harder to make sure he doesn’t have to frown as often as he does. Sighing, she leant down and pressed a small kiss to Charlie’s temple.

“Goodnight, love,” she cooed.

Charlie was silent. Closing her eyes sadly, Ada moved to leave.

“Is Daddy angry at me?”

She sunk back down, staring at him. Ada’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Charlie slightly shifted his head down to look at her, but jerked his head back on the pillow when he realised there was nothing to see. Nothing to say. Ada swallowed, breathing deeply as she braced herself.

“Charlie, you have to understand,” Ada implored, gently. “What you did… every day for all that time— that was wrong.”

Charlie curled into himself, sliding his knees up to his stomach, hiding his teary face under the covers. Ada pulled the covers down slightly, brushing the hair out of his teary eyes. Her heart broke then and there.

“I understand you miss your mum. I really, really do—”

“I’m so tired of people saying that.”

Ada pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply. “You know, I didn’t know my mum very well.” Ada cleared her throat. “She died just after your uncle Finn was born, so I had to be about ten or eleven— only a few years older than you—”

“I was two when my mum died, Aunt Ada,” he said in a voice too numb for a kid. “That isn’t the same. I didn’t know her at all.”

Ada felt hot shame rise in her chest, forcing her throat shut like she swallowed hot glue.

Charlie didn’t move. If it wasn’t for his voice, she would’ve thought he was asleep. “I have to see her all the time wherever I look, and I get so sad. I wish I knew her. And sometimes I think that… why does my dad get to be happy?”

Ada pursed her lips.

“Why did he get to be happy with Y/N, but I’m here missing my mum, wishing she was still here with me.”

She sighed. Curling her hand around the covers, she pulled them down to look at Charlie. “I understand you’re sad and angry, Charlie. But you will be happy. In the future if not now.” Ada tilted her head up, desperate for any guidance. “Your dad loved your mum.”

Charlie buried himself deeper in the blankets.

“You know, you’re a bit too young to understand, but your mum really hurt the family when we first met her, but your dad loved her anyway. Even when we held a grudge, he still defended her and cared for her. And don’t get me wrong Charlie. Your mum was far from perfect. She could be cruel at times, so our distrust was warranted. That doesn’t mean you can’t love her.” She hesitated, finding her words, imploring Charlie to understand her. “But sometimes life happens, Charlie. Sometimes, you don’t mean to meet someone and fall in love with them. Sometimes, you’re not looking, and love catches you.”

Charlie stared at the wall, unmoving.

“Your dad loved your mum— and he will always love her— but she’s gone, Charlie. So, in the mean time: why doesn’t your dad get to be happy? Why should he live the rest of his life alone and miserable because you won’t let him move on?”

Charlie’s furrowed brow relaxed.

Ada smiled at him tightly. “Think about that for a bit. Get some rest, love.”

Quietly, she stepped out of the room, closing the door and taking the light with her. Charlie glared at the shadows.

Crossing her arms over her stomach, Y/N swallowed thickly, looking at Tommy with wounded eyes. The emptiness in his made her shiver. That look, that coldness, is the one he saves for business, the one she’s seen while a gun was pointed at his forehead. Tommy never used that empty expression on her. Y/N pursed her lips to stop them quivering. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she didn’t want to know. Y/N couldn’t let that coldness fool her, she wasn’t stupid enough that such a small thing could mean he didn’t care for her anymore. She knew he loved her, she knew. She knew.

“So…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Tommy nodded. He didn’t either.

“What now?”

His eyes fell closed, releasing a long, tired breath. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed, nodding weakly, tearing her eyes away to stare at the foot she kicked against the floor, absent-mindedly. “We can’t get back together,” she said matter-of-factly.

Tommy got that familiar pang in his chest. He sighed again. “Y/N…”

“We can’t.”

“Y/N…” he repeated— louder, pleading. “Let’s just go home. It’s been a long few days, we’re all tired. Ada’s gonna watch Charlie tonight, so we can be alone to talk this out.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, eyebrows jumping. “Besides, it’s the middle of the night. Chances are an argument is going to break out, and we don’t need the entire street to hear it.”

He sounded so rational and calm, Y/N couldn’t help but let her shoulders drop. Each moment that passed, her feet dragged like lead. Her head felt so heavy she wondered if the second she saw her old living room, she’d sink into its warmth and fall asleep. Feeling like a dead woman walking, Y/N found herself nodding.

“Alright,” Tommy said, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Y/N and Tommy walked into the hallway— avoiding eye-contact with each other like scolded, naughty children — grabbing their coats and hats and pulling them on. Tommy opened the door, stepping aside to let Y/N through.

Y/N stopped in her tracks. “Should we let Ada know we’re leaving?”

Tommy glanced at the staircase. “No. Let’s not wake the kids.” He jerked his head to the street as he held the door open for her. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, suppressing an oncoming shiver from the heat radiating from Tommy’s hand hovering over the small of her back.

Neither spoke the entire car ride home. Tommy stared stoically at the road, another cigarette between his lips. Y/N looked out of her window, glum, busying her mind with the scenery, dreading what was to come.

Tommy startled when the door opened before he had a chance to reach for the handle. A maid greeted them in her nightgown, her head bowed and hair unbound. He’d completely forgotten he asked the staff to be back by this evening. Her eyes widened marginally at seeing Y/N trail behind Tommy, but the maid only bowed her head at Y/N as well. She took their coats and hats to hang them up in the cloak closet. Timidly asking if there was anything else, Tommy promptly dismissed her. She did as told, leaving them to stew in the thick atmosphere. Like mud.

Y/N swallowed, catching Tommy’s stoney gaze with a nervous smile. “I’m going to call my parents. Let them know I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Tommy didn’t understand Y/N’s humour sometimes, his loved ones being found in a ditch without him knowing or being able to help was a very real fear of his, but he nodded regardless. He watched her head into the hallway where the ground floor phone was, fist clenching and unclenching. Tommy took the opportunity to take his blazer off and rip his collar and tie from his neck with a deep sigh. Running his fingers through his hair, he inhaled deep breaths, slowing his racing heart pumping blood directly to his eardrums. He didn’t know what was going to happen. This lack of control was making him nervous, driving him constantly on the edge.

Y/N returned promptly, smiling at him with an uncomfortable stiffness in her arms. Tommy straightened his back. Her eyes flickered to his clothes momentarily. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Dying of the awkward energy buzzing between them, Tommy cleared his throat and made his way to the liquor table. Plucking the glass stopper off a decanter that Grace had picked out, he poured himself three fingers of whiskey.

“Would you like a drink?”

He couldn’t see Y/N behind him, but he could tell by the rustling that she was fidgeting. “Yes, please. Same as you.”

Tommy nodded to himself and he poured another three fingers of whiskey in her glass. “No gin?” he asked, nonchalantly. Truly, he was curious.

“I’ve had enough gin these past couple of days. Your gin, funnily enough,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Still too sweet for me, though.”

Tommy’s eyes clenched for a moment. He turned, holding one of the glasses out to her.

She took it, with an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

He didn’t miss her pointed glance Y/N to the amount of whiskey they had. Tommy promised to cut down on the alcohol. And he always liked when she tried to care for him— mostly because she would never push. But in that moment, Tommy wanted to tell her to stop judging him, and that if he wanted to fucking drink in his own house, he would.

But that was the cranky child in him, he knew. So, Tommy sighed and took a sip.

“Doesn’t work, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

Y/N only smiled back. Sad. The one he’d gotten used to seeing. “Your gin. Doesn’t work.”

He blinked. “What?”

Y/N leant on the arm of the love seat, shrugging— suddenly very interested with the hem of her skirt. “It didn’t cure my incurable sadness.”

Tommy sighed, taking a seat on the love seat across from her. “Well, if it makes you feel better, nothing really cured mine.”

Y/N sighed, sipping her whiskey. Tommy was grabbed by the thought that she looked quite lovely; tired, but lovely. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her— like the very sight of her would evaporate into smoke if he looked away.

She caught his expression, and her eyes softened. “We can’t.”

His jaw clenched. “Why?”

“Because he’s not ready.”

Tommy scoffed. “He apologised to you, he admitted he was wrong, what more do you want from a kid?”

Y/N’s jaw clenched. “Just because he’s apologised doesn’t mean he’s ready, Tom.” She spoke to him like an imbecile, like he was a toddler who was being told for the umpteenth time that he had to eat his vegetables for his own good.

Tommy shook his head in disbelief. “No. This is an opportunity for us to get back together and you are squandering it.” His brain crackled with anger. “Because you’re being selfish.”

The pitying warmth of her gaze turned fiery, scalding. “I’m being selfish?”

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut. Y/N crossed her arms, her heel thumping against the foot of the sofa in a slow, harsh tempo that raised the hair on his arms.

“I am being selfish?!”

His jaw clenched. Fuck.

Y/N glared at him ferociously. Tommy stared back, mouth pursed.

“After everything, you think I’m being selfish? Oh, that is bloody rich coming from you, Thomas.”

Thomas.

“I’m the one who’s being selfish, clearly,” her voice was dripping with sarcsm. “Not the man who’s been trying to force this ideal of a happy families with pictures on the wall and dinners at the table and all that fucking bollocks, when one glance at one of the only photographs of this family,” she spit the words like they were sour in her mouth, “would let anyone know that is not the case.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Yes you did,” Y/N snapped. She shook her head, vibrating with anger. “I shouldn’t have carried this on. Not when you’re not over your first wife”

Tommy’s grip tightened on his glass. Now he was pissed. “Oh, is that right?”

“Look at us!” Her voice rose. “Look at what’s happened! You think your inability to get over her had nothing to do with it?”

“I am over Grace—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t you bullshit me, Thomas Shelby. Don’t you fucking forget that, for all intents and purposes, I’m your wife too.” She stomped to her feet, filling her unfinished glass half way with whiskey. Tommy didn’t speak.

No. She wouldn’t give in. She was leagues stronger than Tommy’s petty jabs.

With a centring breath, Y/N’s voice grew stern. “Do you not realise how selfish we have been?” She looked at him expectantly.

Tommy shifted his jaw.

“We married two years ago. Before then, we were together for a year and a half. Since day one Charlie has hated me—”

“He doesn’t hate you—”

“Yes he does, Tommy!” Y/N snapped, snapping her eyes shut with deep irritation. “And I’ve accepted that. And what’s worse— it’s not even about me. It’s what I represent. I am the death of his mother. The fact that you’re happy with me shows how his mum is really gone. Forever.”

Tommy winced.

“This is something he needed to learn. But we stayed together, don’t you see?” Her voice broke. She sighed, tilting her head up and closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her eyes were still closed when she took one deep breath, and said, “We saw him struggling and we stayed together for over three years.” Her eyes opened, glossy.

His heart squeezed.

“We should have ended at the first sight that things weren’t going to change,” Y/N’s voice turned into a hurt whisper, “but we didn’t. So this is our punishment.”

Tommy shook his head. “From who? God?”

“I don’t know?!�� Y/N bellowed, voice thick with tears. “Does it look like I have all the fucking answers, Tom?!” Her hands flew around gesturing angrily at herself, at him, at anything she could. “I’m not fucking perfect, I have NO FUCKING IDEA how to do this parent thing—”

“You think I know what I’m doing?!” Tommy shouted, hysterically. “I dunno what I’m doing either, Y/N!”

“Yes, you do! You’ve raised Ada and Finn—”

“Polly raised Ada and Finn, I only helped how I could when I wasn’t at war—”

“Well, that’s a step-up from me! I haven’t raised anyone!”

“You knew from day one, from day one, that Charlie was part of the deal,” he accused. “You knew that if you wanted to marry me, then being a step-mother to Charlie would be priority—”

“AND I HAVE MADE IT MY UTMOST PRIORITY, THOMAS!” she roared, spinning to face him, towering over him.

Tommy startled, too shocked to reply.

“Do you think I would have left you if it wasn’t? Do you think I would have left my home, my family, my husband?!” Her voice turned shrill. “I love you! I never wanted to leave you—but I did. For Charlie,” she said— like she’d rehearsed it.

He said nothing, lips parted, completely taken aback. Y/N’s eyes closed, breathing deeply.

“Because I love Charlie so much. And I don’t care he will never be mine,” she mourned. “He’ll always be hers, and I have accepted that.” Her eyes shone with tears. “I’ve also accepted that you’re not mine either.”

Tommy froze, eyes fixed on Y/N. “What?” He clamoured onto his own feet, sluggish with disbelief.

Y/N scoffed a humourless laugh. It looked glaringly painful against her dripping tears. “Don’t pretend, Tommy.” She sniffed. “I know I’ll always be second best to her. And that’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She sat back down, limbs too weak to keep her standing. Realising she still had her drink in hand, she set it aside carelessly on the side table with a flimsy wrist. The glass was empty.

Tommy sighed.

“Tommy, you weren’t sad because you lost me.” She said it with strength, with purpose. He needed to hear it. Y/N expected him to falter; expected his eyes to be full of pity— well, no. Tommy didn’t do pity. Maybe that knowing look he likes to give.

Instead, Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. I was,” he said, with surprise. “I was fucking devastated, to be honest with you. Ask Ada, she saw how bad I was.”

Y/N rubbed her temple. He didn’t understand. “Tommy, you were sad you were going to lose another wife. Not me.”

“What?” he snapped, incredulously. “That’s not fucking true.”

“Yes. It is—“

“You’re not second best, Y/N—”

“Yes. Yes, I am, but it’s alright,” she insisted, with a heavy, tired voice that Tommy did not like.

Tommy slammed his glass down on the side table next to the sofa across from her so hard Y/N was surprised it didn’t shatter. “Y/N, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re not second best. I love you.”

Y/N swallowed. “I-I know you do…”

He glowered into her eyes. “Do you?”

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes shot away, roaming around the room for anything that would distract the deep ache in her chest, and the stutter of her lungs. She didn’t want to cry again. Y/N grabbed her glass again and tapped her nails against it to hear the little clink clink clink of the crystal.

“Because it doesn’t seem like it.” Tommy inched toward her carefully, as if he were stepping on shards. “Y/N, I love you.”

Y/N shook her head. “She’s the one you always think about.” She looked at him. Sad. Worn.

Tommy shook his head. “I think of Grace occasionally, but that doesn’t mean you’re second best.”

“Tommy,” she pleaded, exhaustion weighing her voice down. “She’s the root of everything. Charlie’s sadness, your pain, the end of our marriage.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but Y/N silenced him with a pointed glare.

“She’s where all the roads lead to. I guess…” she gulped, “in this analogy, you’re just parked on a street, where I am.”

Y/N expected Tommy to argue with her again, to give her more grief like a child who wasn’t getting his way— but when she glanced at him, his blank stare was fixed spot on nothing in front of him. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth set in a thin line, mind far away in god-knows-where.

Probably realising I’m right, she thought. Y/N chuckled bitterly, eyes falling closed under the crushing weight of her disappointment. A deep pain bloomed in her chest. After a deep inhale, the feeling withered away. She crossed her legs, draping her skirt to cover her knees, just for something to do. Tommy still didn’t say anything. She set her glass on her thigh.

So this was it. This is where Tommy realised that he didn’t love her as much as he thought he did. Y/N swallowed. It had to happen eventually.

Tommy still said fucking nothing.

Y/N left because you’re both still unable to let Grace go…

Still unable to let her go.

No. No. Tommy shook his head skeptically. “Is that why you left?”

Y/N shrugged. “It was for the best.”

Her head snapped up at his purposeful footsteps, watching him stop before her. Y/N thought he was going to reach out and touch her face, maybe even lead her onto her feet. However, Tommy proceeded to do something Y/N would’ve never expected: he fell to his knees. Y/N couldn’t hide her shock. She had never seen Tommy on his knees for anyone, for any reason. Thomas Shelby, OBE, King of Birmingham, her husband, kneeled to no-one. Yet he kneeled for her. A depth of emotion swirled in his eyes that she couldn’t begin to identify.

She understood. Thomas Shelby surrendered. But she didn’t know what.

“Y/N,” Tommy began, “this will never happen again. I swear—”

“Don’t—“ Y/N spat, darkly “—make promises you can’t keep.”

He pleaded, “Y/N, please, please, think about this. Eh? Think about it.” He stroked her hair flat against her cheek. “I want to stay married to you—”

Y/N let out a sob, covering her quivering mouth with her wrist, shaking her head. Hot tears blurred her vision. “Please, please stop, Tommy. Please—”

Tommy closed the distance between them, clasping Y/N’s face. Her watery eyes shuddered open, leaking tears. The familiar feeling of the warmth of his whiskey laced breath fanning her lips electrocuted Y/N back to her senses. She shook her head again, trying to keep her resolve.

Tommy became more frantic. “I’ll work on disciplining Charlie more instead of coddling him. I won’t let him have tantrums. I’ll try and get him — and me — to move on from Grace’s death.”

She was calmer now, less erratic, more still— enchanted by his pretty words and his emotional eyes.

“I’ll do it all, Y/N, I will. It’s time we move on—” He pulled her closer “—as a family.”

Her eyes were closed, but she could only feel his fingers rasp her cheeks, calloused from years of labour, long before he lived in the palace he lives in now. She wanted to know what he was like when those callouses where hardening. Her resolve hung on by a thin thread.

“Don’t do this,” Y/N whispered.

“Why not?!” Tommy snapped desperately, shaking her lightly with agitation.

Why, why did he have to make this harder than it needed to be? She was trying to do the right thing, the necessary thing. She was trying to be the strong one who did what needed to be done. But the feel of his skin, the rumble of his voice, the smell of his soap and the freshness of pine and rain— it made her head heavy; drunk on her heartbreak and the need for him.

Tommy’s fingers brushed her cheek, trailing down to pull her chin to face him; to look him directly in his eyes. “I love you, you hear me?” His voice was commanding. No-nonsense. Rigid.

She wondered for a moment if he used to talk to his troops that way, without the hint of gentleness.

“There is no first place. You’re not second. There is no competition. You are my wife, and I love you.” He swallowed thickly, jaw tensing, eyes fleeting to look at her lap. “I wish I could explain the way I am, but I can’t. But please believe me, Y/N.”

He leant forward, eyes fluttering closed. It seemed as if he was about to kiss her, but he hesitated, inhaling the scent of her perfume deeply. “I love you.”

As if they couldn’t help it, as if their minds weren’t their own, they fell into each other, foreheads touching. Tommy’s lips grazed Y/N’s, testing the waters, before pressing them further. They’d begun moving, Y/N even rising a hand to touch his neck—

Y/N pulled back. Tommy’s eyes flared open with surprise.

“Tommy. Tommy, I can’t,” she choked. “Leaving once was already the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do. If I come back, and I have to leave again…” Y/N’s mouth gaped as tears spilled from her hauntingly pained eyes, stuttering down her cheeks. “It’ll kill me.”

“You will never leave again. Not ever. Please.”

Y/N shook her head. “No—”

“Why?”

“Because…” Y/N released a shaky breath. “Because I have a condition. And I don’t know if you want it.”

Tommy’s eyes widened with opportunity. “Anything, Y/N. Fucking anything. You name it and it’s yours: jewels, clothes, land—”

“I want another child,” she choked, eyes squeezing shut.

Silence.

Y/N’s heart froze in her chest. She opened her eyes, met with Tommy’s blank, unblinking gaze. Completely shocked. The blood must’ve stopped travelling to his brain.

She laughed bitterly, shifting around him, marching to the liquor tray. Pouring herself another finger of whiskey, she shot it back. It stabbed through her veins, warming her blood and chasing the chill in her bones away with shivers. Y/N turned back to Tommy, who had managed to climb to his feet.

As tears stung her eyes, Y/N breathed deeply, recovering, before fixing a steely gaze onto him.

“And if that’s not something you want… then there’s no point.” She set the glass on the tray. “I never got the experience. I want the pregnancy, I want to do the feedings, I want to raise a child that doesn’t completely loathe me— I want it all. And I know you don’t w-ant to,” her voice broke, “because you went through all that with her, but I need to know for sure—”

Tommy stalked to her, pulling her into him, pressing his lips to hers. Y/N didn’t react, too shocked to kiss him back. He pulled away.

“You stupid woman. I would love to give you a child.” He placed his hands on either side of her face. “I would love to have a child with you, you hear me. Ay?”

Y/N released a thrilling cry, and grappled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear, breathy like the sea. Tears fell onto his shoulder, but he ignored them, just gripping her harder. With a sniff, Y/N pulled back to look at his face with a glorious grin. One he hadn’t seen in a while.

Shame he’d have to fucking ruin it. His smile melted into a grimace. “I just have to know one thing, Y/N,” Tommy said, severely.

Her own smile crumbled. She nodded. “Of course, anything.”

Tommy exhaled deeply. “You have to promise… you’ll love Charlie all the same. This new kid isn’t going to go well at first,” he warned. “You need to know that. He’s gonna think we’re replacing him, and it can’t be true.”

Y/N recoiled from his touch. “Thomas,” she snapped. “I love Charlie as if he were my son. I helped raise him for years, and that’s as good as blood to me. I have done a lot for that boy. I love him. And I have proven that I love him!” Her voice rose. “I would do a lot for that kid— so much it fucking scares me. And if you insult me again by asking if I would love him less with another child, I will fucking kill you.”

Tommy smiled with relief, unfazed by her anger. In fact, eased by it. “Good.” He hooked his hand around the back of her neck and brought her in again, leaning his forehead on hers— relishing in the relief of his lungs expanding at last. “Good.”

Her thumbs caressed the ridges of his wrists on either side of her face. “You know.” She sniffed.  “Ada said that our children would be beautiful.”

Tommy closed his eyes, lips pulling into a small, peaceful smile. “Did she?”

Y/N closed her eyes, too. Wistfully, she said, “With my eyes and your cheekbones.”

“I have no doubt.”

He leant his forehead to hers, and she looked at him tenderly. His grin dimpled. Fucking hell, she really did have lovely eyes. Y/N nuzzled her nose against Tommy’s, eyes fluttering closed again. Tommy’s followed suit. He kissed her, breathing her in like he thought he’d never breathe again. Her perfume, her hair, her.

“I fucking miss you.”

“I missed you, too,” she mumbled, as if she were in a trance.

Y/N gripped onto his arms, pulling him closer, guiding him to her for another slow, long kiss. Tommy’s lips moved against hers, patiently, but without gentleness. His hands slid from her waist, forcing her hips closer, roaming over them, bunching her skirt in his fists.

“Let’s have a baby.” His breath whispered over her lips like a kiss.

Y/N pushed him away as her brain spiked, immediately feeling Tommy’s hot breath over her jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone—

“Tommy,” she whispered, her mind still drunk with the feel of him. “Tommy wait, stop.”

Tommy let her bunching skirt fall over her legs again, shifting his hands back up to her waist. He took his lips off her neck, pulling back, panting with his eyes squeezed shut.

“We have to think… about…” Y/N paused, letting her mind catch up to her mouth, “about—"

“No!” Tommy growled, making Y/N’s knees quake under her. “I am fucking done with worrying about everyone else. You are my wife, I love you, and I want to be with you.” He leant closer, pressing his body to her, eyes boring into her stunned expression. “I want to take you upstairs and fuck you until you can’t move.”

Y/N gasped as she felt Tommy’s warm fingers slide under her shirt, onto her cold skin.

“And to fucking hell with everyone else.”

Y/N couldn’t help but gape at Tommy. His eyes flickered over her face, before giving in to whatever he was resisting— capturing her mouth with his again. This time he was faster, rougher. Slipping his tongue in her mouth, Y/N reacted quickly, winding her arms around his neck, using her own tongue to elicit groans of relief from Tommy.

He took slow, deliberate steps, holding Y/N’s hips to stop her stumbling. The heels of Y/N’s shoes kissed the bottom stair. Gently, her foot rose, sliding onto it and lugging herself up. Neither wanted to stop touching, kissing, palming each other wherever they could reach. Their heads were fogged with the thought of each other. Just each other.

Her hands frantically pulled the buttons of his shirt from the loops, breathing harshly to control herself from ripping them off. Tommy’s lips forced into a smirk, unable to keep kissing her and he panted into her mouth. He watched her shaking hands undo the last button his shirt and she pounced. Tommy had to stop walking up the stairs and grab the bannister. Y/N groaned with need through Tommy’s lips, feeling his hot, bare skin with greedy hands.

It sparked a heat inside him. Tommy snatched Y/N’s wrists, slinging her arms around his neck. He reached down, gaze burning into hers, and latched a hand on the back of her thigh, as he gripped the bannister, and hauled her onto him. Her other leg shot up instinctively, hooking Tommy’s hips.

Y/N’s eyes darkened. Tommy gave her a lazy, lopsided smirk. Whining hungrily, she kissed him without gentleness, without patience. Flares shot in her brain like electricity. She fondled his muscles between their bodies, relishing in the feel of him— real, solid flesh and bone. She slid the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip, combing her teeth over it and pulling slowly. Tommy watched, echanted. She let go, looking at him with a lustful gaze. His surprise made her smile impishly. Pupils dilated, mouths gaping, breathing heavily. He’d look quite funny if it didn’t show the effect she had on him.

“Take me to bed,” she ordered.

A smile spread on Tommy’s lips. Not a smirk, just a small, excited smile. Securing his grip on Y/N, he shot up the stairs, relishing in her giggles as she kissed his neck. ______________________________________________________________

Tommy and Y/N’s limbs wove together like branches between the twisted sheets. They’d made quite a mess of the bed. Nothing was broken, lamentably, but pillows were on the floor, the sheet was crumpled and pulled from the mattress, and their clothes hung from any make shift hook they could find.

Room for improvement, he noted, but there was a touch of pride to him that couldn’t be shaken.

Resting his head on her stomach for a while, Y/N played with his hair mindlessly, too tired to do much else. Once Tommy recuperated, he crawled off her to put on a pair of shorts— leaving her cold and needy — on the way to fetch his cigarettes.

“Really? Cigarettes after sex?” Y/N teased. “Tommy Shelby, you walking, talking cliche.”

He looked over his shoulder, eyes filled with humour and craving, standing to pull his shorts over his toned, sculpted arse. He grinned at her wickedly when he caught her leering. “One pleasure after another.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N mirrored his grin with ease. As Tommy left the room, she couldn’t help watching as he walked away with a wolfish gaze. He really was good looking. The bastard. Y/N threw herself back on the mattress, squealing with joy, relishing the feel of the bed. Her bed. She inhaled the pillows, saouring the fresh and crisp smell (although a little bit sweaty, but that was to be expected), like the flowery perfumed detergent they’re washed in. It really was her bed.

The door shifted open again, the mattress dipping on Tommy’s side. Y/N smiled reflexively. A cigarette lighter snapped open and closed. She could hear Tommy exhale, the smell of smoke soon after.

Y/N rolled over, pulling Tommy’s legs apart. She earned a mild, gruff, “Oi!” that made her giggle mischievously. She crawled between Tommy’s legs, sprawling over him like a cat, resting her head on his chest. Tommy swapped the hand holding his cigarette to run his nails gently over Y/N’s back. Her ear fell directly over his heart, beating faster than normal. Moments like these proved he felt the same as she did. That she had the same effect on him as he did her. Y/N smiled, feeling so blissful she could purr.

Y/N pressed her lips to his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” she mumbled.

Tommy stared at the ceiling. “Neither have I.” But his tone was solemn.

Y/N opened her eyes, frowning. Anxiety gripped her. Turning to look at him, she stroked her index finger against the crevices on his lips, his chin, his nose— memorising him before he disappeared. “Tell me what going on in that head of yours. Hmm?”

Tommy looked into her eyes out of impulse. They were soft, with such tenderness and hope Tommy couldn’t stand to lie.

“When you left.” He sighed, bracing himself. "When you were in the car—“

“We don’t have to talk about that—“

“I want to,” Tommy insisted.

Y/N nodded, closing her mouth patiently.

“When you were in the car, I was desperate for you to look back.”

She blinked, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s stupid,” he continued. “But it’s a superstition I heard. If someone leaves, they have to look back to where they’re leaving. Or they’ll never come back.”

Y/N pressed her forehead to his temple, but he still wouldn’t look at her, lost in whatever was above them.

“I came back. I’m here.” Her eyes closed, fingertips brushing his neck. “I looked back.”

Smiling devotedly, he stroked her chin with his thumb, tracing all the little blemishes he remembered, the ones that she covered up, but he loved. The ones that were distinctly her. The ones he couldn’t live without. Tommy tore his eyes from the ceiling to look at Y/N, and his heart fluttered. Her eyes were on his chest, where she was tracing indistinguishable patterns on his skin. He wished he could see what she was thinking, what she was tattoing on his skin like love.

“Since we’re on the subject,” Y/N began tentatively. “Did you... I know it’s none of my business, but did... anyone else...”

Tommy caught on. He knocked his head back against the wall, unable to keep his smirk in check. Y/N’s cheeks grew hot. She went to pull away, but Tommy clasped her hand and pecked a kiss on it.

“No,” he insisted. “I miserably drank and smoked and played card, all on my lonesome. Well, Arthur was there.”

Y/N released a heavy sigh, relief letting her shoulders drop.

His eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes, but with a good-humored smile. “I did very much the same.”

He grinned as he ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “Good.”

A bright smile spread on her lips and she gently pushed his face away. “A real joker, you are.”

They lingered in the peace, until it had to turn bleak. Tommy’s eyes grew pensive, heavy with the past.

“I think… I think I still feel guilty about Grace.” He gulped. “I think that’s why I can’t let her go.”

Y/N opened her eyes, staring at him with shock. Tommy skilfully ignored her gaze, ashamed. Gently, she felt his cheek with her palm, turning him to face her.

“I’ll help.” As an after thought, nervously, she added, “If you want me to.”

Tommy’s eyes flickered over her face. She looked so earnest, so true to stick by his side. Tommy leant in, brushing his lips tenderly to hers. Digging his fingers into Y/N’s hips, he carefully tilted her onto the mattress, rolling on top of her. It was the only way he knew to show his gratitude.

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

For the first time in years, Tommy slept in. Y/N shifted off him to her side of the bed. They were still naked, too tired to do much more than kiss and breathe each other in. By chance, Tommy glanced at his wristwatch with bleary eyes, shocking himself awake at seeing it was nearly midday. His muscles fizzed with exhaustion, tense and overworked. Forcing himself out of bed anyway, he tried not to wake up Y/N as he headed to the bathroom.

Renewed and fresh, Tommy left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, bringing a soapy aroma with him as he ran his hands through his damp hair. His eyes fell on her, still very, very naked in front of him, her hair disheveled and sprawled on the bed. He approached her, smiling, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She shifted, grumbling groggily.

“Hello, love,” Tommy muttered.

Y/N’s eyes opened, narrowed, and slid down to his bare body, where— Tommy noticed with a hint of pride— her eyes softened. She smirked appreciatively, running a nail over the tattoo on his chest. Tommy coursed his hand through his hair again to capture her attention, like he was a teenager trying to catch the eye of a pretty girl. It worked. She hummed her reply, smiling dreamily.

Tommy really couldn’t help but grin back, eyes sparkling. “Do you want to come with me to pick Charlie up from Ada’s, or would you rather stay and have a sleep?”

Y/N took a few moments to comprehend, still dazed. “Hmmm. Alright,” she grumbled. “I’ll come.”

Y/N pushed herself to her feet, running her hand up Tommy’s wet bicep. She felt his eyes on her as she made her way to the bathroom. Y/N smirked, completely unbothered. He shook his head, pursing his lips to hide his goofy grin. He loved when she teased him.

Tommy opened his wardrobe and took his blue suit trousers and jacket with a white shirt and tie. He knew Y/N liked him in the dark navies rather than blacks.

“What’s the situation?” Y/N called as the shower streamed to life, hissing with steam. “How much time are you giving me to get ready?”

“Take your time, love!” he said, slipping his shorts on. “I’m sure Ada won’t mind. Get dressed, do your makeup— whatever you’d like.” Tommy paused. “I thought we could take Charlie for a ride after we pick him up.”

He was met with silence. Tommy thought maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but Y/N chirped back with a genuine, “I’d really love that.” Her voice caught. Tommy let her have that moment in private.

“Lovely. Lay out your riding gear for later, because we’re stopping by the ice cream parlour.”

“ICE CREAM?!” Y/N squealed, voice bouncing off the tiles.

“Yep.” Tommy grinned. “Ice cream.”

It was already well past one thirty in the afternoon by the time they arrived at Ada’s house. Y/N wished she could say it was for an understandable reason like the car broke down or there was some sort of work emergency. However, Tommy just pressed kisses to Y/N’s neck whilst she put on her make up, and he looked very handsome wearing his shirt and brace suspenders, his hair still wet from the shower…

Anyway. They were late.

Tommy stepped on the brakes. “Right.” Tommy grabbed Y/N’s hand from her lap and kissed it, and she smiled. “Let’s go.”

They stepped out of the car, slamming the doors closed. Tommy jogged up the steps and knocked on the door casually, clasping his hands behind his back. Y/N waited at the bottom of the stairs, on the pavement, shifting her weight.

The door flew open, hitting Tommy with a breeze. Ada looked at him with her typical raised eyebrows; pointed, expectant gaze and pursed lips. Without a word, she leant her shoulder against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“Hello, Ada,” Tommy replied to her cold welcome.

Ada looked into the house. “CHARLIE! Get your things, Daddy’s here to pick you up!” She turned back, her eyes sweeping behind him before they fell on Y/N. A smirk grew on her lips. “So,” she said.

Tommy returned the mischievous lilt in her voice with a blank, unamused glare. Knowing what she was going to ask, he braced himself.

“What did you two get up to?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. Ada was truly something else. “Nothing I’d like to share with my sister.”

They heard an, “Honestly, Ada,” from Y/N that made Ada’s smirk grow into an obnoxious little grin.

“But is everything sorted?” Ada asked, without mirth.

Tommy smiled at her genuinely as he nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s sorted.”

Ada returned a short nod, beaming. “Good.”

Small footsteps pounded the stairs behind Ada. Their attention fleeing to Charlie running as fast as he could, hair unruly and grinning. His little school bag thumped against his back and his toy horse’s limbs floundering in the wind.

“Daddy!” he cheered, little shoes clapping against the marble so fast, Tommy barely had time to crouch before catching Charlie in his arms.

Tommy hauled Charlie up, jostling to rest on his hip, looking at him with a loving smile. “Hello, m’boy. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Daddy.” Charlie wrapped his arms around Tommy’s head. Tommy pulled the arm covering his mouth slightly with his free hand, but let Charlie grapple at him, heart swelling with affection.

“Did you have a good time at Auntie Ada’s?” Tommy asked once Charlie let him go.

Charlie’s eyes shot to his horsie with a frown. He didn’t get on with Karl— always picking on him by calling him names and stealing his toys and refusing tell let Charlie play with anything. A good portion of his visit was spent being crying, too. However, Charlie felt mean not saying yes, especially in front of Auntie Ada, who was always nice to him and took care of him and made him nice food and helped him when he was upset and protected him form Karl. So, he nodded.

“Good,” Tommy said. “Say thank you to Auntie Ada for letting you sleep over.”

Charlie grinned at Ada. That was genuine. “Thank you, Auntie Ada.”

Ada’s demeanour changed completely, smiling at him dotingly, stroking her hand down the back of his head. “You’re always welcome, my love. Can I have a kiss?”

Charlie nodded enthusiastically, shooting forward and pecking her on cheek. Ada smiled widely.

“Thank you, Charlie. Can I give you one?”

Charlie nodded again.

Ada pressed her lips to his cheek. “Mmmmmm-wuah! Thank you, sweetheart.”

Tommy crouched, ignoring the twinge in his knees, to set Charlie down. “Alright. Get to the car.” Somehow, in the fumble, Charlie’s stuffed horse fell to the ground. Charlie whined. Nimbly, Tommy plucked it, dusting it off with a rough hand and held it out to him. “We’re going for some ice cream.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, glowing into the clearest blue.

“Woooooow, isn’t that nice of Daddy?” Ada prompted.

Nodding to Ada frantically, Charlie spun on his heel and shot away without another word. Tommy and Ada laughed, good-naturedly. They bid their goodbyes, going their separate ways. She watched as Tommy marched to his car, shoulders back, standing tall, the brightest she’s ever seen him.

The reality of the situation had hit Y/N as she watched Charlie tun out of Ada’s house. Things were alright between her and Tommy, but that didn’t mean this was over. What if Charlie had changed his mind? What if his apology meant that he knew he was wrong, but he still didn’t want her as his stepmother? What if—?

Y/N’s feet were planted firmly into concrete, frowning as Tommy approached. Tommy matched her expression, seeing her worry.

Charlie ran to the car, disregarding everyone in his way, but halted to a stop when he caught sight of Tommy and Y/N’s shared look. Charlie felt the tension simmer between them. Hesitantly, he approached them. With wide eyes and a self-conscious frown, Charlie barreled into Y/N, wrapping his short arms around her hips.

She gaped, jaw slack, reaching for his shoulders to hug Charlie back instinctively. Her head jerked up to find Tommy, her eyes welling, too surprised to speak. Tommy looked on, a smile blooming on his face so wide he dimpled.

Ada, still watching from her front door, had her own dimples. Their eyes met. Tommy nodded. Ada nodded back.

In the end, John was right. Everything would be better now, and he had his family to thank for it.

“Alright!” he boomed, glowing with happiness. Tommy strode to the car, opening the back door. “Let’s get that ice cream.”

Y/N’s fingers combed through Charlie’s hair. The swelling feeling of completeness fleeting as far as it came when he released her and jumped in the back seat of the car. Tommy observed her: unmoving, staring after Charlie. The clunking of the passenger side door opening snapped her back to earth, yet too shocked to gather her composure.

With a soft smile, a smile reserved only for her, Tommy held out his hand, nodding at the car invitingly. Y/N shuffled to him, lips cracking into an honest grin, laying her hand in his. Tommy squeezed it, hauling her to him. The tears spilled, turning to ice from the winter air chilling her skin. He held her chin, eyes flickering over her with the warmth bleeding in his chest. There was no rush when he kissed her on the corner of her mouth, pouring every drop of affection he could muster. She could feel his eyelashes brush against her brow. Y/N pulled away, smiling at him as she climbed into the car.

Tommy closed the door behind her, winking teasingly at Y/N, just to see that brilliant smile again. He wasn’t disappointed, her face shining at him, his heart jumping to a start in his chest. He opened the driver’s side door and heard Charlie chattering on animatedly to Y/N.

He dropped in, slipping his cigarette case out of his pocket and plucking one, placing it between his lips. Tommy slammed the door. “Alright, who’s ready for ice cream?!”

“Me!” Charlie demanded, giggling.

“And me!” Y/N joined, turning slightly in her seat to catch sight of Charlie’s smile. He grinned back at her, bouncing in his seat.

“And after Ice cream, we’re going to ride some horses!”

Charlie and Y/N’s deafening roars muffled the engine’s rev as they drove away. Ada watched with a satisfied smile, closing her front door.

Everything went on, as it should: for the best.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Treasure Hunter AU

I binged watch the Mummy trilogy while i had no wifi/internet for a while and I had an idea for a treasure hunter Mari with Daminette.

--------

Damian was bored.(age: 22-28 years old.)

At a gala party.

Meets Marinette who was equally bored.(abt the same age as D)

He finds out she was the finder of this famous artifact on display.

-----

Damian tugged at his collar, scanning the crowd. His father needed a plus one to show up with and everyone else were busy.

He grabbed a champagne flute and made his way to the edge of the room.

He found a woman in a black evening gown, looking as bored as he felt. short dark hair. Blue eyes.( I suck at describing people after the third time doing it. It feels overrated)

"Hello, stranger. You bored with mingling in with the assholes on their high horses?"

"Should I be offended?"

"We will see. Depends on you."

"How about you? A beautiful lady like you not kissing up their asses to climb the social ladder. That is strange."

She made a face. "Trust me. I don't want to be here but my friend wanted family time so I came in his place. What about you? Why are you here?"

"I am pretty sure my father wanted someone to get him out if the vultures came too close."

"Vultures, adept descriptions. I am glad no one realized who I am yet or i would be in their claws."

"Who are you representing, anyways?"

"Myself but Adrien or Kagami usually comes in my place but tonight, they have their son's play to go to."

"Adrien and Kagami. Aren't they the Agreste-Tsrungi?"

"Yep."

"You are the Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Globe trotting Treasure hunter and also world-class designer, MDC."

"Now you know. What's your name, handsome stranger?"

"You don't know?"

"Hey. Like you said globetrotting treasure hunter. I am not up-to-date on the news front. And when I am in Paris to do designer stuff, i am too busy to look at the news."

He gave her his hand, "Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne who is a billionaire and owns Wayne Enterprise."

She shook it.

"Pleased to meet you."

She stills design but like sent her designs to Adrien at least once every month, who had rebranded Gabriel to Miraculous Designs.

Some ppl thinks he did it to spite his father, who is in jail. Adrien and Mari has a partnership thing.

Mari also makes clothes but for a few months. And the rest of the time is spent travelling.

Exclusive designs from MDC are rare but the designs hand made by her are rarer so they are like a really big deal. They have the most amazing details. Really expensive and limited edition.

The rest of the time Mari spends finding Miraculouses (Miraculi ?) lost in the world so if she happens to find a few priceless artifacts that aren't the Miraculous. She donates it.

Alix helps and sometimes go find them with her.

She has Tikki and Plagg and maybe Wyazz all the time to look for curses and counter it.

She has also met John Constantine. They have an arrangement of sorts. A few magical artifacts that doesn't have to Miraculous business are given to him in exchange for any miraculous stuff he has or found.

Adrien funds her trips.

He is married to Kagami.

Kagami goes with Mari and Alix for a few months sometimes. Adrien likes being a stay at home dad.

Their kid is named Marin/Martin because it was Mari who got them together.

The few trips Mari dragged him on was enough to make him stay behind and run the business.

(Back to the story) Damian fangirled a little because Mari had been doing stuff like this since she was 18.

It was an amazing reputation she has.

She invites him to her next trip after questioning his skill sets.

------

"Are you good with heights, dark scary places and adventuring into the unknown?"

"Yes"

"You any good with guns, swords, knives, booby traps and keeping calm under pressure?"

"Yes. I have many experiences with them."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes. Why are you asking me this?"

"Wanna join me on my next trip to the jungle of China? There are myths about some hidden temple."

------

Damian was a little conflicted.

He hadn't have the chance to explore the world much. He had been somewhere else for a mission (for the League of Shadows or JL business) but never for pleasure.

Being a vigilante by night and working at Wayne Enterprise by day gets a little boring after some years.

His brothers had a chance to travel the world on their own for a while. Sure, for reasons other than sight-seeing and looking for something to break out of the rut he was in. But still.

This was an exciting opportunity but a tad suspicious.

-----

"Why me?"

She looked surprised at that.

"Oh. Well, my friends enjoy coming with me on my adventures, treasure hunting and all that every now and then except Adrien but they have other things in their life to come with me all the time. I can mostly survive on my own most of the time but it gets lonely travelling on my own and it's nice if someone is there to watch my back. I understand if you don't want to come. It's just that I enjoy your company and you aren't like those assholes on their high horses. My gut feeling says I can trust you. You are not after the treasure or see it as one big game. You are looking for an escape. You would definitely catch me if I fall. As you know from my choice of friends, i have a bad habit of pulling rich kids from their stuffy lifestyle and take them on potentially life-threatening adventures." She joked. Then she lowered her voice, "Besides, it might be handy having a former assassin around."

She said in Arabic.

His hand went to his hidden knife and found it not there.

"Looking for this?" She said, holding it.

"How much do you know?" He hissed back in the same language.

"Relax," she gave back the knife, "my mother was one and I have accidentally came across a few in my adventures. I know one when i see one. I took a stab in the dark with your middle-eastern background. Speaking of, you know Talia Al Ghul by any chance."

He narrowed his eyes.

"She's my mother. Why?"

"You look like her. Met her a few times. Nice lady but scary. Mine's Sabine Cheng, goes by the Blue Reaper." She said it so casually like their parents weren't dangerous deadly assassins and had normal jobs.

"You aren't normal, are you?"

"What gave it away?"

"That you willingly gave away blackmail material to me."

"Normal people don't have assassins for mothers. And you and me aren't exactly meeting the minimum standards for normal. Besides, I just told you a family secret that you would have found out anyways with a through background search and a little digging. So far all I know about you is that your parents are Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne-I wonder how an assassin got together with a billionaire-, you are a former League of Shadows assassin, you are great with weapons, keeping secrets and so far meeting the criteria for an adventure buddy. That's all I swear. And that you have some pets. A cat, maybe."

"How you know about my cat?!"

"Cat hair on your clothes." She was good. "If it will ease your mind about me, you can ask me 5 questions that I will truthfully answer. "

"So why are you doing this?"

"That's question 1. Well, I really want whatever this is between us to work. Partners, Friends, Companions, Comrades. Whatever you want to call it. Like I said, I get lonely sometimes and need some human interaction to at least keep myself sane. You looked like you want to be somewhere else and I thought this is perfect. I am not going to tell anyone about you or push you to join me. I swear on my mother's sword."

"Are we killing anybody?"

"Mostly I try to avoid that as much as possible. Sometimes I get into situations with no other alternative. " She looked away guiltily.

"Fair enough."

"Not judging me for that. That's a first for me."

"I am a former assassin and have killed before. I have no right to condemn you for your past."

"How much are you willing to tell me about this hidden temple?"

"That has to do with a secret. I would tell you more when there are less ears around. But this temple was said to hold a magic jewel that grants some powers and it is located really deep in the jungle. Getting there might take months."

"You forgot to mention that last one."

"Oh yeah. You think you can get away for some months. This kind of stuff usually takes a while. Like I said before, no pressure. Anyway, 2 questions left."

"What's my salary?"

"Aren't you a billionaire?"

"My father is. I have a trust fund and I get a salary for doing my job at the company. You are lucky that I just finished with most of my assigned projects so I might be able to come."

"I am so sorry about just assuming things about you. You can say no to the offer. The temple is said to hold some other treasures but I mainly want the jewel. We could auction off a few bits and pieces. I usually just donate them to museums and universities or sell them to those who really appreciate the history. I would also pay for the entire expenses for the trip."

"Can I think about this?"

"Sure. Here's my number. I leave on the 1st of next month. Gimme an answer a week before that so I can make the proper arrangements. It has been fun talking to you, Damian."

She walked away, going towards the buffet table.

------

Back in the car on the way home to the manor.

Bruce asked, "Who were you talking to for that long?"

"Who?"

"The one that gave you her number."

"Oh. MDC. She invited me to join her in China next month to find some hidden temple."

"She did?"

"Yes. Not only that she found out about mother and know what I did before I came here. She doesn't know about Batman, Robin or Crow. And she said she wasn't going to blackmail me but just wanted a companion to go with her. Ideally, it would be best to silence her before she digs any further into me but I trust her. I sincerely believe that she meant it when she said that she's not going to tell on me. And I am really tempted to take up on it."

"What do you want to do?"

"On one hand, i would be gone for months so there won't be Crow in Gotham for a while and I have a few projects I need to finish up. On the other hand. Father, I have been a vigilante for over 10 years now and I haven't really done much out besides that, school and now work. I have appreciated all you have done for me over the years. But I want to go with her. Do something that is not connected to Batman or Wayne or Al Ghul. Just a little something different for myself."

"You can go if you want. I am not going to stop you. I will make arrangements so the projects would be done by someone else. The others can cover your patrols. You are still young so it is understandable to want some fun every now and then."

"Thank you, Father."

Bruce put his hand on his shoulder.

"I am proud of you as Crow and as Damian Wayne. But if you want to go find some hidden temple in China just for a break from this life, to be just Damian, go for it. There are worse things you could do. Just tell me if you are going to go on any future trips like that." (I don't know DC much, sorry if that is a little OOC but I like good dad! Bruce.)

-------

Damian dialed the number on the card.

"Hello"

"I accept your offer, miss MDC."

"Damian? Right, text me your email address. I will sent you things you would need to pack and flight details. And can you come by to the Gotham Rose Hotel tomorrow? I will give more details on the temple."

-------

Damian comes by the hotel.

Marinette tells him of the kwamis and miraculous and makes him swear to not tell anyone unless they already know.

The hidden temple actually might have a miraculous.

Damian gets a little interested in the akuma situation she mentioned.

Mari doesn't say anything about it much.

When he got back, he goes to the Bat-computer and did some digging.

Ladybug looks a little familiar. Pulls up younger picture of Mari and look at that, she used to be a superhero.

Wonder Woman was kept informed of things and made sure no one goes to Paris without her knowing.

Zatanna helped capture the villain Hawkmoth and end his 2 year reign.

Fast forward, they are in Beijing now, sleeping off jetlag.

The next morning, They get out of the city somehow to the city limits and somewhere remote.

Mari uses Kalki and transports them to the jungle.

They set up camp. Cue Campfire stories.

-----

"I thought getting here would take months."

"No actually, finding the temple would. According to my research and the map I copied through less than legal means, it is somewhere in this general area. There used to a city around here too and the king or emperor pissed off some powerful priest or wizard, take your pick. There was a curse. The city crumbled down and the temple is the only thing standing because the king went there and prayed to the gods for protection. The one who answered his prayers and protected the temple in doing so the king was pressed into service of the god. The king did everything the god said for a while but later, he started to hate it and began disobeying the orders. The god cursed him for his disobedience. The temple he was protected in became his tomb and he was tasked to protect the chest inside the temple for the rest of eternity. Anyone who opens the chest would gain the ultimate power to rule the earth. Thankfully, we are not after the chest. Some powerful crack-head with a misused miraculous tried to find it and open the chest for more power. But he never returned. My theory is that the miraculous is still in the temple. As long as we don't wake up the king or go for the chest, we would be okay."

"What are the guns for? And How did you get them past security?"

"In case of emergencies, an army of undead was mentioned and guns are surprisingly good repellent. Well, most of the time. It's useless if there is a no weapons can kill 'it' rule. Then, it's just a stress reliever. I kept them in a pocket dimension. Makes it easier to get around."

Damian vowed to never let Marinette meet Jason. Judging by the pile of guns and occasional knives and other weapons she took out of the brown satchel which apparently holds a pocket dimension, Jason would adopt her. He wondered if that was all that was inside in.

-------

They packed up and started searching the jungle for hidden temple.

It was a month and a half before they found it.

They bonded a lot during that time.

They had a moment after drinking a little alcohol which Mari has in the pocket dimension. Or Drank a lot of alcohol and had sex.

It was awkward and they both agree to not talk about it again.

Soon after, they found the temple. But it is still a little far away.

But the temple is not the only thing they found. They also found a campsite with many people milling around. Some of them carried guns.

Somewhat rich bastard who overheard their conversation at the gala. Heard treasure and found out where Mari's next expedition is.

Had the help of some scholar who wants to be famous for the greatest find since King Tut.

They found the temple even though they had no magical help, they left 2 weeks before Mari did, so yeah.

Rich Bastard's name is 'Philip Anderson'(This sounds familiar to me for some reason and I can't find out why.) and Scholar is 'Harry Scott'

They have armed bodyguards and some 'hired' help to get the treasure.

Anderson is still rich but his company had been getting losses the past 2 years and this is a quick, easy get rich scheme.

Mari and Damian: "Rich asshole on his high horse."

Anderson doesn't know about the chest but Mari and Damian thinks he does and it was what he was after.

They set up camp a little further ahead of Anderson's

Unfortunately, they were found by Harry. Somehow.

-----

I am going to continue this when I am more awake.