#lizzie IS THE RANGE
rinkrats · 8 months ago
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spinyax · 4 months ago
gillion probably thinks that cinnamon buns are like catnip for humans now
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llizziesaltzman · 7 months ago
from lizzie wishing hope to not exist to actually wanting to kill her oh wow
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confusion-doodle · 2 hours ago
I need to draw Gem or Katherine or Shubble hhhhnnnnggg
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zoyahnazyalensky · a year ago
A brunette Jenny Boyd for Nesta Archeron anyone?
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jaynaneeya · 2 years ago
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Happy Birthday, Ashley!!! Thank you for all of the entertainment and encouragement that you provide to the world, especially during this crazy time.
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dollsome-does-tumblr · a year ago
It may just be because I’m super not in the mood for it (sitcoms only!!!), but 4.01 of The Handmaid’s Tale feels like a really boring and lazy parody of The Handmaid’s Tale.
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marvelsbanner · a year ago
omg hi where are you watching sorry for your loss bc i don’t have facebook but i probably should get it again just for lizzie but i’m so lazy kdkdkdk
i’m watching it on facebook, 10/10 reccomend downloading it again even if it’s just to watch kdksks
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jameszmaguire · a year ago
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toosmallortootall · 2 years ago
Here's the thing. Almost any modern adaptation of something like Pride and Prejudice is going to SUCK b/c straight people don't have the RANGE anymore to depict repression and yearning. If you're gonna do a modern Pride and Prejudice it HAS to be gay b/c that's the only way to really, truly achieve the same depth of longing... The rituals MUST be intricate, that is the WHOLE point.
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harlivies · 2 years ago
the way legacies gave us one of my least favorite episodes ever last week and arguably one of the best of the entire show this week... much to think about
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toomucharitime · 2 years ago
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I am super crazy. But at least there’s a reason this time. The demon’s in me.
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jilliandrakes · a year ago
me *plot twist lizzie going after hope to bring her back in season 3 and hizzie and then mg and landon can bond over that and it’s only fair, gay*
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hobbit1ass · 2 years ago
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Smaug climbed the cat tree today and was VERY proud of himself.
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prlman · 2 years ago
legit i could probably find a way to ship elio with almost every legacies character. okay, maybe not every one, but so many could potentially work with him and my shipping heart just wants all of it.
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luvallstuff · 2 years ago
Can Elizabeth Debicki replace Scarjo as Hollywood's fave blonde already, I'm tired
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earthsbestdefnder · a month ago
okay first time I saw multiverse of madness I would’ve given it 3/10 but the second watch brings it to a 7/10
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glittergothdad · a month ago
I feel some type of way about claiming there are no ND or disabled people in biosciences or medicine or psych
because while its true it is much harder for us to access higher education and to succeed in the field due to hostility and lack of accomodations
That doesnt equate to us not existing there and in general the idea that academia and sciences is a secret club for the socially and economically privileged doesnt do anything to actually help marginalised people who are and have been working in that sphere for a long time and who have made huge contributions. Like man c'mon we all know those books and essays and studies on things like prison abolition, harm reduction, disability liberation etc etc did not write themselves
Like yeah academia is plagued with bigotry and reactionary politics and all of the shit that entails but that doesnt mean no one is doing worthwhile work
Idk im also choosing to take this somewhat personally because i talk regularly with fellow autistics doing health sciences degrees (of which there are a lot of us) and we are all already aware of the shitshow we are about to enter but to just act like no one like that (as in a marginalised person working in or studying a subject directly related to their lived reality) exists is a wee bit insulting and does nothing to actually help challenge dominant ideologies in science and academia
And if you are at uni and have access to academic databases i would really encourage you to go looking for radical lit because i promise you whatever the topic someone has published something on it and you should absolutely be exploiting your uni access privileges while you can
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twintribrdtm · 3 years ago
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erik mikaelson memories| erik mikaelson and lizzie saltzman. 2026.
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huntingingoodwill · 2 months ago
the cigarette girl - part iii
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part i part ii
a/n: hello!! thank you so much for being so nice about part i and ii ily i was dumb and made a mistake the events of "current day" should be more in the range of 1921 not 1919... but let's just... pretend i got it right the first time. anyway thank you so much please enjoy <3
pairing: tommy shelby x reader
tw: blood, hospitals, swearing
You were found in the dead of night.
Lying at the top of the stairs, you looked peaceful, as though a spell had been cast. As if you had been enchanted where you stood, made to fall fast asleep on the floor, eyes closed as your eyelashes brushed your pale cheeks.
The blood spilled across the floorboards made it apparent this wasn’t the case.
Your landlady had come home after a night out to be greeted with the scene. A trail of blood lead from your boarding room to the spot where you lay.
You had dragged yourself out of the room. As far as you could, all the way to the steps. Until you collapsed, not having the strength to go on.
She crept up the stairs, horrified. After building up the courage, she just managed to prod at you with the toe of her shoe before anxiously hurrying back downstairs to call an ambulance.
After the sirens had faded into the night, she pushed open the door of your boarding room. She crouched down, the beads of her dress clattering in the silent night as they grazed the floor.
Amongst the many envelopes scattered across the ground, she chose the most pristine. She turned it over and read the name scrawled across it, illuminated by blue moonlight.
��Shit. Shit. Shit!” Esme muttered frantically, tripping over her heels as she rushed down the cobblestone streets of Small Heath.
“Es-Esme, stay calm, alri-” John shoved a man who was standing idly in their path, running past him as he tumbled to the ground. “Stay out of my fucking way you stupid cun- Esme, Esme! Just stay fucking calm, alright? Stay fucking calm!” His own panic reared its ugly head easily.
They burst through the door of Tommy’s office, slamming it open so forcefully it almost fell out of its frame.
“You two, whatever it is-” Tommy began, already exasperated.
“It’s (Y/N).”
Tommy froze. The words imprinted on the paper before him began to swirl, a mess of black type. None of his brothers had tried to broach the topic of you for months, knowing that, to him, the thought of you was akin to a wound, the soreness never subsiding. Bringing you up was twisting the knife.
It had to be something bad.
He felt the walls closing in, and he blinked, all thoughts evaporating from his mind. He had tried to push the memory of you away every day since you left, but it all came rushing back now. He felt it all, the overwhelming wave of emotion he’d try to bury, his attempts as futile as throwing handfuls of sand into the ocean. He felt like he was drowning in it. His worry for you, his regret over the things he said, his ache for you to be alright, sweeping through his mind.
“Sabini’s men got to her. It’s not good.” Esme’s words were painfully gentle, worsening the intense agony that shot through Tommy. It happened. Just like he said it would. His heart sank as he dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palm. “Her landlady sent John a telegram, said she found the return address on one of the letters we sent.”
“We’ve got to go to London. We can take your car- Lizzie! Get Arthur!” John yelled out toward the secretary’s table, noticing Lizzie’s absence from it. “Where the fuc- Lizzie!”
“Lunch break,” Tommy mumbled, voice uncharacteristically soft as his head hung low.
John swore beneath his breath, running out to fetch Arthur.
Esme swept across the room, pulling Tommy’s coat and cap off the rack. “Come on. I can pull the car around, we-” She stopped in her tracks as she watched him, stoic in his chair.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the desk, looking at her. The pale blue stare unnerved her, the gaze colder than ever. Her hands dropped to her side, fingers curling around his coat. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Thomas. Let’s go."
“I’m not going, Esme.”
They stood, silent, for what felt like an eternity.
Then, the anger took over.
“You bastard.” She spat. She flung his cap at him, whipping it across the room. “You stupid fucking bastard.”
“I’m not going.” He repeated as if entranced. “I won’t-”
Her open palm slammed against his cheek, and all he did was sit there, working his jaw as the burn spread across his face.
“I told her-” He started up again, voice low and dangerously calm.
“You idiotic, vile…” She wanted to scream in frustration.
He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes. “Alright, Esme, alright-”
“No, it’s not fucking alright!” Her voice crested. “She’s really hurt, and you’re refusing to see her because of what? Your stupid pride? Because you told her so!? You’re supposed to be her friend!”
“Don’t give me that fucking line-”
“It’s the truth. Don’t you dare abandon her. Not after all she’s done for you.”
“And what did she do for me?” He exploded, voice accusatory, volatile. “She went against me, she got hurt. I’m not the one who abandoned her. She didn’t listen, she left me. She didn’t trust me. She gave up on me. And now…” He struggled to get the words out. It felt like a lie. It could have been. “I’ve given up on her.”
“Tommy, I know you don’t mean that.” She spoke, her suffocatingly soft tone making his skin crawl.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He spoke, looking away. He couldn’t look her in those eyes, full of sorrow and pity. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted things to be back to how it was, all those years ago. He felt a lump grow in his throat.
“You’re scared. You’re afraid to see her hurt. But she’ll want to see you. You want to see her too. You miss her, you love her, you loved each other. It’s the most transparent thing about you.” She barked out a pained laugh before extending her hand toward him. “Come to London, Tommy. It’s not too late to make it right.”
He didn’t turn back to look at her.
Sighing, she turned and walked out the door.
He emerged onto the street twenty minutes later, nursing a cigarette as he watched them load up the car with hastily packed suitcases. His brothers refused to look at him, as if he’d forbid them from leaving, too. But Tommy stood, silent, heart feeling hollow.
“You’ll regret this,” Esme said to him, piling into the car with the rest.
He looked up at her.
“Have a safe trip.”
The car sputtered off, and he watched it recede into the distance. Something inside of him screamed at him to run after it, to go to you, but his feet remained planted on the ground, stubborn.
He walked into his office just as Lizzie returned from her break.
“Mail for you.” She said, handing him a stack of envelopes.
He shuffled through them dismissively, heart stopping as he spotted the handwriting on one of the envelopes. “To Tommy Shelby”, each letter so familiar, looking at the ink felt like home. Like love. It was painful to see.
He ripped it open, pulling out the note that lay tucked in front of the letter.
“Dear Mr. Shelby,
I found this unmailed letter in my tenant’s room, addressed to you. Considering the circumstances, I only felt it appropriate to send it on her behalf. My best wishes to you, and to her. God knows she needs it.”
He turned around, rushing out of the door, shoes clattering against the ground. His heart pounded in his ears, a blindingly bright hope building within his chest. He could run after the car, find another way to get to London, whatever. He’d be with you, soon.
But as soon as he hit the sidewalk and saw the little black dot that the car had become, all that renewed determination dissipated, his heartbeat slowing down once more to a lethargic, depressive thump.
He couldn’t do it. It was too late to fix it, not after what he'd said to you.
He turned back inside. He just couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.
He sat back behind his desk, heart crushing beneath the weight of his own decision. Unearthing your letter from the envelope, he began to read.
You heard the shouting first.
It echoed through the hall, thunderous, the yells too much for your pounding head.
Then, it was the sunlight. It came in droves, bright and white, glaring past your eyelids even as you screwed them shut to keep it out.
And then, of course, it was the pain, a dull ache that rolled through your body, familiar as a friend.
You stretched your arms out, feeling the prickly old blanket that lay atop you. You opened your eyes slowly, your vision adjusting to the hospital room. A hospital room. You’d never been happier at the sight of one. You pulled the duvet up to your mouth, concealing your smile like a secret.
You survived.
“Sir, please, it’s not visiting hours yet-“ You heard the nurse’s shoes scuttle nervously down the hall, trailing behind more decisive footsteps.
“Fuck off!” The crude phrase uttered by Arthur’s familiar voice made you laugh.
The Shelbys appeared at the door.
“You’re awake.” He said, face softening as the family crowded around you.
“I feel like I’ve been asleep for centuries.” You chuckled.
You were so happy. You could almost ignore the sharp jabs you felt in your ribs as they each took turns giving you tight hugs, joy flooding the room like the light that flooded through the window. It had been almost a year since you left, and though it was under awful circumstances, the reunion was sweet.
As the excitement began to subside, you looked across the room, noticing the absence of one familiar face, an absence that dug a hole into your heart.
Esme knelt beside your bed, smoothing your hair away from your face as she watched you, the smiles falling off the faces of the rest as they saw you begin to catch on.
Tommy hadn’t shown up.
“Love,” Esme began, “I’m sorry, but… try to understand…he-”
“I understand.” The corners of your lips lifted into a gentle smile.
You did. You understood completely.
It was freeing, almost. You had held out hope for ages. But now, you knew. He didn’t care.
He’d given up on you, you thought. You’d do the same for him.
You survived without him, and you’d continue to do so.
But even though he wasn’t there, it felt like he was in the room, stomping on your heart, shattering it beneath his leather boots.
Still, you smiled.
"Tommy, he... he still loves you, you know-"
“I need to get out of here.” You ignored her, interrupting her with a laugh. “Staying still this long’s doing me no good.”
“You need to rest,” Esme said definitively.
“I’m feeling a million times better already.” She looked back at you, unconvinced. “Like a new woman.”
“We’ll take you back to Small Heath. We’ll take care of you.” John spoke.
Small Heath. You had always thought of it as your home.
You looked out the window, at the trees swaying softly in the breeze, the noise of the London street below filtering through the leaves.
You loved the Shelbys.
But you wouldn’t go back. You couldn’t, yet.
“John?” You spoke.
“In your letters… you wrote about Tommy doing business in London.”
“What was that man’s name, again?”
“Alfie Solomons!” You called out, voice booming as you strolled into his offices. You had a slight limp, but with your huge grin and confident stride, it was like the red marks and bruises that bloomed across your skin were nothing but war paint. Against all odds, it was the sheer renewed strength you felt that invigorated you, allowing you to sweep into the room like you hadn’t just rolled out of a hospital bed.
“Jesus fucking Chri-” Alfie muttered. It was too early for this bullshit.
Ollie ran up behind you, already slightly out of breath.
“Sorry. I tried to stop her but she’s… she’s fucking fast, Alfie.” He huffed.
Alfie let out a long, annoyed sigh as you pulled up a chair, sitting across from him.
“Alfie Solomons,” you flashed him a wide smile, “I crave a boon.”
He nodded contemplatively, steepling his fingers while gazing at you thoughtfully. Then, suddenly:
“Who the fuck are you?” Genuine confusion caused his eyebrows to knit together, making your smile grow bigger.
“Mr. Solomons, have you ever heard of a man by the name of Thomas Shelby?”
He exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against his desk impatiently.
“Why is it that whenever one of you Shelbys comes into my office, you lot always look -and forgive me if this sounds rude, darling- utterly fucked up?”
“You’re forgiven.” You beamed. “And I’m not a Shelby.”
He hummed, examining you. “Well, you’re a lot prettier than Tommy, the ugly little bastard.” He chuckled. “Even while looking utterly fucked up.” He added quickly.
“I’m flattered. But I wouldn’t know anything about that. I was just an associate. I’ve never met Thomas.” You lied.
“Really?” He said, raising an eyebrow.
“Really.” You repeated defiantly. “I did the work they needed me to do and left. Besides that, I don’t even exist to them.” You said. And if the family listened to your wishes, you’d be telling the truth.
After a few nights of them insisting on watching over you at the hospital, you chased them all back to Ada’s house, telling them to get some rest.
They weren’t around that morning to stop you when you climbed out the bathroom window to escape the confines of your room, ditching the white hospital gown in the sink after changing into the new clothes they had bought you.
You weren’t cruel. You’d stopped by Ada’s house, not even a single movement within it, what with it being practically the crack of dawn. You slipped a note under the door, telling them not to bother finding you. You couldn’t go back to Small Heath and spend your whole life feeling like you were a failure, ghosting around town like Sabini had actually managed to kill you, unable to look the man you once cared for in the eye. You wouldn’t be able to bear it. They had to let you go. Tommy did. They would learn to.
After that, it was off to Camden.
“So, what does this non-Shelby want from me?” Alfie asked, leaning back into his chair. Before, his unflinching stare and large frame would have scared you. You didn’t feel an ounce of fear now.
“I’d like to work for you.”
His lips turned up into a smile of disbelief. Then, he began laughing.
“Look,” He wiped a tear away from his eye with sarcastic flair, “this has been a nice chat and all, but I’ve got work to do, here, alright.” His voice became deadly serious, the amused glint in his eye fading. “So I suggest you fuck off before I get Ollie here to throw you out on your ass.”
“He’d have to catch up to me first. I’m fast, remember?” You whispered.
“Cute,” Alfie said, tone still grave despite a quick, lopsided smile. “Run along, now.” He began to turn around, dismissing you.
“Now that we’ve discussed Mr. Shelby-”
“You’re making me lose my patience-”
“I’d like to talk about Mr. Sabini. You’re familiar, are you not?”
He slowly turned back to look at you.
“...What about him?” He asked. You’d hit a nerve.
“I’m aware he’s been encroaching on your good, rightful territory, and-”
“Alright, alright, hey.” He wagged his finger at you, rings glinting in the sun. “If we’re going to carry on, you can skip the flowery vocabulary and the kiss-assery and get to the fucking point, understood?”
“Understood.” You chuckled. You slammed your briefcase on the table. “I have everything you need to know about Sabini.” Sabini’s men had found your letters to the Shelbys by destroying your room, looking in every nook and cranny. They failed to look under your floorboards. When you went to visit your boarding house this morning, the briefcase still lay under there, tucked away like a secret treasure. It was enough to make you cry tears of joy.
Hesitantly, he reached out to it, clicking the case open. His eyes widened as he sifted through the papers on top, your comprehensive notes and files on all of Sabini’s operations, collected in the past eight months while you worked at his club. His fingers barely managed to jump back in time before you slammed the lid shut.
He cleared his throat. “So you have some old information. Who gives a fuck?”
“I think you do, Alfie. Most of it’s still valuable, but, of course, if this isn’t enough to impress you, there’s always the new updates.”
“You’ve got... new information?”
“I’ve always got new information. I’ve got cigarette girls, bartenders, people at the telegraph office, the post office, the fucking switchboard… hell, I’m a couple favours away from getting his secretary on my side. They’re all paid off. All answering to me.” You smiled. “Eight months is the perfect amount of time to form strong alliances if you know how. And do you know what the best part is, Alfie?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. You scooted forward, leaning toward him conspiratorially. “It’s gonna take him a while to catch on. He thinks I’m dead as a doornail.” You giggled.
He stared at your toothy grin, stunned.
“Well, I best not be keeping you from all your important work…” You began to stand before he raised a finger, gesturing for you to sit back down.
You did so with a smirk.
“I can do more, Mr. Solomons. Today I’m helping you with Sabini, tomorrow… I’m helping you run an empire that would make the king weep like a baby.”
“What’s your name?” He asked after a long pause.
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” He repeated.
“Yes, Alfie Solomons?”
“You’re hired.”
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