#followers: has anyone read killing stalking and is it any good? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

0mg-bird · 3 months ago

Text

Sister’s Mister (Pt 2) ~B. Bradshaw x Seresin!Sister Reader

Summary: The after effects of being with the girl he wasn’t supposed to touch are going to be the reason Bradley loses his mind.

Warning: Language, 18+ content, smut

A/n: Part Two of Sister’s Mister, read part one here.

One week and four days.

That’s how long it’s been since Bradley seen you.

There’s been a buzz under his skin ever since, like he’s in a constant state of brain fog. He gets up in the mornings, takes a cold shower and thinks of reaching out, but he never does and neither do you.

He tells himself this is for the better, one time didn’t too much damage, Hangman never found out, he was in the clear.

But…

Bradley stalks your social media pages, his search history is full of your name followed by magazine names and name brands that are associated with your face. He seriously contemplates going to an Urgent Care, believing you might have drugged him. Anyone mentions your name and he lets out a shaky breath. He can’t even look Hangman in the eye.

And just when he thinks he’s officially detoxed, you show up at the Hard Deck.

He’s only half a beer down, but the second you rush through the front doors, he’s chugging it down and going to order another.

Hair wavy from the curlers they were in earlier, your relaxed outfit doesn’t match your crazed mood.

With a huff, you come to join the aviators.

“I am so sorry I’m late.” You immediately apologize as you greet everyone. Turning to your brother, he watches in amusement as you explain yourself.

“The shoot ran way later than expected, hair and makeup was a disaster, half the team bailed, the set manager was freaking out, I’m pretty sure I got a sunburn. As soon as they got the final shots, some of the girls wanted to get a bite to eat, that turned into a few glasses of champagne. Now, I’m here. Hi.” You rush with your words, though they end when Jake hugs you.

“Poor little model girl.” He fakes a pout.

From the bar, Bradley procrastinates on taking his beer and going back to the group that has their attention on you. His foot taps on the floor as he finds the courage, soon he takes a breath and just pushes himself forward.

Immediately, your eyes find him.

It’s like the ache you’ve had ever since you left his arms is gone.

The entirety of moments following are all just glances shared back and forth. The warm bar scene really isn’t doing you any favors, neither is it for him. You clip your hair up, your shirt slides off your shoulder as you lean over the pool table, winning a bet you made with Coyote.

A few more drinks come and go, music is flowing, you’re swaying next to the jukebox and Bradley is at war with his mind and heart.

At some point, Phoenix slides her way beside him, watching him stare off in your direction as you fight with Jake over which song to play next.

“That’s a poison you don’t want to pick, Bradshaw.” She says, making him snap his eyes away.

He shakes his head, trying to deny anything but Nat looks up at him with a pointed face.

“Here’s a tip, if you don’t want Hangman to find out you want his little sister, don’t eye fuck her.” She says, patting his chest.

Bradley sighs. “Don’t say anything about this.”

“What? I’m not gonna get you killed.” She laughs, not helping his guilty mind any.

As you sift past bodies, making your way to the secluded bathroom in the back of the bar, his eyes are tracking your every step. And as his mind is screaming at him to just forget about you, he trails after you.

The stall clanks as you come out to wash your hands, then you lean against the sink and sigh.

It feels like you’re on fire and he hasn’t even touched you. You could feel those brown eyes on you, it was suffocating. He looked too good, his voice was so smooth and he didn’t even speak to you.

He hasn’t called in a week and four days.

You remind yourself of that fact and try to get your head straight.

Drying your hands, you decide you’ll tell everyone goodbye and be on your way. It was getting late anyway, you could go back to your house, take a shower, get in bed and watch some tv. That was safe, you’d be able to control yourself.

Head on straight now, you open the bathroom door and immediately forget the entire safe plan you just made.

Bradley stands there, looking at you with round brown eyes, lips parted slightly. “Hi.” He greets, not knowing there’s a fire lit in your stomach.

“Hi.” You smile.

So much for a conversation, the two of you just stand with a heated silence before you have the urge to speak.

“H-How are you? How have you been?”

He wants to laugh at your effort to remain normal.

“Me? I’ve been acting a fool since you left.” He says in utter transparency, making your brows furrow slightly.

“Makes me wish you would’ve called and told me.” You state with an awkward laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Bradley looks half confused and half surprised.

“I didn’t call because I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not…you never called either, so…” He looks away almost bashfully, but he tries to mask his look with one of manly stoicism.

Now you really are taken back. Slightly shaking your head, a dry chuckle leaves your lips.

“Bradley…you never gave me your number. I was waiting for you to call.” You say, making him snap his head back to you.

He’s an idiot.

Of course he is.

“I’m…damn it, I’m sorry sweetheart.” He laughs at himself and scratches the back of his neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No you aren’t.” You say, stepping closer.

“This entire time I could’ve been talking to you- even though it’s still not the best idea-”

You reach out, hand on his jaw as you lean up to kiss him. He immediately silences, pressing his lips back to yours, softly savoring you.

After a moment, with his hands on your waist, you pull back. Hand slipping up to his hair, you don’t miss the way his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“I’ve thought about you every day, since.” You whisper, watching his eyes pull back open, a shade darker.

“I’m going to get myself in trouble.” He says, fingers flexing before gripping your hips a little tighter.

“You’re already this far in, what’s the harm in more?” You question.

He internally groans. Because what was the harm in more? He wanted it so badly, all he can hope for is to see you every day until you leave. He’ll take you out, all of his free time could be given to you.

All he had to do is follow your lead.

“We could go back to my place.” You offer quietly, smiling as he kisses you once more.

“Meet me outside by my car.” He says with a sly grin.

And that’s what you do. Going back to the group, you say goodnight to everyone, telling your brother that you’re getting a ride home and you’ll see him for lunch tomorrow.

Then you calmly step out into the night air and lean against the Bronco.

After five minutes, Bradley is coming to find you.

You bite your lower lip, containing your giddy laugh as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Hand on your thigh, you direct him to the seaside rental. It’s almost like you’re in a cloud of deja vu, the way the two of you fall into the house, tangled together, all hot and feverish. It’s the same way you two were before.

He blindly shuts the door behind him before turning and pushing you up against the wall. His mouth on your neck has you breathing hard, has your hands pushing his shirt up.

“Bedroom.” You pant. “Bedroom is down the hall.”

Immediately he pulls you from the wall, heated hands lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap around his waist, he supports you by both hands gripping your ass.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this everyday.” You admit, arms around his neck, tongue in his mouth.

Bradley groans. “You can’t say things like that, baby.”

His pleading tone shoots arousal through you.

“Why not?” You ask dumbly, getting backed through the bedroom door. “Not sure you can handle the truth?”

Clothes get scattered onto the ground, your urgent in your actions, yanking his belt open and unzipping his jeans. He unhooks your bra in one fluid motion and tosses it behind him, laying you flat on your back, against the bed. He trails that skilled tongue of his over your sensitive breasts. He places open mouthed kisses down your chest and over your stomach.

“I don’t think I can leave you again after this.” He claims as he yanks your underwear down.

“Then don’t.” You say, meeting his eyes as he comes back up to you.

He leans down and kisses you slowly, a different change of pace. You moan into his mouth as his fingers run between your thighs, finding how wet you are.

“You have to mean that.” He whispers in a rough tone.

“I do.” You gasp as he sinks two fingers into you slowly. Your hand grips the back of his head. “I mean it, Bradley.”

His erection twitches in his boxers.

He can’t help the marks he sucks into your collar bones, he thinks he might just lose it when you kiss him with an urgent need, biting his bottom lip.

“Don’t make me wait.” You say. “I want to feel you inside me, please.”

The realization hits him.

“I don’t have a condom.” He says.

“I’m on birth control.” You breathe, hands already trying to tug his boxers down.

The idea of being inside of you. Raw. It has him pulling his drenched fingers from you and sucking them clean. He lets you tug the fabric down, lets you run your palm over him a few times before he practically shoves you back, needing to feel the way you’ll wrap warmly around him.

He brushes your hair out of your face, cradles your jaw as he slowly pushes into you.

You groan breathlessly, head digging into the pillow as he stretches you perfectly.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath. “You feel so fucking good.”

A moan tumbles from your lips as he hits an enticing spot inside of you. His hand runs down your thigh and grabs the back of your knee, kissing you as he hooks that leg around his waist, giving him more room to slowly thrust against you.

You let out a giggle, utterly relieved at the pleasure of him dragging back and forth against your walls.

“You’re so addicting.” He admits, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking back in.

The sound of your wetness grows as he speeds up, it has you gripping onto his wide shoulders.

“That’s it.” You praise. “Like that.”

He grows a drunk smirk. “Yeah? You like it like this? You love how I hit it so deep and good?”

“Yes- ah, Bradley.” You gasp as he makes his thrusts more pointed.

“Good. I love it when you take it so good, fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

Your lips tremble at the praise, eyes falling shut as you pant. His lips to the skin of your neck, the bristle of his mustache makes you shiver. He moans against you at the way you maintain a grip around him.

“Bradley.” You whine, begging him to push harder.

He does, of course he does, he’ll do anything if you keep calling his name like that. Your free hand grips the sheets while the other is in his hair or trailing your nails across his back. His movement jolts you, shakes you closer to the headboard and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

“There you go, baby.” He coos, thumb trailing over your parted lips. “You want it like this, huh?” He asks as he spreads you wider, giving him the space he needs to fuck into your tight cunt.

“Mhm. Fuck, you’re so deep.”

You keep saying those dirty words and all he wants to do is pound into you until your screaming. It’s one tweak he makes, one adjustment of his hips, your hips, that has you gasping out. He knows he’s hitting the right spot when your nails dig into his shoulder.

“Bradley- please- feels so good like this.” You cry out, muscles tightening as your orgasm starts to build.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come.” He breathes, finding your open mouth.

Your pants are heavy, your voice hoarse as you whimper his name over and over, it makes his head swim and his dick twitch inside of you.

You can’t even kiss back at this point, you’re too lost in the hot feeling blooming in your stomach.

“Please say I can finish inside you.” He pleads, gripping your hips as you try and arch off the bed.

“Yes! You can- need to feel it- I’m so close.”

“I know, I know.” He comforts, grunting as he fucks into you, trying to get the two of you closer.

Completely incoherent words come from you, your face buries in his neck, lips sucking his skin to stop the noises you want to loudly whine. The tension builds and builds, your heels dig into the matress and then you’re falling over the edge.

Your body goes rigid, your grip on him tightens as he fucks you through the orgasm. You’re coming with a shaky moan, your eyes blown completely wide as the feeling takes ahold of you.

“There it is, that’s it.” Bradley praises. “I’m so close, I’m going to come.” He curses, your name coming from him like a prayer.

His rhythm falters as he pushes deep inside of you one last time and he finishes, body going numb.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck yes.” He praises, watching how your body shakes under him.

He grips your thighs as he sits back, watching with amazement as he finally pulls out and sees the mess the two of you made together. It’s a sight that’s going to be on his mind forever.

It’s in that moment of bliss, when you’re entering earth’s atmosphere again, that a pleased smile sits on your sleepy lips. Bradley lays beside you, an arm over his eyes as he takes deep breaths.

“Hey…” He blindly reaches for you when you don’t speak or move. “You still with me?”

You try to move some part of your body but it all feels too heavy at the moment.

“Mhmm.” Is all you groan, eyes casted on the ceiling as your vision becomes clear again. Your mind is completely drunk and woozy, the only thing you can do is put your hand over his that rests on your thigh.

This feeling is intoxicating beyond a lustful level, that’s something you know for sure.

- - - -

The windows are open to let the night breeze in, and the sound of the ocean is calming as you pull your messy hair up into an odd shaped bun. Both of you half dressed, Bradley groans as he pushes his face into the pillow. You let your eyes trace over the shape of his back muscles as they contort, then you lean forward, running your hands over his bare skin. As you lean to press your lips to his shoulder blades, he turns his head to the side to show his goofy smile.

“You staying the night?” You ask, voice low as you kiss his skin.

“I was planning on it, unless you’re gonna kick me out.” He mumbles.

You lean towards his face. “I think I’ll keep you around for now.” You tease.

Bradley chuckles, then shifts onto his side, his strong arms dragging you against him. Those sleepy brown eyes of his look into yours, all warm and meaningful and it doesn’t scare you.

“What are you doing Sunday?” He asks in an intimate tone since you’re just inches away.

You hum. “Not sure…but I could probably fit you into my schedule.”

He rolls his eyes, moving to bury his face in your neck. As he kisses your delicate skin, he mumbles his words.

“I was thinking I’d like to take you out on a date, but if Gucci calls and needs your pretty face, I understand.”

You laugh, pulling him back in fear he’ll suffocate against you. “I’d love a proper date.”

Now he gives you an all out grin and nods. “Okay, that sounds good.”

Pressing your lips to his, the two of you nestle together in your bedroom kingdom, wrapped in the covers and each other’s scent. You fall soundly asleep first, laid on his chest, and Bradley looks down at you and screws his eyes shut.

He was so screwed. So unbelievably screwed.

This was something that wasn’t his, and now he is set to make it his.

Even if it just might kill him.

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun one shot #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #jake seresin #fluff #bradley bradshaw smut

96 notes · View notes

not-wholly-unheroic · 3 months ago

Note

I remember seeing a bunch of these “what if Hook was the actual hero? The reason he hates Peter Pan? Here are theories that Hook was a Lost Boy?”, when I was younger and it didn’t really make sense.

Okay? Cool? I’m fine with villains having a sympathetic backstory, but not every villain is meant to be some sort of tragic hero.

I may not have read “Peter and Wendy”, but I’m very familiar with most Peter Pan media aside from the Disney originals and Hook doesn’t really need any special reason to hate Peter Pan other than the obvious “That scurvy brat cut off my hand!” I don’t know about everyone else, but I’d certainly hate someone enough to see them as a rival to kill on the spot for something like that.

But overall, Hook is a pirate. Have people conveniently forgotten that pirates would gore, maim, mutilate, and kill people for the fun of it during their whole pillage and ransacking of other ships? If it wasn’t Peter, then it totally would’ve been someone else.

Heck, Smee called Pan’s actions as a “childish prank” and Hook agreed “Aye, but throwing it to the crocodile! That wretched beast liked the taste of me so well, it’s been following me ever since, licking his chops for the rest of me!”

So, it’s not just the hand…although apparently Hook’s gotten used to it. Again, he’s a pirate captain, however and whenever the crew had gotten into Neverland, there’d bound to have been other pirates that they encountered before Peter Pan. It’s the fact that Tic Toc Croc never leaves Hook alone. Now Tic Toc clearly would eat anyone else, but Hook is the main snack of his attention.

It reminds me of that story about a tigress where she literally tracked and stalked a specific hunter.

So yeah, understandably, Hook has a right to be angry. He doesn’t really need any more motivation than that to hate Peter Pan.

I am curious in how and why, cuz I highly doubt Peter’s dagger would be able to chop off a hand in one blow. And I doubt Hook would’ve just been standing around to let someone, let alone a child, do that to him. “Peter Pan” (2003) does a good job in showing the mutilated stump of such an injury.

But I wonder what exactly led up to that point.

I agree with you on the “Hook was a Lost Boy and Peter is actually evil and Hook is trying to save them” trope. It’s been done so many times now and I’m just…very over it. Besides, while it is, I suppose, technically possible Hook could have been a Lost Boy AND an Etonian…it just…doesn’t seem likely to me that he would be both. And most of those retellings just end up leaving Eton out entirely…which…bothers me because it’s a big part of his character. Even if he wasn’t there for long, it clearly left its mark on him with his obsession with “good form.” Also…I like Hook in part BECAUSE he is a villain. I find him fascinating because he is a sympathetic villain with a great deal of potential for redemption. I don’t WANT him to be the hero from the get-go. That fundamentally changes his character and means we don’t get to see the complexities of his emotions and trauma play out as he struggles to BECOME a hero in his own right. Making him the hero from the start just skips over all that and totally ignores canon for both him and Peter. Peter may be a selfish, cocky kid who can be cruel at times…but he’s not some demon child and people need to stop pretending that he is. Like Hook, Peter is a fun character specifically because he is complicated. Don’t turn him into some straight-up villain who is flat and boring and totally unlikable. Barrie pretty clearly meant for us to like both Peter and Hook and have mixed feelings about them. It’s who they are and it’s why his story has stood the test of time—because well-written characters aren’t one-dimensional.

Also…making Hook the hero and Peter the villain completely misses the point… Frankly, the whole issue Peter and Hook have with each other is (ironically) that they BOTH need to do some growing up. In Peter’s case, it’s pretty obvious. He has physically and emotionally stopped aging. Hook may be a grown man, but (and I say this as someone who loves Hook) he is emotionally very immature. He loses his temper easily, holds a grudge against a kid rather than taking responsibility for his part in things as the adult, and generally just doesn’t behave the way a grown-up should. Peter is stunted in his growth, holding on too tightly to his childhood, and Hook grew up too quickly and never really matured as a result. Wendy sees this pretty clearly and finds the balance between maintaining childlike wonder and growing into a respectable, responsible adult. If you make Peter into an often literal inhuman monster and Hook into the perfect hero, then Peter becomes totally incapable of ever choosing to grow up (even just emotionally, if not physically) and Hook doesn’t need to grow anymore because he’s already reached the end goal.

As for how/why things started between them…personally, I think Hook started it. As you said, he IS a pirate, after all. My guess is that he wanted something from the Lost Boys and/or Tink…information about a treasure, perhaps, or even just information about how to get off the island, as in some versions it seems he is trapped there…and Peter saw Hook threatening them and wasn’t having it. The only way I can figure that Peter managed to actually cut the hand off entirely is if Hook had fallen flat on some hard surface (rock?) that had very little to no give and Peter just…dropped like a stone from a great height, letting gravity really do its work and putting all his weight into it. And the only situation where I can see this happening is if Hook had a weapon in his hand that perhaps Peter was trying to knock back. I honestly don’t think it was intentional to cut the hand off. I suspect, knowing Peter’s tendency to make up stories about himself to make him sound more courageous and tough than he actually is, taking the hand clean off was an accident and when he went to pick up the discarded weapon, it was really only then he realized the hand was still attached. He flung it away in disgust and the crocodile just happened to be nearby. When Peter tells the story, though, he changes things up a bit. And Hook is too out of it from the blood loss and pain to really remember all the details so he believes Peter’s version of events that it was an intentional “prank” to cut off the hand and throw it to the crocodile.

#captain hook #captain hook disney #disney peter pan #disney #disney villains #peter pan #james hook #captain james hook #captain hook jason isaacs #jason isaacs hook #Peter pan 2003 #jm barrie #asks #headcanons

42 notes · View notes

transmasc-wizard · 1 month ago

Note

pleasey please if you don’t mind can yuo tell us more about alexei and his no good very bad time of it… also may i enquire if you have any drawings/picrews/jus. descriptions of your ocs. for Reasons 👍

this ask snapped me out of 2 mind-numbing hours of Roblox Block Puzzle I can absolutely begin yapping. keep reading cause it's kinda long. also thank you for the ask I love talking abt these guys

so Alexei is Arthur's boybestfriend. he is the only person in the world (during his lifetime) who sees Arthur as more of a person than a tool. he sees Arthur's cracks of self hatred, moments of comedy, soft side, etc. he falls in deep love with this person he sees and becomes obsessed with the idea that Arthur is fundamentally better than anyone else there, including him.

at the same time, Alexei rides the struggle bus for like. several reasons. his parents are abusive, he struggles to do "normal" magical tasks in the way most others do, he doesn't know how to talk out his emotions without punching shit, and he's horrified as he grows up and is expected to bow to the expectations of a religion that keeps hurting him. the ideals of their religion appeal to most people, including Arthur, because they promise safety. But Alexei has never felt safe, so it doesn't work on him the same way. this pushes him to investigate more and more corruption, and ultimately culminates in the grand plan that he needs to *get the fuck out of there*. unfortunately. he is Arthur's boybestfriend. so when he plans to leave---and if possible, wreak havoc on his community afterward---he tells Arthur. Arthur, who still believes the only way to be safe is to follow the strictly set rules.

Arthur tells a priest in a panic, and is promptly tasked with killing Alexei !

now, this like. happens. Arthur is conflicted but ultimately he does it, because in his mind, Alexei is already dead--he never believed Alexei could escape, but he thought they could just stop it with a harsh punishment that wasnt death. now alexeis options are "be killed by someone who cares and will make it quick" or "be killed by someone who will want Alexei to suffer for his beliefs the whole time", so he kills Alexei the night they're supposed to "escape", when they're both almost 21. this pushes him fully into the deep mental breakdown he didn't realize he'd been approaching for the last, like, ten years. Arthur runs away, leaving alexei's body and his community. Arthur's (betrothed) fiancée, Penelope, finds this body. she makes a deal with the priest / their god that if she brings Arthur back and punishes him accordingly, she will become a priest herself (which gets status and extra magic). she, a very punishment-oriented person, decides the way she is going to bring Arthur back is through reviving Alexei. this is where the struggle bus starts speeding.

revival in this universe is an exchange---your body doesn't rot/change. instead, your soul does. this makes a revived body that is pale and cold and unbreathing but also stronger and swifter than normal, with a rapidly degrading personality. the longer Alexei is revived, the more he's forced to feel himself turn from that hot-headed, emotional, justice-driven person he was, and into the opposite; a numb soldier with a closed heart. he feels every second of this, on top of the pervasive feeling that he *should not be alive*. he also, like. fucking hates Arthur. even before his personality starts decaying. he's so, so angry, and under Penelope's control (which only increases), begins stalking Arthur in both dreams and the waking world (as a revived ghost can do) and taunts him, argues with him, fights him, etc. all to try and force him back in the most painful way possible. he never outright just kidnaps him, because that wouldn't be enough. he wants arthur to have matching scars, physical and mental. additionally, the entire time there's a storm of love and anger swirling together inside him mixed with total despair that he knows he won't be able to figure out his feelings before they rot away entirely. he also knows that once your soul is done, your body collapses once more, and no one really knows where you go after that. it is, on all levels, a fate worse than death.

fundamentally, Alexei spends the entire novel scared. his life is built around fear of what he's going to do and fear of losing arthur, and his death is built around fear of what he has become, what will happen to him, and what this means about himself and the man he loves?/loved?. he is a bright eyed underdog who's supposed to be a hero, supposed to change the world for the better, but is slaughtered before he gets a chance.

that is my thoughts for now thank you for asking :) and I have picrews of both Alexei and Arthur

red hair is Alexei (wings are metaphorical). dark hair is Arthur, who at a certain point is also depicted having had his left eye stabbed out. they are both long hair men because I like long hair man designs :)

+ bonus actually I have drawings I did of them

(the watermark is just my insta I nabbed these from there cause that's where I post 99% of my art for this wip)

#asks #arthur wip #another unskippable cutscene unlocked 🫡#alexei #my art #<- for thee stuff at the end #necromycologist

12 notes · View notes

xanadontit · 6 months ago

Text

Dear Care and Feeding.

My husband and I have a delightful, inquisitive 4-year-old daughter, “Bree,” who has a nut allergy. We have been able to manage this fairly well, but the problem is my in-laws. They were careless about nuts to the point that we had to stop coming over to their place. My father-in-law keeps a bowl of peanuts or trail mix on the end table next to the couch, and never remembered to remove them before we arrived for a visit. Even worse, my mother-in-law believes Bree’s allergy is something she will outgrow over time and even thinks she can be “cured” if she is exposed to nuts in small doses, because she read about people overcoming allergies through exposure therapy on the internet. After Bree nearly ate some peanut butter M&M’s my FIL forgot to put away on our last visit to my in-laws’ place I put my foot down. I said until they were willing to take my daughter’s safety more seriously, we would not be coming over to their house. My husband grumbled that he thought I was overreacting, but went along with it. My in-laws were very chilly for a couple of weeks, but eventually agreed to the new arrangement.

I thought we had resolved the problem, but I was wrong. When my in-laws visited our home last month, I left Bree watching TV with her grandmother while I went to check the mail. I came back to find my MIL in a panic, my FIL on the phone with 911, and Bree on the floor nearly purple and gasping …

I realized she was having an allergic reaction and immediately gave her a shot with the EpiPen I carry with me at all times. Within several heart-stopping minutes Bree was breathing better. The EMTs came and took her to the hospital in an ambulance while we followed behind.

While we were waiting for the doctors to update us at the hospital, my MIL told me she had given Bree a small piece of a Snickers bar. She said she thought Bree could overcome her nut allergy if she ate a little each day. My husband had to practically hold me back. I shouted at her that she had nearly killed my daughter and as far as I was concerned, we were done with both her and my FIL. My MIL huffed that she was only trying to make it so Bree could have a normal life and stalked out of the hospital with her husband on her heels.

It’s been over a month now, and my husband has been trying to facilitate a reconciliation between us. He acknowledges that what his mother did was wrong and dangerous, but still tries to defend her by saying “that’s how she is,” and pointing out that she never intended to harm Bree. I have told him that I will never be able to trust his parents around our daughter again. His mother hasn’t even so much as apologized. He thinks I am being too harsh and am taking this too far. Please tell me I’m not.

—Am I Nuts?

Dear Nuts,

No, you are neither being too harsh nor taking this too far. You made it abundantly clear to your in-laws what the rules were regarding your daughter and her allergies. Because they read too much online baloney and like to imagine they know better than anyone else, they broke them on purpose, put her life at risk, and don’t even seem to feel that bad about it. They suck! You are right and he is wrong. I hope this makes you feel better.

But it does you no good to feel better now and still have your husband claiming you’re overreacting, even in the aftermath of your child nearly dropping dead. It does you no good to be the lone voice in the wilderness. You need him on your side.

It’s possible that he finds your daughter’s nut allergy so frightening—and it is frightening!—that he’s desperate to grasp at any straw that suggests she might “get over it.” Combine that with an unwillingness to confront his parents, and you might have a dad who’s feeling just torn enough not to know how to handle this mess. Sit down with your husband and explain exactly how you feel about what his parents did, and how you feel about how he is not supporting you—or, honestly, even protecting his own daughter. Feel free to wave a printout of this advice column to help make your case.

Maybe, down the line, you’ll decide together to reintroduce his parents into their granddaughter’s life. (I know it feels like you never will want to, but there are such wonderful rewards for a child in having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents.) If so, there will be conditions, and whatever those conditions are, he’d better be on board for conveying them, in no uncertain terms, to his amateur-immunologist parents—and making clear to them that there will be no divergence from those rules.

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

I'm sorry but what the FUCK is Dan Kois' problem? The dad/husband fucking sucks which tracks because he comes from fucking sucky stock and I'm failing to understand what "wonderful rewards" await this poor child from "having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents" unless he means "heavenly rewards" because they seem intent on killing their granddaughter.

Can you imagine being this kid?

"Hey, Mom, why did you let Grandma and Grandpa around me? They were constantly feeding me peanuts and I ended up in the hospital every Christmas."

"Oh, a complete moron advice columnist said it would be good for you. Somehow. Hey, you were great at calling 911 and not all kids can say that!"

ETA: And what's with all the sympathizing with the dad because he's just so sad his kid has an allergy and doesn't know what to do?! You don't let the kid eat peanuts/peanut products and you keep the kid away from people who purposely do that. He doesn't need to get an MD and cure food allergies for all of mankind. Christ.

Would love to hear @sequinedably's thoughts on this one.

38 notes · View notes

frasier-crane-style · 5 months ago

Text

The Satan Sleuth by Michael Avallone

I'm two books into this series now. They have the advantage of being short, but also a number of flaws that detract from a reading experience that should be a pulpy good time.

The premise is sound: Playboy wunderkind Philip St. George has his wife killed in a Manson-style slaying. He instantly becomes a vigilante against Satanism. Although not literally Satanism, but more all varieties of seventies, In Search Of... weirdness. You know, ESP, Stonehenge, the Loch Ness Monster, the Bermuda Triangle. Anything that might catch Leonard Nimoy's attention, he's on it. His wife wasn't even killed by sincere Satanists, but more crazed hippies who say "Hail Satan!" in the same way Metallica might.

Amusingly, Philip is characterized somewhere between James Bond, Doc Savage, Batman, the Saint, and only a little bit the Executioner. The narrative constantly goes on about how he's a man among men, good at everything, physically perfect, his wife was the hottest thing on two legs, and so forth. By the end of the book, he's straight-up being compared to Jesus Christ. It's a hoot. Shades of Rick Dagless M.D. from Darkplace.

He starts calling himself the Dragon Killer, but then I guess he doesn't find that name dorky enough, because he switches to the Satan Sleuth. Yes, he actually calls himself that. And he doesn't actually believe in Satan, so it's a pretty far reach for a name that, y'know, blows.

These books are pretty thinly plotted. The killers in the first book turn out to be hiding out not far from Philip's mansion and they decide to head back to his mansion, allowing him to pick them off one by one. And in the second book, he's trying to find a werewolf, which amounts to stumbling across someone the werewolf has killed, then following the werewolf's tracks to its lair.

Well, I don't think anyone picks up a book called The Satan Sleuth expecting a Robert Ludlum novel. The real issue to me is the prose. As short as these books are, they feel incredibly padded out. Every sentence is textually underlined and circled, repeated ad nauseum, draining all the propulsion out of the storytelling. Avallone never uses one sentence when he can use three and a dozen adjectives. I'll quote an excerpt to show my point:

St. George had far more curiosity than the average man. He had had that long before the tragedy of Dorothea Daley, when he always wanted to know what was on the other side of the mountain—and now that he had dedicated himself to something greater than his own life and safety, that curiosity had to be satisfied. It must be satisfied, at all costs. Most especially if he wanted to end the Fletcherville reign of terror and bring to earth the monster stalking its terrain, terrorizing and killing its populace—as well as any drifters who wandered into the vicinity. All innocently to meet death. Man or monster—he would learn that, too. It was the work, the task, the career he had sworn himself to. Forever. Until his own ultimate end, whenever that might be. Philip St. George's coming of age had simply been a matter of the savage murder of his wife, Dorothea Daley St. George. His life had begun from that day forward—christened in blood. Which was why, he, one of the richest young men in the world, was now sitting on a rumpled, four-postered bed in a meaningless little town in the middle of nowhere, fiddling with a soaked-through black Bible, disguised as a dull-faced salesman, instead of yachting off Majorca or dawdling with bikini-bare, bronze-skinned beauties on the French Riviera. Or clipping coupons in the London Hilton. He had turned his back on that world. Without regret, without fanfare, without a look back to see if he had missed anything. Fletcherville had become important to him. The people of Fletcherville, specifically. People, particularly. All people. Mankind, everywhere. Vulnerable mankind, so often victimized by hocus-pocus and the blinding magic tricks of their own fears, obsessions, and prejudices. Prey to the voodoo, hoodoo, mumbo-jumbo of cant, strange beliefs, false doctrines, which supposedly led to another god, some other truer god. All the fake astrology, phony mystic, Satanism-inspired behavior that evoked lunatic cultism of all kinds and yet brought nothing but ultimate failure, hypocrisy, lies, and more often sickness, brain decay, and—death. All those who used the occult and mysticism as a personal source of profit and gain or simply for the sheer cruelty and viciousness of it—those were the enemies of Philip St. George, quondam playboy-adventurer-explorer. The man who had grown up, almost overnght, to become a crusader with his own very special crusade. Those who used the Devil to mask their enterprises would have to pay the piper for the dance they called for. And that piper was Philip St. George, The Satan Sleuth. What other kind of man would have waited three long, crawling hours for the wet pages of an ancient Bible to dry? To become of use.

Narration by Mojo Jojo.

This kind of navel-gazing goes on for pages on end, grinding the plot to a crawl and making me want to shake the author and go "GET ON WITH IT!" At one point, the big fighting climax pauses so that we can follow an FBI agent realizing the Satan Sleuth is real. It leeched a lot of the campy fun out of the reading for me.

Now, I used Kindle Unlimited to read these, so I feel I got my money's worth, but Amazon is charging an unbelievable five bucks a pop for these ebooks, each of which hover around 150 pages. For my money, not a good bargain.

8 notes · View notes

1unpaid-intern · 1 year ago

Text

Ok so I'm kinda new to tumblr, but I just can't get this fanfic idea out of my head. So since I'll probably never write this/ lose motivation half way through, I might as well share it.

Soooo I've come across a really good ghost/calamity xie lian AU fic (Dark Sword, White Flower by Luna04 on ao3 if anyone's interested) and I've come up with my own take on that premise, because it's just so intriguing.

(English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes)

Also spoilers for tgcf (obviously)!

Almost all fics I've read make it so Xie Lian dies in the coffin Lang Qianqiu put him in, but even though that'd be pretty cruel (and would therefore make sense in universe xD) I just don't buy it. Jun Wu specifically wanted to make life as painfull as possible for him both psycologically and physically. Xie Lian getting stabed through the heart for decades would be a dream come true, so he definetly wouldn't let him die. Because if you ask me, he definetly knew. As white no-face he was stalking XL constantly and you're telling me he just stopped after his second banishment? XL was still suffering, since his luck got sealed away, so you bet that he's been watching him day after day while eating popcorn and going like: serves you right little sh*t (because we all know he's petty like that).

Instead I'd have XL die trying to stop the human face disease from raining down on Yong'an. In the original Wu Ming sacrifices himself, but what if no-face stops him by scattering his soul. XL then makes the ultimate sacrifice and even though all those resentfull spirits should kill him no matter what, in order to make it a little bit more poetic let's say that right before he gets hit, XL ascends for the second time since he regained his morals and tries to make up for it. (In the process he also breaks his shakle. And I know that you're supposed to also be imortal as a god, but Shi Wudu got killed by having his head ripped off and I just have this head canon that XL would be fine after that because JW just won't let him die.)

Now the "problem" that arises with this premis instead of the coffin-death is that JW absolutly knows about XLs death. If he lets the rest of heaven know that, it'd eventually reach Hua Cheng. Aaand oh booooyyyy. If he found out that his god not only died, but none of the other gods, not even the emperor himself, prevented it by helping him, the temples of those 33 gods wouldn't be the only thing on fire. Because think about it, the reason HC keeps on living is XL, but if he thinks he's gone, then the only thing that'd keep him going is revenge. HCs end goal would then be to become strong enough to even kill JW.

But I can also see this playing out differently. We know JW wants XL to follow in his foot steps and become a calamity, therefore needing to become a ghost (as he says when they're both trapped in the Kiln). So he'd definetly consider the posibility of XL becoming a ghost. Considering the guy has a sword for everything (looking at you virginity detecting sword) I could imagine that he also has one that can tell if somebody's soul is still wandering around even though they're dead. Obviously JW would want to find him and turn him into a calamity. But if he a) tells the other gods that XL is a ghost then atleast Feng Xin and Mu Qing would also be looking for him or b) only tells them that he died then somebody might get the idea to use the aforementioned sword and leading us back to a). So the most logical thing would be for JW to just lie about XL getting banished a second time (similar to how it originally went down).

While I like both scenarios, I'm kinda leaning towards the second one with JW lying, because as soon as XL ascendes for the third time he's gonna be hella confused why nobody is freaking out about him showing up in heaven, followed up by him becoming suspicious of JW.

One thing I've been thinking about a lot was what's special about XL as a ghost king, what differentiates him from the others. HC got his red robs, silver jewelry, blood rain, wraith butterflies, E-Ming and power over luck. He Xuan has his black robes, great acting skills (seriously give this man an oscar), never ending hunger, skeletton fish and power over the seas. Qi Rong (while only having the title of a calamity and not actually being a ghost king) has his green robes, green fire locks and his habit of trying to imitate the other calamities (e.g. hanging corpses & eating people). Bai Wuxiang has his simple white burial robs, the iconic half-crying half-smiling mask, a spirit calling cloth flag, Fangxin aka Zhu Xin, manipulation and the power of the human face disease. Things I've seen a lot in other fics and that I completly agree on are: XL can turn his nails into long claws (similar to Lady Dimitrescu I'd imagine), he doesn't want to be found so he shape shifts a lot and he helps out the common people, especially children and mothers (since trying to help others and making up for his past mistakes is basically all that keeps him going). While these characteristics are great, they aren't enough to make him stand out yet. One idea I'm really proud of is to make XL a puppet master. Because correct me if I'm wrong, but the only "ghost typs" we ever were introduced to were sentient weapons, possed objects, humanoid ghosts, ghost animals, water ghouls and puppet masters. And just imagine XL using threads and puppets to fight in addition to Ruoye. Like, imagine him fighting similar to Sasori from Naruto, the Spider Demons from Demon Slayer or ErrorSans from the Undertale AUs. I also think he should stick with the burial cloths he was wearing as white no-face (maybe with some blood on them to make it more creepy) but obviously adding his signitur bambu hat with some flowy long vails.

I wouldn't change to much about he whole XL posing as the Yong'an goushi backstory. I would only have it so Lang Qianqiu finds out that his goushi was actually a ghost king and XL fleeing so he isn't stuck in a coffin for decades. That way when LQQ finds out about XL being his goushi, it also serves as the big reveal.

I'm not so sure what to do with the Banyue kingdom backstory though. I would like for XL to take Ban Yue as his little adoptive daughter, but if he went back after the kingdom was destroyed, then woudn't he take care of Kemo and the other ghost soliders right there? That would lead to Little Pei never luring people in, therefore erasing the entire Banyue arc and I don't know how to feel about that. Yes, not much would change, were it to play out, but that's the first time XL meets the "earth" and wind master. Also JW led them to Banyue pass (and also to the ghost bride) in order to damage Pei Mings reputation, so he'd lose believers and therefore would be easier to beat later on and that's kinda important. Not to forget he used a puppet for that and with XL as a puppet master he'd definetly be able to get more info out of it, leading to raising his suspicions again.

Aaaaand that are all the ideas I have so far, also my fingers hurt from typing.

Maybe I'll continue this some day, since I probably won't stop obsessing over this AU any time soon. (Also if you know similar fics please let me know, I feel so starved rn)

#xie lian #ghost xie lian #calamity xie lian #fanfic ideas #tgcf

29 notes · View notes

hiddenwashington · 2 years ago

Text

the streets of washington dc are never truly calm, but the months since the last massacre have been fairly relaxed by this city’s standards. as winter turns to spring, and spring turns to summer, the cherry blossoms begin to fade, schools finish up for the year, and people spend more time lingering out in the streets, the heat and the longer daylight hours a good lure to go out more often.

unfortunately, that lure will end up being the doom of some of the citizens of this city. once again, magic weaves through the people in the city, this time slipping into people’s heads and altering their minds without their notice. most of the time, they will remain as themselves, with nothing seeming off about them in the slightest. but at random times, with seemingly no trigger, a switch will flip, and they will turn into a killer, stalking their victims through the streets until they manage to catch them alone and finish them off.

as soon as the kill is done and they are far enough away to avoid suspicion, all thoughts of it are blocked out of their mind, so there is no way to tell who might be guilty, beyond any clues they themselves might leave in their magic induced haze. unlike most chaos in the city, this isn’t one night of horror, nor is it a few days of fighting for your life. the city is unchanged, bar the growing body count, and the police have no leads, no indication of why this is happening, or any idea of who might be next. as things progress, the stakes grow higher and higher as more victims are picked off, and it may be time to take matters into your own hands.

TLDR; we’re throwing a city-wide murder mystery!! the magic of the city, or maybe just the boredom that has taken over peoples minds has brought us a string of unsolved murders, ones that are attacking anyone and everyone with little rhyme or reason. it will be up to you, our investigators, our members, to solve these murders and stop the criminals before they can continue to take our loved ones from us!

OOC INFORMATION

hello -- welcome to the big reveal of the secret we have been working on for weeks now !! hidden's official 15th event !! we are so, so excited to bring you this event, which can involve both in-character speculation AND ooc teamwork! this is related to our not-at-all-suspicious poll a while back, so there are both MURDERERS and POTENTIAL VICTIMS among you members; you’ll just have to wait and see who will end up being who. please read on for all of the rules and information surrounding the event, and have fun! we have appreciated all of your love and support, and the excitement we've seen just from the poll alone, and we really hope that you all love this as much as we do!!

DATES :

june 10 - june 24

this event will last two weeks both in and out of character!

IC INFORMATION :

there is a (secret) number of murderers hidden among you! (cue theme music) you may open your inbox one day to find an anonymous note from one of these secret murderers-- that one of your characters has now become a VICTIM of the magic killing spree plaguing the city.

so your task (out of character!) is to work together with the other members to figure out who is committing these crimes. you are the investigators and detectives! luckily, a series of clues will point your way, some of them requiring you to complete puzzles, search pages on the main, or even other members’ blogs and intro posts… but teamwork and combined brainpower will be necessary to solve the mystery.

all clues will be dropped by our mystery sideblog, @hwmystery -- so please FOLLOW that account so you can keep up-to-date about hints, clues, and investigations. this is also the sideblog where you will submit your guesses ooc! see below for guessing logistics.

please also be sure to turn on anon messaging, in your inbox! this is so if your characters get murdered, our murderers can remain anonymous. the exception is if you didn’t submit any potential victims to the poll. if that is the case, you do not need to turn on anon.

we will also be opening an ooc discussion category on the discord (HWEVENT15) where you can theorize, throw out ideas, share your findings, seek out help for the puzzles, overall chat and react to the event unfolding without worry about what channel to put it in. if you think you figured something out, share it in the channel! we hope this will give you all a chance to get to know each other a little better and collaborate together. the admins are happy to keep adding channels / threads as needed!

there is NO mandatory pause on non-event threads for the duration of this event; as in, you can continue with your current non-event threads while this is all occurring.

however, there WILL be an activity check pause-- as in, we will not be checking activity these two weeks, because we want you all to focus on having fun and trying to solve the clues!

PLEASE NOTE -- just because activity will be paused from june 10th - june 24th, that does not mean that we wont still be checking activity in the coming week. that pause will only go into effect on the 10th, so PLEASE make sure you are still active throughout this week!!!

FOR MURDERERS :

if the main already contacted you via dm about one of your characters being a murderer-- shhhh, remember to keep it SECRET! your character cannot even THINK about their role (in plots, threads, etc). we cannot stress enough: nothing you post on the dash (plot calls, replies, etc) should give away your character’s ‘murderer’ status!!

if/when your character gets caught by our investigators (the other members), they will be briefly imprisoned until the magic murder compulsion has left the city. so try not to get caught! play innocent! throw suspicion on other characters in your threads or in the discord, feel free to lie! and have fun with it.

remember to see our (secret!) google doc we sent you if you need reminders about how to alert the victims of your “kills.” you can decide to space those out throughout the two-week event however you like. please don’t switch up your kills from who you already decided and marked on the spreadsheet. once you kill the victim anonymously, please also dm the main to let us know that the deed is done!

(if you happened to see on the spreadsheet that one of your other characters will be a victim… shhhhh. pretend you didn’t see it and don’t let anything slip until you get the murder anon in your inbox.)

once your character is caught by the members, we’ll let you know, and your character will no longer get to murder people, even if you had other victims you’d previously chosen (though you can still continue threads until the conclusion of the event). please do not kill anyone after you’ve been caught !!

as for solving the murders, you're welcome to participate, as you only know the identity of one killer! and of course, if you notice someone getting a little too close to that one killer, you are always welcome to come up with a different answer to the clue and sow a little discord amongst the sleuths!

FOR CONCERNED CITIZENS (AKA POTENTIAL VICTIMS) :

if you haven’t heard from the main to accept a role as a murderer… none of your characters are the secret murderer! but if you submitted anyone on our secret poll as a possible victim, they might fall prey to the killers. again, please be sure to turn ON anon messaging in your inbox.

IF you receive an anonymous message in your inbox stating that one of your characters has been taken out by the murderer, please post it to your blog, and dm it to the main. we’ll reblog the ask from there, so everyone can see who’s been murdered so far.

you are welcome to continue pre-event threads with that murdered character, but all murdered victims WILL stay deceased until the end of the two weeks, so you will not be able to start any new threads.

you are also, of course, welcome to plot out who finds your muse after their death, so go crazy and have a blast with that!

we will then update killed characters’ memories accordingly, after the event (aka on june 24th after the end of the event, everyone murdered will either swap from aware to unaware, or unaware to aware, depending on what memory status they had before their death). you will not need to request this switch to the main; we will post them all at once from the main, and tag you in that post on the 24th.

if you didn’t submit anyone on the poll as a possible victim, none of your characters will get killed! but your muses can still participate by theorizing in-character, deciding to investigate on their own, staying inside for fear of being murdered themselves… however you think they would react to the chaos. and we would still encourage you to participate in the ooc investigations as well!

HOW TO GUESS THE MURDERERS :

we will pin this info at the top of the murder mystery sideblog, but if you think you’ve solved the clues and pinned down a murderer, you’ll want to send a message to the sideblog with this format: I believe that [CHARACTER NAME] killed [VICTIM(S) names].

we’ll post your guess with no commentary except to let you (and everyone else) know if you were correct or incorrect! if you’re incorrect… it’s back to the drawing board you go!

you can only place a guess ONCE per calendar day, so make sure that you’ve followed the trail to the right suspect… ( we're keep track of guess frequency here if you want to follow along )

if you win by guessing correctly, you get accolades, a celebration, an imaginary commemorative medal from the president of dc, and a secret prize that will be revealed at the end :)

once someone’s caught, they’ll go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200. if no one manages to catch a certain murderer for the duration of the game… they get away with it! yikes!! so please, for the sake of the citizens of dc, work hard to get this mystery solved!

FINAL QUICK HOUSEKEEPING :

make sure you’ve followed the sideblog @ hwmystery to keep up with any latest news, victim announcements, and clues!

the event doesn’t start until june 10th, but feel free to begin plotting now! if you’d like to post a plot call about what your characters are doing during all of this, how they feel about potential killers on the loose, how involved they’re getting with the investigations, or who they suspect once murders start occuring, go ahead! (secret murderers-- remember that the city’s magic prevents them from being consciously aware that they are a murderer! aka please do not hint at anything in your plot calls that could give it away!)

if you plan to have a character with a major injury or non-mystery-murderer death (maybe defending themselves from a perfectly innocent party! maybe fighting with someone who your muse assumed was a suspect! maybe your character was taken down wrongly by another vigilante character!) be sure to run those major plots by the main beforehand, as always.

this event does involve some level of murder (obviously), so please be sure to tag triggers appropriately.

please also tag all event-related posts with hw15, hwevent15, hwmurdermystery, or some variation.

as stated above, there is no event pause from june 10-24, so you’re welcome to continue your pre-event threads as well as starting new threads to discuss the ongoing events! if your character becomes a victim and they die, they WILL be dead until june 24th. but also as stated above, we won’t be checking activity on anyone until after the event, so that you can focus on having fun.

that’s it! if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to send us a message on the main or shoot any of us a dm! please LIKE this post when you’ve read over it entirely, and have fun plotting and theorizing!

#hwevent15 #hw: event #hw: admin

23 notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 2 months ago

Note

Do you have any recommendations of like servant/master stuff? Boss/employee may also work but like personal assistant employee? Someone who knows the most intimate details about their employer and understands the better than anyone else but uh oh they're hot? Ty

Sure!

The Duchess Hunt by Lorraine Heath is pretty much exactly this. The heroine is the hero's personal assistant/secretary (it's a historical romance, he's a duke) and he asks her to help him find a wife. She's been in love with him for years, so obviously she's like ".... it's time for me to leave ...." which is what wakes him up to the fact that he's obviously OBSESSED. I need to reread this.

Selina by S.M. LaViolette. Selina, who's a lady, disguises herself as a housekeeper and gets hired at this big gothic estate. The hero is going through some shit (he's adjusting, rather understandably badly, to losing his sight in an accideent that killed his friend and his wife) and at first hates her but then becomes emotionally dependent on her as she strives to do things like help adapt the estate for him, etc. It's really good.

His Valet by S.M. LaViolette. LOL YEAH. In this one, we would now call Jo nonbinary, but she uses she/her pronouns. She's been disguised as a man her whole life and been the valet of the hero for years, but is super obsessed with him and finally takes the chance to disguise herself as a lady looking for a loooover. Which means they hook up. Multiple times. And he falls in love her, being too dumb to realize she's the valet he's completely dependent on... It's EROTIC AS FUCK, and both edgy and sweet and has a great grovel.

Rules for a Proper Governess by Jennifer Ashley. The hero hires the heroine as his kids' new governess, but quickly becomes super fixated on her, especially an Oral Manner. The heroine was originally a street urchin stalking him, so it works.

The Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles. M/M, the hero is a coarse veteran who unexpectedly inherits a title that's being challenged by his relatives. He hires the other hero as his secretary—which is a big deal, as he struggles with reading. And, you know, an illicit affair begins.

Married by Morning by Lisa Kleypas. In this case, she's his sisters' governess, and they butt heads from the start, but she's also like... kind of running shit, and he's of course completely obsessed with her while being in denial about it. Until he isn't in denial about it at ALL.

The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt. She's his secretary, on whom he's very much reliant, but he doesn't want to cross the line and as a results SHE crosses it for him by disguising herself as a courtesan, wearing a mask, and dipping over to sleep with him at his favorite bothel!

Contemporaries with this vibe:

Reckless by Stella Rhys. The ultimate assistant/work wife book. The heroine is his PA, and they start hooking up to burn off steam after a tense moment when she finds out her fiancee was cheating on a work trip.

Managed by Kristen Callihan. The heroine is the social media manager for a rock band, but ends up being the sort of work wife of the band's manager... And he also needs a platonic nap partner to help with his insomnia... and he masturbates while smelling her dirty panties...

On the Hustle by Adriana Herrera. The heroine is the hero's personal assistant(?) and quits at the beginning of the book, which SHAKES AND DESTROYS HIM, so naturally he follows her over to her new job doing renovations for a reality show.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs

5 notes · View notes

gralunaisland · 2 years ago

Note

Gruvians saying juvia has had a "tremendous amount of growth since joining Fairy Tail" never fail to make me laugh. Happy had more character development than her. Also, they really should look up the definition of 'obsessive', because she literally embodies that word. Honestly there isn't much to her character, aside from lusting for Gray. I guess the main reason she's popular is because she's 'attractive'? I really don't see any other reason this kind of character would have such a massive fanbase.

Examples of juvia Lacking Character Growth, and Why People Might Like her

This is the oldest ask I have at the moment, so thank you very much for your patience, Anon, and I apologize that I haven't been able to answer this in a while!

I agree with you on all points! You made some great ones. I'll respond to each!

It's pretty hilarious that some Pro gr///vians truly believe that juvia is a much, if at all, better person now than who she was before. she seriously hasn't gotten any less obsessive over the years. If anything, I believe the more we see of her, the more she gets worse. Anyway, I could probably pick apart any instance of "character development" that a Pro might try to use as proof. Here's a couple:

juvia killing herself for Gray? Look no further than this post of mine where I explain this in more detail. she lacks utter agency and will to live outside of Gray, so her life is quite literally worthless to her if she doesn't have Gray, and therefore it's not her being selfless in taking her self-made-meaningless life when she didn't have a self in the first place.

juvia apologizing to Gray for killing the necromancer who controlled Gray's already dead dad? I've already picked apart how that was utter manipulation and disingenuousness on her part in many of my posts, so I'll summarize here:

First, juvia never actually apologizes (literally, go back and read the panels, she never ONCE said even something as simple as SORRY).

Second, juvia makes everything about herself by saying essentially "I don't deserve to love you anymore", as if this had ANYTHING to do with her "love" of Gray when in reality all it had to do with was her doing her FRICKING DUTY by KILLING THE ENEMY. What's more, she's sobbing in that scene not because of any sympathy for Gray losing his father again. she's literally only doing that because she feels she's somehow lost Gray's good graces, that by doing this she doesn't get to give her abusive love to Gray anymore, that she's somehow lost her nonexistent chance to be with him. This scene should not have been about her at all, and yet of course, she's only focusing on the one thing that is in her life, her obsession with Gray against his wishes.

Third, she also stalked him to Silver's grave. Gray didn't tell anyone about it, and yet of course she follows him without his permission or knowledge as per usual. To her, Gray has no right to privacy.

Fourth, her pseudo-apology (which again wasn't one) went right out the window (she literally starts blushing and stops crying and hugs him and says he's warm. Uh. Crocodile tears anyone? Clearly all she cares about is skin-ship with her Gray-sama. she didn't look the least bit concerned that he was crying) once Gray clasped her, breaking down into tears and apologizing to her. What did he do??? she's really broken him so badly that she manages to make her "uwu I'm so sad I don't get to uwu love you anymore" into the most heartbreaking heartfelt apology Gray's ever heard. That amount of emotional and psychological manipulation, even if not on purpose, is absolutely despicable. she's making him feel EVEN WORSE. Remember, Gray is at his father's grave, and she doesn't care. she invades his private time for grieving and centers everything on her abusive passion for him. And Gray is too screwed up to realize how awful of a human being she is for doing so. she's literally making her self-imposed guilt more important than his trauma and making it his problem. I cannot overstate how horrible that is. she doesn't feel bad for Gray grieving his dad or even crying right now in front of her whatsoever, because now that Gray's made it clear that he doesn't hold her accountable for killing the evil necromancer, she has no reason to feel sad anymore. she never once felt real guilt, she just mourned what she was losing. This is the same thing as a kid only apologizing to their mom for breaking a vase just so they can go to that birthday party they wanted to attend. her "apology" was a means to an end, and she absolutely obtained that end.

Fifth, and one of the most damning things against her in this scene, and that's saying a lot, juvia doesn't change her behavior at all after this pathetic excuse of an apology. Throughout the rest of the story, she continues her unwanted, extreme, intrusive behavior towards Gray. she doesn't change one darn thing about how she treats him. (And it continues all the way even through 100YQ [which of course I don't include in the FT canon, but Pros do, so I shall include it here], only from what I've seen, which thankfully isn't much, it may somehow be even worse). If she were really sorry, she would've decided to stop loving Gray regardless of if he forgave her. she didn't take any convincing that what she did was guiltless. I can't believe (but I can because it's juvia we're talking about here) that she wouldn't take any of the meager amount of time that she felt bad to self-reflect on how her actions have negatively affected Gray. Whom am I kidding, that would require character growth, and we all who aren't blind can tell that she's had absolutely none beyond leaving Phantom Lord, and even that was just because she had a crush on Gray, not because she wanted to apologize to FT or Lucy for all the egregious things she did to them.

If anyone has other instances they want me to break down, feel free to comment them or send me an ask! I don't want to make this impossibly long haha.

Anyway, onto your next point, Anon, as I sort of mentioned when linking my other post, I totally agree with you that "there isn't much to her character, aside from lusting for Gray". I would even go as far as to argue that there isn't anything to her character beyond her perverted tendencies towards him. Literally, if you strip Gray away from her theoretically, what is she? she has no hobbies, she basically has no friends whom she's gone out of her way to make and hang out with (because yes, Mashima made the stupid move of making all the girls in FT like her for literally zero reason because she's been hostile to most of them on the basis of Gray), she has no motivations or hopes and dreams. she is nothing without Gray. she is the definition of a "satellite character", a character written to only revolve around another one with no agency of their own. Don’t forget, she even began to adopt Gray’s habit (and perhaps trauma coping mechanism) of stripping. she lacks THAT much self that she begins to turn into the guy she likes. Wow. Disgusting.

Onto your last point, I think I'd agree with you, that a big reason why juvia is popular is just because people like how she looks. But she's the very typical slim-curvy woman with a huge chest and butt and giant eyes that Mashima loves to draw. There's nothing wrong with that body type, but it's not like she looks that different from anyone else in the show because of that, especially since she kept changing her looks to try to get Gray to like her and literally grew her hair out and stopped curling it to look more like Lucy, someone who is Gray's type canonically. she even starts to show more skin like the others, a far cry from the completely covered up Rain Woman. Perhaps they like her color scheme or her dead-fish eyes as well. I couldn't understand it myself, but to each their own really.

I personally thought that the biggest reason why people liked her was because they projected themselves onto her. juvia does what juvia wants, completely self-centered in every way, ignoring Gray's consent, and yet she still comes out on top, having secured poor Gray's affections by the time of 100YQ thanks to Mashima's poor writing. juvia acts however she wants towards other people, snarling and glaring and insulting other women in Gray's life to their faces just because of her inane jealousy, and yet she somehow ends up every single girl’s friend. juvia acts insane and delusional and has only eyes for one man, and yet she gets other people to hit on her all the time, most notably Lyon.

Who wouldn't want to act completely selfishly like juvia does and still gain everything you desire? Who wouldn't want to ignore everyone else's needs and wants and only care about yourself and still get all the attention and all the power and all the love and all the friends and all your dreams come true?

Sounds like such an easy, fun life, huh? But it's a totally self-absorbed and awful way to live, and it's exactly how juvia lives.

My guess is that people use her as a self-insert character and root for her in their own stead, but I think that's very subconscious, and most wouldn't admit to that. Otherwise, I would really love to see how people justify her behavior as laudable, but then again, I have seen those attempts, and none of them have made any real logical sense to me.

All in all, thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask! I hope I answered it properly, and I appreciate you waiting so long!

55 notes · View notes

grievedifferent · 2 months ago

Note

How do you think strong emotions effect Light's story? Obsession, love, admiration, etc. Just in a general sense. Do you think he feels any of them back towards people - L, Misa, any of the other Kiras (though I didn't read that far haha) - or they just kind of glaze off of him without sticking? Does he realize he feels anything back, or that absence?

yagami and strong emotions:

yagami is literally overcome by his emotions. we see it constantly throughout his time in death note, and he is usually overcome when he is alone. he actually actively waits to be alone before he freaks out. this is kind of why the ending is so intense because he really feels like he has won, thus can be his true self. otherwise, it's something he always hides and contains, to the point where he checks for cameras in his own home (and finds them, so good for him ig).

this is right after he gets basically accosted by L at the opening ceremony for their university or whatever it's called (orientation?).

let's also note this: yagami will reserve "freaking out" to something he does alone ... but ryuk is always with him. he does this without making ryuk leave (who likely wouldn't unless persuaded). so, i think he literally sees ryuk as the shadow over his shoulder, he doesn't even register he's there basically, and if he does? he does not care how ryuk sees him. he is his most true self with ryuk over anyone else. i have argued this many times and i stand by it still like five years later.

i've written before that yagami does not accept anyone else as kira, even if he appoints them a "writing role" (or they take the role upon themselves, such as misa appointing herself as second kira). he is will actively remove someone from that role just as quick as he is to assign them, always killing them off (since they usually know his identity or are in direct contact with him before meeting him). it's better to tie up any loose ends / burn any threads.

so ... any emotion yagami pours to another person, be it love, devotion, whatever ... it is all falsified. from the start, even before the death note, he has been acting.

he does not care for misa, he actively is always looking to kill her off, and i honestly think there's a lot that isn't acknowledged about them. how were they supposed to ever start off in any way that he could respect her? a) just based on his personality and b) she followed him home. she stalked him to his house.

i'm not saying i'm on yagami's side, but as an objective viewer, that's an intense first meeting. then we consider this whole plot he's carrying as the main character and the stress is understandable, right? she's forced himself into his plot, making herself not only "necessary" to him but also unable to be expended (she narratively has his hands tied to a point where he has the most out-of-character moment in the series i can think of which is admitting he is kira (or might be kira, but come on ... he would never do that ever). he goes by what the narrative makes him go by in this case, and i accept it for what it is (i also like misa, so i'm not critizing her, i have this whole argument on this character type being popular in the time death note came out, blah blah blah i love misa but there's problems in this story that cannot and should be ignored when it comes to yagami's characterization).

i think this is where it gets complicated: yagami feels, he feels very intensely, but he does not feel the emotions he "should feel" back to someone. they might feel love for him, but he is feeling disdain. is that not feeling? he's just not reciprocating... but he is feeling. so, there is an absence, but like ... the absence of the emotions he "should feel" for certain people, so he just acts like he does.

i'd say his best bets for genuine feelings? i think he does have feeling for his family. we can argue all day about his dad and the death scene, but like ... i mean, to yagami's credit, he seemed way less worried about his reputation when it came to rescuing sayu and was willing to work with it (while trying to help his dad and also keep his dad from like losing his shit and giving up his career because of how shameful this all was, like ... yagami was actually kind of more "good to sayu" in that arc than their dad). we also see him act as the big brother to sayu a lot, i can't say if that's just good training on his part or is genuine, but he seems most ... oddly at peace or himself, more "loose" with her, even if he's hiding, and he doesn't ever put her in danger, though he does ... like actively not really care at the very end who dies, so like, he loses that sentimentality for the sake of his goals. but in more of his early youth? being his friend or family from a younger age is more likely to "get in good" or "genuine" (or as close as you can) to him. while he's faking for his friends, i think he's drawn intentionally more lax and chilled out when walking with yamamoto and the unnamed third friend (who otter is writing named keitaro actually! i mention him a lot).

again, as for other kiras? he literally does not care about them, does not like them, and does not approve. HE IS KIRA. the public named him that, that is his identity. the other kiras, should he have seen them in his afterlife somehow, would be disappointing to him as they were to ryuk, who bemoans being unable to find a user like light (and other shinigami are unable to replicate ryuk's literal 'toss it, lose it, retrieve it' vibe the first time - just dumb luck, really). now, the only kira he would approve of ... ?? his own heir, either picked by him directly or born from his seed (he would prefer the latter, it's easier to mold an infant from birth and he's narcissistic enough to want his own image and his own DNA involved lbr).

L is complicated, but arguably? he was the most honestly dishonest with him. they both were. you could never trust what yagami says as the viewer, but you can't also trust L. everything he says is also a lie. they were lying to us and each other constantly, and through their lies, i think they garnered truths. L always knew yagami was kira, but they were literally made to be sort of "same coin, opposite sides".

#yagami tbt #headcanon tbt #chimerameat #i love writing about this madman

1 note · View note

blonde-n-dirty · 6 months ago

Note

Why delete social media I’m sure people still want to keep up with you and make sure your okay

Because I’m growing up. I’m almost 30, this little social media game feels childish.

Social media has ruined my life in every aspect of the phrase. My attention span is shit, my parasocial relationships are better than real life ones, I have the hardest time thinking of words & having real convos without a panic attack, most importantly I’m terrified to leave my home. I need to learn to re-live in the real world that actually matters. None of this online crap matters & it just causes emotions nobody needs. I was bullied yesterday by a HUGE creator along with all of her following because SHE read my comment wrong, not a single one of those ppl would’ve said that shit to my face. It’s just not real & not worth caring about likes, if I took a pic for my feed if I went anywhere, if I look photo ready every time I get to leave the house in case something happens for social media. It’s just a waste of time to me. I have a whole dream life I imagine for my little family, & phones have no place in my little house on the prairie dreams lol

And honestly there’s nobody who needs to keep up with me. I have shown such obvious signs I’m gunna kill myself any day now since I was 16, & if I did it tomorrow, anybody who’s ever been my friend will say they didn’t see it coming🙄 nobody truly knows me & never has, just a facade I got really good at perfecting. There may be ppl who wanna stalk me, but if they’re not in my life personally then they don’t need to know how I’m doing. It’s fine, they’ll survive. Anyone who’s close with me the day I move can have my new number, other than that, nah I don’t wanna be found.

I just need a fresh start. This house, this town, this state has SO SO SO MUCH trauma attached to it, you’d cry if I wrote a book. That trauma has created me, but it’s trauma I wanna leave behind because it doesn’t matter anymore. I have created the most loving little family- my husband & I have never fought in 4 years, we literally move w love in every way, & I wanna focus on only the good that I, myself, have created for ME. My entire life has been lived for my family or friends, every move I’ve made has been for someone else & I’m done. It’s time to make me happy & find who I am without worrying if anyone else is happy about it. I wish that for everyone. Life is about more than this tiny screen.

0 notes

mrssoapmactavish · 1 year ago

Text

hey jealousy

content warning: mature themes (it's cod, i'm not sure what else you'd expect at this point), mature language, brooding and emotionally sheltered ghost, really shitty british/scottish/aussie slang, ghost is kind of a... typical relationship believer, use of the word femme but in a demeaning and not sexy way. might continue this in a second part, but ghost and flukey do not get together in the end.

synopsis: ghost hears about flukey's partner. he's not as unbothered as the rest of the force about it, though. very loosely based off of the song 'boyfriend' by lou bega.

can be read as a continuation of "penny for your thoughts", or read as a standalone piece.

lost where i was going after basically falling into a work-related writer's block.

flukey is an oc.

that last mission was, well, a fluke, in lack of a better term. sure, their resident female sergeant was nearly killed on the roof of a thirty story skyscraper in a village of turkish insurgents trying to overthrow the current president, erdoğan, to start a "new, glorious era" for the country.

at least, that's in the opinion of the victim herself, who's currently limping from the on-base infirmary towards the barracks to start piling her things into a bag.

medical leave, she thinks to herself. a blessin', if there was actually a promise she'd be brought back.

price– ever the worried father figure for his rag-tag family of highly trained soldiers– had essentially demanded that she be sent home with time to heal, especially since he didn't want to have another family he had to travel to and deliver the terrible, terrible news with a folded uniform, dog tags, and a duffel bag of personal belongings.

soap and gaz had both been, quite honestly, jealous at first of the idea of a break. sure, the idea of a short leave was preferential to medical leave, especially considering the potential of no longer being needed by the 141.

ghost, however, had been the most shaken up about the whole ordeal, even if he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. he'd almost lost one of his most... 'unique' sergeants just because she decided to charge into and clear a building by herself.

hyper-indenpendence never did anyone any good, ghost reminds himself, completely missing the irony in that thought process.

she's actually been avoiding said superior like the plague; not out of fear of a lecture or being in trouble. nothing of the sort! in fact, rather, she's been trying to avoid a worried stare from the lieutenant that's nothing short of unnerving before she's simply told to 'be more careful'. plus, well, the man has a tendency to stalk around when one of his sergeants is hurt.

she can still remember soap's bitching about how ghost would, quite literally, follow him around everywhere on base after he was shot by graves in las almas. it was all "ah need space, lt" this, and "steamin jesus, am just takin' a piss!" that.

nothin' i would be wanting, she reminds herself as she continues to quietly creep her way towards the barracks. can barely handle him when he's not trying to keep me safe, can't imagine how fuckin' creepy it'd be when he's just.. watching over you, like a circling vulture.

this all grants her one big gift when she accomplishes her stealthy trek across the base; silence to pack her things. flukey's not one who tends to be excited for the prospect of leave, home is such a foreign concept when you've been on the field and travelling the world to save it so often. not to mentiion the change in routine takes nearly the entire leave to get used to.

not to mention to anyone but herself, either, but she can't quite sleep without her fellow soldiers around. even if she tends to bitch and moan about price's god awful dad snores, the sound of soap sleepwalking towards the mess hall each night with gaz in tow trying to lure him back to bed... it's familiar. brings her this faux semblance of normalcy, peace.

as she breaches the threshold of the public space into her private little sanctuary of the women's barracks, a deep sigh leaves her lips, the sound making her sound much more like a grizzled war vet than a relatively fresh recruit to a team of hyper-elite specialists.

just as she makes her way to her bunk, plopping her ass down to let out a sigh of relief and release– a metaphorical weight off her shoulders– three sets of footsteps are making their way towards the main door of the barracks, which causes her to sigh.

based off of the barely there sound from one, it's most definitely ghost as one part of this trio, then based off of the bounding thumps of nothing but unbridled confidence, soap is there too. by process of elimination, that leaves only the stupidest rookie alive, or gaz.

"flukey? y'in there, lass?" the familiar scottish drawl comes through the door, followed by a soft knock and a hushed utterance of something about privacy and assumptions from a much less accented voice. gaz it is.

"the fuck else w'd i be, dickwit? got a bum leg only good 'nough to shove up yer mum's arse," she barks back, this being enough of a response for the doorknob to twist, a soft pressure to be applied, before all three men pile inside.

soap's seeming much better than he had been when the squad had left him and gaz on base during the mission a few hours prior, gaz seeming rather sheepish about the intrusion of her space but also quite fascinated to note the differences between male and female accommodations, but ghost...

well, what else would he be, if he weren't staring?

"y'seem in a bonnie mood, i take it," the scot continues to taunt, not necessarily understanding the absolute grizzly bear that he's poking. not even poking, really; trying to shove a scope up the bears ass, dry, no prep. the other two men seem to gauge this, however, based on the fact that gaz gives him a light shove.

"figure 't this rate, i'd be better off workin' asses to elbows, pickin' up bullets from the battlefields," flukey responds with a grumble, anxiously rubbing her hand over the sore, bandaged wound on her thigh, with a bit too much pressure. "but i'll quit raggin' when my squeeze's here to take me 'ome."

now this catches the attention of each of the three men, to varying degrees; soap's got the look of a schoolboy who just found out his closest mate has a crush on the teacher, gaz seems far more like a cousin finding out his favorite uncle's lifestory, and ghost seems as observant yet fauxly unamused as always.

"you never mentioned anyone back home before," gaz prods, though he's got the bare minimum of respect to get her military-grade duffel bag handed over to her so she can lazily pack. "nothing special?"

"bet 'e's a real lady-killer if he got a catch like ye, hen," johnny immediately cuts in, cheesing like a finance major right before a bubble burst, and just like that flukey wishes she had just bitten her cheek and never acknowledged the men in the first place.

oh, how a bullet passin' through the temple would be absolute fucking heaven, she muses, instead i luck out, stuck with three kazoos.

"he's fine," she responds, voice too curt for what she had meant. "'m not tellin' ye much more than that, quit yer naggin, ya jag."

this is, quite simply, not enough to whet the appetites of the curious men. this is obvious when gaz looks at her with wide, hopeful eyes and a soft smile, as soap goes through the room and gets into all of her belongings, and ghost merely looms at the door, arms crossed yet his watchful eyes continue to stare.

with a sigh, she sets her head in her hands, refusing to look the men in the eyes. "he's nice. name's santino, met 'im stationed for training in italy."

and then, the questions fly. what's he look like, what does she mean by "nice", why wouldn't she just pay attention to the lessons.. and it's all too much for someone who simply wants to rest.

"christ, if i show you doofuses a picture, will you bugger off?" the redhead groans out, the two young, eager men nodding their heads quite easily as they approach quickly to get a glimpse of their fellow sergeant's personal life.

ghost, meanwhile, sticks close to the doorframe, leaned against it like some sort of shitty, inconveniently placed statue, blocking the door for anyone trying to enter or exit, yet he uses his slight height advantage over the other two men to glance over their shoulders, eyes narrowed to catch a glimpse of the man flukey's apparently dating.

she produces a small, folded polaroid from the pocket of her vest, taking the chance to remove the obstructive gear to take a natural, freeing breath, then handing it over to gaz to let the two men fight over who gets the first peek.

ultimately, the lieutenant silently decides it's his turn to finally engage in the conversation, stepping forward and snatching the picture from garrick's fingers, making soap huff a complaint while kyle himself is just surprised and a bit startled by his superior's silent movement.

the picture isn't much to gawk or gape at, ghost reckons. a shittily taken picture in some cheap aussie dive bar, lights low with bright grins on both faces. flukey's got her hair free– ghost had no idea she had curls, though the complaints over the low buns all the time suddenly made sense– in some shoddy, cheap dress that's mostly hidden because of the crossed-arm stature of photo, with slightly smeared lip gloss, soft eyes turned that feral red from the bright flash of the camera.

and just like that, he's realized he hasn't even glanced over at the man in the picture that was the reason he had been so impulsively eager to snatch the photograph from kyle's hand.

he's.. quite plain, if you ask simon. think of any generic italian man, and there he is. dark hair in a slightly overgrown quiff, eyes so dark they're nearly black, skin that oh so common cappuccino tone, a build so unremarkable you'd confuse him for a cardboard cut-out.

"e's too twink-ish," ghost grumbles out, handing the photo back to gaz who finally gets the chance to look at the picture, then having it immediately snatched again by johnny. "didn't take you as a beta-man type of woman."

something about this– something that, to any rational and properly socialized person, makes sense– aggravates flukey. what, exactly, remains a mystery. maybe it was how he assumed something of her.

both soap and gaz, though, seem to recognize the faux pas, and while they both seem worried for the well-being of their lieutenant after such a crass remark, johnny's muttering something to garrick that seems to have his attention instead.

"get stuffed, lieutenant," she barks, taking the picture back from the other two men and folding it back up. "never asked for your opinion on the blokes i fuck. not very like you to arse around either, so fuck off, y'old bag."

ghost, not quite understanding what would cause such a sudden outburst, furrows his brows under his mask and is prepared to shout back about insubordination and mention the absolute gall of this woman trying to shout at her superior. the nerve of this tiny little thing, the one he saved from certain doom, bleeding out in the middle of some warzone in turkey–

"ghost, mate, a word? let's give fluke some space," gaz speaks up, gently setting his hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, turning his attention away from the offended woman who would, quite honestly, fight him tooth and nail for her boyfriend's honor.

the lieutenant himself isn't quite sure of the idea of letting her get away with such an offence, but as soap is also elbowing him out of the room, he reasons it's for the best, and follows the two men out, brows still furrowed and stare as hard as ever.

after the door is closed, gaz is ready to lay into the man, even if he's built like a brickwall-sized fridge, solid muscle and nothing but technical expertise. he can't help it, he's used to his two little sisters always needing him to step between them to solve their conflicts.

gaz, always the mediator, no matter what situation he's in, where he is in the world, and whoever he's around.

"the fuck's with you, sir?" he asks simon, his face scrunched into a grimace. "you can't just go and disrespect your sergeant's partner like that, it's blatant disrespect, even if you're used to being mean," he reasons. and while ghost seems even offended that kyle would even dare to open his mouth, soap is nodding along, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.

"aye, lt, the fuck's in yer heid, y'eejit?" the scot asks, tone a bit more gruff than expected, but ghost is just left standing there, processing his own train of thoughts that brought him to this point.

"...never thought she'd be the dating type," ghost mumbles aloud, not really answering either man's question directly, but answering it in such a way that both of his sergeants are looking at him with this... side-eye glance at each other. sharing a wordless secret.

"and why's that?" gaz interjects before soap can try and brush it off there. ghost recognizes that look in the demolitionists' eyes, and it makes him feel a bit of gratitude, even for the thought of the attempt.

"..s'pposed she was more of a traditional type, not much of a femme-chaser." the lieutenant mutters, then shaking his head at the two of them. "i'm off. she can talk to me when she's ready." then, without another word, he leaves the two sergeants standing alone outside flukey's door.

"he needs–" "tae get laid? aye, nailed it righ' on the head, gaz."

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost x oc #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #gaz mw2 #gaz garrick #kinda romance??#mostly buildup technically #god i missed writing #don't feel ashamed to reblog!!

1 note · View note

brummiereader · 1 year ago

Text

Arghh this was so good, what a whirlwind of a chapter ❤️! I read this like a madwoman last night but didn't have time to reblog with my thoughts on it.

The first part of this incredible chapter had me on the edge of my seat. Not only was I feeling sad for heaven and all the thoughts plaguing her mind there was someone following her! What left me with my mouth wide open was the fact that it was someone from Heavens past who had tracked her down on behalf of section D 😱. And on top of that it was the brother of one of the men she killed! I was disgusted by the thoughts going through his mind about what he wanted to do to her, what a vile fucking man. I think it was very clever how you set this whole scene, Heaven was in a very vulnurable place tormenting herself with memories and promises her and Arthur had made eachother while a predator stalked her reflecting on his own memories.

Shark you couldn't have made me happier with the next part! I love Aberama Gold! I was so upset when he died in the show, so to read about him in your series had me smiling from ear to ear ❤️. We see so little of him in the show, and I think you have really picked up on his subtle mannerisms and personality so well. 😩 My heart ached with the mention of John and how heaven only wanted him to comfort her . They had an incredible bond, and now everything his fallen apart and her and Arthur are not in a great place her first thought is her John😭.

I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” this made me giggle so much. Not just because Heaven is sick of her brother in law and him being a complete dickhead, but because Tommy once said "I am a horse" 😂. I really loved this whole interaction between them!

What would these Shelby boys do without Aunt Polly. I love how she's so Frank with Arthur, he needs that sometimes else he gets himself in a bad place, too deep in his own thoughts. I knew Arthur would absolutely lose it when Heaven left and take it out on everything else around him, thank god Polly got to him before he did something irreversible. My heart hurts for him, he needs his angel the second part of his heart but she needs space. You did an excellent job at describing his spiralling into despair and emptiness, he is completely lost without her and this is where we really see the soft yandere side of Arthur coming through.

If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. This made me snort 😂, confusion not weakness, of course Tommy 🙄. I bet he was quietly thankful Heaven didn't mention anything to Arthur. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name, this was my favourite line in the whole chapter, it's speaks volumes of Arthur's love for Heaven. Blood is definitely not thicker when it comes to his wife, and that is honestly something to admire. I've never seen a love like Arthur has for her, twin flames ❤️. I didn't think my heart could ache anymore when Arthur attempted to reach her hand 😩.

Tommy wants the war between him and Heaven to end, hmm🧐. I feel as confident as Heaven about this, everything can't be forgotten just because he says so. Is he up to something ??

I'm actually relieved Heaven isn't backing down with Arthur, he absolutely needs to learn this lesson. She's a strong woman and better with a strong man by her side. They both have their weaknesses, but Heaven only lapsed in hers to show Arthur how much he was hurting her. Plus he needs to stop his shit because....Heaven is bloody PREGNANT 😯!!! I had absolutely zero feeling this was coming! I squealed when I read this ❤️!! Polly's famous boob grab is right again! I loved this whole scene between her and Polly, they're relationship is growing and her nickname for Heaven had me giggling 😂. I wonder if any members of the Shelby family will learn what Tommy did, she's hasn't told anyone yet, and I know when she will all hell will break loose! But Heaven is pregnant, I can't believe it! I'm so excited to see where this will go and how Arthur will react to the next when she tells him. I don't know why but I don't think she will tell him straight away, I could be proved wrong though! Incredible chapter, filled with so many twists and turns. God I love this series so MUCH ❤️ !

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying. He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it. God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up, sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears.

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.”

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.” The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth? These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did.

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce. Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment… I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned. “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.” He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.”

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned.

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver

168 notes · View notes